A/N Red struggles with his inner demon, the sin-eater inside, while Lizzie tries to hold her own in her new reality. The angst in this story was always about a 10 so I guess I've cranked it up to 11 here. Warnings: mega angst, mild smut and a reference to domestic violence. Thoroughly disclaimed. And I looovvvveeee reviews, they keep me going :-)
When Liz woke she was shrouded in warmth and felt more comfortable than she could remember feeling. She flexed her fingers and clutched at impossibly soft sheets, before opening her eyes towards a warm light. As her vision came into focus she saw that the light was coming from a large bay window set with heavy, deep crimson and cream drapes, hanging under a large oak beam. She turned her head and found that the luxurious window setting was more than matched by the rest of the room, which had an old-fashioned white marble mantelpiece topping an open fireplace, and dark wood, beautifully upholstered furniture. The room was large, with two doors, though she wasn't sure which one was the exit.
The warmth and comfort she had previously felt was replaced then by a creeping fear in her gut. Where the hell was she? She tried to clear her head but everything was so fuzzy – she got the feeling she was supposed to be right where she was, but didn't know why, and had no recollection of the room in which she found herself. She tried to raise her hand to her eyes to wipe away the sleep and was met with a sudden sharp pain. She looked down and saw an IV in her arm, hooked up to a bag behind her head. If the room in front of her looked like a luxury period home, the area behind her was, in stark contrast, more like a hospital room with IV stands, monitors, an oxygen mask… She realised then that despite its size and luxurious sheets, the bed she occupied was a hospital one, with raised sides and buttons all around her head.
Hospital. She'd been in the hospital.
A sudden wave of panic washed over her and she began to tear at the cannula in her arm, crying out in frustration at the mess of tubes and sticky tape. At that moment one of the doors opened and a middle-aged woman with dark, greying hair and rosy cheeks came in with a look of concern.
"Out! I want this out!" Liz tore frantically at the tape.
The woman approached her calmly and removed a pair of scissors from her apron.
"I'll do that for you right away Miss Keen, but I'll need you to hold still, ok?"
Liz frowned. The woman had a very heavy Irish accent, so thick she had to think for a moment to process what she had said. She seemed friendly and unfazed, so Liz nodded and allowed her to remove the cannula, which she did with evident skill and compassion.
"I'm Clara" she said as she worked. "I'm a registered nurse and I'm only here to look after you."
Liz studied the woman's face and then cast her eyes about the room again. "Am I in Ireland?" she ventured, her mind still jumbled.
The woman laughed hard at that, a pleasant, warming sound. "Bless you no! Though I would you were – I'd wager a bit of Irish country air would do you the power of good. You're in Sweetwater Miss Keen, in Mr Reddington's house."
Her stomach lurched and she closed her eyes for a moment. "Mr Reddington's house…" she echoed.
"That's right" she said cheerily. "I know you're a bit groggy and confused but you're perfectly safe here, I promise." She patted her hand confidently. "I'll go get Mr Reddington shall I?"
"No!" Liz was surprised at the power she managed to put behind her refusal. "I mean…I need some time…"Liz paused to collect herself and then looked the woman in the eye. "Mr Reddington will have to wait."
Clara surprised her then by laughing and giving her a broad smile. "Quite right. You take all the time you need. We can't let him push us around now can we?"
Liz smiled gratefully at that.
"Now, is there anything I can get you Miss Keen?"
"Please call me Liz. I'm fine…I'd like to be alone for a bit if that's ok. I just need to get my bearings."
Clara nodded in comprehension. "There's water on your table here, and the bathroom is just through that door." She held up a button attached to the side of the bed. "Press this if you need anything at all and I'll be right here. In any case I'll be back in an hour or so with some dinner for you. I imagine you'll also be interested in some pain medication by then if not before. I unhooked your IV because you asked me to and I want you to know that you can trust me, but you will want something soon I imagine."
"No" Liz said firmly. "No pain medication, nothing that is going to stop me thinking. No offense, but I need to be able to look after myself."
