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.

32. The Criminal Within

Subterra Hospital & Rehabilitation Center - Harlan County, Kentucky - September, 1993

Richard stood at the foot of Rosalie's hospital bed, his eyes questioning, repeating his previous question.

"Rosalie, what have you done?"

Rosalie blinked back at him, her chin lifting in open defiance.

"Everyone could sense what I wasn't willing to see in Francis. His caprice, his self-indulgence, his complete disregard for me. My closest clients all witnessed his contempt firsthand and came to me, one by one. First was Helia; she offered to build me a contingency plan, should Francis or anyone else discover my criminal endeavors. Being a dab hand at planting false DNA, fabricating something as simple as a human skeleton wasn't difficult. She procured one from a local medical school matching my height, age, and demographic, gave it a little dental work to match, then doused the thing in my DNA. It's been sitting in a suitcase beneath the floorboards of her room for weeks, just biding its time."

She let out a dry laugh, sparing a glance for the news program which still showed her face alongside footage of the local ranches laying in smoking ruin. "They're so dutiful, those detectives. Following DNA traces like bloodhounds, arriving at the wrong conclusion with breathtaking speed…"

The Lilets stood several long moments with their mouths agape.

Richard was the first to regain his ability to speak. "What happened after Helia created the fake skeleton?"

"Then came the Pepperwood Boys, naturally." Rosalie smiled, "Taking them in after what happened in Cleveland, hot as they were, put them heavily in my debt. They offered their unique services to make my death look like an accident, providing a perfect backdrop for Helia's offering."

"You knew Higgs and the others would try to burn the place down?" Calixte blurted out, taking a tentative step closer.

Rosalie gave a gentle shake of her head, her lips pursed thoughtfully. "No, that was a scenario I definitely hadn't planned for. It was a happy coincidence the ranchers were the ones to start the fire; but Iggy and Flint, they certainly finished it. Looks to me like the five surrounding properties are damn near leveled by now. They always were a formidable pair of firebugs."

"So you evened the score by upending their enterprises?"

There was a subtle note of pride to Richard's question, bringing a cautious smile to Rosalie's bruised face. "Destroying their livelihoods wasn't enough, and Hector here knew it wouldn't be." Her good eye turned toward the Metalist, "He gave me perhaps the greatest gift of all."

"What did you do?" 'Shard accused, turning toward the other man with a scowl, his suspicions of his involvement now confirmed.

Hector merely smirked in response.

Rosalie answered for him, "Did you know my father and his supposed friends drank from a set of old-fashioned copper mugs? Every day after they'd finished working their ranches, they'd meet up at an old bar called Barty's. Whereupon, those men would drink from those cups and harass my father, trying to get him to sell. They still drink from my father's cup, saying its in memory of a friend. In reality they use it to pat themselves on the back for demolishing an entire family."

Richard recalled the single row of shining copper mugs lining the top of the bar where he first saw Rosalie.

"You didn't."

"I did." Rosalie replied, her tone positively acidic, refusing to allow herself a drop of remorse for her retribution. "Hector helped me replace them with something a bit more sinister, and certainly more poetic."

Calixte stepped forward, "Hector, is this true?"

The Metalist lifted unapologetic eyes. "The mugs are now lined with a new type of mercury alloy. It's hard enough not to turn to liquid, but soft enough to seep into anything with an alcohol content above 5%."

'Shard found himself rather impressed at the pair's moxie.

"You're poisoning them."

"What?" Hissed Calixte, turning to stare at Rosalie before leveling a ferocious glare at the Metalist. "Hector, how could you do such a thing?"

The man let out a scathing laugh, "I'm a criminal Cali, and so is Rosalie."

Calixte was not appeased. "A criminal she may be but she's no murderer. There's no coming back from such an act, did you even bother to explain that to her? How could you, Hector?"

"Calixte."

It was Rosalie's calm, soothing voice which broke the shouting match, drifting gently into the crackling space between Calixte and the Metalist and diffusing the rapidly accelerating tension. She met her friend's frantic gaze with one of absolute certainty, reaching out to pat the space beside her on the bed.

