The Concierge & The Citadel

by RosalieReddington

"There are few that understand love and loss more than I..." Raymond Reddington once had a relatively normal life. A wife, a child, a few good friends. Fate was unkind when it took those he loved. Now, as he faces death row, fate returns a familiar face that will bring memories, joy, and love back to Red's life. Pre-Blacklist Years. (Mostly) Cannon Compliant.

23. You Don't Mess Around With Red

Continued...

Kate Kaplan had gone below deck in search of the lavatories when she happened to pass Raymond's office.

She peered suspiciously at the closed-off space, wondering if her employer and his young counterpart had disappeared within. Her curiosity did not have to wait long. A feminine squeal of surprise could be heard from behind the polished door, accompanied by a deep, roguish chuckle.

Kate rolled her eyes and tutted, "Saw that coming."

Dembe had meandered below deck, looking for his compatriot. Seeing her poised in front of the office door, he lifted a lone, quizzical brow.

"I take it you knew?" She asked, jutting her thumb at the door's facing.

He had just taken a closer step when he heard Rosalie scold Raymond in a voice which could only be described as…satisfied. Dembe's mouth split into a wide grin, "We should give them their privacy."

Kate followed him back upstairs, her tone still disapproving. "How long has their dalliance been going on?"

Dembe shrugged his shoulders, "A bit."

His coworker was not amused with his brevity. "How long is a bit? Does Raymond really think this is wise?"

"She's kind, Kate," Dembe's expression was sincere as he turned to look at her. "You will see once you start moving with us, she's a good person."

Kate exhaled a quiet, skeptical sigh, "For all our sakes, I hope you're right."

Raymond fell exhaustedly back into the armchair in front of his desk with a sated huff, his limbs heavy and useless from their enthusiastic detour . His gaze refused to leave the vision of his lover bent double over the heavy cherrywood workspace, the occasional tremble of her thighs stroking the man's already vociferous ego.

He leaned forward, running a rough hand up one of the supple limbs, soothing the muscle fluttering beneath before shifting upward to the woman's hip and the tight, rounded cheek of her backside. His fingertips spread wide, flattening his palm against the arch at the small of her back. A broad thumb circled the two dimples situated at the base of her spine, making her squirm enticingly.

Rosalie could feel his breath still falling in hot bursts against her skin. She attempted to wiggle away from Raymond's wandering mouth, but to no avail. A sharp set of teeth could be felt leaving a love bite on the sensitive curve of her right cheek.

The action stung and tingled, resulting in Rosalie's shocked cry and Raymond's lewd amusement, which had unknowingly alerted Kate not only to their location but also gave her a good idea as to what they'd been up to.

Raymond grunted and soothed the spot with his thumb before rising and dropping a trail of kisses up her spine.

"Naughty boy." Rosalie chastised him in a breathy, decadent voice, the words trickling from her lips like warm honey.

Red grinned to himself, kissing her shoulder once more before setting himself to rights.

Rosalie eased herself off the edge of the desk with a contented sigh, shimmying the skirt of her dress back over her hips and slipping her arms through the short, flowy sleeves. "Feel better?"

Once his shirt was buttoned and his waistcoat draped back over his shoulders, Raymond clasped his hands around the small of her back. "Immensely."

His fingers worked the minuscule zipper of her dress upward, shielding himself from the tempting swath of silky skin.

Red's chest did indeed feel lighter after this little bout, and the daunting task of handling Howard Bukowski seemed a touch more manageable now his head was also clear.

"I've got to get the shipping ledgers squared away and roll the bank accounts associated with each before we get back to the pier. Once those are taken care of, I'll have a couple hours before I need to start cutting off Howard's escape."

Rosalie wrapped her arms about his neck and sighed ruefully. "So much for an early night."

Raymond sing-songed his head, "It's par for the course at this point, another sleepless night won't kill me. I'll need to brief the rest of our little band as to what happens next as well."

"Why don't we have them all stay for dinner?" Suggested Rosalie, adjusting his slightly skewed collar. "Everything is ready for a nice quiet cookout in the garden, and I can send Ted to pick up Brimley once we reach the dock, that way you can meet with them all at the same time. It's safe, discrete, and allows you to speak freely without fear of being overheard by the wrong parties."

Raymond considered the idea for a moment, then nodded his approval. "That would be excellent. You're sure it's not too much trouble?"

Rosalie waved off his concern, "I'll commandeer Dembe and Toddrick, they're both handy in the kitchen. You handle your end, I'll rally the troops."

Red released her with a warm, grateful smile. "Thanks, Rosalie."

The woman simply kissed his cheek in response before she left him to the handling of Howard Bukowski.

Returning to the main deck, Rosalie sought out Kate Kaplan and their multitude of security. "Would you all mind joining us for dinner?"

The room at large turned in her direction, Baz feigning hesitation, "Are you cooking?"

Rosalie lifted her chin, "Of course I am. I thought we'd grill tonight, the humidity finally seems to be letting up and the garden can hold all of us easily. Raymond wants to meet with everyone regarding next steps, and the safehouse would be the most convenient locale."

Todd and Wallace flashed almost identical grins, "Count us in!"

Kate and Baz nodded their agreement, the latter adding, "What about Ted?"

Rosalie directed the request to her own security. "Teddy, dear, would you mind making the trip up to 78th and picking up Brimley? I'm sure he wouldn't want to miss out."

Wallace's hand bolted into the air, "I'll tag along with Teddy!"

The two men smirked in mischievous camaraderie as Rosalie's guard whipped out a satellite phone to request another car be brought to the pier.

Ted and Wallace split off at the pier to pick up Brimley while the others loaded into two separate town cars heading for the safehouse on the edge of SoHo.

Red was still in the middle of rolling the bank accounts with Frank Parker, the main accountant for his shipping operations. As such, he remained on the phone throughout the car ride and immediately headed to the home's office once they reached the safehouse.

Leaving the man to confer with his bankers, Rosalie, Dembe, and Todd set about getting dinner started.

The innkeeper set out a large charcuterie board for their guests, filled to the brim with razor thin italian cold cuts, black and green olives, heirloom cherry tomatoes, mozzarella pearls and sharp curls of parmigiano reggiano.

While the group nibbled at the assortment, Todd had steaks and chicken quarters marinating, and Rosalie and Dembe prepared a variety of vegetables from potato wedges dressed in olive oil and rosemary to thick rounds of zucchini, summer squash, red onion, and carrots brushed with a tart citrus vinaigrette..

Once everything was ready for the grill, Rosalie opened the glass doors between the farmhouse kitchen and the cobbled stone patio, where a thick wooden table stood waiting for its occupants. The polished pergola provided a touch of cover from above, its criss-crossing bistro lights already glowing a soft yellow in the waning sunset.

Her two cohorts followed her outside, each bearing a tray or bowl and a set of tongs.

Todd happily took on grill duty, freeing Rosalie to check on the rest of the group.

Much to her surprise, as she moved back toward the bustling kitchen, Horace stepped out onto the patio.

His face held a contrite half-smile, and in his hands he carried a bundle of clean linens and cloth napkins. Horace dearly wanted to bury the hatchet with Rosalie, and was silently offering his help as a peace offering after their earlier argument.

The young woman smiled back at him and patted his cheek, taking the linens and beginning to set the table.

The pair worked in amicable silence, settling the pristine white tablecloth evenly on the large table and folding a napkin in every place setting.

Dembe came out with ten sets of flatware just as Brimley, Teddy, and Wallace arrived, the foremost announcing his arrival in his usual, deafening way.

Horace, Rosalie, Todd, and Dembe all looked up at each other with equally amused looks.

Todd's voice cut through the noise, only slightly muffled by the steady hiss of the grill. "Rosie, I'm putting the steaks on now, I'd say you've got fifteen minutes before everything is ready."

"Thank you Todd, Dembe, sweetheart, would you let Raymond know?"

He nodded and left the patio, acknowledging Brimley and the two other bodyguards before making a beeline for the office upstairs. Reaching the landing, he heard the dulcet tones of his employer's aggravated voice coming from the open office door.

"I know, I know, Frank. I've got the situation under control, everyone in New York is going to be looking for this guy before the night is out. The good news is he didn't steal any money and the accounts have all been rolled so he can no longer access them." Raymond looked up as Dembe knocked on the door frame and poked his head inside, informing him dinner would be ready in fifteen minutes.

Red gave a curt nod, "Listen, Frank, I've got to go. Thanks again for handling the financial logistics, I owe you one." The man hung up the phone and sighed wearily, meeting the eyes of his guard, which were calm and understanding.

"This is going to be hell, Dembe."

Dembe stepped into the doorway, seeming to look right through the man before him. "I do not disagree, this was an unexpected blow. I don't understand what would make Howard change his allegiances seemingly out of the blue. Out of all of your foremen, he is the one I would have least expected to turn."

"You and me both," Red conceded, the worry evident in his tense features. "We can't dwell on the why just yet. Howard must be apprehended before we can begin investigating his motives."

"What makes you so certain he isn't already in the air?"

Rosalie had appeared in the doorway, leaning her head against Dembe's shoulder and listening to their somewhat dismayed conversation.

"I would've heard if he had fled. There would be evidence of him leaving the city, surveillance, sightings of some kind. He knows better than to seek criminal passage anywhere." Red saw Rosalie was confused at this and expounded, "No one would touch Howard for fear of what I would do once I discovered their involvement in letting one of my employees purchase blackmarket transport."

Rosalie nodded, "Where do we go from here?"

"I've got enough time to grab a quick bite and meet with everyone before we'll need to start dipping into the underground. I have to make absolutely certain Howard can't move an inch off this island without someone on him."

"Can I watch?" Rosalie asked in a breathless voice.

Raymond grinned slyly at her, "You little voyeur."

The woman courageously fought the wide smile tugging at her lips.

She certainly wasn't about to deny the accusation. Rosalie was damn curious about his side of their world. Red already knew so much about her business, yet much of his day to day dealings were still a complete mystery to her.

"It would be good for you to learn what it's like, if Dembe and Ted are willing to play hosts with the others, that is."

Dembe nodded his agreement, glancing sidelong at the blonde head on his shoulder as he divulged another bit of important intel. "Kate knows about you two."

Rosalie scowled and stood upright, "Well we haven't exactly been keeping it a secret...how did she find us out?"

"The boat."

Dembe allowed the succinct statement to guide them to the correct conclusion.