Clara smiled at her, if a little sadly this time. "I understand." She walked towards the door, but turned back to speak before she left, her expression suddenly serious. "I want you to know that I'm here to look after you and your best interests…not his."
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Red got up from the sofa in the living room, glancing at the ornate grandfather clock in the corner of the room as he did so. She'd been asleep for hours, but about half an hour ago he had begun to hear voices coming from her room. He walked to the over-mantle mirror and straightened his tie, pausing to observe his reflection in the bevelled glass. The illusion of Raymond 'Red' Reddington was a force to be reckoned with; an impeccably dressed, charming but powerful man with an urbane manner and a ruthless hand where occasion required.
The reality was quite different. As he observed himself in the glass he noted the depths of the lines around his eyes and mouth, the way the skin on his neck had become ever so slightly loose, and the sallow skin tone that highlighted the dark indents under his eyes. He placed his hands on the mantelpiece, his eyes flicking over the gleaming white scars nestled in between hair and freckles, each with their own sordid tale. He'd done terrible things with those hands.
His weary reflection stared back at him now, making a mockery of his charming façade and showing the truth of what he was, just like Dorian Gray's ghastly portrait. It occurred to him that, like the occult painting, he was a sin-eater and the evil he absorbed was beginning to show through the cracks. He could no longer hide it from her. Even those closest to him had begun to question him.
The door opened behind him and he turned with a broad smile as Clara stepped into the room.
"Well if it isn't the lady with the lamp! How's the patient?"
"Disoriented, but otherwise as well as can be expected. I'd say she's mighty cheesed off with you, though."
Red nodded stiffly. "Yes, well I have the unfortunate distinction of eliciting that reaction from many of the women in my life. Thank you, Clara." He turned and walked towards the door.
"She doesn't want to see you just now."
He turned back and was met with a firm stare from Clara, who stood with her arms folded. Lord save me from another Kate Kaplan.
"She can't avoid me for ever."
"She just needs some time, Raymond. I told her I'd check on her in an hour. We'll see how she's doing then" she said with an air of finality.
Red paused at the door before returning to his seat on the sofa and clasping his hands together. Being hated was exhausting. "At least tell me how she is" he said tightly. "Tell me she's not in any pain."
Clara pursed her lips. "I'm afraid she's not too keen on being medicated right now and I'm more than inclined to let her have her way if it makes her feel more in control."
Red's expression darkened. "For God's sake, I brought you here to look after her!"
"You brought me here to look after her interests and that's exactly what I am doing" Clara responded smoothly. "You need to tread carefully helping someone who doesn't want to be helped."
Red laughed bitterly. "I've been made aware of that in recent years." He rose from the sofa and returned to his position in front of the over-mantel mirror, his head down. He heard the door close as Clara left the room, and raised his head slowly to look at his reflection again. The sin-eater stared back at him, lined and grim, in apparent mockery of his all-consuming love for the girl upstairs.
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A heavy clang from the clock in the corner alerted him to the time. It was 11pm and he'd heard nothing more from Clara or Liz. His fingers closed around the scotch decanter, his thumb brushing over the lines of the cut crystal. He paused and then set it back on the table, before making for the stairs. He couldn't wait any longer to see her, but he owed it to her to be sober when he did. He knocked quietly on her door, but received no answer. She was most likely asleep by now, which was probably for the best. He just needed to look at her, to see that she was safe and comfortable.
He opened the door and entered quietly, finding the room awash with the soft orange glow of the night light. As he approached the bed he was surprised when he was met by a piercing blue gaze. She was awake and sitting up. He approached the foot of the bed.
"May I sit down?"
She nodded wordlessly and he moved round to the side, pulling up one of the thick, upholstered chairs.
They sat in silence for a moment before he spoke again, his voice deep and even.
"I trust you're comfortable."
She breathed in audibly but didn't answer him, only staring at him with disconcertingly limpid blue eyes.
