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.

24. A New Norm

Streets of New York's Greenwich Village - August 16th, 1999 - 4:45 AM

Raymond and Rosalie slipped quietly out into the night ten minutes later, leaving a hastily scribbled note for their security on the kitchen countertop so they wouldn't get a talking to later.

Red was back in a pale beige suit minus his jacket and tie while his omnipresent fedora, this time in a deep forest green, obscured his face from view. The fugitive took his counterpart by the hand and led her down the apartment steps and around the corner, disappearing into the inky blackness of a nearby alley.

Rosalie followed, not missing a step in her stride as he guided her through a labyrinthine maze of hidden pathways, side streets, and back alleys, leading her North into the heart of the Village.

They emerged two blocks from the mafia headquarters they had left a few short hours ago to make a beeline for an array of aging brick tenements, each quiet and unsuspecting as the last.

At the corner of the hushed street stood an old-fashioned gas lamp post the likes of which once dotted the entirety of the neighborhood's quaint streets. The fixture looked like it belonged, as though it had been there for decades, standing resolute and weathered alongside its firebrick compatriots, all remnants of a bygone era.

Raymond, however, knew this post had been erected all of two weeks ago, as the infamous Tinderbox club disappeared from its last secret locale near Lexington Ave. A little digging within the underground informed him the proprietors of the space already had this new property prepared. They opened the night prior, just in time for the illustrious NYPD to attempt a sting operation on the now-abandoned Upper East Side hideout.

It had been the man's intent to take Rosalie here after their dinner that night, but the unearthing of Howard Bukowski sidelined his plans. Their restlessness thankfully provided a second opportunity to revisit the club which held such significance for Raymond and Rosalie.

Reaching the post, Red beamed excitedly back at his counterpart.

Rosalie's dress was made of a soft chiffon in a dusky indigo, causing her shapely figure to disappear easily with him into the darkness. The material floated about her frame as though it were made from the very air whirling about them, showcasing glimpses of the supple curves which so often set Red's body on fire.

She smiled indulgently before lifting a hand to touch the surface of the post.

Raymond lifted his own hand, guiding her fingers to brush a small, raised hexagon tucked within one of the exterior ridges. Prodding the object, they looked up to watch a small cylinder rise within the lamp's flame. As the fire came into contact with the cylinder, a chemical compound Raymond knew must be copper chloride, the light proceeded to turn from a soft yellow to a rich cobalt blue.

The change in the small flame caused a chain reaction.

The remaining lights along the street went out, casting them into near total darkness. Off to their right, the pair saw another blue light glowing near the ground.

Rosalie's hand still held firmly in his own, Raymond approached the set of sidewalk cellar doors nestled between two storefronts, from which the light was emanating. Their metal facings were painted with a chipped green lacquer, portions of the sides and corners eroding away to crackled and crumbling rust.

A voice issued from the small gap in the metal, a sultry, smooth female voice posing a password riddle.

"I'm Riley's favored lady. He plucked my heartstrings, danced his fingers along my ebony face, and in his sorrow, we've made a duet for the ages. I raised him up from the hallowed clay of the Deep South and made him a King. What is my name?"

Raymond's shot the door a quizzical look. This wasn't the riddle he had been given, and he doubted the answer would be the same.

He glanced sheepishly at Rosalie, who gave a broad grin, her warm voice uttering a lone word:

"Lucille."

The cellar doors flung themselves wide, showcasing a short set of stairs leading into a hallway lit with cobalt blue lights.

The pair descended the steps side by side, the doors closing behind them as they tracked a length of black carpet to a blank stretch of white subway tile wall, turned blue by the lights.

"Good Evening, Patron."

The woman who had posed the riddle strode across their field of vision, tapping a series of tiles in a specific pattern before continuing her trek to the end of the narrow hall.

The wall before them split and opened, showcasing the entry of a moody lounge done up in a polished ebony finish. The room glinted with shining brass fixtures and the same antique mirrors which had covered the walls the last time they had located the establishment.

The same fashionable and mysterious hostess also stepped forward, "Welcome back Ms. Øllegaard, Mr. Reddington, the Tinderbox is thrilled to have you."

Rosalie smiled genially at the other woman, "Hello Bonnie, what kind of tricks are you all up to today?"

The hostess beamed brightly at her, "Something one of a kind and terribly exciting; we just had a very special guest arrive on stage."

Raymond and Rosalie shared a curious glance as a bluesy chord echoed from the far end of the room.

They had been planning to simply make their way up to the Cherry cigar club which was undoubtedly on the roof, but the hostess's excitement and the haunting sound of an electric guitar warming its strings had Raymond quickly gesturing toward the opposite side of the club.

"Could we get a secluded spot with a view of the stage?"

Bonnie nodded, indicating the two fugitives should follow her.

The venue stretched the interior of three full row houses, as though the buildings had been gutted to form one large, open concert hall. Faux windows took the place of their real counterparts, ensuring the space still had the feel of several gutted brownstones while keeping the location's activities a complete secret. Everything from the crown molding to the fake window sills was bathed in a cobalt blue light, giving the whole space a dark, saturnine allure.

Bonnie guided them to a very private corner booth tucked on the far side of a structural pillar, casting the two in shadow and safeguarding them from any onlookers.

Raymond murmured his thanks and ushered Rosalie into the small booth made of glossy, obsidian wood and plush cushions in a deep sapphire velvet. His smile grew as he saw her staring in complete shock at the occupied stage.

Red ordered their drinks before leaning into her ear, "My God, this is a surprise even I couldn't have planned."

Seated in a chair center stage, bathed in blue and white light, and happily plucking out a gut-wrenching blues riff, was the one and only, B.B. King.

"...I am so happy we snuck out." Rosalie whispered, her eyes not once leaving the musician.

King was in a pristine white tuxedo shirt, the ends of his bowtie lay untied on either side of his neck, a vibrantly patterned tuxedo jacket draped across the back of his chair. He was relaxed as could be, his entire visage wrought with emotion as he pulled forth a dark melody from a shining black Gibson guitar.

"That's why the password changed." Red sighed, "It was originally something else entirely, but the proprietors must have altered the riddle the moment he stepped inside."

Rosalie nodded, leaning her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her upturned palm. "In his sorrow we made a duet for the ages..."

"B.B. King's duet partner throughout the years has been his guitar," Raymond deduced, watching the man's nimble fingers move effortlessly along the instrument's fretboard.

His partner turned toward him, a bright smile illuminating her features. "A black Gibson...named Lucille."

The two shared a knowing look before their combined gaze returned to the front, watching riveted as the legendary guitarist wandered his way into the impromptu set.

His voice and music was a raspy moan, an abiding ache, and utterly divine. In other words, everything the blues should be.

They listened in communal silence as the set continued, passing from despairing, tender ballads to more wild, wailing numbers, a few jazz tracks slipping into the mix as well.

Red found himself teetering between watching the legend before him and staring at the woman beside him.

Rosalie was caught in a sliver of blue light which made her dark eyes look black as she listened intently to the music pouring from the stage. Each piece pulled a little more emotion from her features, laying her bare in ways Raymond hadn't seen before.

He could see now that the dark orbs shimmered ever so slightly, moisture pooling at the lash-framed rims. She felt every note played, the sound and words making her insides ache with a heavy weight.

He understood what plagued her, perhaps better than anyone else in her acquaintance.

Rosalie had experienced more of Red's world in the past 24 hours than he had ever intended she be privy to. She watched him actively hunt down one of his own associates, had assisted in the matter by dipping into her own contacts, and it had been she who had ultimately lured Howard to his demise. The past two days were never part of Raymond's plan, but Rosalie had taken up his side in the matter, unflinchingly and without question. She made the conscious choice to forfeit the life of another human being.

Red feared, in the process, her decision had also facilitated the loss of her nearest and dearest friend.

At second glance, Horace's departure had been unexpected, but not unfathomable.

Things simply hadn't been right in their group since Raymond and Rosalie returned from Norway, though Red had truly believed the bodyguard was ready to patch things up with the woman.

The altercation at the Coroner's seemed to have re-flipped the switch, and it turned out to be the last straw for Horace.

Now, Rosalie was no doubt feeling guilty for her hand in Howard's death and terribly alone after the loss of her right-hand man.

His hypothesis was confirmed when she surreptitiously placed her hand beside his on the table top, her fingers searching for contact.

Raymond readily obliged, taking her hand in his and brushing his thumb soothingly over her knuckles.

Rosalie squeezed him in thanks, returning her attention to the musician before them.

The beautiful tones of a blues legend, though thrilling, were also haunting and difficult to hear when one's entire life suddenly seemed upside down. The lonesome echoes, the tightening and loosening strains of melody, they all pulled at the heartstrings of both criminals, making them want to linger in the tune while also yearning for the release of the song's end.

Red pressed his lips to the top of Rosalie's hand, taking as much comfort in the contact as she did.

As the music began to take a more upbeat turn, couples started filtering onto the dance floor in front of the stage.

Raymond grinned, turning to whisper to his companion. "Come along, beautiful."

He firmly but gently tugged Rosalie from the booth and onto the floor, spinning her easily into his outstretched arms.

She let out a delighted, tinkling laugh, contentedly falling in step with the dance into which he lead her. "This was a wonderful idea, Raymond."

"I had no idea you were a blues fan." Red murmured softly to her, holding her close as they began to sway in time with the music.

"I was raised in the South," Rosalie whispered back, "Not the Deep South, or the Delta, but… Blues has always been like coming home after being away for an awfully long time." Her voice held a slight quaver to it, belying how much the music affected her.

Raymond held her in stunned silence, his eyes glued to the slender fingers entwined with his. He couldn't help but wonder if Rosalie actually meant to tell him where she grew up, or if it just slipped out.

He had learned enough about the woman to rattle her cage when they first met, but the fact was the overwhelming majority of her past was a complete mystery to him.

In truth, they both guarded their previous lives with utmost care.

Raymond didn't begrudge Rosalie those secrets, but that did not stop him from being taken aback and a little thrilled to have unraveled a thread of the tapestry that was her mystique. He beamed as he spun her out and back, then dipped the curvaceous little frame low, his lips brushing hers teasingly.

The two were determined to have a good time, despite the sobering events of the past few days.

When the music turned to the next swinging number, Raymond lead her into a particular blues step he knew well.

The young woman's face was transported into incandescent recognition, "Really, Raymond...a savoy walk? Where on earth did you learn such a thing?"

"I've got all kinds of moves you've yet to see, little dove," he purred against her ear, guiding her through the dance floor with ease.

The savoy walk was a two-step ballroom blues which blended a touch of pas de deux with the excitement of a lindy hopper to create the smooth, playful step capable of traveling effortlessly across any dance hall. Red wasn't about to divulge he had learned the dance from a ravishing brunette he'd met in Baton Rouge a year before Howard had introduced them to each other, but he truthfully had been looking forward to trying the little number with his current dance partner.