Calixte and Richard both trudged forward, taking seats on either side of her.

"If I thought those men would ever leave me be, it would be different." Rosalie began, the earnest whisper confirming her sincerity, "Any hopes I had of existing peacefully on the property which is rightfully mine were dashed when they attacked me and left me for dead on a burning hilltop. They had their opportunity to step away, and instead, they doubled down and tried to murder me. They failed, and I'm not giving them another chance to finish the job."

Calixte moved to retort but Rosalie held up a pleading hand.

"Calixte, I love you for trying to protect me," she grasped each of their hands in her own, "I love you both dearly, but we all know I crossed this line a long time ago; the moment I took 'Shard in. My exit plan is already in motion, and I'm so sorry there hasn't been a moment where I could take you two aside and get you caught up, but this all happened much faster than I had ever intended. There's no stopping it now."

"Where do Fred and the woman factor in?" 'Shard asked, brushing his thumb along the top of her hand in a reassuring manner, his face still a mask of concern.

Rosalie tilted her head from side to side, "Well…Fred has been tasked with acquiring Francis Higgs, and Dahlia will assist in the endgame for the ranchers."

"Dahlia?" Calixte's voice broke the quiet once more, her tone awed, "As in the Black Dahlia? The redhead is the Black Dahlia?"

Richard's mouth fell open as well, "You can't be serious. Rosalie, you're no killer."

"I could be." Rosalie confided with a chilling certainty. Her dark eyes flickered ominously, "For the right reasons, I know I could. I can think of no more compelling reason than this."

"My doll, we can give you a life away from all of it," Calixte reminded, determined to give her friend every available opportunity to turn back from the road she was heading down.

"I know," Rosalie murmured fondly, a bittersweet smile gracing her bruised features. "But I've realized I don't want that life, Calixte. This is my choice, and I'm choosing this life. My life. Georgianna was a kind, albeit naïve young woman. Rosalie…She's a scant more pragmatic. Her world, her life, her name, they've become more my home than any house I'll ever own."

Richard fretfully gnawed the inside of his cheek. "You need to know the law in order to break it, sweetling."

"Here's to hoping I can find someone to teach me." Rosalie replied, lifting her glass of ice chips in a toast, pleased to see her friends seemed to be warming to the idea. "I'll need to learn fast if I expect to be one of you."

"You already are."

Three sets of eyes swiveled in surprise to see Hector rocking on the balls of his feet.

"You've always been one of us, Rosie. It's high time you embraced it." His hands clasped themselves behind his back and his lips pursed tightly together as he dropped his gaze to the floor and cleared his throat. "I reckon that's all I have to say about that."

The Lilets soon bore matching grins.

They couldn't condone wanton death and destruction, but justice? True, blood and grit justice above the law? The chance to witness the birth of a new kind of criminal?

That, they could stand behind with unflinching certainty.

Rosalie smiled at their identical expressions. "I take it you're still with me?"

"Of course we are," Calixte assured, gingerly nestling her head against Rosalie's shoulder.

Rosalie reciprocated the gesture, resting her chin atop Calixte's dark curls.

'Shard observed the pair with a knowing look. "Where will you go, cherie?"

"France, I think." Rosalie yawned, suddenly rather tired, "I always did enjoy Europe, and my French isn't all that bad…"

---

Subterra Hospital & Rehabilitation Center - Harlan County, Kentucky - Five days later…

'…Tonight, the search continues for a missing Leslie County man, Francis Higgs. The eldest son of the well-known thoroughbred trainer, Archie Higgs, Francis would be first in line to take up the mantle of a family dynasty stretching back generations. However, that dynasty seems to be in ruin after a devastating wildfire broke out in one of the surrounding properties, resulting in a ten alarm blaze which decimated a 250 acre section of Leslie County in the span of a few short hours. After the flames were brought under control, the Higgs family was confirmed to be alive and unharmed, as did the families of the neighboring properties. The only casualty appeared to be Higgs's girlfriend, Georgianna Haywood, who owned the property directly south of the Higgs estate. Police suspect the loss of his girlfriend may be to blame for Higgs's disappearance…'

Georgianna sat upright on the side of the hospital bed which had been her home for the past five days, watching the news broadcast with a kind of vindictive pleasure.