"What have you done?" she said finally, her voice little more than a tight whisper. "What have you done, Red?"
Red rolled his tongue in painful thought, before nodding. "I understand you're upset with me and I'm sorry for that." He paused. "I've made it abundantly clear to you that I will do what is necessary to protect you, and this was necessary, Lizzie. The hospital was too exposed."
Liz shook her head slowly. "I'm not talking about you bringing me here…. What have you done that is so terrible that you have to go to these lengths to keep it from me?"
"Lizzie, I needed to-"
"Don't! Do not tell me this was all to keep me safe. I don't believe you."
Red raised a weary hand to his forehead, unable to meet her eye as they sat together in painful silence until he heard her voice again, quieter this time.
"I saw the garden from the window. This house is beautiful. Is it yours? Or is it another borrowed place?"
"I own it" he said quietly "although I don't think of it as 'mine' exactly. It's a safe haven for those who need some peace."
"How did you end up with it?"
"That's a rather sad story Lizzie, perhaps best for another time."
A flash of anger shot across her face. "If you're not going to answer a single question however innocuous then just leave. Go!"
He winced and paused for a moment before speaking. "The house belonged to a sometime employee of mine, quite a talented forger. She had problems with her husband and, as I understood it, she inherited this house and used it as a sanctuary away from him when necessary. Anyway, I'm sorry to say it ended tragically as it so often does in these cases. When I learned later that this house was going to be torn down by developers I bought the place and the surrounding land in the hopes that it would continue to be a safe haven of sorts."
"You're right, that is a sad story."
Red nodded, his voice taking on far-away quality. "Love makes people powerless. And dangerous. She should have left him when she had the chance."
"What happened to the husband?"
"He paid for his crimes."
"He's in prison?"
"No."
Red's expression was inscrutable but a dark flash in his eyes as he said it left Liz in no doubt of the husband's fate. She felt numb as she settled back against the pillows, her eyelids heavy with impending sleep.
"I would have come."
"Lizzie?"
"If you'd asked me. At the hospital. I would have come with you here." She paused, sighing. "We can't keep doing this, Red. You have to trust me with the truth."
"I'm trying, Lizzie" he said, his voice pained.
"I know you think you are." She sounded resigned. "Clara – she said something about being here to look after my interests and not yours. You knew she'd keep you in line."
Red chuckled softly. "I knew she'd keep one of us in line – I wasn't sure which. Perhaps both of us," he smiled. "Lizzie, if you'll permit me I'd like to stay-"
She cut him off. "Actually I'm tired, Red. I think you should go now."
He dropped his head and swallowed. He rose to his feet and paused for a moment, placing his hand on the blanket near her hand. When she didn't respond, he nodded silently and left the room, his slightly sagging shoulders the only indication of pain he felt.
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When sleep finally came in the small hours he had a terrible nightmare. He found himself back in front of the ornate mirror in the living room, his reflection leering at him, distorted and cruel. Desperate to escape the unforgiving image of his darkened soul he went upstairs to seek her out, to seek comfort and forgiveness in her arms. He opened her bedroom door and found not the room she occupies now, but the room in the lake house with its broad, white cotton bed spread and sun-bleached furniture. The room was bathed in silver light and he saw her kneeling on the bed, naked as the day she was born, her back to him.
Instantly aroused, he knelt behind her on the bed, sweeping her dark curls aside and kissing the graceful turn of her neck. She arched into him and he slipped his hand around her, gently fondling her breasts. She gasped, but when the sound reached his ears it was a pained, gurgling cry like a wounded animal. Holding her close, he felt something warm and sticky covering his hands. Crimson blood began to seep through his fingers from an unknown source; he pressed his hands frantically against her in an attempt to stem the flow but there was too much. He clutched her desperately as she sank down in his arms, her head rolling to the side, bringing her face into view. Gripped by an ice-cold horror, he saw then that it wasn't her at all, but her mother: Katerina Rostova, lying in his arms as the light faded from her piercing blue eyes.
TBC