Raymond had always enjoyed taking women out dancing. It was an easy opportunity to woo and charm, as well as a ready-made excuse to keep his companion pressed tightly to him all night long.

Rosalie had always known Raymond was an adept dancer, but tonight he seemed to genuinely let himself loose.

His movements were smooth and sensual, brimming with palpable confidence and a distinct roguishness. Like a panther chasing his prey, he pursued her through the crowd, step by step, spinning her out and snatching her back at his leisure.

The woman giggled and beamed all the while, gladly following his lead, leaning into his hold and dipping her hips in time with the music.

The other patrons made way for the couple who obviously had more of a clue what they were doing than the rest, several dancers stopping to peer interestedly at the poised and dapper pair.

Normally the two focused on maintaining a low profile, but their need to simply enjoy each other's company won out this night. They commanded the dance floor for the length of several songs, laughing and murmuring enjoyably to one another amongst the swinging echoes of the band.

King held one last shimmering note, his fingertips fluttering along the lone string a full ten seconds before his voice quietened to nothingness, the unexpected concert reaching its end.

The hall filled with applause and the patrons at the bistro tables and the dance floor in front of the stage erupted into a standing ovation as the musician waved to the crowd.

Rosalie turned to look up at her companion, finding his eyes firmly fixed upon her, keen and thoughtful. She quickly brushed the slight mist from the corners of her eyes and kissed his cheek, drawing him from his stupor. "Let's go up to the roof, I want you all to myself."

The two moved before the house lights could be turned up and made their way to the far corner of the building, where a small glass elevator had been installed.

Rosalie felt the warm, comforting weight of Raymond's hand on the small of her back as they stepped inside and were hoisted up to the roof.

His lips brushed the nape of her neck as they reached their destination, sending a little shiver down her frame before the doors to the elevator slid open.

Red guided them out onto a blue carpet leading toward the bespoke humidor room where the sommelier stood waiting for them, his glass walls packed with a wide range of fine cigars in polished mahogany and cedar cases. Rosalie chose a robust Arturo Fuente she had been hoping to try, while Red allowed himself to be swayed into a rare and rather large Gurkha he had been eyeing since their first visit to the place. They moved on through to the bar, picking up their usual poisons before they came upon Clyde, the young host of the rooftop establishment.

"Welcome back to the Cherry, Ms. Øllegaard, Mr. Reddington, it's been a while."

The pair smiled at the young man, who stood in the only gap in a tall wall of boxwood.

"This place is just full of surprises tonight." Raymond commented, pointing at the hedge and the floor below.

Clyde grinned, "Oh yes, B.B. just came in from another unplanned gig at the Vanguard, said he wanted to play a little while longer, so, of course, we set the stage."

"Ah, the Village Vanguard," Red grinned wistfully. "A magnificent little hole in the wall- well, floor," he corrected, "So much history, so many spectacular recordings were cut in that basement." He turned toward his companion, gesturing emphatically. "The whole place smells of beer and legend. Ah! and Lorraine, oh, she runs the show now. My God, you'd love her. I once took her dancing after a late Saturday show and try as I may, I could not keep up with her. That woman could jitterbug like you would not believe!"

Rosalie tittered at the tale and his excitable retelling, "Why on earth haven't we gone?"

Raymond waggled his eyebrows, "It's a date I've been planning. Speaking of which," he turned back to Clyde, "We're looking for a quiet spot in and amongst your smoking shrubbery."

His finger pointed toward the hedge walls which did indeed have curls of cigar smoke unfurling overhead.

Clyde chuckled, "Of course, sir, if you'll follow me?"

The couple did as he bid, following him into what turned out to be an actual hedge maze. The walls of boxwood occupied the entirety of the remaining space on the three rooftops, creating a twisting pathway with hidden hollows and secret rooms for guests. The center of the maze was a communal area in which to sit and smoke. A majority of the swirling grey clouds were coming from this space, where a contingent of portly men puffed languidly.

Clyde ushered them into a cozy alcove with a pair of plush armchairs in a soft cream leather and a sleek, smoked glass table settled low with two black marble ashtrays resting on its face. "Our new labyrinth setup is meant for privacy, thus I won't bother you unless you request my assistance." He pointed to the corner of the alcove, where a miniature of the lamppost they found on the street corner stood waiting, its light poking just above the hedge. Clyde immediately took his leave thereafter, leaving the pair in blissful solitude.

In a manner most unlike herself, Rosalie immediately kicked off her heels, sliding sideways into the nearest chair as her stocking-clad legs draped over one arm and her head rested against the other.

Red smiled at her antics, caressing the length of one of her calves before settling into the seat across from her. "I hope I didn't wear you out already, my dear."

His eyes roamed her relaxed figure hungrily, enjoying the wealth of upper thigh exposed by this new position. The creamy skin was framed by garter straps in a blue so dark they looked almost black.

Rosalie let out a wry giggle, turning her head toward her companion. "I know I'm not being very lady-like, but the past 24 hours really have been the absolute pits."

Raymond actually laughed, lifting from the headrest to better peruse her body. "I'm quite content with this new angle. The view is lovely."

Rosalie scoffed in response, demurely attempting to shift the hem of her dress. The delicate material merely slid back down per gravity's dictates. She sighed and waved a careless hand, giving the garment up as a lost cause.

Red sniggered at her cavalier response, "I see we're back in our stockings." He was feeling a bit more playful as they settled into their routine, and was content to needle his companion in his usual fashion.

The woman's slender fingers traced one of the dark straps bisecting her thigh, thoughtfully plucking at the taut silk. The sight made Raymond shift restlessly in his seat.

"It cooled down just enough for me to put them back on. I feel naked without them, and as much as I do enjoy being in the buff, I prefer not to feel so exposed in public."

"You needed the comfort of familiarity." Red corrected knowingly, catching the woman off guard with his insight.

"Shall we maintain our tradition?" She swiftly changed the subject, gesturing to their drinks. They always discussed their mutual business for the length of one cocktail before breezing past the topic to more interesting things.

Raymond smirked, "I suppose, get it out of the way before the brandy arrives."

Rosalie took a long sip of her gin and tonic before turning back to him.

"So, what happens with Howard's family?"

Red settled deeper into his chair with a frown. "His family will be cared for in perpetuity, as promised, even though he was a turncoat. His wife and children didn't opt into Howard's poor career choices."

"Howard's wife never knew his line of work?"

He shook his head, "The contraband portion of my business operates under a number of dummy corporations, complete with their own systems of controls. Kate will contact the family in the morning and feed them a false tale of Howard's demise, making it sound like a late night work-related accident with a fake OSHA investigation and all. His family will receive a fat settlement in trust and will be able to bury him the way they wish. Kate's already prepped the body and the coroner to whom he has been sent is on my payroll, same with the mortician."

Raymond released a heavy sigh, staring up into the night sky. "He'll have a proper funeral, his family will grieve, and that will be that." He uttered the statement without inflection or movement. His deep voice, to the untrained ear, could have come off as bored, but Rosalie new better at this stage of their acquaintance.

Red lifted his head and caught the woman worrying her bottom lip and tapping her fingers against her glass.

"You feel badly for handing him over."

Rosali looked up to find him holding her in a shrewd gaze, green eyes seeming to strip her down to her foundations with a simple blink.

"I should have helped him," she blurted, "I could have traded his safety for the information you sought. Sequestering his family in my network could have deterred him from betraying you further."

Raymond didn't move, didn't so much as twitch as he listened, his head tilted in dark curiosity.

"Yet you didn't," he observed thoughtfully, "Instead you stepped into action with a ruthlessly clever plan. You knew exactly how to convince him and the Coroner to trust you."

"That reminds me," Rosalie pounced on the opportunity to divert their discussion. "If anyone asks, you outbid me on a property in Geneva and that's why I despise you so."

Red snorted, "My goodness, fictional you is awfully…"

"Petty?" Rosalie rolled her eyes when he nodded, "I know, what does it say about me that the Coroner so easily believed such a weak explanation?"

Raymond was still chortling into his scotch glass, "It says he's not a very good judge of character, and you, little dove, may have missed your calling."

"Ah, yes, can you see me now? Lighting up the silver screen?" Rosalie draped a dramatic hand across her brow, looking the very picture of a despondent starlet.

Raymond smirked slyly at her, his relentless curiosity catching her attempt to distract from the issue at hand and allowing none of it. He quickly brought them back to Howard Bukowski, "The whole incident couldn't have lasted more than ten minutes from door to door. You eased him into my grasp without so much as a drop of hesitation. Why?"

Rosalie fidgeted with her straw, taking the time to carefully choose her words.

"Because I felt we were all in danger. I should have harbored him as I promised… I should have given him safe passage. Yet, if I'm being honest, I believed in my gut we couldn't risk his continued existence."

Red watched intently as one side of Rosalie warred with the other. Her inner criminal was having a knock-down, drag-out fight with her inner guardian over her actions.

There would come a time when the two sides would be forced to merge. It would be a rough, unpleasant transition, but Rosalie would manage it in her stride, just as Raymond had.

She rotated to a sitting position and shook her head in dismay, "I swept in dressed in the guise of a sanctuary and instead facilitated his demise. I know I should have thicker skin, but it bothers me to find out I'm quite the hypocrite after all."

"No," Raymond's eyes were soft and the corners of his mouth lifted in a reassuring half-smile. "What you are is so wonderfully human, my dear. Don't ever aspire to lose that."

Rosalie crossed her legs and took another long sip of her drink while she considered her counterpart.

"How do you not lose your humanity in a world like ours?"

"Not without difficulty." He conceded, "No matter the role we play in someone else's death, we all feel that human part of ourselves in that moment; that piece of us which demands we remember we too are mortal, vulnerable, desirous of mercy. It's why Dembe and I are so miserable after days like these. It's why you feel that lead weight in your gut as we speak."

Rosalie's hand subconsciously lifted to her abdomen, shocked to discover he knew all about the heavy, nauseating feeling roiling its discontent therein.

"Make no mistake, Rosalie, I don't take a life if it can be in any way avoided. I also don't go around killing people who don't deserve it. Yet when I am forced into the role of judge, jury, and executioner, I don't hesitate. It must be done, and by my hand, no less. The business and reputation I've built comes with certain obligations which must be lived up to. Perhaps that makes me the hypocrite."

Rosalie scowled at this, "You don't deserve to die."

Red issued a dry, unpleasant laugh. His demeanor had turned a touch bitter, an acidic tone trickling into his voice. "I did so hope you would agree with me on that. Some, however, would argue differently."

"They don't know you."

Rosalie's voice was soft and gentle, brimming with absolute conviction. "Those people, the ones who think you deserve such a fate, they think they know you but they really don't. Not in the slightest."

Red pulled out a cigar cutter, making a bit of a meal of prepping his Gurkha as he contemplated her response.

"You think you know me, but you don't." He admitted darkly, meeting her gaze as he pulled out a heavy metal lighter. She hadn't yet seen the full extent of the darkness which inhabited him, and Raymond was determined she never would.