The attending physician had just confirmed she was ready to be discharged and gave a few stern words about how careful she would need to be for the next two months in order for the more extensive damage to heal itself.

She took his advice and assured him she would be cautious for a while.

In truth, Georgianna had no idea how she was supposed to manage that, seeing as she was planning to be on the run the moment she left the building.

"Hello, Miss."

A very smiley woman close to Georgianna's own age stepped in the room, bringing with her a cart laden with a variety of makeup and hair accoutrements. "My name is Jolie, I'm the hospitals aesthetician."

"The hospital has an aesthetician?" Georgianna questioned, more than a little surprised by the notion. "What on earth for?"

"It's part of the service we provide," Jolie explained patiently, closing the door behind her. "We often have patients in need of varying levels of temporary disguise upon departure. We do everything in our power to maintain our clientele's anonymity as they leave our grounds. It's also important for business, nobody wants the authorities to come questioning why someone has been seen in the vicinity who shouldn't be."

Georgiana caught her bottom lip between her teeth, contemplating the cart of supplies with a wary eye.

It was more important than ever that she not be seen. She was supposed to be dead, and if anyone from the area caught sight of her, her carefully assembled exit strategy would be for nothing. What harm could a little disguise work do?

Jolie clapped her hands together, pleased she seemed to have cut through her patient's hesitation. "So, what'll it be?"

Finally, Georgianna seemed to come to a decision, meeting Jolie's patient stare with a daring smirk.

"Do with me what you will, Jolie. Make me unrecognizable."

---

Overlook Safehouse - Palmira, Colombia - February 16th, 2000

Raymond dropped Rogelio to the ground, still and silent with shock.

"What is 'Rosie-Dear'?" Hector's voice cut the deathly quiet which had engulfed the room, setting forth a deluge of additional questions from the room's occupants.

"Does this mean she's alive?"

"Is she hurt?"

"Where is she?"

"Can he take us to her?"

Red turned slowly about, struggling to make his mouth form the necessary words.

"'Rosie-Dear' is the code Rosalie and I used whenever I got into a bind and needed a way out. Dembe and Ted are the only other people who know that. It has to be her."

He whipped back around, sending Rogelio scrabbling backward into the door.

"She must be alive."

Rogelio nodded, "She's alive, but you need to hurry. There isn't much time-"

"Is she hurt?" Calixte asked again, having crossed the room to peer over Red's shoulder.

The man on the floor shook his head, "Only a little-"

'Shard came barreling forward, "What do you mean, only a little?"

"Please!" Rogelio shouted, curling into a tighter ball on the stone entryway, "There was an altercation with one of the sicarios shortly after she arrived at the cartel. She is fine, they separated her from the others-"

"Others?" Ted interrupted, "What others?"

"There were other women in the compound," Rogelio confessed, "Children too."

Dembe caught on to the past tense. "What happened to them?"

Rogelio shook his head, "I tried to warn them, but as I said, there was an altercation. Rosalie and one young girl were all that was left by the end of it…"

The room fell silent once more, its occupants horrorstruck.

"Please, you must hurry," Rogelio pleaded once more, "It is over an hour's drive to the compound, and the German who contracted the cartel is already en route to collect her."

This news sent Red's stomach plummeting into the soles of his feet.

He whipped around, commanding the band of fugitives and their small army of mercenaries in a crisp, authoritative voice.

"Ready the jeeps. We leave immediately. Tell the team at the ambush point to stand down, observe only. You." He turned back to Rogelio, "You are going to take us to her. Now."

Rogelio's complexion sallowed to a sickly green, but he nodded all the same, not daring to question the other man's commands.

"Kate."

Mr. Kaplan stepped forward at the barking order, meeting Raymond's expectant stare with unshakable certainty.

"Go, we'll be ready when you return."

---

Teddy stepped away from the group and flipped open the satellite phone, immediately punching the requisite numbers.

"Hello? Ted?"

It was Horace on the other end.

"Yeah, it's me, I've got an update."