Raymond and Rosalie blinked at each other, realization dawning.

The latter felt her face burn hot as she blushed profusely. "Christ, we are not doing well at this, are we? First Florian, now Kate-"

Red snorted, "We're 0 for 2 on big reveals, 0 for 4 if you count Dembe and Horace."

"…and Ted makes 5," Dembe murmured, adding insult to injury.

The guilty parties turned toward him with identical looks of exaggerated betrayal.

"...6 including Stratos." He added, undeterred.

Raymond and Rosalie broke at the same time, causing all three of them to fall into peals of laughter.

"Ugh…" sighed Rosalie, gesturing a finger between Red and herself, "We suck at this. How do you want to handle Baz and the others? Are we letting them in on the change to our dynamic?"

Raymond stood with an amused grin, "Hell, we've been doing so poorly, let's say nothing and see how long it takes them all to find out."

"My money says Brimley will be last." Intoned Dembe, turning to head back downstairs.

"Oh, that's easy pickings, sweetheart." Rosalie turned to follow him, giving his shoulders a squeeze before leaning into his ear. "The real question is…will it be Todd or Wallace who blurts their surprise in the middle of dinner?"

The two men chortled their amusement, flanking Rosalie on either side as they descended the steps down to the home's garden level.

Raymond's mind stopped its exhaustive spinning for a brief moment to take in the view which greeted him at the bottom of the staircase.

The troop of some of his favorite and most trusted acquaintances were all making their way into the garden, beer bottles and glasses of deep red sangria in their hands.

The patio was large for a New York abode, offering a small outdoor kitchen complete with a refrigerator, a beverage fridge, and an ice machine tucked beneath the soapstone countertops. The yard's brick walls were covered in a lush, green Boston ivy which Raymond knew from experience turned a magnificent orange and red color in the fall.

The pergola held strings of small, round bistro lights tucked amongst dangling fronds of climbing wisteria which had made its way up the structure's corner post and spread whimsically over its roof. The beautiful plant with its pale purple flowers was another testament to Rosalie's indomitable green thumb, creating a fragrant and tranquil sanctuary hidden from prying eyes and ears.

The table outside was draped in a clean white linen and heavily laden with grilled fare. The trays of deliciously charred meats and vegetables from which their security was loading their plates reminded the man how very hungry he was.

Rosalie had always maintained their bodyguards were all growing boys who needed plenty to eat, and that philosophy was on full display as she flitted around the open space, ensuring everyone's drinks were full and their plates were being loaded with copious amounts of food. Her dark eyes looked up in search of him, a hand silently gesturing toward a large basket on the countertop beside him.

Raymond lifted the light bundle, seeing a couple dozen sweet and savory dinner rolls nestled within. He carried his parcel out to the garden, forgetting himself for a moment and holding the basket firmly in one hand, playfully refusing to let go until the woman bestowed a warm, gentle kiss to his lips. Only then did he relent and take his place at the head of the table.

Rosalie moved to the seat across from him as though nothing were amiss, passing the basket up the line and catching Baz's ear-to-ear grin.

"You and the boss, huh?" He kept his voice low, though it was now obvious from their staring, the majority of the table had caught the exchange between their employer and the innkeeper. Raymond's head of security was deeply amused and not at all surprised by the turn of events.

Rosie was a lovely young woman, and she and Reddington had a great deal in common, not the least of which was a shared criminal prowess and a razor sharp intellect. In Baz's mind, the two seemed a natural pairing.

In fact, Baz, Todd, Wallace, and Brimley had started taking bets after a brief stint in Toronto convinced the men there was a bit more than a business relationship going on between the two.

"I knew it!"

Wallace's voice exploded above the din, drawing all eyes to that end of the table.

"Dammit, Wally." Rosalie grumbled aloud, pulling out a fifty dollar bill and thrusting it into Dembe's suddenly outstretched palm with a glower.

Raymond too pulled a fifty from his pocket, handing it to the bodyguard whilst shaking his head at Wallace.

Dembe was terribly pleased with himself, sporting a wide smile as a flurry of cash exchanged hands the entire length of the table, several bets having apparently been settled in the short blip of time.

Once it came time for dessert, Rosalie and Toddrick set out glistening bowls of balled watermelon, honeydew and cantaloupe which had been bathed in a chilled bath of champagne and triple sec. Alongside these stood grilled pineapple spears brushed with cinnamon and honey, a tray bursting with an assortment of plump berries, and neat little bowls of chocolate sauce and fresh sweet cream for dipping.

Talk quickly turned to the task at hand, with Raymond explaining the truth behind their visit to New York for those who hadn't yet found out.

"We will likely be in New York for at least another week," he concluded with a glance around the group, "I will be in need of your assistance in apprehending Howard, and he must be captured alive. There's no telling how deep this rabbit hole goes until we get ahold of him."

He turned toward their extra security, "Todd, Wallace, I'm going to have you making a number of rounds tomorrow in Brooklyn. See if you can't ferret out if Howard was acting alone or if one of my other employees was in on it."

Toddrick and Wallace nodded their understanding, assuring Red they would be at the warehouses early the following morning.

"Kate and Baz, I want you keeping ears on the underground. I'm convinced any of the players in transportation would come to me if Howard tried to high-tail it out of Manhattan, but all the same, I want you to see what you can garner from the chatter."

Baz raised his glass in acknowledgement, turning to discuss the approach with Kate.

"Brimley," Raymond turned toward the portly man beside Baz, "You're officially on-call. The moment Howard stops being cooperative, I'm going to need you to squeeze every drop of intel you can from him."

"You got it, Ray!" Shouted Brimley, impaling a potato on his fork with a little more vigor than was strictly necessary

This left Dembe, Rosalie, Ted and Horace.

The fugitive turned toward the four, "Dembe, you're obviously with me. Ted, Horace, I may need to borrow your charge to force a few hands in this exchange, otherwise it's business as usual for you two."

Horace turned to Rosalie, "That'll be a nice change."

The young woman grinned at the joke, incredibly pleased to see the man's demeanor seemed to have turned around.

"Now we're all aware of our respective duties, I'm afraid I must return to my own." Red stood from the table, bussing his plate in the process, "Rosalie?"

The woman nodded, turning to the room at large, "Please feel free to stay as long as you like, there's plenty of drinks and extra food in the refrigerator. My property manager and his team will take care of the clean-up so please don't worry about it."

The rest of their security watched amusedly as the pair made their way back into the house, leaving their plates by the kitchen sink before ascending the stairs in tandem.

Todd turned to Wallace and Ted, counting out his ill-gotten gains from the bet on Red and Rosalie. "Well, this was the most profitable dinner party I've been to in a while."

Upstairs, Raymond stepped back into the office with a weary sigh.

Rosalie had gone to their room for a moment, returning clad in one of his shirts, a stiff drink in each hand. She set his before him and patted his cheek fondly before taking the seat across from him. "Where do we begin, love?"

"First, I need to cut him off and cauterize the wound. I've started the process by segregating the financially important aspects such as the shipping ledgers and bank accounts. However, now I need to make sure he doesn't get out of the city. There's no telling if Howard knows he's been found out yet. I sent a pair of associates to the warehouse and his home after we left Rikers to see if they couldn't get a tail on him, I'm hoping one will have good news."

At that moment, one of Red's burners rang.

"Yeah."

Rosalie could hear the voice clearly on the other side.

"It's Harris, do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

Red rolled his eyes, "Either, just spit it out."

Harris launched into a recount of what he and his partner John had uncovered. "He left the building three hours ago. Fortunately, from what we can tell he was in the office all day and nothing seemed out of place."

"…and?"

"John just called from outside Howard's house, he's not there. From the looks of it, his wife has been calling, waiting for him. It doesn't look like his late night out was exactly planned."

Raymond swore under his breath, "Thank you, Harris. I'd like you and John to maintain your posts for the night, see if he turns up. Should you need anything, Kate will have it brought to you."

Rosalie's brow furrowed watching her counterpart pacing behind the desk as he hung up on his associate. "I take it Howard knows you're onto him?"

He nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose, "That tidbit of intel just vastly sped up the rate of play."

Raymond barreled onward, contacting several known players in the underground in order to ascertain Howard's whereabouts. Between calls, he outlined his actions and their collective purposes to his business partner, using the opportunity as a teachable moment.

Rosalie listened intently as Raymond tangled with a host of low-tier innkeepers, all of whose names she jotted down for posterity.

Her lover noticed this, a lone brow quirking in question as he continued his call, "It would be particularly dangerous for you to harbor him, Leroy, just as it would be particularly lucrative for you to inform me if and when he crosses your path. Do I really need to spell it out for you?"

The innkeeper on the phone seemed hesitant, drawing both Raymond and Rosalie's suspicions.

Leroy relented a moment later under Red's verbal sparring, assuring the man he would alert him if and when he encountered one Howard Bukowski or anyone who looked like him.

Dark, clever eyes flitted up to Raymond's once the man ended the call, Rosalie's misgivings about Leroy laid quite bare. "…I think Leroy's already encountered your foreman."

He nodded his agreement, "Yes, I think Kate and Baz are going to pay old Leroy a visit."

The woman refilled their drinks before settling back into her chair, making another note to herself.

Red pointed a finger at her notepad and smiled, "A little early to be building a blacklist, isn't it?"

Rosalie's chin lifted in defiance, "You contacted a dozen different innkeepers. I don't think it's unreasonable for me to keep an eye out for my competition."

He shook his head, "They are far from competition. These are low-grade, garden variety innkeepers, the kind of people who house murderers and drug runners and thieves-"

"Oh, my." Rosalie quipped dryly, continuing to make notes.

Raymond smirked, "The people seeking these innkeepers are new to the game or downright hazardous. They'd be too hot for you to allow anywhere near your network anyway."

Rosalie remained unconvinced, peering thoughtfully out the window as he made another burst of calls.

When Raymond dialed the last number on the list, his companion left the room.

She reappeared ten minutes later with a small tray laden with leftovers from that night's cookout and Dembe in tow.

The pair waited out Red's conversation with a player in the realm of underground transportation, nibbling on morsels from the tray and whispering back and forth. Both heads whipped around as the man bellowed at the other.

"Rico, I'm in no mood for you to cry poor mouth!"

A muffed grumbling could be heard from the other end of the line.

Raymond's lip curled in a snarl, "I refuse to pay you off, Rico. You want incentive? Fine. Either you do this for me, keep your mouth shut and your eyes open, or I'll make certain by this time next week, your business will have gone into that good night with a resounding bang."