Rosalie cast a placid smile upon him, the warmth in her expression unshaken by his suddenly dour declaration. "I know what I need to know."

"Not everything." Red advised, taking a puff and exhaling a long plume of smoke into the air.

"Not everything," Rosalie agreed, easing the cigar cutter and lighter from his grasp, "and I don't believe for a single second I'll ever know everything there is to know about you."

Raymond scowled at her in distinct confusion, an unpleasant corner of his psyche convinced she couldn't possibly be happy with such a scenario. "How does that truth not bother you?"

Rosalie meticulously rolled the tip of her cigar amongst the lighter's flame, "It's one of the things I value most in our relationship. I plan to spend the foreseeable future seeking out every one of your nooks and crannies, knowing full well I'll never uncover them all."

Her dark eyes glinted with their usual mischief as she turned toward her companion, blowing a smoke ring up into the air. "We'll never run out of surprises, you and I. Individually and together, we will always be a mystery. I can't think of a more thrilling raison de vivre."

Raymond let out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle, slouching back into his seat in what could only be construed as disbelief.

"I told you in Sienna," Rosalie reminded him pointedly, "I know the man I see every day, the man with whom I spend my nights." Her glass lifted in acknowledgement, "I know you well, just as you know me. The important bits, the why behind our actions, our grand schemes. We may not know every last detail, but we don't need to. We need just enough to convince ourselves the other is good, loyal, and kind. Not by the rest of the world's standards, but by our own."

Raymond dearly wanted to believe that. He longed to find solace in the possibility that such a life could ever be enough.

"Need I bring up the fact you promised me the pieces of yourself which you withhold from the rest of the world? Do you really think being the only one to have those carefully guarded corners of you wouldn't be enough for me?" It was Rosalie's turn to scowl in disbelief, her slender brows lifting with a touch of incredulity.

"I'm not foolish enough not to wonder. It robs a piece of us to do the deed, to assist," Red gestured in her direction, "To fail at preventing someone else from taking a life," he gestured toward himself, "It takes from me just as it takes from them. It kills a part of me, too…" Raymond faltered in his explanation, that human part of him pulsing with an angry ache. "Such an act rips a hole in the fabric of my being every time. As it should. It often leaves me feeling as though I somehow have less to give you."

His rigid posture and brusque tone was not lost on Rosalie, "What do you do, to soothe that tear in your soul?"

"The only option is to patch it as best I can with the knowledge that what I'm doing is ensuring the survival of those few things I hold dear."

"Does it work?"

Raymond gave a derisive scoff, eyes tilting toward the heavens as he leaned back in his chair. "Rarely."

"Well," Rosalie stood, placing her empty glass on the table between them and moving to settle herself in his lap. "I may have just found my calling after all."

"Going to patch me up, good as new?" He knew he sounded curt and more than a tad acerbic as he set his empty scotch glass next to hers. Red didn't know why the notion bothered him so, nor what had facilitated his mood's downward spiral.

"I can't make you whole again," Rosalie crossed her legs, gently holding his gaze, "Nothing will do that, and I won't patronize you by insinuating so. What I can do is soothe that spot, knitting it back together with a little of my own humanity. You will allow me to do that much, at the very least, Raymond."

Red chuckled and tucked a curl behind her ear, his taciturn mood evaporating into the ether just as suddenly as it had appeared. "Are you demanding to be the one to sew me back together again, Ms. Øllegaard?"

"I think you'll find I'm a dab hand at sewing." She retorted, cupping his cheek in one warm, soft hand, her thumb thoughtfully tracing his jawline. "You need a good woman behind you, darling."

Raymond's expression became serious as he turned to place his lips to her palm, "Are you available? I must admit I've grown rather fond of your methods."

Rosalie sniggered, "Agh, I knew it. You must woo all the ladies this way."

"That depends, is it working?" His voice was a low, rumbling purr which made the woman in his lap blush profusely.

A wide smile lit her features as she settled deeper into his hold, peering pensively up at him. "You won't hide those parts from me, Raymond. You will learn to believe me when I say they are enough, tattered and raw though they may be. Those pieces of you are mine to care for. I need you to let me do that."

Red's mouth pursed amusedly at her demands, "To get, one must be willing to give, little dove."

"I'm happy to give, you need only ask." She countered, fingertips stroking the space where the first few buttons of his shirt were opened, giving him a slight reprieve from the endless humidity. Rosalie nuzzled into the patch of exposed skin, breathing in the comforting blend of scents and placing her lips against his warm chest.

Red hummed his contentment, "Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Her lips wandered the edge of his collar, working their way up his neck and making him tighten his hold around her. She was pleased the conversation had settled into a more pleasant domain when Raymond made his request.

"If that's truly the case, then I need you to be as compassionate with yourself as you are with everyone else." His voice rumbled low and deep, the sound vibrating against the soft lips traversing his throat.

Rosalie halted her exploration, sheepishly avoiding his knowing stare.

Red thread his fingers through her long, honey blonde waves, turning her to meet his gaze. "You need to give yourself permission to be who and what you need to be in order to thrive in this life. That means forgiving yourself for your hand in Howard's death and for outgrowing your right hand, all in the same night."

Rosalie's eyes shifted back toward his chest. They had come around to Horace, the topic she had been dreading the most.

Raymond lifted her chin with his index finger, "You are coming into your own, little dove, and at a breakneck speed. If you allow yourself to be bogged down with guilt, you won't have the necessary flexibility to proceed forward. The upcoming months will spell the future for your domain and your life. You owe it to yourself to meet the next chapter unencumbered by things you can't change."

"What if I'm in the wrong?"

Rosalie admitted her insecurity in a small, quiet voice, her dark eyes flashing imploringly toward his. "So much has changed in the past year, what if Horace left because I'm no longer who I was? I can't deny I feel different, but I- am I wrong, Raymond? Have I become something...something bad?"

Red cupped her cheek, carefully hiding his ire that Horace's departure could make her question her own goodness.

"Rosalie, you have changed, more than any of us. You aren't who you were a year ago, and that's okay."

He stopped and hit the call button, the small lamp above them glowing a rich cerulean blue. "We're going to need another drink." He sighed, before settling back into his seat. "To be forthright, the realization hit me back in Hong Kong, when I was watching you with Baldur. This was before you and I had even had our little lesson on intense negotiations, mind…It was like being back in Sao Paulo all over again, only this time, it was with a completely different Rosalie Øllegaard."

Rosalie looked mortified, "Was it really that different?"

An amused chuckle rumbled from the vicinity of Red's chest. "God, yes! With me, you were still so green, so careful and calculated. You were admittedly were a teensy bit mouthy, and you used this delectable little figure of yours to painful perfection, but more than all of that, you were alert and immensely cautious. Precious little of that woman came to the fore with Baldur Magnusson."

"We-" she frowned, "Well, what the hell was I supposed to do? He just took me, without any regard to propriety or consent!"

Raymond laughed outright, "You're damn right he did. A colossal misstep on his part. You decided then and there you wanted nothing to do with such a man and snapped back at him like a bear trap. It was spectacular." His eyes turned wistful and distant as he recalled the memory quite fondly, "Gone was the demure innkeeper and there stood the formidable fugitive, unflinching in her righteous discontent. You were quite displeased to find yourself kidnapped by another would-be client, and you made that displeasure quite evident. You set a very powerful player on his heels, demanded your boundaries be respected, and didn't once apologize for it. Baldur will carry that bit of information far and wide, and you will find his experience will significantly alter how other potential clients approach you from here on out."

Clyde appeared in the doorway to their alcove with an indulgent smile, carefully avoiding the canoodling couple's combined gaze as he dropped off two snifters of fine brandy and took their empty glasses.

"Thank you, Clyde." Rosalie grimaced adorably from her perch atop Reddington's lap.

The young host nodded with a slight blush tinging his cheeks before he hurried from the vicinity.

Rosalie bent and lifted both snifters, passing one to her companion before wriggling back into his hold.

Raymond carried on as though they had not been interrupted. "The trajectory of your life was set in motion long ago. You set out to create it for yourself, and you're very nearly there. If Horace left because you've changed, then it's his own fault for not seeing how necessary that development is."

Rosalie fidgeted with the buttons of his shirt, obviously trying to take his words to heart.

Red lifted a hand to cup the side of her face in one large palm. "Little dove, there is nothing wrong with the choices you've made or the person you've become."

A teardrop suddenly trickled in a hot line down her cheek, caught by the man's broad thumb brushing over the soft, flushed skin. She was hurting so deeply, and felt so frightened for what the next few months would hold. Those warm, compassionate words, uttered in that endlessly comforting voice managed to touch a painfully raw piece of Rosalie's soul, cradling it in a fragile hold.

Raymond's chest ached at how lost she looked, how the fear and hurt were so evident in her features. His internal need to soothe those emotions in her was damn near suffocating, pressing upon Red the importance of caring for the lovely creature perched delicately in his lap.

Placing her glass back on the nearby table, Rosalie turned into Raymond's embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly.

Red gathered his lover tightly to him, one hand fisted in her honeyed curls while the other lay splayed against the small of her back. He held her to his pleasure, partaking in the plump sweetness of her lips with fervor.

A tiny moan worked its way out of her throat as she surrendered to his possession, asking nothing more than to be kept in the sanctuary of his embrace.

Raymond understood; Rosalie desperately needed to feel safe, to feel stable, and he was inordinately pleased she so openly sought that reassurance from him. He felt her need and readily complied, surrounding her with his warm, masculine frame.

"I'll make you a deal," Red bargained, breaking the kiss but keeping her feminine curves clutched tightly to him. "I'll trust you to be my seamstress when this life tears into me, but I need you to give me one thing in return."

Rosalie lifted a lone, cautious brow, "What is that?"

"Things are going to get rough for a while, but you will trust me to help guide you to the other side."

He couldn't help a gentle smile as his companion peered confusedly at him. He clarified, "You aren't alone in this, Rosalie. I promised you we would build our world as we see fit, and this is just the beginning of it."

He cupped her cheek once more, holding her eyes to his, "You will allow me to care for you, little dove."

She nodded, a little too quickly for him to be convinced. Red needed her to fully realize what he was asking.

Rosalie was a capable and intelligent woman, but that would never stop him from needing to be the one to protect her, to shelter her from the worst of their world.

Raymond would not settle for being anything less than the Gibraltar to her raging sea. He would be just as much her safe harbor as she was his. He wanted to solidify those feelings of belonging which were unearthed in Norway and cultivate them into something deep and lasting.

They were crossing a new threshold within their partnership, their relationship, and Red had to know if she was ready for it.

"I need you to understand what I mean by such a statement. These next several months will be the foundation of everything. It's going to be an all-out sprint down a muddy hill, and most criminals don't come out the other side alive or well. So, when it all becomes too much, I'm insisting you allow me to shoulder what you're too weary to carry, knowing it in no way reflects on your abilities. I simply can't let you experience what I went through in building my empire. I won't allow it. I need you to let me take up this role, Rosalie."