Horace's voice was uncharacteristically harsh, "What? What are you doing? You're all supposed to be at the exchange point-"

"There's been a development," Ted divulged, "It's a trap. We're going straight to the cartel campground."

"Wait, what?"

"I can't explain now, but Rosalie managed to turn one of the cartel's members and send him our way, we're leaving immediately."

"No," Horace hesitated, "Don't you think you should go to the exchange point first and make sure she isn't there?"

Ted's brow furrowed, "Horace, the message came from Rosalie herself, we're sure of it. I gotta go, we're loading up the trucks."

"Ted-"

He hung up the phone before Horace could argue further.

Dembe had come up behind him while the others scurried about, getting the vehicles ready. "You've been in contact with Horace?"

"Yeah," Ted admitted with a heavy sigh, "They were always close, I figured he would want to know what happened. He's furious she was taken on my watch…"

Dembe nodded his understanding and gave the man's shoulder a squeeze. "You're a good friend, Teddy, but you can't blame yourself for what happened and neither should Horace. Let us focus on getting her back, that is what is most important now."

---

Los Reyes Sagrados Camp - Unknown Location, Colombia - February 16th, 2000

Rosalie thrashed and kicked violently, fighting tooth and nail to get away from the men trying to pull her backward.

She could still hear Lita's screams as she was dragged off into the center of the campground. The sound stirred Rosalie to fight harder, straining against the noose about her neck and scrambling for purchase against the hot, crumbling earth.

Her booted foot connected with one of the faces looming over her, sending several dark droplets of blood to spatter her front.

The screams continued to echo in the distance.

A calloused hand slapped her roughly, the impact stinging something fierce. Another grabbed her by the hair, lifting her bodily from the ground to face the Capo.

The upward momentum was so forceful, it brought Rosalie's feet momentarily off the ground. She used the opportunity to aim a well-placed kick to the Capo's front, missing by centimeters as he took a step backward.

The man was laughing throatily, the sound thick with amused arrogance.

It pleased him to see she was breaking, to see how she had bonded with the child, and to rob her of that bond in the cruelest of ways.

The backdrop of Lita's voice yelling for help tore at Rosalie's insides, screaming at her to do something, anything to help.

"Oh, Querida." The Capo crooned, feeling the fury roll off her in waves, "Tell me, are you just sick with rage?" He circled her struggling figure, dragging a finger along her cheek then bringing it up to his lips, tasting the salt of her tears and the grit of the earth upon his tongue. "I can only imagine the hatred which will be boiling in your gut come morning."

Rosalie looked him dead in the eye and spat in his face.

An ugly snarl tugged at the Capo's upper lip.

He snatched a handkerchief from his back pocket, wiping the mixture of blood and saliva from his cheek. "You will pay for that." He warned darkly, gesturing to his men. "Take her to my tent."

Rosalie felt the catch pole pull at her, dragging her stumbling feet in the opposite direction of where Lita had been taken.

The screams hadn't stopped. She could hear shouting and running feet in the distance.

Had she gotten away?

Rosalie's vision swam for the umpteenth time that night as she was pushed and pulled in the direction of the largest tent in the campground. She had no recourse but to follow, stumbling through the fabric opening so as not to be strangled by the plastic and metal rope around her neck.

The interior of the massive tent looked like something out of a haggard safari expedition.

There were tattered rugs, a beaten down sofa and several small footstools littering the living space. A rickety wooden desk sat on the far left side while a large bed done up in yellow linens took up the majority of the tent's rear.

A metallic glimmer winked from a nearby table.

The sight caught in Rosalie's periphery, bringing her attention to the two knives the Capo's sicarios had confiscated from her before she was put in the cage. They lay perfectly unsuspecting on the table top, their sharp points angled at Rosalie. Seizing the opportunity, Rosalie put every ounce of her strength into throwing herself against the rickety table.

It worked. She managed to cover the tabletop with her torso for a brief moment, giving herself enough coverage to slip one of the familiar objects beneath her sleeve.

The man holding the catch pole missed the sleight of hand, too busy cussing and yanking Rosalie back into line so he could drag her to the head of the heavy brass bed.