The fugitive closed the phone with a snap and chucked it onto the couch in his frustration. He turned toward his audience with a somewhat apologetic expression. "Yes, Dembe?"

"Rosalie mentioned Leroy was being evasive."

Red sat, picking a few bites from the offered tray and nodding. "Yes. Having heard the conversation, she's of the mind Leroy has already encountered Howard, and I have to agree. Have Kate and Baz pay him a visit, Rico, too, while they're at it."

Dembe nodded his understanding and stood, "Is there anything else?"

Raymond shook his head, waving his thanks as the young man stepped out into the hall.

In the past four hours, Red had contacted a dozen innkeepers, five bootleggers, six rum-runners, eight harbor masters, another seven transportation peddlers, and the Genovese family was swarming Manhattan as his partridge in a pear tree.

If Howard was anywhere in the five boroughs, he was now well and truly trapped.

Rosalie stood, padding slowly around to the other side of the desk.

Raymond watched her intently, his green eyes drifting restlessly up and down her frame.

"Now what?" She asked, putting one leg over his hips and lowering herself to straddle him.

Red pulled her close, undoing the top two buttons of the shirt she wore and pulling the fabric low to bare the tops of her arms and chest. "Now we wait for him to stumble. It shouldn't take long, no more than a day. My people will find him or the Genovese's will." His lips traced the shape of her delicate shoulders, easing a mew from the woman in his lap.

"Let's get you to bed, then," Rosalie hissed as his teeth met the sensitive skin above her collarbone.

"Mmm…I like the sound of that." He husked, gently tugging her long blonde hair to expose more of her to his wanderings.

"I meant actually get you to bed."

Rosalie's expression was a hair chastising as she pulled him from his determined pastime, her warm hands cupping his face in soft, upturned palms. "You've slept two hours out of the past thirty-six. I think you've had your fill of my charms for today. We're going to bed and you're going to get some sleep."

Her tone held a subtle 'or else' note which amused Red greatly. "I'll go to bed, but I can't promise I'll keep my hands to myself."

Without waiting for a response, the man stood and carried his passenger across the hall to their bedroom.

Rosalie huffed her frustration, "Raymond Reddington, you put me down right now."

She was summarily tossed onto the plush bed, eliciting a muffled "Oof!"

Raymond outright laughed when she scowled up at him from amongst the ruffled sheets.

She pointed at him with a lone, dramatic finger, "Get undressed and get into bed."

"I know what I said this morning, but you should know it's terribly arousing when you're pushy." He teased, smirking back at her as he disrobed, not even bothering to put on his sleep clothes.

"I'm going to push you right into one of the guest rooms if you don't behave yourself." Rosalie groused, throwing his pajamas at him. She was adamant on getting the man to sleep at least a couple of hours.

Raymond deftly caught the articles of clothing only to immediately pitch them across the room. "You said I had to undress and get in bed, you said nothing about being clothed." He lifted a flirtatious eyebrow at his companion before snatching her wrist, falling onto the bed, and rolling her beneath him in one smooth motion.

Rosalie's head fell back onto the pillows, her well-laid plans rapidly getting shot to hell. "Raymond, do you know how hard it is to tell you no?" She was nearly fit to be tied, turning to her side so her back was to him.

This simply made it easier for him to fondle her.

"My dear, have you perhaps considered simply giving in to my charms and saying yes?" Raymond's hands wandered up the stiff fabric of her shirt, cupping a full breast in each hand and delighting in the feel of a taut nipple pressing into each of his palms.

Rosalie mewled at his touch, her traitorous body betraying her in an instant.

Red chuckled to himself, knowing the battle was already won. He rolled them again, bracketing the woman beneath him with his arms and kissing her soundly.

"You need to sleep, Raymond." She reasoned, already distracted by his mouth making its way down her person, each lost button of his shirt bringing her further under his spell.

"Imagine how well we'll both sleep after what I have in mind…"

The deep, husky growl vibrated against Rosalie's pulse point, turning her to putty in Red's hands. Her legs wrapped around his hips in capitulation, opening herself to his exploration.

"…Damn you."

Raymond grinned victoriously, "That's my little dove."

Rosalie's Towncar - August 15th, 1999

"You knew he was hunting one of his own?"

It was the following day, and the whole of Raymond's New York associates were scouring the streets for Howard Bukowski.

Rosalie had offered to drop in on some of her clients in the area to see if they hadn't heard anything useful, and was just returning to the safehouse with Horace when her bodyguard brought up a point which has been bothering him.

"Oh Horace, don't say hunting, it makes Bukowski out to be the victim. Until last night, all I knew was that Raymond lost a shipment of contraband and came here to unearth who was responsible. It wasn't till we met with the mafia that any of us knew his own foreman was involved in the theft."

Horace didn't seem appeased by this. "Doesn't it make you nervous, how quickly Reddington can turn on his own?"

Rosalie didn't even look up from her newspaper, "We're criminals. What you're missing here is how deadly being lenient on this sort of thing can be. The fact of the matter is Howard Bukowski willingly signed his own death warrant when he decided to betray Raymond Reddington. Raymond doesn't have a choice on the matter now."

Her guard was surprised at her, "You really believe that?"

"I do," she nodded, "I've always maintained the opinion that taking out one's own is a last resort, when all other options have been exhausted. Howard has exhausted all of Raymond's options by stealing, undermining the man's business, and likely exposing him to the enemy."

Horace snorted with laughter, "The enemy?"

Rosalie's expression was quite serious, "Need I remind you we never found Patrick's killer? The individuals who tried to kill us in the car leaving D.C.? The people behind that other death in June? There's very much an enemy lurking in the shadows, Horace, and Raymond being soft in his response to such attacks would be a death sentence for us all."

Horace and Rosalie arrived back at the safehouse late that afternoon to a flurry of activity.

It seemed she and Red's hunch had been correct, and Leroy the innkeeper had in fact come into contact with Howard earlier the previous afternoon.

Kate and Baz had gently persuaded the man to divulge everything he had uncovered, and their group now knew Howard was last seen in a quiet corner of Chelsea, heading for the bustle of Midtown in the hope of getting lost in a throng of tourists.

Raymond was entrenched in the office, fielding calls from all five boroughs focusing associates and acquaintances toward Midtown in the search for Howard Bukowski.

He passed the burner to Dembe, shooing everyone out as Rosalie stepped into the room.

His arms encircled her once they were alone, pulling the woman tightly to him.

"We were right," she whispered gently in his ear, brushing her lips against his cheek.

Red's shoulders relaxed as he heaved an exhausted sigh. "Yes, but now we have a bigger problem. Howard is desperate. He's entrenched himself somewhere with a lot of witnesses, but most unsettlingly, with an overwhelming number of civilians. It's going to be hell trying to get at him without endangering innocents as well as my own people."

Rosalie pondered this, "Perhaps he can be lured elsewhere, once you've found him."

"That is the hope," Red agreed, "I've sent the Genovese family and my associates to scour Midtown from the Hudson to the East River, hopefully he can be flushed out. Until then…" his hands roamed the shapely figure in his arms, "Let's grab dinner, you and me, far from prying eyes."

The woman beamed at the thought. "I'll grab Horace and Dembe and we'll sneak off for a spell." It had been a long day indeed, and a moment alone to catch up with him sounded divine. She kissed his cheek and flounced off to find their guards, garnering an amused head shake from Red.

The foursome has just pulled up to the front of the very same French restaurant where Raymond & Rosalie had their first dinner together when Red's phone jingled noisily.

The man scowled at the device.

"I bet it's important." Rosalie murmured ruefully, indicating he should take it.

Patting her hand, Raymond huffed his discontent and took the phone from Dembe. "Yeah."

Bennie Eggs' graveled voice filtered through the connection. "Good evening, Ray. We've found that squeaky wheel of yours. Gigante wants to know what you would like us to do with him."

"Son of a- Dembe, turn the car around. The Genovese have Howard."

"Well, the mafia's nothing if not efficient." Conceded Rosalie, her lips pursed and her eyebrows hitting her hairline.

Dembe went haring up the avenue, much to the confusion of the valet who was coming to open their doors.

"I'm sorry my dear, but this really must take precedence."

Rosalie waved his concern aside, her expression understanding. "You're absolutely right this takes precedence. The sooner he's handled the safer we'll be."

They met Bennie and his men on a side street off of Bryant Park and piled into a large black suv. His driver pulled up to an old, run-down brick tenement in Midtown East, cutting the engine and the lights.

"Howard's in that building right there," Bennie pointed, "He's trying to purchase blackout transport from Frankie 'The Coroner' Torello."

"Why do they call him The Coroner?" Rosalie asked in a whisper, her eyes never leaving the building before them.

Bennie Eggs turned his bulky body toward her with a dark smirk, "He sneaks people off the island in caskets."

Rosalie wrinkled her nose, obviously disgusted by the idea of pantomiming as a corpse.

Raymond tilted his head in a shrug, "It's no less effective."

This garnered the woman's curiosity, "Have you purchased such transport?"

"No, but I've arranged it for the odd client who's gotten themselves in a pickle."

The admission seemed to strike a chord in his companion, as she let out a gasp and sat up much straighter.

"What?" questioned Red, turning to look at the building once more, attempting to decipher what had caught her attention.

Rosalie turned to the car's interior, "What if I went in pretending to take him as a client, to offer him safe harbor?"

Raymond shook his head vigorously, "Absolutely not."

Bennie's frown deepened in contemplation, "Now hold on, Red, she might have a point-"

"I said no." Reddington snapped, deeply uncomfortable with the idea.

Rosalie's eyes held him in a vice grip, silently demanding his reasoning.

"He's desperate, Rosalie, this is completely uncharted territory. If he finds out you're with me, I have no clue what he might do."

"He's a family man, Raymond," Rosalie insisted, "He still has a lot to lose. Howard may be desperate, but hope hasn't completely left him yet… I can use that to our advantage."

Horace's expression turned dark as Reddington actually considered the option.

Bennie offered his two cents, "She is an unknown, Red, there would be no reason for him to distrust her."

Rosalie nodded her agreement, adding, "This could work in our benefit, Raymond. The Coroner could spread the word far and wide that you and I have a personal vendetta against each other because I came to help your man escape. As long as Bennie and the boys here keep a tight lip about the truth." Her dark eyes turned meaningfully toward the front of the vehicle, "This could muddy the waters around us to the point that no one would ever believe we're working in tandem."