She held his piercing gaze for several long moments before answering.

"Okay," she whispered, "I can do that."

A primal corner of Red was set ablaze by her tender acquiescence, his hands moving to her hips and the nape of her neck, holding her in a firm grip. This was an ask he had been deeply wanting, but bided his time before demanding, waiting for the right set of scenarios.

"You'll let me do that, little dove?" His voice was an impossibly deep rumble, which made Rosalie shiver from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

She gave a dazed nod, her warm gray eyes gazing ardently from beneath dark, fluttering lashes. A carefully protected piece of herself flowed forth to meet him, willing and truthfully relieved at his request.

"I'll let you do that." She promised, leaning forward, needing him closer. "I need that too."

Raymond kissed her again, clinging greedily to that promise and readily taking up his duty of comforting her. His lips trailed her cheeks and neck, peppering her skin with soothing affection, surrounding her with his calming presence.

Rosalie relaxed into his touch, returning his gentle caresses with ones of her own.

When they finally settled down, Raymond returned her brandy snifter to her hand before taking his own and clinking it softly against hers. "To another eventful year, my dear."

Rosalie radiated contentment, beaming warmly up at her companion, "Would you do it all again?"

Red's brows lifted in surprise, glancing impishly down at her. "Kidnapping you? After what I saw with Baldur? Not a chance."

The woman laughed a tinkling bell of mirth before swatting his chest playfully.

Raymond's sensual chuckle mixed with her laugh, the sound positively delightful to their ears. He sighed once they quietened, "I'd steal you away again at the drop of a hat. It's been great fun, being on the run with you."

Rosalie smiled into her brandy snifter, "I don't suppose we could be on the run somewhere near the arctic circle? I love New York, but it's hotter than hell and half of Georgia here just now."

Red waggled his eyebrows at her, "Oddly enough I did hear whispers about a copper mine ripe for the plucking somewhere in Siberia."

Rosalie took a sip of her brandy and rested her head on his forearm, sighing contentedly when his fingers intertwined with hers.

"I could buy a place in Siberia..."

The two strolled casually back to the safehouse as the early morning light began to creep over the city skyline. Rosalie was nestled against Raymond's side, her eyes growing heavier with each step they took. A soft smile lit her features when she felt the low, deep rumble of his voice against her ear while he regaled her with another sordid tale from his early criminal days. This particular yarn involved the bootlegging of highly concentrated moonshine whose potency Red swore made it indistinguishable from rocket fuel.

The pair sniggered to themselves as they tip-toed up the home's steps, into the quiet foyer and up to their cool, dark bedroom.

Once the door was closed, Raymond wasted no time taking Rosalie into his arms.

A moan left his lips when she reciprocated the embrace, claiming his mouth in a voracious kiss as her own hands roamed his back and shoulders.

"Ray," she sighed, leisurely lifting the delicate material of her dress and guiding it over her head.

Red's hands followed the dress's retreat up the planes of her torso, leaving a burning trail of goose flesh in their wake.

Rosalie mewed at his touch, discarding the garment at the foot of the bed before dutifully undoing the buttons of his shirt, her lips seeking his once more.

"Show me, little dove," he murmured, watching hungrily as her small hands diligently freed him from the now-cumbersome clothing. "Show me what you need."

The woman whimpered her arousal and kissed him more insistently, her lips carrying a warm, wet trail down his torso. Her dark eyes flickered with heat as she divested him of every last stitch, the lithe little figure giving an excited shiver when he finally stood naked before her.

Raymond's powerful frame dwarfed Rosalie's in all the best ways. He was half a head taller than her when she was in heels, and a full head taller than her as she stood in her stockings and precious little else. He was broad in stature and all-encompassing in persona, making for a thrilling and enticing lover.

Rosalie's breath hitched as his masculine hands encapsulated her waist, moving up to her ribcage and deftly undoing the clasp of her bra.

Raymond clutched her more tightly, lowering his mouth to each taut nipple as it became exposed.

His lover held him to his pastime, shuddering sighs of pleasure pouring from her lips as his mouth tormented each tender pink bud. Red growled grumpily when she wriggled from his grasp, striding over to the bed and bending impishly over the plush mattress's edge.

He tracked her across the room, his eyes blown wide with lust as each of her little hands turned to sneak a thumb beneath the lace of her panties, shimmying the last of her lingerie over the ample curve of her derrière.

Raymond moaned longingly, watching the minuscule garment's progress down her toned legs. Her panties were followed by the deep blue garter straps and each of her opaque stockings before she slowly straightened her back, baring herself to him at long last.

"Come here, darling."

Rosalie's voice was a lusty, mischievous purr as she climbed up on the bed, kneeling in its cushy center and crooking a lone finger in his direction, beckoning him to her.

Raymond damn near lost it when that finger trickled down her stomach to tease the apex of her thighs. The digit circled and frolicked amongst the neatly trimmed blonde curls between her legs, skirting the entrance of his favored sanctuary with no regard for how it drove him wild to see her touch herself.

He crossed the room in a single stride and was on the bed in a millisecond, pinning his wicked little siren beneath him and nipping a heated trail from her breasts to her earlobes.

Rosalie squealed and giggled, squirming beneath the assault.

Raymond chuckled into the sensitive hollow of her neck, "You like being teased, don't you, pet?"

The woman nodded feverishly, her bottom lip caught between her white teeth. "More," she pleaded, running her fingers through the wealth of dark blonde curls covering his chest.

The broad expanse of his pectorals lifted at her touch, encouraging such familiarity.

Red growled and rocked forward when that expedition descended to his pelvis, her tiny hands stroking and teasing the rigid length of his cock.

Rosalie rolled them so he was on his back, allowing her more room to play. She continued to stroke him, her other hand dropping to massage and fondle his testicles as well.

The action had the man groaning his growing need, the full sack already aching to empty itself inside Rosalie's tight body.

The velvety soft weight of Raymond's erection felt lovely filling Rosalie's hand to capacity. Her slender fingers spread with each pass, making the young woman's mind swim with thoughts of feeling the thick appendage sliding between her lips as well.

Determined to have her way, she dropped a trail of kisses down her lover's torso to his hips, where she nipped and licked her way to his shaft.

The appendage flexed excitedly at her attention, a small droplet of pre-cum beading at the sensitive slit atop the bulging crown.

The woman smiled at her favored playmate, placing her lush lips to its weeping head.

Red hissed with pleasure at the contact, his toes curling in delight as her little pink tongue flicked daintily along his sensitive flesh.

"God, honey, please."

Rosalie felt Raymond's fingertips thread through her hair and she glanced up to see his lust-addled visage focused entirely on her. She fell into his heated stare, mewing her enjoyment while he gently brushed aside the blonde waves obscuring his view.

She could never tire of making love with this man. In all the varied ways they pursued their pleasure, he was always the pinnacle of eroticism, that unrelenting masculine sensuality which filled her feminine frame with a desperate, voracious need.

Raymond moaned softly as her lips surrounded the very tip of his penis, the thick rod tasting of that warm elixir she so craved.

Her cheeks hollowed, sucking languidly up and down, steadily taking him deeper and deeper.

She heard Red gasp when her tongue swirled along the underside of his shaft. The writhing muscle purposefully teased that sweet spot, making him throw his head back amongst the pillows.

Rosalie released him with a soft pop, giggling at the sight of her lover, lips parted, eyes half-lidded, and lungs heaving as her hand resumed its stroking of his now wet, throbbing cock.

"Christ, I love what your sweet little mouth does to me." He hissed, arching into her grasp with a throaty moan of approval.

The woman flashed a devilish grin, running her tongue along a bulging vein in response.

Raymond sighed luxuriously, relaxing into her delectable ministrations. His legs spread to better accommodate the feminine silhouette nestled there, encouraging any and all fantasies which might tickle her fancy.

Rosalie took the incentive, settling in, latching her scorching mouth around him and taking the turgid member as deep as she could go.

Red let out a desperate snarl of pleasure when his aching head met the very back of her throat.

The smooth slickness of Rosalie's tongue swirled insistently over his entire length while her throat instinctively swallowed against the very tip of his cock.

"Fuck…yes…take it nice and- oh," a bone-rattling moan leapt from his throat as the very tip of her pert nose nuzzled the soft curls at his base, every last inch of his shaft lovingly cradled in her mouth,"deep."

Rosalie held that depth until she absolutely had to breathe, until the man beneath her was fisting the sheets in agonized rapture. She then proceeded to slide him from her lips at a torturous pace, her tongue flicking, teeth nibbling, and throat humming all the while.

The woman took a full, gasping breath once her mouth was unoccupied, supplying her lungs with much-needed oxygen.

Raymond immediately grasped Rosalie's upper arms and pulled her into his lap, robbing her of breath once more as he plundered her mouth with his wicked tongue.

The sudden movement from her pastime brought Rosalie flush with the thick appendage between Red's legs. She arched, guiding the fat crown back and forth along her sex, allowing him to feel the slick excitement pooling there, waiting for him.

The sensation made Red growl against her lips, the teasing simply too much to bear.

He grabbed a condom from the nightstand, unwilling to wait a moment longer. Sheathing his erection with practiced ease, he positioned himself at the entrance to that soaked and quivering space. "I need you."

"I'm yours, darling,"

Her scorching heat slowly relented to the intrusion, taking him inch by glorious inch.

By the time Red was fully seated inside her, the two were panting with the exertion, the need to move against each other quickly becoming a biological imperative.

Rosalie whimpered her delight, rocking her hips against him and driving his rock hard shaft deeper. "My pussy feels so full,"

Raymond groaned as he felt the tight hold ripple around him, working frantically to accommodate his girth. The sound of that word from her lips was nearly his undoing. "Is that what you like, my little dove? Being filled to the brim?"

Rosalie mewled in response, her head tilting back and mouth falling open in a shuddering gasp as frissons of pleasure sizzled along her every nerve ending.

Red smiled to himself, tracing the delicate length of her throat with his lips and the tip of his nose. His tongue doled teasing flicks along the silky soft skin, taking in the tastes and scents which so often drove him wild.

Without warning, he flipped them, pressing Rosalie into the mattress below, not once leaving the cradle of her thighs.

She squeaked her surprise before letting out a contented mew, pleased to be surrounded by his imposing frame. Her fingers entwined intimately with his as she writhed under him, settling further into his hold.

Raymond cuddled her close and sank into the waiting warmth of her pussy, retreating only to bury himself again, deeper than before.

Rosalie canted her hips to meet his thrusts, a husky whine cascading from her lips. "Yes, yes, God…Raymond."

They lost themselves in the erotic push and pull, the litany of whispered, shivered praises and endearments meant for the other's ears alone.

An hour later found Red laying sprawled on his back with one hand tucked leisurely behind his head. The other hand palmed the curve of Rosalie's hip, guiding her smoothly up and down his rigid shaft.

The pair moved in a deliberate, almost tantric manner, rocking slowly into each thrust.