Another sicario came around the opposite side, lifting Rosalie's legs and tossing her carelessly onto the mattress. The bulky figure followed, holding her down while his compatriot procured a set of metal shackles.

This was no easy feat, as Rosalie thrashed and pulled at the binds with increasing vigor.

Finally having enough, the man holding the catch pole backhanded her, sending Rosalie sprawling into the pillows.

He removed the noose from her neck and set the pole against the armoire beside the bed's nightstand.

Another high-pitched scream rent the air outside.

After much more wrestling, the two men were finally able to subdue their captive, latching the metal shackles about Rosalie's wrists and another about her neck.

She scrambled up to her knees when they stepped away, throwing her entire body weight against the shackles to no avail.

The Capo strode into the tent with a sickening smile on his face, watching her struggle with sinister amusement.

No matter how violently she pulled at the restraints, neither the bed nor the chains holding her would give.

The hard metal soon began to cut into Rosalie's wrists, sending dark crimson droplets trickling down her forearms, staining the soiled button-down she wore even further.

The once-pristine white silk had become tainted with a great deal of dirt, blood, and grime over the past several days. Its sleeves now bore fresh streaks, the tacky substance bonding with the fabric and sticking unpleasantly to Rosalie's forearms.

"Get out." The Capo commanded, smirking when his captive rose to her knees once more, swiping at him with a shackled hand. The metal cuff stayed in place, tearing her flesh anew.

Satisfied, he turned his back on her, following his associates to the mouth of the tent. His low timbre echoed ominously in the dark, "I want no interruptions until the German arrives. If anyone enters my abode between now and then, it will be the last thing they ever do."

Rosalie's eyes drifted stealthily toward the catch pole resting against the armoire beside her.

The Capo was still barking orders at the tent's entrance.

Quietly as possible, she shifted so her lower half was dangling off the side of the bed.

Using the chains which secured her, Rosalie lifted both legs, stretching them as far as they could reach.

Her toes managed to skirt the catch pole, sending the item tipping into the nightstand with a clatter.

Rosalie's eyes swiveled frantically toward the tent's opening.

The Capo was still stood with his back to her, talking in a low voice to his security.

If she could just get ahold of the pole, she could have a chance.

Straining toward it once more, Rosalie willed the thing into her grasp, the last of her hopes for survival pinned on getting hold of the contraption.

"Come on," she hissed under her breath, "Just a little further…"

Her toes managed to get a grip on the pole's smooth surface, and with an almighty tug, Rosalie pulled it onto the bed, stowing it hurriedly beneath the pillows before the Capo could turn around.

---

Overlook Safehouse - February 16th, 2000

Five black suv's lined the circular driveway in front of the safehouse in a matter of moments. The entire brigade stood on the home's sprawling front porch, minus Kate and Helia, who had been tasked with getting a makeshift trauma bay prepared to handle Rosalie's injuries.

The group quietly hoped the majority of the arsenal of medical equipment would not be necessary.

A couple of Rosalie's guards remained behind to protect the property and the two women inside, while the remainder began loading into the available vehicles, splitting into the same teams in which they had arrived.

"You." Raymond pointed at Rogelio, "You're in the lead car. No bullshitting around, lead us straight to the compound and you'll escape with your life."

Rogelio nodded jerkily, then seemed to gather some backbone. "The woman, she mentioned a job-" he halted at the querulous look the other fugitives gave him, "I'm sorry, I just want out of this place, a better life for my kids. She promised a way out in order to get me to come here. I need to know that's still on the table."

The group turned as one to Reddington for guidance.

"If this venture leads to her recovery, you can name your price." Red answered gruffly, nudging the man in the direction of the lead security team. "Now get in the damn car."

The Lilets climbed into the second vehicle along with Raymond, Dembe, Dahlia, and Fred, closing the door with a heavy thud.

The caravan immediately took off, aggressively speeding after the lead car.

The interior of the vehicle was quiet for a long beat, when a soft, deep voice broke the silence.

"This feels like 1993."

Fred turned to the group, a wry smile pulling at his white whiskers. "The day she left with Dahlia, remember?"