Raymond held her gaze, knowing in his gut she was right but still quite displeased at willingly putting Rosalie in harm's way.

"This has to end, Raymond. The longer we take to secure him the less likely we are to apprehend anyone else involved." Dembe added his opinion to the fray, covertly drawing Red's attention to the greater issue.

"She will have security with her." Agreed Bennie, jerking his thumb at the massive bodyguards in the front.

"No." Raymond and Horace spoke at the same time.

The pair turned toward each other, rather surprised at their agreement on the matter.

Red further surprised the vehicle at large, "Dembe will go with her. Bennie's guys can tag along but I want Dembe in that room."

"Raymond, Howard knows what I look like," the younger bodyguard reasoned, " I can't be in the room."

Raymond's hands balled into fists as he turned to his companion, "I'm not sending you in there with just anyone." He murmured defiantly, making Rosalie scowl.

"Do you not trust me?" She asked, aghast.

"Of course I do." Red growled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. This was not a conversation he wanted to have in front of an audience.

"Then why insist on Dembe? Why can't I bring my own bodyguard? Do you honestly believe I would double cross you?"

Raymond balked at the question, "Of course not. Day in and day out I trust Dembe with my life, which makes him the only person in this vehicle in whom I would willingly entrust yours."

Bennie watched the exchange with narrowed eyes, his frown so deep it threatened to skirt his collar. It seemed this innkeeper meant a great deal to Raymond Reddington.

Red's flashing green eyes turned imploringly toward his own security, willing the man to ease his agony.

Rosalie lay her hand on his clenched one, coaxing his gaze to her own.

"Ok, Dembe will come with me. But Raymond, he will have to be guarding the door from the outside, otherwise Howard will know exactly what's going on."

Dembe tilted his head toward Rosalie, "That would work."

Horace was vehemently shaking his head, too shocked to utter a sound. To his horror, Raymond nodded in the next instant.

Rosalie gave his hand a squeeze and turned to Dembe, "Let's go now, we've already been sitting here too long."

The man nodded and stepped out of the vehicle, holding a hand out to Rosalie as she exited the car. Bennie's security exited alongside them, flanking the woman on either side.

"I can't believe you're allowing this." Horace hissed from the backseat.

Raymond let out an anxious sigh, "Me neither."

Rosalie stepped up to the building's facade, knocking casually on the dark door frame, stepping inside with her guards seconds later.

The man who answered the door ushered the four individuals into the entryway without question. He was used to pulling criminals and asylum seekers in off the street. If they had come directly to his unassuming door, they could only be there for one thing.

"I believe you have someone of interest to me." Rosalie tilted her head in his direction, her expression impassive.

The Coroner was an apt name for the individual before her. He was pale and gaunt, his skin holding a distinct waxy appearance, as though he weren't real, but a life-sized replica of what a human should be. He was shorter than her, and looked positively childlike in comparison to Dembe and Bennie's added security.

"I do not forfeit clients, regardless of who is after them or for what reason they are being hunted."

Rosalie nodded her agreement, "An understandable caveat, one we share, as a matter of fact."

The Coroner's interest was piqued at this, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, my business functions in the same way. I'm an innkeeper. I work under the alias of Renata Alder, and you, my dear are preparing transport for someone I would very much like to harbor."

Grey, watery eyes passed over the faces of Rosalie and her guards, their suspicion evident.

"Raymond Reddington's foreman," the Coroner surmised with a scowl, "Why would you want to harbor the man?"

Rosalie shrugged, her tone perfectly nonchalant, "Reddington has incurred my ire after buying a property I had my heart set on in Geneva. He was rather smug about it, I'd like to return the favor."

Her petty story must have been just convincing enough, as the little man stood up straighter, his scowl giving way to a sly, genial smile. "Well now, I can certainly accommodate your reasonings. This way, if you please."

Rosalie and her security followed the man up a rickety spiral staircase, the small space going almost completely black before opening to a secondary hallway upstairs.

The Coroner shuffled to the second door on the right, opening it with a large brass key and ushering the woman through. "Mr. Bukowski…you have a visitor."

"Today's your lucky day, Howard." Rosalie strode swiftly into the room, leaving Dembe to guard the exterior while the other two bodyguards stepped inside with her, standing sentinel beside the door.

The dingy room smelled distinctly of moth balls and formaldehyde. Its windows were covered with shabby black curtains, blocking out the few city lights able to filter into the cracks between this building and the one next to it. The space held only a small twin-sized bed, a ratty-looking rug, and a small desk with a dusty wooden chair.

Howard was a moderately tall man with beefy arms and hardly any neck. His shoulders were set high, almost skirting his ears as he held his tense posture, his freckled face riddled with sweat and suspicion. "Who- Who are you?" He asked, running a pudgy hand through his coif of fiery red hair.

One of Bennie's men pulled the chair out from the desk near the door, situating it across from Howard and wiping the dust from its seat with a handkerchief before offering it to Rosalie.

"Thank you dear," Rosalie said graciously before taking the proffered seat.

"I go by the name Renata Alder, Mr. Bukowski. I'm an innkeeper, and I'm here to help."

Howard Bukowski knew a bit more than she had thought. "You run the network Reddington's been living in!" His voice was a hoarse, panicked rasp.

"No," Rosalie lied outright, "I turned him down. He has not nor has he ever been living in my network."

The man's visage calmed slightly, but his posture was still fearful and riddled with distrust. "Then why would you be here? Why did you call me lucky?"

"You're lucky because your boss has royally pissed me off." Rosalie informed him, allowing an acidic bite to creep its way into her tone.

"How?" Howard asked, sitting a little forward in his seat.

The woman's eyes rolled in exasperation, "If you must know, he bought a villa out from under me in Geneva last week. A lovely, charming little lake-front property tucked between the French Alps and the Rhone Valley, and he snatched it by bribing the auctioneer." Rosalie was inventing wildly as she went, but the tale was certainly soothing the man in front of her. She halted the diatribe before she could get ahead of herself. "Well, let's just say I have a score to settle, and if you're content to high-tail it out of dodge and live in one of my luxury homes for a year or so, I can certainly get you out of this bind, if only to irritate your old boss."

The pitiful man's visage was transported, his eyes grew to the size of saucers and his expression indicated he simply couldn't believe his luck. "I- I don't know, I don't know what to say, what to do."

"Mr. Bukowski," Rosalie intoned, leaning forward in her seat. "I don't know if anyone has told you yet, but Raymond Reddington is upending the tristate area looking for you. To say I'm your only way out is an understatement. As I see it, you really only have two options: you get in my car and I take you somewhere Reddington knows he'll never find you, reunite you with your family and send you on your merry way once he gives up, or you wait in this squalid room until Reddington inevitably finds you, kills you, and makes it impossible for anyone to find the pieces."

Bukowski shrank at her honesty, the stark reality of his limited options bearing down on him.

"I think I'll take my chances with you."

Rosalie felt as though a gallon of ice water had flooded her stomach in one gulp. Part of her had been hoping the man would refuse, that he would insist on staying his course.

Instead, he had taken Rosalie at her word, putting blind childlike faith in her to provide him the safe harbor he needed. Instead, she would be handing him over to the very man looking for him.

In truth, she felt awful about it, but she simply couldn't entertain her guilt at that moment. The fact of the matter was they needed Howard to ascertain the threat to Raymond and his associates. She couldn't afford to be soft anymore.

"Excellent." Her voice was blessedly steady as she stood, brushing the dust from her skirt. "We need to get a move on, Mr. Bukowski, Reddington's people will know you're here soon if they don't already."

Rosalie turned on her heel and marched toward the door, leaving Bennie's men to flank Howard on either side. Her eyes met Dembe's as she stepped into the hallway.

The shared remorse she found there made Rosalie bite her lip to keep it from trembling.

Dembe took a step back into the hallway's shadows, staying out of sight as Howard and the guards stepped out of the room, one in front and one behind their captive as he went willingly down the stairs. The bodyguard waited a beat before bringing up the rear, catching up with their party as they stepped up to The Coroner's front door.

"Come back anytime." The man's flinty, sinister voice called from the foyer, a waxy hand waving as the five guests stepped out onto the dark street.

Howard was complacent until they made it to the suv.

Upon opening the car door to find none other than Raymond Reddington, fedora and all, sitting comfortably within, the man completely lost it. Howard attempted to bolt, making a break for the gap between Bennie's guards before being sandwiched forcefully between them.

He yelled and flailed, his arms and legs swinging at anything he could come into contact with, which, unluckily for him, took the form of Rosalie.

The back of his massive hand connected soundly with the woman's jaw, issuing a resounding smack which incurred the fury of every man present.

The guard who had wiped the dust from her chair immediately turned, shielding the woman from further blows.

Out of nowhere, Dembe came surging from the back of the group, landing two solid punches to Howard's head in a matter of seconds, sending the man crumpling to the ground.

There was no small amount of shouting, but Rosalie quickly shushed them all, directing Bennie's men to put Howard in the back of the suv before they could be seen. They did so without question, one of them climbing in alongside him just in case Howard came to.

Dembe took Rosalie from the secondary guard, easing her into the seat between Raymond and himself.

The Concierge of Crime was absolutely livid, though he was obviously trying his best to hide it.

"Drive. Now." He commanded, cupping Rosalie's face in his hands, examining her for injuries.

Horace's dark, accusing face could be seen from the corner of his eye, but Red couldn't be bothered with him just now.

It was little more than a split lip, though Rosalie winced when he brushed a thumb along her jawline. The spot would be tender for a few days, and would likely bruise, but in all she was perfectly fine, which she told him several times, to little effect.

"Really, Raymond, it's minor, hardly an issue at all…"

The man shushed her, continuing his perusal of her features as they hurtled along, heading for the Triangle Social Club.

Howard had awoken and was fighting the bodyguard in the back by the time they reached the Genovese's headquarters. The family had graciously offered the space to Raymond for his purposes in dealing with his employee, something for which he was grateful.

He turned to his companion with a stern look, "You are staying in this car with Horace. Don't even think of leaving that seat."

Rosalie was truthfully rather tired, and so she sedately made a crossing motion over her heart, acquiescing to his demands as the guards wrangled Howard into the pitch black storefront.

The Triangle Social Club - Greenwich Village, New York City

"Close the damn door." Red growled once they were all within the confines of the club, taking his hat and setting it pointedly on the nearby bar.