Red's eyes were glued to his lover, watching as passion and pleasure enveloped her with every second spent atop his aching member. She was radiant, glowing from the tips of her toes to the top of her golden head, the blazing sunrise filtering in from the bedroom windows haloing her naked body beautifully.

He gazed transfixed at the view of his sun-drenched little nymph riding him to her heart's content. The sight of her wildly chasing their pleasure filled him to the brim with overwhelming affection and desire. Unable to hold back any longer, he reached to cradle one of her pert breasts, reveling in its full, heavy softness while he thumbed its nipple to rigidity.

Rosalie whimpered and arched into his touch, her own warm little hands caressing his arms and torso lovingly.

They had made love in the early morning hours many times before, but something existed between them in this coupling which hadn't been there the day prior.

They ought to be irritable, they ought to feel badly for the sins they committed that night and for the loss of one of their own. Yet all that could be felt in those quiet hours between dusk and dawn was an unwavering deluge of contentment, wholeness, and mind-bending euphoria.

Rosalie smiled when a snarl of pleasure tugged at Red's lips. The man's brow furrowed as he arched into her, seeking more. The sight made her whole body twitch excitedly, wanting to drive him out of his mind, to make him shatter, just for her.

Her hips undulated in a smooth, steady rhythm, riding the rigid length for all she was worth. She could feel the tight coil inside her buckle with tension, the precarious edge made her burrow into Red's embrace, seeking stability as her body approached its peak.

"Please..."

Raymond felt the beginnings of her unraveling, drawing her deeper into his hold and impaling her on his shaft with a sharp snap of his hips.

"With me." He commanded, feeling the familiar tingling at the base of his spine, his balls lifting toward his body, begging for their release.

Rosalie gave a feverish nod, her breath mingling with his as ecstasy slowly pressed in on them both.

Red pulled her pelvis flush with his, increasing the pace at which he plundered her willing body, each thrust driving them closer and closer to the edge.

Their whispered pleas filled the room, each lover begging the other for relief from the delightful agony the two had created.

With a vicious pang, Rosalie relented to Raymond's coaxing. The velvet heat of her pussy clenched around his heavy cock, gripping the appendage in endless waves as he continued to thrust tirelessly within her.

Red felt the warm wetness of her release bathe his shaft, easing the way to his own orgasm as the slick tunnel came helplessly around him. The thick head of his cock pulsed erratically, filling the condom while he kept pounding into the quivering hole, drawing forth more and more of that creamy arousal, coating her thighs and his pelvis as he fucked her ragged.

Rosalie howled his name into the crook of his neck, her entire frame buckling and spasming with pleasure.

Raymond sucked and nipped at her shoulder as he emptied the last of himself in her sodden depths, working to keep his thunderous growls of completion from waking up the entire house.

Their harried thrusts finally calmed to a slow, gentle rocking, easing the last tremors of their orgasm into oblivion.

The couple lay panting in each other's arms for several minutes. Two pairs of warm hands calmed and soothed, two pairs of eyes trailed languidly, thoughtfully along soft skin shimmering in golden morning light, and two pairs of lips murmured endlessly, kissing and whispering their adoration in the quiet stillness of dawn.

Once Rosalie got her bearings, she rose daintily from her lover's lap.

They both hissed as his shaft slid free of her body's hold, the action overstimulating both parties' sensitive, sated flesh.

Rosalie looked down to see their combined arousal glistening at the base of Raymond's cock. The sight was comforting and titillating all at once, making her smile warmly at him before standing up on shaky legs. "I'll get us a towel," she murmured gently, leaning in to kiss his lips once more.

Raymond nodded, nestling further into the bed with a satisfied hum. His eyes watched the swish of her backside as she padded across the room, admittedly a little knock-kneed. Red grinned his enjoyment at the lovely scene.

The same sticky evidence of their passion could be felt and no doubt seen between Rosalie's thighs as she walked toward the master bath, the knowledge bringing another broad smile to her lips. Red had brought forth a veritable river of her pleasure, and the young woman couldn't help but replay their coupling in her mind as she waited for the water from the sink to heat up.

She stepped back into the bedroom moments later, carrying a warm, damp cloth.

Raymond had gotten up and shut the curtains while she was in the bath, leaving them in blissful darkness. He smiled dozily at her as she climbed into bed, kneeled at his side and tenderly cleansed the soft down between his legs with gentle passes of the washcloth.

He watched the proceedings with a self-satisfied smile, making Rosalie laugh.

"Someone's smug." Her voice was playful and brimming with amusement as she continued her task, carefully removing the slick evidence of her ecstasy from his person.

Raymond flashed that inimitable roguish grin, grunting as the cloth brushed his sack, gently rolling and cupping the heavy bundle. His sultry chuckle rippled along her skin while a broad hand reached to trail the length of her spine, smoothing down the satin skin to cup and pinch her taut little backside in reprimand. "I am but a man, Rosalie, and garnering a response like this…" he traced two fingers along the slick expanse of her inner thigh, "…is ample reason to be smug."

Rosalie laughed and batted his wandering hand away as it began to inch north. "Touché, you conceited scoundrel." She couldn't help a little good-natured teasing, moving on to lovingly cleanse his waning member.

"It's how I measure whether I'm worth my salt nowadays," he intimated, preening under her intent gaze and bucking when she gripped his shaft, freeing him from the spent condom. "Regularly bringing a beautiful woman to the point where she can't help but shatter, kissing my cock with that lovely gift of warm, wet euphoria...If that doesn't put a smile on my face then I need to reevaluate my life choices."

Rosalie felt her whole body burn with a vibrant blush for his blunt retort.

Red sniggered knowingly, watching the pink hue encase her from head to toe. Without a word, he sat up and gently pressed Rosalie to lay amongst the sheets, easing the washcloth from her grasp and wedging himself between her knees.

The woman sighed as he made several gentle passes with the cloth, washing away the evidence of his ability to make her come undone.

He moved up toward the apex of her thighs, brushing gently over the healthy pink lips of her sex, the tiny pearl of her clit peeking from within the heavenly soft folds. He circled the little bud once with his thumb, making his lover lurch, her overstimulated nerve endings too sensitive to tease just yet.

Her hands attempted to bat his away, earning a very amused chuckle as her counterpart flung the washcloth, managing to hit the laundry bin in the master closet before burrowing into his lover's arms.

Red was thoroughly exhausted after their late night shenanigans. Thankfully, they would both sleep easily after such an eventful night.

Rosalie had to be up in a few short hours, but she couldn't bring herself to care as she gathered her lover into her arms. One hand swirled slender fingertips through his short hair, the other caressed the warm expanse of his back as his breathing slowed to a gentle, drowsy rhythm.

Raymond held her close, burying his face in the crook of her neck as was his custom before letting out a contented sigh.

A thought came to Rosalie as they lay there in the quiet.

"Raymond?"

"Hmm?"

"…How did Kate find out about us having sex on the boat if the office was supposed to be soundproof?"

A telling silence hung in the air before the man's deep voice rumbled against her ear. "I may have embellished its sound containing abilities."

"Raymond!" The woman attempted to nudge him from her person, uncomfortable that Kate had heard them in the middle of such an intimate activity.

"In my defense I was very, very invested in the task at hand." He purred, keeping her wriggling form pinned beneath him.

Rosalie shook with amusement despite her chastising. "What, getting into my skirt?"

Red brushed his nose along the her collar bone, sensually scenting the warm hollow. "I think we can both agree I was already thoroughly settled beneath that thin layer of gossamer, my dear. I was merely ensuring I got the soundtrack I liked."

The woman shivered when she felt his lips meet her pulse point. "Soundtrack?"

His hips rolled forward, rocking his pelvis suggestively against the alcove he had left only a short while ago. "I've told you time and again how much I enjoy all those sweet little noises you make when we make love."

Rosalie mewed her renewing arousal, guiding the man's hands back toward her breasts.

Red chuckled, cradling the full mounds but forcing himself not to tease and fondle. "We need to sleep." He husked, at the same time pressing his hardening shaft against the warm curves moulding intimately to him.

"You started it," Rosalie accused, grasping the back of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

A deep moan vibrated against from his lips to hers as Raymond felt her legs spread in open invitation, her body surrendering to his every whim.

The action was a siren's call no man alive would be foolish enough to resist.

The Concierge of Crime woke two entirely too short hours later to a soft knock on the door and a slim strip of bright light making its way in to the dark room.

"Raymond, you're meeting with John and Harris in Brooklyn in an hour."

The older man grunted in acknowledgement, waving a hand in the voice's general direction before burrowing his face back into his lover's neck.

Dembe smirked and closed the door, making his way back down the home's main hall.

Ted stepped out of his room, wide awake and ready to go.

"You're up early." Dembe noted, peering curiously at him.

The Brit halted, running a large hand through his rumpled hair, his brow furrowing. "Ah, bollocks…You haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

Ted jerked his head toward the stairs and the two men descended to the first floor. "Horace up and left last night. Out of bloody nowhere, a week before she's set to take charge of the properties at the Mandarin, and he decides to resign."

"How do you know this?" Asked Dembe, continuing their trek to the kitchen.

Ted grimaced, "I sort of walked in on him saying goodbye. I'd just come back from dropping Brimley and the rest of them at the 78th street safehouse. I went down to the kitchen to grab a bite to eat and came up right as he was walking out the front door."

Dembe found this most unusual. "I knew there had been tension between Rosalie and her guard since Norway, but I didn't think it had gone this far. Have you noticed anything strange with Horace?"

Ted shook his head, the soft brown curls moving with the action. "Nah, he's been the same grumpy bugger he's always been. He wasn't happy with Ray, we all knew that, but he hadn't changed in the slightest. He still did his job, kept the same hours, he'd go out for a drink, chase a few skirts at night, came back home and did it all over again the next day."

The pair set about making their respective breakfasts, both silently brooding over the unexpected turn of events.

"Do you think he's gone for good?" Dembe wondered aloud, neatly chopping a banana into a bowl of other assorted fruits.

Ted contemplated his porridge for a long moment, "Not really, no. I knew Horace a long time before we all came to work for Rosalie. Their friendship runs deep. I bet he needed a brief hiatus and a swift kick in the pants from Florian. Once he gets both, I expect he'll be back."

Dembe's eyes lifted from his fruit, "I take it you are upholding Horace's duties in the interim?"

The other man nodded somewhat nervously, "That's why I'm up so early. Want to do the job proper. Rosalie's going to need all the help she can get. I've already got a list from her of what needs doing today, should be alright."

Dembe smiled at Ted, "You will do the job well."

Teddy ran a hand sheepishly through his hair again, "I bloody well hope so, mate. Rosalie's nervous as all hell." He dropped a handful of cashews into his porridge, "For what it's worth, your boss was right there the second she needed him, good man that Raymond Reddington."

"Even a broken clock is right twice a day."

Red's deep drawl came from the stairs as he strode into the kitchen, fully clothed and in search of coffee.

He tipped his hat to Teddy with an impish though obviously tired smile, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ted. Though, I must give credit where credit is due, you handled the whole scenario beautifully. You were calm, reassuring, made my job easy."