The fugitives all chuckled, nodding their heads in agreement.

Raymond spared little notice when they all looked his way, quieting at the tension which etched his face into harsh lines.

Calixte felt a pang of compassion for him, truly seeing for the first time how fraught with worry he was.

He needed a distraction.

"You know, Fred, I don't think Raymond's ever heard the end of our little story…"

---

Subterra Hospital & Rehabilitation Center - Harlan County, Kentucky - September, 1993

Jolie was no ordinary beautician, Georgianna was soon convinced.

It had to be witchcraft of some sort, because when she flipped the mirror around for Georgianna to see, she was gobsmacked to find she not only looked unrecognizable, she looked completely healed.

Her left eye had ceased its swelling the day before, leaving heavy bruising as the only evidence marring her features. The abrasions had begun turning a deep, unpleasant sort of purple which covered most of Georgiana's face. Somehow, Jolie had managed to completely cover it all, leaving her client looking very much as she had before she arrived at the hospital.

The only major difference beyond this was her hair.

The wavy tresses which skirted Georgiana's waist went from being a warm, honey blonde to a deep, smokey auburn. The new hue set her gray eyes glinting beneath textured bangs, looking like poisonous quicksilver framed by dark lashes.

When Fred arrived to take Rosalie from the subterranean hospital, he had apologized and left the room, thinking she was someone else.

He had come back seconds later, swearing and blustering that it was a very good disguise indeed.

Georgiana had laughed, taking the parcel of clothes he had brought for her and stepping into the bathroom.

"If you don't like the attire, you can blame Cali," he called playfully, grinning when a small laugh could be heard from the other room.

Rosalie snorted and shook her head when she lifted an intricate lingerie set from the stack. Calixte had been entirely too pleased with herself each time she came to visit during the week. Now Rosalie understood why.

She emerged a few minutes later clad in tall black boots which just covered her knees, a pair of slim fitting black jeans, an emerald cashmere sweater which had once belonged to her mother, and a black leather motorcycle jacket.

Fred beamed back at her when she appeared. "My god, you could pass for Dahlia's little sister."

"Would you recognize me on a security camera?" Rosalie fretted, holding her ribcage self-consciously.

"No, definitely not…You okay?"

"I'm fine," she assured, straightening her posture once more. "I stretched a little too far when I pulled the sweater over my head, that's all."

The two quietly made their way through the hospital, rising up out of the underground lift ten minutes later. The overeager lift operator waved excitedly at them, garnering a look of annoyance from Fred as they passed.

They came upon Fred's motorcycle seconds later, the huge blue Indian occupying an entire parking space in and of itself.

He procured a gunmetal gray helmet from one of the bike's bags, setting the piece of protective equipment atop Rosalie's head and adjusting the chin strap to fit before donning his own black one.

Swinging a burly leg over the seat, he took the bike off its stand and sent the engine into life with a deafening roar. Once the brake was set, he held out a hand, helping Rosalie to slip into the rear seat behind him.

Flipping her vizor down, she settled into the seat, wrapping her arms around Fred's solid, comforting frame.

He gave her hands a reassuring pat, then took to the drive leading out of the covered paddock and back out onto the main road.

Rosalie relished the feeling of fresh air whipping around her for the first time in days. She could tell it had rained that morning, the scent of wet earth permeating every ion which passed over her skin.

She would miss this place and its quiet country roads. The green, dew-strewn hills framed by sharp white split-pole fencing, the sound of pounding hooves mixing with the soft, fluttering feathers of sandhill cranes. Kentucky had been home, a quiet haven where she could retreat.

Now, the time had come to walk away for a spell.

Luli had attended the court hearing that morning, producing the arsenal of documents which proved the home and surrounding acreage previously known as the Haywood Estate had been sold to a little known real estate development firm who planned on turning the place into a bed and breakfast.

All debts were promptly settled, and any squabbling over the property was immediately put to rest by Luli's ferocious business acumen.

From what Rosalie had been told, the ranchers who had all quickly convened to purchase the land the moment the courthouse opened were positively furious to find Georgianna Haywood had bested them, even in death.