Bennie slammed the door shut and kicked on the flickering lights, throwing a scrabbling Howard Bukowski into sharp relief.

Red strode casually through the room, taking his time prowling after the scuttling rat. Raymond Reddington wasn't the type of man to run anywhere unless it was absolutely necessary. He preferred to stalk his prey, allowing them to accidentally maneuver themselves into a dead end.

Over the past few years, he had found this was one of his strong suits. It was satisfying, intellectually, to know he needn't lift a finger, that those unfortunate enough to find themselves staring down the barrel of his fury would screw themselves into a bind then ultimately entrap themselves.

This was specially true if he told them in advance what would happen. Then it became a self-fulfilling prophecy

His prey leapt up, making a run straight at Reddington who laid him out flat with a vicious right hook.

"There are certain things I don't suffer well, Howard, do you know what those things are?"

Howard jumped up once more, throwing a punch of his own, which was summarily blocked and followed by two more hard and fast hits from Red.

"Disloyalty is chief among them. The mafia call such betrayal 'eating alone,' because it denotes a certain level of selfishness. One has to be selfish to eat without waiting for your family, your brethren. You were disloyal, Howard."

"I swear, I didn't do anything!" Howard scuttled away from the man whose visage had turned as dark and desolate as a frigid winter's night. In the same breath, the guilty man reached for a shot glass breaking it on the nearby brick fireplace and holding it high above his head, preparing to bring the sharp point down on Reddington with a lethal force.

Unfortunately, the man had picked the wrong fight.

Raymond stepped forward with a towering ferocity, snatching the man's wrist and bending it backward, sending the glass shard shattering to the floor. Keeping that arm bent back, he let loose a deluge of powerful blows to the man's abdomen, dropping him to his knees on the ground before him.

Red bent over, getting directly in Howard's face. "I was going to wax poetic about your lying next, but your split lip has reminded me of another, more grievous offense."

Howard swung, catching his former employer high on his cheek.

Raymond reacted immediately, landing a combination punch to Howard's skull which sent him toppling in a heap to the ground.

The man shifted far back into a corner, sweating profusely and dripping blood from his nose and mouth. "It wasn't me. It wasn't me, Red!"

"You were seen with stolen contraband." Raymond flung a nearby beer glass at the wall behind the man's head, "Fifty!" he flung another, "God!" another, "Damn!" yet another, "Miles!" the fifth just barely missed his left ear. "Fifty miles from my warehouse." Red took a deep breath, working to slow his anger. "I have photographic evidence, Howard. So don't you dare lie to me and squawk your innocence."

The guilty party cowered in the corner, his body haloed in shattered glass.

Raymond turned at the sound of a knock upon the door, nodding for Dembe to let the arrival in.

Kate Kaplan strode quickly into the room, followed closely by Ted Brimley and Baz.

Howard looked up at the three newcomers, a shudder of fear running the length of his body.

At that same moment Dominick Cirillo appeared from behind a hidden panel which lead to the apartments upstairs. His eyebrows rose to meet his receding hairline as he took in the state of the room and Reddington in particular.

"I'm terribly sorry about the mess, Dom. I'll of course pay for all new glassware and will have my cleaners personally see to the cleanup, as soon as I'm done with this." Red gestured toward the frightened mass in the corner.

"Christ, Ray, all this for a bit of stolen contraband?" Dominick was rather impressed, truth be told. He had underbosses who couldn't wield half the lethal force Raymond Reddington seemed to manage at the drop of a hat.

"It's a bit more involved than that," he murmured evasively, turning to his cleaner and his interrogator. "I need to know everything he's done in the past four months. Nothing is too small."

Brimley nodded his understanding, immediately setting to work. "I wouldn't go far, if I were you. You damn near broke him already." The man actually managed a stage whisper that didn't sound like a foghorn this time.

Raymond nodded his understanding, trudging past Kate on his way out. "Have your team ready to go. I can't let him leave this building alive."

Kate eyed him critically, her concerns for his well-being quite evident.

"I'll be fine." He assured, setting his fedora back on his pate and beckoning Dembe to follow before stepping out into the balmy night.

Rosalie had watched Kate, Baz, and Brimley walk into the building and remain. She had thought she had heard shattering glass at one point, but it was difficult to tell from within the silent car.

She and Horace hadn't spoken a word the whole time Raymond was in the Genovese's headquarters, the tension in the air to stifling to utter anything aloud.

Shortly after the trio entered the building, Raymond and Dembe exited, making for the suv.

Raymond slid into the seat beside Rosalie as Dembe took the driver's side and Horace moved to the passenger's seat.

The young woman immediately noticed is tattered hands, a couple of his knuckles were bleeding profusely.

"Raymond-"

The man held up a pleading gesture, silently requesting she not ask. "I don't know about you, my dear, but I'm famished."

The quartet made their way to a nearby pizza joint which was blissfully open late, ordering a number of perfectly thin pizza slices and soda pops in glass bottles.

They sat on a nearby park bench and devoured the fare, not speaking a word until they had each finished a slice.

"You were quite upset in the car earlier." Rosalie said quietly, keeping the conversation low, so their security at the next bench over wouldn't hear.

"I still am," admitted Raymond, "I didn't want you going in there at all, and there you were getting backhanded by one of my people."

The woman shook her head, thinking he was overreacting. "He panicked, I know I'd put up as much of a fight if I knew I was going to a certain death."

Red sighed, staring down at his soft drink with no small amount of trepidation.

"You were hoping it wouldn't end this way." Rosalie murmured knowingly, her dark eyes seeming to see right through him. She had an uncanny way about her which managed to cut right through the facades and veneers, right to the very heart of things. He usually liked that about her, but today it left him feeling raw and vulnerable.

"I did," he whispered in a rough, gravelly voice, "I was hoping…"

Raymond turned to look into her eyes, "After all this time I still hold out hope that there might be another way, but there seldom ever is."

The pair stared at each other several long moments before a burner phone jangled somewhere off to their right.

They both turned as Dembe came forward with the device, informing Red it was Brimley.

"He's ready, boss, snapped like an overstretched rubberband not five minutes ago."

"Thank you, Brimley, we'll be there shortly."

Brimley blinked nervously at Kate Kaplan who stood beside him, "Boss, I think you should know, Howard wasn't acting alone..."

Exhausted though they were, the four of them immediately boarded the suv and headed back to the Triangle Social Club.

Rosalie stepped out of the vehicle without a thought, moving with her companion to the shop's door.

"There's probably going to be a contingent of mobsters here." Raymond warned, coming up alongside her.

"Well that's good, because mobsters love me." She quipped right back, striding through the door with purpose.

They were thankfully greeted only by Dominick and Bennie, who had come to see the fruits of their labor.

Rosalie, Dembe, Horace, Kate, and Baz all stood in a neat line alongside the family-sized table while Red made his way across the room and took a rickety chair in front of Howard, who was tied to a rickety chair of his own.

"You're going to give me everything you know about who hired you Howard. Every last scrap of information. You're going to hand it all over, right now, and then perhaps I won't put a bullet in you."

Rosalie's mouth fell open, watching the exciting show of Raymond Reddington at work as the other man nodded vigorously.

Howard's voice was a shaky rasp when he spoke, making him sound as though he were already hobbling on his last leg.

"I was approached by a man four months back, he was known only as the German. He offered me a huge payout to undermine some incoming deals. I never saw his face, but he offered me ten thousand dollars a turn to leak your bids to other purchasers so they could come in a couple thousand above and steal your business. I have a family, and that kind of money… Well, it makes a huge difference."

Raymond's expression did not so much as twitch.

Howard continued nervously, "After I said yes, I began to receive a series of mail drops outlining what shipments you were pursuing and when. They came along with a burner phone, so I could contact a second man in order to find out what your bid was."

A snarl tugged at Raymond's upper lip. "Who?"

The other man shook his head vigorously, "I have no idea, Ray. I swear, I never saw the German guy's face, and I never even met the other one. Everything was done through burner phones and dead drops."

"What was his voice like?" Red asked, desperate to hear more about this secondary player.

Howard blanched, unsure, "I don't really know, he had a deep voice, obviously a man. He could have been Middle Eastern, African, maybe Mediterranean? I couldn't tell."

"Where?"

"What?" Howard hiccuped, his blue eyes wide with fear.

Red shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over the other and threading his fingers together. "The dead drops, where did they occur?"

The other man's eyes darted frantically around the room,"Everywhere. Hong Kong, Cape Town, London, Trinidad, Marrakech, they've been left all over the globe."

"How did you acquire the ones abroad?"

"A courier automatically brought them to the shipment facility in Brooklyn."

"Of which you were in sole charge." Raymond finished for him, that piece of the puzzle settling into place. "Do you have a record of these drops?"

Howard nodded, a shaky hand pointing to his chest.

Dembe stepped forward, pulling the small notebook from the man's jacket pocket and shaking a few stray glass shards from its pages. He handed the item to Raymond, who rifled through its pages with a scowl.

There were dates and times and locations for a number of drops listed within. Red passed the item back to Dembe, who returned to the table, holding the notebook out to Rosalie hoping she might be able to make sense of the mess of locations and timeframes.

The woman scoured its pages, not paying attention to the dulcet tones of Raymond's voice further interrogating the man bound to a chair in the corner. It wasn't until the people around her shifted that she even noticed the air in the space had changed.

The whole room seemed to turn cold as Raymond sat silently across from his former foreman.

"You know what has to happen now, Howard." His deep voice rumbled regretfully, taking the Browning pistol from the small of his back and screwing on a silencer.

"No," Howard whimpered, staring at the gun with abject fear.

"I would love for this not to be the case, but I'm afraid you've left me with no choice in the matter. You've exposed my business to who knows how many people, you've hurt me financially, and most grievously, you betrayed my trust."

Raymond looked the man in the eye, firm and unflinching in his conviction. It was the least he could do, to be honest and forthright and human in his last moments with Howard Bukowski. "I'm out of options, Howard. All I can do now is assure you your family will be provided for. They will want for nothing, nothing except for you. Your children's father, your wife's husband, your parent's son… They will want for you, which is something I won't be able to give them. But you can go into that good night knowing at the very least, they will be cared for."

Rosalie stood rooted to the spot as two muffled shots echoed in the small, dingy room.

Howard slumped in his chair, two dark red circles blossoming directly over where his heart would be, his body still and silent in the eerie night.