Ted gave a humble nod in thanks before dipping into his porridge.

Dembe smirked, "Now that we've all commended each other on our handling of the lone female in the house...We need to look forward."

Raymond gave an agreeable nod, turning back to Ted "I'm sure you have a honey-do list from Rosalie? If there's any way you can handle those without her, it would be much appreciated. As you can imagine, she hardly slept last night."

Ted shared a conspiratorial grin with Dembe, picking up the note the pair had left on the kitchen counter the night before. "We noticed you two were out…burning the midnight oil so to speak. I'll leave her be until I've completed the list."

"Excellent." Red clapped him on the shoulder, pointedly ignoring his knowing smirk. "Once she's up and has a spare moment, have her give me a call. Dembe?"

The younger bodyguard set his now empty bowl in the kitchen sink and picked up the car keys before leading the way out of the house.

Ted took a steadying breath and grabbed his to-do list and a cup of tea before getting to work.

Sunset Park Warehouse - Brooklyn, NY

Raymond managed to catch a few more minutes of shut-eye in the car ride over to his warehouse.

Having been up quite late and ridden completely ragged by an insatiable blonde, the man was thoroughly and wonderfully spent.

As the sedan trundled through Little Italy, Red realized he couldn't even bring himself to be irritable that morning.

The lack of sleep had nothing on the deliciously sated ache which encompassed him from head to toe. Raymond felt stable and comfortable after his and Rosalie's night out. Any concerns he'd had over a wedge being driven between them due to Horace's departure or Howard's death were thoroughly soothed, and he had even secured Rosalie's consent for him to be her guide over the next few months.

Raymond Reddington had never been the kind of man to beg for the task of caring for someone. He didn't have the time or energy to expend on such things.

Even in Rosalie's case, he hadn't actually asked, he instead told her how much he needed her to relent to him on this, and rather than questioning or fighting him, Rosalie set aside any insecurities, considered the offer he made, and acquiesced.

Red wasn't certain of the fact, but he liked to think she felt a little relief knowing she had someone firmly at her back.

The world was a far more interesting and enjoyable place with Rosalie in it, and Raymond was determined to see her through the upcoming storms for a host of reasons both personal and business-related.

The fact of the matter was Red needed her network. After being on the run for eight years without such a network, he could say with absolute certainty, it was far easier and far safer for him to remain within its sanctuary. He was harbored, protected in Rosalie's care.

There was no doubt in the man's mind; a big player had been searching for him since that fateful night in Munich, yet said player had yet to lay a hand on him. Raymond was a ghost when within the walls of Rosalie's network, and it was imperative he remain there.

Allying himself with the innkeeper was a boon to his business in many ways; yet more than anything, Red found the positive effect their arrangement had on his humanity and well-being to be the greater benefit.

Rosalie had brought a wealth of virtues to his life in the year they had been on the run, and in the month they had been actively dating, she had managed to bring even more of herself to the fray.

Raymond needed her to succeed for selfish reasons too, he knew. The man was so accustomed to her presence these days, he couldn't fathom being on the run without her. The welcome touch of a gentle, understanding woman had changed the landscape of Red's life on the run, making it significantly more comfortable, significantly more happy.

He agreed with Dembe's earlier assessment, it was time to look forward. The near future meant the repair of his shipping operations in New York and the expansion of Rosalie's network, which would inherently expand Raymond's already considerable reach.

He simply needed to make sure Rosalie made it through to the other side of the expansion intact.

Dembe caught his eye in the rearview mirror as they waited in traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge.

"Something's bothering you." Raymond tilted his head knowingly, waiting for the young man to speak.

"I am worried about this business with Horace. He picked a dangerous time to abandon her."

Red nodded his understanding, "You are disapproving of his decision and what implications it holds for Rosalie."

"Aren't you?" Dembe's dark eyes glinted with a touch of malice he had kept carefully under control in Ted's company. "You of all people know the next few months could be the end or the beginning for Rosalie. Her world hinges on this upcoming exchange, and he left her to fend for herself."

Ray smirked softly to himself, "I am deeply displeased, Dembe," he confided, "I'm livid with the man, truth be told."

"I take it we will not be telling your companion of our mutual displeasure?"

"You are correct, it would only serve to upset her further."

Dembe nodded his agreement, "How did Rosalie take his departure?"

"She was devastated." Red's right eye twitched angrily as he recalled how his companion looked standing in the doorway of Horace's empty room, how he'd found her in tears on the roof hours later. "His departure made her question a great deal about herself. Which is why we snuck out last night. After Howard and the loss of her guard, she needed to feel like everything was going to be okay, like her world wasn't caving in on her from all sides."

"She felt guilty leading Howard to you." Dembe informed him, able to perfectly picture her face as she walked out of the dingy room at the Coroner's safehouse. "Horace, on the other hand, was utterly appalled by the whole ordeal."

"Yes, well, I'll try not to let myself be crushed under the weight of Horace's judgement." Raymond's voice was a low, gravelly rumble carrying a substantial bite. "Rosalie and I discussed the night at length, I'm comfortable with where we left things. Horace, however, I'm still sorting through. Did he say anything to you about the events following our retrieval of Howard?"

Dembe shook his head as they turned down the long brick road leading to the warehouse. "He didn't say a word. All I noticed about him was his expression in Mangano's car and again at the Triangle Social Club. He was terrified."

Red set his fedora back on his head with a shrug, "Well, this life isn't for everyone. That being said, he should have gotten out long before this, rather than wait until Rosalie was at a precarious turning point and bailing then."

"What are you going to do about this?" Dembe asked, being purposefully cryptic in his request. He put the vehicle in park outside the looming brick factory building beside them, his gaze firmly fixed on the rearview mirror.

Raymond considered the building for a long moment, "Horace didn't betray her, merely defected. I can't fault him for his departure, though I disagree with his method and timing. Hurting him would only hurt her. Florian will ensure Horace never divulges any of Rosalie's trade secrets, and Ted seems eager to take on a new challenge."

"And Rosalie?"

"Rosalie and I discussed the future at length last night. I informed her I planned on taking a more active role in the upcoming months and she agreed. You and I will take a bit of time to ensure our world doesn't eat her alive and us with her."

"That's why you told Ted not to wake her." Dembe realized with a knowing smile.

Red sing-songed his head back and forth, "Wars aren't won when the general's half asleep."

"Says the man going into a business meeting on less than two hours."

"How did you know how much sleep I got?" Raymond turned, appalled and yet amused as they exited the car.

Dembe lifted an impassive chin, not meeting his employer's impish gaze. "You two are very noisy."

Red burst into a roguish laugh, knowing full well he didn't have a leg to stand on with that particular retort.

SoHo Safehouse -Later That Day

It was late afternoon by the time Rosalie stumbled drowsily into the kitchen.

Ted was on the phone with the property manager for Tokyo, handling the arrangements for some of their upcoming movements.

"Sorry, I forgot to set my alarm last night. Next time just beat on the door. You shouldn't be handling this alone." She blabbed once he was finished, sitting across from him with a muffin and her folio.

"Not to worry, Raymond insisted I let you sleep since you were up so late. I had your honey-do's from last night, so I promised I'd get as far as I could on those before waking you."

A coy smile tugged at Rosalie's lips. "How far did you get?"

"The whole thing, just finished." Ted passed her the list of requests she had made the night before, the status of each written in detail below.

"Really?" Rosalie was pleasantly surprised as she rifled through his notes, "I- Wow, Ted." She gaped at the notepad for a while, the outcomes more than sufficient in her eyes.

"This is better than I ever could have expected for your first day in these shoes. I can't thank you enough."

Ted beamed with pride, "Like I said, anything you need, Rosalie, I'm your man." He did a finger guns motion before grimacing and taking on a slightly more serious expression, "Now, not to get ahead of myself, but I think it would be good for you and I to sit down and figure out what you're going to need most over the next couple months, and come up with a plan so I can help make things easier."

Rosalie's eyes were wide with pleasant surprise, "That sounds…great Teddy."

"Cheers." Teddy smiled and passed her the burner phone, adding, "I'll make us a cuppa while you call Ray. I promised to have you give him a ring once you were up."

Rosalie took the phone without argument, watching in mild shock as her new right hand made his way over to the kitchen stove, putting the kettle on and setting out two pristine white teacups.

Shaking herself from her daze, she dialed the appropriate number and was waiting for the other party to answer when the men in question came sidling through the side door and into the kitchen.

Raymond eyed Rosalie heatedly, making her cheeks burn with a vibrant blush. "Hello there."

"Hey you," she greeted warmly, barely containing a contented moan when his fingers stroked through her wild hair.

"I take it you just woke up?" Red couldn't help the amused grin which overtook his features at the sight of her teeming mane of sex-tousled curls. It was obvious she hadn't yet showered, and the knowledge thoroughly enticed him.

Rosalie sensed this, mouthing a quick 'behave' before turning to kiss the palms of his hands. "What did you find out from John and Harris?"

Dembe held out a stack of papers, which she took with a friendly smile.

"These are all the details we have regarding the drops Howard made, I hoped you and I could go through them."

She nodded her assent, rifling through the papers interestedly, "Of course, why don't I grab a quick shower then we can get together and hash it out?"

"Whenever you're free," Dembe assured with an amused grin, watching as she continued flipping through the papers, heading for the stairs.

Rosalie made it all the way up to the master suite and turned on the shower's spray before realizing Red had followed her upstairs.

Plucking the stack of documents from her hands, he tossed them on the bed before backing her slowly into the bath.

A feminine giggle could be heard as various articles of clothing were tossed from the room, leaving the pair delightfully nude and leisurely shuttering themselves inside the shower's glass enclosure.

Raymond and Rosalie came down from the master suite just as Kate was arriving with her bags. It seemed today was the day she would begin moving with them.

The group greeted their new companion and Ted promptly hoisted her bags up to the spare bedroom, leaving the woman with the remaining three.

Kate was just as curt as usual, stiffly stating she had business to attend to with Red, who wasted no time in sitting down to meet with her while Rosalie and Dembe continued on to the kitchen.

"I was sorry to hear about Horace's departure."

Rosalie turned to see Dembe peering thoughtfully down at her, his dark eyes insightful and comforting. She reached out and patted his hand affectionately, taking the other in her palm so she could check the bandages covering his knuckles.

"Horace and I differed philosophically on a great many things, but that's part of what made us so companionable." She confided, "I always kept him on his toes, made him think differently about the ways of criminals. He always dragged me out of my head, taught me to consider my heart and instincts as viable options in making decisions. Unfortunately, it was these differences which ultimately unraveled our working relationship."

"You miss your friend, and are unsure how you will fair without him." Dembe had an innate ability to see right through people, to understand what emotions were roiling within them at any given moment. It was times like this he was thankful for such a gift. His friend was hurting, and the young man knew a kind word and a patient ear was often all she required to feel confident once again.