Raymond stood slowly, striding over to Dominick and Bennie, thanking them for their assistance and assuring them any debt the Genovese owed Red had been paid.

SoHo Safehouse

Red had left Kate to the cleanup of the Triangle Social Club, sending Brimley back to the 78th Street safehouse with Ted, who had met them in Greenwich Village. Toddrick and Wallace were gathering any pertinent documents from the warehouse regarding the drops Howard had referred to, and the rest of their party had made their way back to the safehouse in SoHo.

Raymond had headed directly for his office with the list of drops, determined to make out a pattern or garner some intel from the locales.

An hour later, he sighed his frustration. The sheer volume of drops Howard divulged would provide them no direction. The drop sites and days held no significance to him, the locations were all places in which there was an extensive and active criminal underground. The fact was most criminals did business in these cities, Red included.

Tossing the pen onto the desk, he rubbed his temples, wincing as he felt the tattered skin on his knuckles split further. Raymond glared at the back of his right hand, watching impassively as a droplet of dark red blood pooled over his middle knuckle before trickling down his skin into his palm. The man clenched his fist around the small rivulet, anger pulsing through him once more.

Rosalie stood unnoticed in the doorway watching the irritable tick of his jaw.

This was a rarely seen side of her counterpart; Raymond had always been careful to never allow Rosalie to find him in such a disheveled state.

That's not to say she didn't have an idea what was going on. He would occasionally come home in a different suit than what he left in, or with pieces missing, such as his jacket or waistcoat. She had occasionally seen him with his hair slightly ruffled, the odd scrape here and there on his hands or his cheeks.

As a matter of fact, in the year they had been on the run together, Rosalie had only truly encountered the cold reality of Raymond's criminal life once.

Flashback - Lachine Safehouse - Montreal, Quebec - January, 1999 -

"Are you really waiting up for them?"

Horace's amused voice carried through the living space of the loft they were staying at in Old Montreal, drawing the eyes of his young charge.

Rosalie sat curled in one of the plush armchairs in the lounge, an array of paperwork and her accounts ledger spread before her on the nearby coffee table. She waved the man off, "I'm just working out a few kinks in my financial structuring."

The lie was smooth, nearly convincing her bodyguard.

"Well, don't stay up too late."

Rosalie lifted her gaze, meeting the smiling beetle black orbs of her security, then nodded.

The large man turned and meandered down the hall, whistling all the way, the woman furtively watching his retreat.

Once he was safely behind his bedroom door, Rosalie closed her books and made her way to the kitchen. What Horace didn't know wouldn't hurt him, and anyways, it was none of his business if she waited up for Reddington or not.

She pulled two small dutch ovens from the refrigerator, placing them on the stovetop and lighting the burners. The wind was howling and sleet noisily pelted the building's brick exterior, making the comfortable apartment feel all the more cozy. She figured if Raymond and Dembe were out this late in the frigid cold they would need warming up, and had set aside extra portions of the stew she had made for herself and her security, with a vegetarian option for Reddington's bodyguard.

Rosalie fixed herself a drink and paced the gleaming hardwood floors, peering thoughtfully out of the apartment's soaring arched windows with their white frames and wrought iron bolts. She couldn't help but wonder what was keeping her business partner out so late.

The man had been tense the past two days. In the few minutes he had spent in the safehouse, he had been brusque, disgruntled and hot-tempered. He was always polite, but the innkeeper could tell something was bothering the man . That morning, Raymond had prowled the office like a caged animal, making phone call after phone call in his deep, dangerous drawl before mysteriously storming off without a word.

It was now past midnight, and Rosalie was starting to wonder if the pair were okay. Certainly there would be some kind of contingency plan should something go wrong?

The woman's eyes suddenly grew wide and a blush flooded her cheeks. Her mind had chosen that moment to supply a terrible yet equally likely reason for the man's tardiness.

…Perhaps Reddington was out with a woman?

Rosalie began to panic, seeing a set of headlights moving into the cobbled courtyard below. Of course, a date would be a much more reasonable explanation for his lateness than some deal gone awry.

For some reason, the thought of the man chasing tail in some luxurious Montreal establishment irritated Rosalie. She knew she had no right to harbor feelings of jealousy toward any woman who might catch his eye. Nothing could happen between the two of them anyway.

Yet she was surprised to find herself deeply disheartened by the fact.

Rosalie told herself it was simply a passing fancy.

Raymond was an old-fashioned gentleman, clever and terribly charming. It was only natural, the woman assured herself, for her to be interested. The man was an enigma, and there were few things Rosalie found more exciting than intrigue.

The innkeeper groaned and shook her head vigorously. What was she thinking?

The man was her business partner, this kind of impropriety simply couldn't be allowed. He could and would see whomever he desired, and Rosalie would do the same. Never mind the fact they had taken to sneaking into each other's beds in the dead of night, or that he had kissed her only a few short weeks ago.

Feeling incredibly stupid, Rosalie hurried back over to the stovetop, intent on shutting off the burners and going to bed. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the young woman swore her inner voice was laughing derisively at her.

The sound of the apartment door opening and closing pulled Rosalie from her frantic movements, a defeated sigh escaping her mouth as she glanced around.

She turned in time to encounter Raymond and Dembe trudging exhaustedly through the living area, carefully carrying their shoes.

Red halted in his tracks, causing his bodyguard to bump into his back.

Dembe grunted irritably, looking up to see what the holdup was. His eyebrows lifted minutely at the innkeeper's surprised visage.

Her dark eyes were locked on Reddington. The man's hat looked soaked through with sleet, he wasn't wearing a coat, and his usually immaculate suit was spattered with blood.

The pair simply stared at each other for a long moment before Rosalie broke the silence. "Do you have someone to take care of your clothes?"

Red's eyebrows quirked in surprise, "Kate," he rasped, "Kate usually takes them. She should be here within the hour."

Rosalie nodded thoughtfully, her mind firing into action. "You should shower, you'll feel better." Her tone was calm and soothing as she spoke, "There are trash bags beneath the sinks for your clothes, and there's stew on the stove if you're hungry. The pot on the left is vegetarian, for Dembe."

The young bodyguard gave her a tired smile and nodded his thanks.

"That sounds…wonderful." Raymond murmured sincerely, his shoulders relaxing a fraction of an inch.

Rosalie's lips twitched at one corner, "Go on, get those backsides in the shower, I'll come collect your clothes in a bit so they're ready when Kate arrives."

Both men fought careful, guarded smiles, following her orders without argument.

As they reached the length of hallway leading to the bedrooms, Red leaned into Dembe's ear.

"Call and cancel my order from La Maison, whatever's in that pot smells damn good."

Dembe nodded his agreement, taking out the satellite phone as he turned into his room.

Raymond continued on to the master bedroom, the weight of the day's activities slowing his stride.

The door to Horace's room was open, and the older bodyguard eyed Red as he passed by.

The Concierge of Crime held the man's scrutinizing glance without blinking, having no desire to explain his disheveled state. Once safely within the confines of his room, the man wasted no time in turning on the shower and rummaging beneath the sink.

Once both showers were running, Rosalie tread into Dembe's room, finding the man's clothes neatly tied in a trash bag.

She picked the item up by its ties and left the room, turning toward the master suite.

Horace jumped out at her as she passed by, tugging her into his doorway as the woman nearly leapt out of her skin.

"For Christ's sake, Horace!" she hissed, "Must you do that?"

"Is this the kind of business we're running now?" He questioned, gesturing at the bag of bloody clothes.

"You shouldn't scare me like that." Rosalie grumbled evasively, tugging the bag away from his accusing finger.

Horace wasn't dissuaded, "You know what happened tonight, right? Reddington killed someone."

Rosalie blinked benignly up at him, "Your point?"

"My point?" Horace gawked at her, "Do you condone that sort of thing?"

"Only when there is no other option." She assured, her expression perfectly calm.

"No other option? Rosalie, do you even hear what you're saying?"

"Don't look at me like that, Horace," she sighed, "You were brought up with the Corsicans, the same as I was. You can't tell me you never encountered a situation where it wasn't an absolute necessity."

The man faltered, his charge's unflinching gaze brought him up short.

"You weren't… You haven't…"

Rosalie's expression was sympathetic, "You were new, and I spent the lion's share of my days at the side of Florian Armel, the boss of the Corsican gang."

Horace shook his head, "That was different, you weren't personally involved- I would have known." He insisted, waving his hands, unwilling to believe what she was alluding to.

His charge lifted her head in defiance, "I'm a criminal, Horace," Rosalie reminded, her tone completely unapologetic. "I've done what was necessary to ensure my survival and the continued safety of those I love."

The woman's dark orbs turned cold and distant, "Whatever this life has required of me, Horace, I've given, and will continue to give. So, if you're suddenly having a crisis of conscience, I sincerely suggest you reevaluate your career path, because you're out of your mind if you think this," she gestured pointedly toward Reddington's room, "doesn't happen in my network every single day. I'm absolutely certain of it."

Horace stood shocked and sputtering

"I'm many things, but I'm far from a hypocrite. I'm not going to judge Reddington or any of my other clients for meeting the requirements this life has made of them."

Rosalie pushed past her guard, striding the remaining length of the hallway to the master suite.

Raymond Reddington stood stoically in the open doorway, wrapped in a dark blue bathrobe, his expression completely neutral.

The innkeeper came to a screeching halt in front of him, her eyes wide, wondering how long he had been standing there. She knew it was highly unlikely the man hadn't just heard the entire exchange between her and her guard.

The pair simply stared at each other, once again at a loss for words.

Raymond broke the silence this time, holding out the bag of bloodied clothes.

"Thank you."

Reddington's visage bore a wealth of meaning, his head tilting ever so subtly in the direction of Horace's room. The exchange surprised him to say the least, and yet it didn't. The man felt marginally better knowing someone as seemingly whole and untarnished as Rosalie was every bit the criminal he was, that she, too, had taken lives for the sake of surviving.

The woman's dark eyes blinked thoughtfully up at him before falling to the item in his grasp. She took the bag's ties, setting both items on the floor beside her.

Raymond peered curiously at the woman, watching her slender fingers reach for his right hand.

She turned the large appendage over in her outstretched palms, examining the bloody fist with a small frown.

The man froze as her soft thumb brushed his knuckles and the inside of his palm. The motion was so gentle, it struck him dumb. Before the man knew what was going on, Rosalie was reaching up and caressing his cheek in the same fashion.