Rosalie sighed, "I've become so accustomed to Horace always being there, I forgot what it was like to do this on my own. He made everything so easy. Whenever I was uncertain or confused, Horace was there, especially when it came to your boss." She grinned playfully up at her friend, "Horace is the one who made me realize I would have to learn to trust somebody eventually, and helped me accept the fact I found myself willing to trust Raymond with something so delicate as my network. All the way back in Munich, up to when we returned from Norway, when everything changed."

Dembe squeezed her shoulder solemnly, "He acted as your conscience, your sense of direction. Every criminal needs to have one, lest they lose themselves. You find you share a mind on many things, but there's always a divergence when it counts. For instance, my calling is to keep Raymond grounded in his humanity when the inner criminal seems to be taking over. Horace did something similar for you."

Rosalie gave him a soft, sad little smile, "Well Raymond's lucky to have you, sweetheart."

Dembe reached up and ruffled her damp curls, "I don't think we've truly seen the last of Horace. That being said, I think Ted Beaumont will surprise us all. He will make a good conscience."

"I have the utmost faith in Teddy." Rosalie agreed, turning to watch her new right-hand man as he diligently worked out a schedule for their upcoming movements.

Dembe, Rosalie, and Ted settled into the breakfast nook shortly after with the list of spent an hour cross-referencing the dates, times, and locations into a working timeline dating back to early May.

Once the timeline was in place they sat staring at the list, hoping some kind of reasoning would show.

"It's not logical, from a geographical standpoint." Ted stood to make a pot of tea and grab a snack.

Dembe tapped his fingertips along his scalp, "Howard said the packages were left days before a new deal was meant to go through. Perhaps we should compare the list of lost deals with the list of drops?"

"That's an excellent idea." Rosalie agreed, flipping through the stack and bringing out the list of deals made by this faction of Red's business over the past four months.

She and Dembe poured over the sheet as the kettle on the stove came to a boil.

Each deal was from a different supplier, contained different contraband for different purposed, and was meant for a different client. There was no relevant pattern for them to pursue within that information either.

While Ted prepared a pot of tea, Rosalie filtered through the drops for the umpteenth time, her brain insisting she knew something about these locations.

She was certain it was simply deja vu at this point, but the feeling continued until the woman relented, writing the drop locations on a separate notepad, noting the dates and times for each event in a chronological order.

The pattern suddenly struck a harrowing chord.

Vancouver 5/12/99 08:15

Port of Spain 6/26/99 18:01

Siena 6/30/99 03:05

Athens 7/5/99 12:09

Hong Kong 7/15/99 05:04

"Oh no." Rosalie whispered, pulling her folio from the cacophony of documents and scrabbling for the notepad with the listed dates, times, and locations for Howard's drops. She began hurriedly transcribing information from the calendar contained in her folio, becoming more and more frantic with each letter.

"What's got you in a twist?" Asked Teddy, setting down three piping hot cups of tea.

Rosalie didn't answer, merely continuing to mutter to herself and splashing the page of the notepad in stark black ink.

"No, no, no!" She hissed, drawing lines from one side of the paper to the other, connecting drop dates on the left to the information she had hastily scribbled on the right.

"Oh, bollocks," Ted swore, moving to get Reddington.

Dembe picked up the notepad and peered concernedly down at the information scrawled there.

The new column on the right held a list of their own movements for the past four months, each drop site corresponding with the date and time of one of their stays.

Rosalie dropped her pen and looked up to meet Dembe's worried gaze.

"We're being followed."

The group convened in the safehouse's office, closing the door despite there not being another soul in the house.

Considering the extent of their find, Raymond remained quite calm as Rosalie explained their discovery, gesturing pointedly at the lists of dates and times. "These locations, they don't look familiar to you?"

"Not off the cuff," he insisted, "Which is why I wanted you to take a closer look."

Rosalie perched herself on the edge of the desk, pointing to the column on the right hand side. "Raymond, these are all cities we've been to in the past four months."

Red perused the list again for a few minutes. "These are hotspots within the underground, the fact of the matter is most high profile criminals have been flitting in and around these locations in the past four months. What else did you-?"

He watched as she traced one of the lines from right to left, showing the date and time stamps for the drops compared to their movements. "Every single drop was made the day after we arrived in each locale. Sometimes mere hours after we landed."

Raymond chewed the inside of his cheek, his gut roiling as the truth of this discovery settled in. "We're being followed."

"Who outside of this room is aware of your day to day movements?" Kate asked, quickly taking the conversation to the heart of the issue.

"Right now? The whole of my operation knows I'm in New York." Red bit back a tad moodily.

"On a normal day?" Kate continued unfazed, holding his glower with her usual stoic stare.

"A handful of my top associates, Stratos, you, the accountants." He turned to Dembe and Rosalie, "Does anyone in your acquaintance know our movements?"

Dembe shook his head, but Rosalie nodded sheepishly.

"Florian."

"Florian Armel wouldn't have knowledge of any deals Raymond was making," Kate pointed out, "…unless you told him?" The older woman was careful to keep the hint of accusation from her voice.

"I don't even know the extent of the deals Raymond makes unless I'm directly involved with them, and even then, I wouldn't share such information with Florian, it's none of his business." Rosalie was rather offended by the subtle accusation.

"Regardless, I'm usually with her when she makes that call." Red intoned, lifting a brow in Kate's direction, "I would have overheard and remembered her discussing any details of my operation."

Kate backed down immediately. "Then it must be one of your other acquaintances. That, or you've been tapped, nothing else would explain how the person doing the drop would know where you were and what acquisitions you were pursuing."

"Indeed. We will need to be more cautious in the future in regard to whom we confide our location."

"For what it's worth, I wouldn't tell anyone." Rosalie stated her opinion, "There's no good reason for anyone outside of this room to be aware of your day to day movements."

"I agree with your counterpart." Nodded Kate, in a rare show of approval.

Dembe turned a questioning glance toward Rosalie, "What about Florian?"

Rosalie shrugged, "I have contingency plans in place if I actually disappear or get into a tight spot. Florian will be annoyed at not knowing my location, but he will understand our reasoning."

"Well," Raymond cast his gaze upon his little innkeeper, "My dear, what would be your recommendation for us moving forward?"

His companion paced the room for a moment, "I would advise any of my clients to lay low for at least a month. I recommend we operate within the blacksite portion of my network for that duration. One month, maybe two. I know you prefer to handle business in person, but I will insist most dealings be completed over the phone. We can make in-person work if it's absolutely necessary, but precautions will need to be taken for your transport to and from any meetings, so you aren't followed. The blacksite period will dry up the trail for anyone following us, and we can move forward from there."

Rosalie took the armchair across from him, crossing her legs and threading her fingers together. "The blacksite period will also give me the time to have the safehouses swept for wire taps and bugs of any kind."

"That's hardly necessary-" Raymond began, but Rosalie held up a hand.

"I won't have you feeling as though you can't speak freely while living in my network." Her expression indicated she was not to be trifled with on the matter. "Can the remainder of repairs to your New York operations be handled from a distance?"

Red considered the notion, "The majority of operations are back to the status quo, John and Harris can be trusted with the final preparations."

"And the Bukowski's?"

"Harris is going to keep an eye on them for the next six months, make sure they buy the ruse and don't start turning over rocks."

"What about the Genovese's, Benny Mangano, we're certain they're not going to come looking for a favor after lending their assistance to us?"

"Oh, I'm sure we'll hear from them at some point. They owed me a favor but this was a pretty big hand they lent. They will want something in return, forged documents or some kind of money laundering, most likely. Nothing we can't handle."

Kate's head swiveled back and forth between the two fugitives, taking in the rapid fire communications between them.

Ted and Dembe sat quietly across the room, relaxedly watching the proceedings as though it were commonplace.

Raymond and Rosalie were like a well oiled machine, enquiring and answering each other in quick succession, powering through complex logistics like their upcoming movements, the potential implications of them being essentially off-grid for a month, and most importantly, what they would do about Howard's accomplices at large.

"The German is likely the one responsible for the flea on our backs, whom I would hazard to guess is the mystery man from the burner phone, since he was the one giving Howard our locations. How can we get to them?" Rosalie questioned, picking up and glancing at the list of dates and drops once again.

"I've already got associates scouring the underground for anyone who answers to the moniker 'The German.' It's quite generic, so it will take some time to get a solid lead. I'm afraid there's not enough information to go off of on the second accomplice, but if we can get our hands on the German, he can certainly lead us to the other."

Rosalie pondered their predicament for several long moments, "We can pursue them from the shadows, but we will need to be very careful."

Raymond agreed, "We've already been in New York too long, how soon can you have a place ready for us?"

The woman straightened her spine, sharing a quick, wordless glance with Ted. "Call Edward. Ten minutes, and I can have a blacksite at our disposal."

One month later...

Blacksite #17 a.k.a 'Kimbilio' - Undisclosed Location, Kenya - September 21st, 1999

The next four weeks were a whirlwind. After discovering they were being followed, Rosalie had blacksite #3 in Big Sur prepared for their arrival, and the group was in the air within the hour.

They spent four days sequestered in the airy cliffside home Rosalie affectionately dubbed 'The Condor', concealed amongst an outcropping of metamorphic rock on the California coast. The quiet sanctum of the open-air blacksite allowed their little band a moment to catch their breath and outline a plan that would take them through the end of the year.

Operations would continue as usual for Raymond and Rosalie's respective businesses, with meetings and dealings being handled as hands-off as possible, at the same time, the majority of their efforts would be focused on taking out the most immediate threat to themselves, The German and his accomplice.

Kate was heading up the search for the two adversaries, with the remainder of their party providing assistance as necessary. It was a learning curve for them all, having a new fifth person moving with them. Kate was rather reserved in comparison to the friendly foursome who were quite accustomed to each other at this point.

Kaplan was a bit of a recluse, while the two fugitives and their bodyguards were most often found all in the same room, unless said fugitives had wandered off to have some time alone. Even then, Ted and Dembe could be seen sharing a pot of tea and discussing the day's events rather than going their separate ways.

Rosalie and Kate weren't hostile, but they were turning out not to be bosom friends, either. Both were cautious, careful not to have an open altercation with each other, though it seemed there was a tension between the two which would be quite difficult to resolve. Kate did not speak directly to Rosalie unless absolutely necessary, and try as Rosalie might, the other woman did not warm to her.

As a matter of fact, it seemed the harder Rosalie tried to be friendly to Kate, the more Kaplan disliked her.

When Rosalie pointed this out to her companion, Red reminded her Kate took a while to warm to anyone. He insisted his cleaner still barely tolerated him, though Rosalie had more than once overheard Kate call the man 'Dearie'.

Raymond assured her Kate's stiffness would eventually wane in the coming months, and in the meantime, she needed to concern herself only with her network.

Rosalie had ultimately decided not to hire another bodyguard. Though she would not admit it to anyone, she was holding out hope that Horace would eventually return. Until then, she felt Teddy more than sufficed.