Those gray eyes glinted with something unnamed as she held his gaze.

"I'll wrap this once you've showered, hmm?"

Red nodded in a bit of a daze.

Rosalie gave him a small half-smile, patting his cheek once more before bending to pick up the bags of clothes and making her way back down the hall.

The man glanced cautiously around the open door, watching the feminine form retreat to the main living area.

Dembe's head poked out of the guest bath to do the same thing, observing her for a long moment before turning to meet Raymond's befuddled gaze. The two men shared a meaningful look, both surprised and a bit intrigued by this new development.

Kate Kaplan arrived forty minutes later, striding stoically into the open loft. Her brown eyes were nearly black as they took in the young innkeeper perched on the arm of the chair Raymond Reddington was occupying in the lounge, carefully wrapping the man's fist with clean gauze.

The cleaner was unsure how to proceed with the man's business partner right there; there was no way of knowing if she was aware of what had transpired that night.

Raymond looked up at the other woman's entrance, nodding his acknowledgement before lifting a glass of amber liquid to his lips.

To Kate's immense surprise, Rosalie stood from the armchair, lifting two small dark bags and carrying them to the other woman without a word.

Rosalie met Kaplan's suspicious demeanor with a calm, gentle warmth. The blonde's chin lifted confidently, taking the cool reception in her stride. "If you need a place to stay, the fifth bedroom is available, and an assortment of food is in the kitchen, if you're hungry."

Kate blinked impassively at her before leaning around the woman's shoulder. "I've taken care of it." She told Reddington cryptically, taking the bags from Rosalie's grasp and striding from the apartment without another word.

The younger woman followed Kaplan's retreat with her eyes, confused as to her rather frigid reception.

"Don't take it personally. Kate takes a long time to warm to anyone, if she warms to them at all."

Raymond's gruff drawl drew the woman from her thoughts. The man had stealthily moved into the kitchen and was doling out a healthy serving of the delicious smelling concoction on the stove.

Rosalie watched with a minute smile as he sighed his approval of the dish, settling into one of the kitchen chairs with a groan.

Dembe stepped out into the living area, freshly showered and his own knuckles poorly wrapped.

The young innkeeper shook her head with a smile, striding over to the living area to grab her first aid kit before bullying the bodyguard to the kitchen table so she could clean and wrap his knuckles as well.

SoHo Safehouse - Present Day, August 15th, 1999

"Come along, let's take a shower, you'll feel better."

The statement cut through Red's fury, bringing his eyes up to the woman leaning in the doorway. The man stood, following her direction without argument.

In truth, he was eager to wash this night off of him.

In the confines of the master bath, Rosalie turned on the shower's spray, allowing the water to warm as Red discarded his clothes. She held open a small trash bag as he deposited each article within. Once the man was naked, she knotted the ties on the bag and tossed it unceremoniously into one of the sink's basins.

Raymond wasted no time stepping into the shower stall, letting out an appreciative hiss when the piping hot water hit his skin.

Rosalie soon followed, bearing an array of the man's bath products.

He turned, expecting her to flinch from him, but instead she wrapped her arms around him and stroked his back fondly. "How are you?" Came the smooth, sincere voice, the sound traveling soothingly along the man's skin.

"I'm…" He had been prepared to lie, but that warm feminine frame pressed so tightly to him and those soft fingertips traversing him ever so gently gave him pause.

"You killed a man." She soothed, "Having lived with you nearly every day for a year, I know for a fact it's not every day you put a bullet in someone. You avoid it unless absolutely necessary. Are you going to be alright, Raymond?"

"Are we?"

The question was asked without context, blurted out in a feverish loss of tact because the man simply had to know. She was right, it wasn't every day a woman watched her lover murder one of his employees as recompense for a monumental betrayal.

He couldn't help but wonder if this side of him frightened her.

Raymond was a vicious, violent man. He had never pretended to be anything else. Yet, their relationship was still very new, there were pieces of him which she hadn't yet come to reckon with, pieces which were dark and volatile, ones which would easily frighten off run of the mill women.

Rosalie was far from run of the mill, though, as she proved time and time again.

The woman frowned, "Of course we are, you didn't really think I would get this involved with you only to tuck tail the first time I fully see you in such a light?"

Red's gaze belied the truth, holding her fiery orbs a little sheepishly.

Rosalie's mouth twitched at the corner, her steely gaze softening, "I didn't balk in Montreal, I'm certainly not going to now."

The man would never forget that night, not in a thousand years. The way she had looked at him, soaked in sleet, covered in blood, and so terribly angry. His eyes had openly screamed his guilt, yet her eyes had burned with compassion. Everything about her, her voice that night, the few small touches she allowed herself, it had all conveyed reassurance and comfort. It had forever change Raymond's view of Rosalie, and had been one of the many reasons he could no longer keep himself from her.

Tonight, her visage held the same warmth, the same understanding. Her eyes merely asked that he let her care for him, and the exhausted fugitive all too readily submitted himself to her tender care.

Recognizing his acquiescence, Rosalie plucked one of the soaps from the bunch and began gently rubbing the product into Red's skin. It wasn't a sexual exchange, but one of deep affection. The woman meticulously lathered every last inch of the man before her, washing away all remnants of that night.

Raymond sighed his enjoyment, the anger and frustration he felt melting away by degrees. He allowed the woman to bully him about in several positions, ensuring he was thoroughly pampered. She missed nothing, from the man's burly legs to the planes of his back and torso, she ran her hands and a soap-filled loofah soothingly along every last bit of skin, mindful of the few scrapes on his hands.

Red released a soft moan when she abandoned the loofah, using her soapy hands to gently cleanse between his legs. The woman's fingertips swirled through the neatly trimmed hair around his groin, smoothing the fragrant suds throughout the soft down. Her hands slid further downward, gently caressing his semi-erect penis.

The man could hardly be blamed for the wayward appendage, it was unreasonable for anyone to expect him not to be affected by a beautiful naked woman caressing him from head to toe.

The shaft pulsed erotically when she cupped his balls, massaging and cleansing those as well before slipping a lone soapy digit backward along the crevice of his backside.

Raymond couldn't help a surprised grunt of pleasure at the sensation.

Rosalie smiled sweetly up at him, ever the picture of a mischievous minx.

The man chuckled warmly, cupping her cheek in one large palm.

She carefully stood from her kneeling position, guiding him back under the shower's pounding spray to wash away the suds.

Once his body was rinsed, Rosalie placed a drop of shampoo into her hand and set about washing the man's hair.

A guttural growl tumbled low in Raymond's chest. He was already terribly fond of her fingertips carding through his short locks on any given day, but to feel her slowly circling the digits along his scalp made goosebumps race in waves down the man's extremities.

Rosalie beamed for his reaction, coaxing him into tilting his head back as she swirled the tips of her nails in mind-bending whirls of tingling satisfaction. She watched his Adam's apple bob in a spasmodic rhythm, the sight making her want to nibble the length of his neck.

The man's hands looped around her hips, keeping her close as she meticulously wiped that night from memory.

Once they were both clean and pleasantly calm, Raymond and Rosalie shuffled lazily into their bedroom, the former stretching out along the bed with a sigh before begrudgingly picking up the first aid kit which was tucked in his nightstand drawer.

"This is mine to do." Rosalie insisted idly, taking the kit from him and sitting on the edge of the bed. She took out antibiotic ointment and the various other items she would need before setting about wrapping his tattered knuckles. "You don't get to tend your wounds in solitude anymore." She reminded, ensuring the gauze was wrapped neatly around his fist.

An obliging smile tugged at the corner of Red's mouth, "I'm not?"

"No." Rosalie stated matter-of-factly, "You have a lover. A very pushy, self-indulgent lover who likes to fuss over you."

"I should probably let her have her way with me then, shouldn't I?" He murmured, his expression spellbound.

"You should," agreed Rosalie, finishing her wrapping and placing a gentle kiss to the clean white gauze. "I'm sure she'll treat you very, very nicely if you do."

"How nicely are we talking?" He questioned with am impish grin, earning himself a coy little wink.

Dembe knocked softly, stepping into the room once he was bid. "Kate has taken care of the body," he informed him in a stoic tone, "The Genovese's club has been put to rights as well."

"Very good, please let Kate know there is a room for her at her original location if she wishes or here with us once she is ready."

Rosalie took one look at the young bodyguard's hand and let out a quiet tutting noise. "Come here Dembe, it's your turn."

The young man lifted confused brows, shuffling toward the innkeeper in a suspiciously slow manner.

Rosalie sighed, her smile an indulgent one. "Sweetheart, the only person in this room in danger of being bitten by me is Raymond."

The quip knocked the tension out of the room, making both men snigger.

"Now shimmy on over here," she insisted, "I want to check your hand."

Dembe closed the distance between them, sitting on the bench at the foot of the bed and holding up the poorly wrapped appendage for her inspection, smiling sheepishly when Rosalie tutted at him again.

"Why would you bite Raymond?" He questioned softly, his deep, dark eyes flickering with mischief.

"Well, you know, sometimes he misbehaves." Rosalie explained, perfectly deadpan. "Every once in a while a good sharp nip ensures he minds his P's and Q's."

Both men laughed heartily at this, the mood in the room lightening a bit further.

Rosalie removed the gauze and began the process of disinfecting the tattered spots on the young man's knuckles and dabbing them all with antibiotic ointment. "You have a friend who is going to insist on taking care of you." She reminded, wrapping Dembe's knuckles just as carefully as she had wrapped Red's. "So I suggest you take a leaf out of Raymond's book," she tilted her head in the direction of a very amused and sedate Raymond Reddington, "and let me fuss over you, or I really will bite you."

Dembe chuckled, a broad grin illuminating his features as Rosalie finished, tucking the tail of the bandage safely on the inside of his palm.

She stood and placed a soft kiss to Dembe's forehead, smiling warmly down at him before turning back to Raymond. "The two of you need a little TLC." She declared, one hand on her hip, the other pointing at the bedroom door. "Now go to the kitchen, so I can feed you and coddle you both some more."

The two grown, formidable men blinked insolently up at their self-proclaimed mother hen.

Rosalie was undeterred, "Did I stutter? You have your ways of coping with a rough day and I have mine. March those darling little criminal backsides into the lounge. Ray, pick out a few good albums. Dembe, you finish up with Kate. I'll get us some drinks and we'll hold down the couch like we did on New Year's Eve."