One month from their stay in Big Sur found the group settled in a blacksite just west of Nairobi. It was now just over two months since Raymond and Rosalie put pen to paper on her deal with the Mandarin's board of directors, and four weeks since the properties ceded to her control. Utter bedlam ensued once the hotel's competitors inexplicably found out, the respective boards of the Peninsula and the Four Seasons clamoring to get in on the same deal, the former going so far as to jet their entire board to meet with Rosalie in Maracaibo.

Word had also gotten out that Raymond had been the one to broker the deal, and as such, he had been sought by the Mandarin's competitors to do the same. The man was happy to oblige, keeping his earlier promise to Rosalie and making it a complete surprise each time he walked through the door. They repeated their long nights of negotiating tactics in bed, all the while Raymond would insist he hadn't been called to negotiate on the other party's behalf.

The woman was positively incandescent each time she encountered her not-so-unbiased broker on the other side of the table.

Rosalie negotiated the Peninsula perched on Red's lap in the office of blacksite #12, a slender Tokyo home she referred to as 'The Sliver', and managed the Four Seasons pinned beneath him on the sprawling dining room table of blacksite #6, 'La Mara' in Maracaibo.

Rosalie was hiring staff at a breakneck speed, relying on seasoned property managers to vet the incoming bellhops, maids, valets, and new property managers. She did the thing properly, offering the spots to her veterans and loyal associates looking to move a step upward before opening the gates to newcomers.

The woman was delighted when one of the young maids from Bulgaria requested to be trained as a property manager for the new location in Bodrum, Turkey. Rosalie was happy to oblige, paying for the young woman to study under her property manager in Athens for a brief stint before taking on the new hotel.

She gave her people every opportunity to benefit from the new circumstances, and most importantly, utilized the sudden windfall to further cultivate their loyalty. Her employees received raises, a more comprehensive healthcare plan, and access to fringe benefits such as childcare and continuing education.

When asked why, she merely replied, "I'm relying on them to keep my business running. I literally cannot do it without them. Their work, and most importantly, their confidentiality, are worth every penny I spend. It's simply good business."

Rosalie kept the promise she made to Raymond as well. The more stressed she became, the more she sought him. She requested his guidance and assistance when the demands of her network became unmanageable, and the man stepped up in spades. From extra hands to simply another set of eyes regarding a complex issue, he was unshakably present and endlessly reassuring, making the whole expansion flow smoothly, despite the several stumbling blocks which attempted to get in Rosalie's way.

Red was pleased with this turn of events, and how is companion was handling it all. The intellectual within Rosalie was learning and adapting to her new circumstances at a breathtaking speed. He knew if she could hold out just until the properties with the Peninsula and the Four Seasons came to fruition, they would all be in the clear. However, in the meantime, he was having a jolly time tending to his own business and building a relationship with his wily little fugitive.

Raymond had learned a great deal about Rosalie in the past month.

Most enjoyably, he learned she was the kind of woman whose stress manifested itself in a roaring libido, and she learned he was all too happy to serve.

As her world became more precarious, no amount of closeness became enough. She needed Red near, relished in touching him, whether in the throes of passion or with something as simple as resting her head on his shoulder. She found comfort in his touch and Raymond found himself craving the contact as well. In a matter of hours he swore his skin would start to crawl for need of her presence.

This was not to say they did not have their share of difficulties, though.

Rosalie had learned that Raymond's irreverent sense of humor extended to every possible scenario. Even when she was attempting to have a serious discussion with him about something important, he was often chock full of racy quips and long-winded stories which rarely offered the necessary insight to the task at hand. Rosalie understood that part of him better than anyone, and truthfully adored that about her lover.

However, it was not particularly helpful when she wanted to get a straight answer out of the man.

They had squabbled about that, coming out the other side no worse for wear.

Red learned that Rosalie loathed being interrupted whilst on the phone. He found this very amusing and could often be seen badgering her around the house until she grabbed a nearby throw pillow and clobbered him with it.

Raymond also learned she would become quite irritable when he stuck his thumb too far into one of her pies. They'd had a small argument about the issue just the other day, in which Rosalie informed him that despite their businesses being thoroughly entwined, and despite the fact she had consented to his assistance, those things did not provide him carte blanche to stick his nose into each and every one of her dealings.

The man thoroughly disagreed, refusing to back down from his meddling, knowing she wouldn't have pressed the issue he unearthed until it became a much larger problem.

They had bickered about that one for hours, eventually settling their disagreement between the sheets, both admitting they could have handled the altercation more diplomatically.

They arrived to the spectacular new blacksite in Kenya earlier that afternoon in good spirits despite the many changes which had been occurring in their world.

The compound, called 'Kimbilio', was nestled high amongst the twisting branches of a veritable forest of Maasai Mara trees.

The exterior of the compound was made of stiff, pale canvas, arching into the air in sharp peaks pointing just above the tree line. The home was built upon a series of sprawling wooden platforms, one bearing the main living space, while the four flanking it held the bedrooms and their adjoining bathrooms.

The decor and layout reminded one very much of the old safari expeditions. The furniture was mostly campaign style, the glinting brass of its protected corners and recessed handles shining warmly in the light.

There was a mixture of plush Belgian and Oriental rugs covering the thick hardwood floors, a well-loved leather chesterfield in the living area, and a magnificent mahogany campaign desk in the small office behind the master bedroom.

Raymond and Rosalie's room, like the guest rooms, had was warm and sumptuous, brimming with antique charm, from the Wellington chest by the bedroom door to the ebony wood camelback trunk nestled at the foot of their bed. The bed itself was made with its usual crisp white Belgian linen sheets, standing out starkly against the deep mahogany canopy bed. Diaphanous white curtains hung along each of the bed's four corners, creating a delightful cocoon around its occupants when closed.

As midnight unfurled over the Kenyan wilderness, the bed's sole occupant stirred in the moonlight.

Raymond was shuffling back from the en-suite with a yawn when he heard it.

A small huff caught his attention from the confines of the bed's sheer curtains.

Rosalie was curled up in his shirt with a pillow clutched tightly to her. She nuzzled into the plush item, brows knit tightly together as another soft sigh escaped her throat.

He watched her for a moment, wondering what she must be dreaming to elicit such an action. She was usually curled on her side, some part of her touching him, but rarely was she balled up so tightly.

A young woman sat at the dimly lit kitchen table of her childhood home.

The gnarled, knotted wood of the item's surface had long lost its shine, but still had space for a bottle of wine, a flimsy glass, and the sea of important documents perched atop the table's face.

Several bold letters bellowed up at her, 'Death Certificate', 'Autopsy Report', 'Last Will & Testament'...

The home was eerily quiet, each breath she took seemed to disturb the molecules in the air which hung like a heavy pall over the whole house. The young woman at the table sighed and poured the last of the wine into the glass before her. Her head fell into her palm, her lips releasing another anxious, exhausted sigh.

"Is it that bad, darlin'?"

"No, Mama." She immediately lied, looking up to see her mother leaning against the doorway.

Her stature was much smaller than the young woman had remembered.

Had it really been so long since she left for college? As she sat there in a pair of faded jeans and old Stanford crewneck, a far cry from her usual suits, she felt like it had been only moments ago.

The older woman's strawberry blonde had begun giving way to soft white in the intervening years. Mama looked her age all of a sudden, fragile and worried in the glow of the kitchen's low lights.

The whole home was showing its age. The cherrywood island in the kitchen needed resurfacing, so did the old blue cabinets. The floors needed refinishing and the young woman would bet her bottom dollar a new roof would be next on the to-do list.

All this, unfortunately, didn't even scratch the surface of the responsibilities involved with the home.

There was an entire business lingering behind the house which needed tending, too. There was so much to repair, to maintain, and the wolves were already prowling at the door. The woman wasn't sure how she could possibly manage all of this. Her mother was in no state to run the business and they were going under at a rapid pace. As much as it pained her to even think it, they were going to have to sell the house and everything in it to have a prayer of sustaining her parent for longer than five years.

She turned to look up at her mother, hitching a reassuring smile onto her face. "It's just a lot to work through, that's all."

Mama slowly crossed the room, placing a warm, weathered hand on her daughter's shoulder, "It'll still be there in the mornin' honey; don't stay up too late."

"I won't," she promised, leaning forward as her mother placed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Goodnight, Mama."

"G'night, Baby."

The young woman watched the slight frame shuffle out into the foyer and slowly ascend the stairs. She turned immediately back to her task, scowling at the tabletop for another hour.

She was looking for anything in the available documents which might provide any kind of financial stability for her mother, and finding nothing helpful, she finally let out a disgruntled growl and headed upstairs.

It was when she passed the master bedroom that everything came crashing down around her once more.

There on the bed lay a petite frame beneath soft hand-stitched quilts, with the same vintage rollers she always wore to bed in her hair.

The girl could barely handle the sight of her mother, resolutely sleeping on the right side of the bed.

Always the right side.

Always waiting.

Always leaving space for the man who would never come home.

The man who hadn't come home in over a year.

The young woman's father had fallen ill unexpectedly, a long weary battle ensued for several months before ending last June with a coffin and her world permanently dismantled. Mama hadn't recovered from the shock. The paychecks stopped coming in, and the medical bills started, the home and land fell quickly into disarray.

It wasn't until she received a call from an old friend, informing her the mortgage on her childhood home was coming up for foreclosure, that the woman realized something was seriously wrong.

She booked the next flight out of California and arrived to this, her mother a shell of who she once was, a crumbling home, and a mountain of paperwork she knew could be the financial ruin of them both.

Turning around, the young woman made her way along the hallway, avoiding the squeaky floorboard and the rickety table, down the stairs and back into her seat in the kitchen, hoping against hope she could find answers in the documents littered there.

Her phone rang a few moments later, and she quickly took the call as to not wake up the house's other occupant.

"Please tell me you've seen something I've missed." Her voice was a barely audible whisper, her voice not daring to hope and yet desperately pleading for something, anything to delay the inevitable.

The woman's best friend stood in a light-filled condo overlooking Los Angeles, the phone cradled against her ear. She was in a deep red silk button down and black suit pants, a pair of killer heels scattered unceremoniously beside the sofa in her office, where duplicates of the documents the young woman sat reviewing lay in neat stacks, an identical bottle of wine sitting on the coffee table.

"Babe, I can't find a damn thing to keep you from having to sell. I've looked at it from every angle and it's your only option. My advice would be to see if you can't find a buyer outside of the county you're in, seeing as the other land owners are going to try and lowball or blackball any sale you try to make."

The young woman pinched the bridge of her nose, "Anyone outside the county won't bite, the place is too far out of the way, too difficult to access."

The woman's friend perched herself in the center of the couch, crossing her legs and laying her head in her upturned palm. She considered her friend's family her own, had loved the girl's parents dearly. She still did, and it killed her not to be able to do something to help them after all they'd done for her.

"It's okay, Lu. I know you did everything you could."

"I'm so sorry, Georgie."

Rosalie shot up in bed, covered head to toe in a cold, cold sweat.