Dembe sniggered and gave a stiff salute before exiting the room.

Raymond stood from the bed, grasped the little woman firmly by the waist and brought her flush against him. Those jade green eyes held her for a fraction of a second before he kissed her deeply, mindful of the small cut on her mouth from Howard's fist.

Rosalie's lips parted readily, offering a brief moment for him to fall into her gentle affection.

"You and I will continue this later." He promised, nuzzling her nose with his before kissing her once more.

Rosalie grinned as he obeyed her orders, stepping out of the room and moving for the record collection on the floor below.

"This is new," Dembe commented, once Red strode out into the open area.

"It is," he conceded, "Though not unpleasant, I'm usually, well, intolerable after a night like tonight."

Dembe nodded his agreement. "It is usually a dark and irritable couple of days for us both."

The men shared a reluctantly amused look, both recognizing how much they secretly enjoyed Rosalie's mollycoddling. It was new and uncharted territory, having someone sincerely and, at times, aggressively demand to take care of them.

-Late that night-

A scotch neat in one hand and a gin and tonic in the other, Rosalie ascended the stairs from the kitchen into the first floor. She was in one of Raymond's shirts, and was humming happily to herself as she headed for the second floor when something demanded she stop.

There in the foyer stood Horace, his bulky trench coat draped over one arm and his wavy black hair tied back in a short ponytail. His suitcase and overnight bag were immediately recognizable at his booted feet.

"I must be missing something," Rosalie enquired, completely bewildered by the scene she had happened upon.

Horace looked up at the sound of her voice, his beetle black eyes shining with the faintest hint of moisture.

His charge set the drinks in her hand on the nearby console table and rushed to his side. "Horace, what's wrong?"

"I'm going back to the Corsicans, where I think I belong."

His response was so short, so foreign, it sounded so wrong to her ears. The statement made Rosalie stammer incoherently for a long moment, trying to make sense of what was happening.

"What do you mean, you're going back to the Corsicans?"

Horace's lips pursed, "I need a different- I just need something different."

"Please don't leave, tell me what you need, there has to be a way we can work this out." She whispered, baffled as to what had happened in the short course of the past few hours which would completely change his mind like this.

Horace's expression was placating, "You will find another head of security, someone who can do the job well-"

Rosalie shook her head frantically, "You do the job well! The job was yours, Horace, it was always meant for you. How could I possibly do this without you?"

"I have no doubt you will be incredible, Rosie." Horace murmured honestly, placing a chaste kiss to the top of her head.

Their eyes met and held for a long moment, both seemingly heartbroken, before Horace picked up his bags and strode out the door.

The silence left by the man's departure was all-consuming, leaving Rosalie frozen in a cacophony of mundane noises all too loud for her to think. The apartment's central air might as well have been a jet turbine, its steady hum was so invasive in her silently panicking mind.

"Where's Horace off to? I thought I heard his sullen voice."

Ted had returned, making his way down toward the kitchen in search of a stiff drink.

Rosalie's fretful expression was impossible to push aside as the other man's voice registered like a deafening bell. Her eyes swam with moisture and she bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She stared at the door, willing it to open and for her friend to step back through.

"Rosalie?"

The woman turned to her secondary guard, taking several deep breaths before she met his worried gaze.

"Once again, I have to ask too much of you, Teddy." She whispered, working to keep her tone even. "Horace has resigned."

Raymond, who had come looking for his lover and his promised scotch, stood rigid at the top of the open staircase leading from the second floor. He backtracked to Horace's room, opening the door to see the bed was neatly made, and the guard and his possessions were indeed nowhere to be found.

Rosalie was making a few requests of Ted when Red descended into the main living space.

The towering Londoner nodded as the woman lay her most pressing requests at his feet, his face a mask of concern.

Raymond was thankful for Ted's level head as he heard him reassure his young charge.

"I'm sure he will be back. Until then, you can count on me. Anything you need, Rosalie, anything at all."

"You're a dear, Teddy. I will, of course be giving you a substantial raise for taking on the role."

Ted humbly shook his head, "Oh no, m'am, I couldn't-"

"You can and you will. I'm not about to lean on you as the last remaining member of my security without at least paying you well for it."

Raymond saw straight through the firmly erected facade guarding the woman's fragile heart. Her voice was too smooth, too calm, she was too busy ensuring her empire would withstand this blow to allow the truth of her feelings to come to the fore.

Once her immediate concerns with Ted were tended to, Rosalie hurried up to their bedroom with Raymond right behind her.

As they passed Horace's empty room, Rosalie stopped, staring at the neatly folded linens at the foot of the bed with hot tears cascading along her cheeks.

"Raymond, what am I going to do?"

She turned to the only source of comfort afforded her in that moment, and the man met her need, his arms opened wide.

"Come to bed, little dove, let's quiet that mind."

It was 4 a.m. when Raymond woke from a troubled sleep to an empty bed. Rosalie was nowhere to be found, and it set the man on edge.

Red stood and shuffled from the master suite, out into the hall. Moonlight poured in from the large cantilever window beside the office, which upon closer inspection was propped open. He headed for the window and ducked through, making his way up to the patio.

There on one of the wide patio chairs was Rosalie, cradling a glass of gin and peering up into the night, muttering softly to herself.

The sight gnawed at Raymond, the need to comfort her nearly eating him alive. He considered leaving her to her thoughts for a moment, before he saw the trickle of tears running down her face.

The man took the few steps up to the main patio and settled into the space beside her without a word.

"He was my first bodyguard," Rosalie confided with a hearty sniff, "My first friend in this chapter of my life. The very first."

Raymond listened carefully, gathering her into his arms and creating a safe hollow for her, just as she always did for him.

"Should I have known, Raymond? Should I have known he was at his wits end with me? Why does this feel so out of the blue?"

"Because it was out of the blue." Red assured, giving her a squeeze, "I know things had been tense with Horace for the past month, but it genuinely seemed like you two were finally coming back around. I have no clue what changed in the past twenty-four hours to make him decide this."

Rosalie burrowed into Raymond's chest, "I think if I hadn't caught him, he was going to leave without saying goodbye."

Red firmly disagreed, "Horace cares about you, Rosalie, he wouldn't have done such a thing."

The woman remained skeptical, the evidence, in her mind did not stack in favor of Raymond's hypothesis.

"What can I do to help?" Raymond asked, stroking her back and arms, hoping to soothe her.

"Just don't be surprised when I insist on coddling you for the next two days." She replied blithely, fiddling with one of the curlicues on his chest.

"Should I wake Dembe so you can get a head start on fussing over him, too?"

Rosalie let out a reluctant snigger, shaking her head, "Let him sleep."

Raymond's expression turned contemplative, "Why doyou coddle him so?" The question had been arising in his mind all night, his curiosity thoroughly piqued as to why she was so insistent on caring for the young man. Not that it bothered Raymond, he was truthfully quite pleased the two were developing such a close bond. That being said, he was still very curious.

Rosalie turned her head back up to the moon, its pearly glow battling with the city's lights as both cast their rays upon her face.

"My college roommate and her family weren't very close. In actuality, she spent most holidays and vacations with me and my family. My mother doted on Luli like you wouldn't believe. When I asked her what made her coddle Lu so much, she responded with the statement, "Baby, I can't explain it, but I have a bone-deep need to love on her." The young woman's eyes misted slightly, "She said the call to mother that girl was echoing from somewhere in the very foundations of her soul, and she couldn't stifle it if she tried." Rosalie turned with a watery smile toward Raymond, "I never really understood what she meant until I met Dembe."

The older man's head tilted in shock, "Really?"

Rosalie nodded, her eyes soft and utterly transparent, "The call to mother that boy quite literally echoes in a carefully guarded corner of my soul. I don't think I could stifle it if I tried."

Raymond smiled warmly at her, a deep ache settling into his chest at her words.

"I feel the same call to care for you," she confided, "it's just…different."

"Is that so?"

"It's not a desire to mother you," she assured him, "It's more a desire to dote on you. To ensure your happiness. To make you feel safe and cared for." Rosalie felt her face grow hot at her own frankness, but the words still managed to topple out without poise. "It…gnaws at me when you're anxious or angry or tired."

Something clicked into place in Raymond's mind.

"These past few days?" The woman had been especially affectionate and physical since the issue in New York came to light. "The coddling and cuddling, tying my ties, putting my hat on, the copious intimacy, it was for my benefit? To make me feel better?"

"Like I said, I couldn't stifle it if I tried."

"Well, I'm sorry to have made you feel that way..." Raymond didn't much like the idea of her showering him in affection when it was somewhat against her will.

Rosalie cupped his cheek, turning his attention back to her. "You misunderstand, Raymond, these are all the things I love to do anyway. They are all things I very, very much enjoy. It's just…when you need it most, for me, it stops being a want and I-" her eyes fell to his chest, her teeth capturing her bottom lip nervously, "I, too, feel that need."

It was the loveliest sentiment anyone had ever spoken to Raymond Reddington. The notion that his need for comfort and affection, for understanding and intimacy, those most elusive necessities that made a man feel whole.

To know Rosalie recognized, specifically, when he needed them, and that she felt the overwhelming desire to pour out those parts of herself in response, it rocked Raymond to his very foundations.

He pulled her tightly to him, cradling her in a meaningful embrace.

Rosalie burrowed deeper into his hold, stroking his cheek and placing her lips to his neck where her face was buried.

Checking his watch, Raymond noticed it was well past midnight. He whispered roughly in his lover's ear, "Let's sneak off into the night."

"What?" Rosalie asked, thoroughly confused as to where he thought they would be going at the crack of dawn.

"We're getting dressed and going on a hunt for the Tinderbox and that spectacular cigar bar on top of it. We're going to celebrate the simple things. Like the fact that as of approximately four hours and twenty-two minutes ago, you and I have been on the run together for a year."

Rosalie's expression turned to complete shock as she realized the man was right, it was August 16th, a year to the day since Raymond had kidnapped her in Saõ Paulo.

"Come on, what do you say, Rosalie? One last hurrah before your network explodes and another one of my employees tries to ruin me?" He stood and pulled her onto her feet, the cool night cradling that moment when the lights of the city illuminated them both and sound seemed to stop once more.

"Would you do it again, run away with me?" Red asked, his face for once unguarded in its sincerity, one hand outstretched, seeking her.

Rosalie beamed up at him, her eyes burning with emotion as she placed her hand in his.

"In a heartbeat."