There had been a great deal of shouting and threats. Archie Higgs, in particular, was spouting crude, derogatory remarks at Luli for her small role in dealing this last blow. Lu wasted no time in having him removed from the property under threats of being held in contempt of court.

For her safety, she had been placed on the first flight back to California once the hearing had finished, escorted directly to the airport by none other than Richard and Calixte.

It felt wonderful to have Break Maiden safely out of enemy hands.

Rosalie let out a calming sigh, closing her eyes to the scent and feel of the dewey autumn wind.

There was a most welcome change in the air, she could feel it.

---

Haywood Estate - Leslie County, Kentucky - September 1993

Fred eased up on the gas when they came upon the entrance to Break Maiden.

Her gates were blocked by sharp yellow crime scene tape, which Fred gingerly lifted so it could pass over them.

Once beyond the barrier, the bike carried them leisurely along the stretch of pebbled drive to the house, its lights shining merrily atop the hill.

A hodgepodge array of vehicles were all parked in the circular drives, their owners already inside.

Richard and Calixte were the only ones waiting for them, standing expectantly at the top of the steps.

When the two newcomers disembarked from their ride, it was to the sound of wailing cicadas and pebbles crunching below the Lilets' feet as they closed the distance between them and their friend.

Rosalie reached out and hugged them both tightly, a bright smile illuminating her features.

"Nice digs." 'Shard teased, giving her a once over in appreciation of her strikingly updated appearance.

"You'd never know I look like a blueberry under all this." Rosalie quipped back, jabbing a thumb at her perfectly concealed visage before turning her amused gaze upon Calixte. "Thanks for the new uniform, by the way. Now I know why you were so damn smug all week."

Calixte leaned forward and nuzzled her nose against Rosalie's, making them both laugh. "Trust me, I know your taste, and I know what I'm doing. The rest of your new wardrobe is already packed and waiting. We couldn't risk you taking your own things, the police would find it highly suspect. Did I mention I love the hair? Very badass, my doll…"

Her ringed fingers reached to play amongst the long auburn waves, admiring the new hue with a smile.

"Speaking of the new look…" Richard whipped out a Polaroid camera and snapped a couple quick shots of Rosalie from the appropriate distance. "And one for luck," he added, snapping a candid when she and his wife had returned to their previous conversation.

It took only seconds for him to trim the photo to the correct side and place it inside the passport he had procured for Rosalie. He did the same with the driver's license, running the card through a small handheld machine to laminate before popping it in the manilla envelope which held the rest of her new life.

The others had already ascended the stairs on the front porch and gone inside to a chorus of happy fugitives.

Rosalie was busy thanking each of them individually for their hand in her escape and for keeping the property from crumbling to ruin.

The twins grinned their delight when she came upon them last, deploring that they had lived up to every one of her expectations as far as the wildfire was concerned.

She turned to see 'Shard holding out the manilla envelope, a bittersweet smile pulling at his lips.

"..Is this it?" She asked, taking it and fingering the catch thoughtfully.

He nodded, one hand resting in his trouser pocket, the other reaching to wind its way around Calixte's waist. "Everything you need to travel is in that file, chérie."

Rosalie opened the folder, leafing through its contents to unearth a crimson French passport. "Renata," she tried the name out, smiling down at the photo taken moments ago alongside the alias Renata Alder.

"It means 'reborn,'" Calixte explained, "We thought it would be fitting."

"It's a lovely name," Rosalie agreed through a watery smile, continuing to look through the pages the folder held. There was a birth certificate, social security card, and much to her surprise, paperwork for an offshore bank account. "Monarch Douglas? I don't have an account with-"

Rosalie nearly dropped the stack of documents when she saw the value of the account.

This definitely, definitely wasn't hers, even with the unbelievable revenue she'd been making with Break Maiden, she still hadn't broken near seven-digit figures.

"Um, 'Shard, I think you might have left a bank statement in here by accident."

She held out the stapled paperwork with an awkward grimace, expecting him to take it.

"No, sweetling."

Richard instead reached out and set his fingertip atop the page, pointing out the name of the account holder.

Renata Alder.

"We want to invest."

The statement came from none other than Helia. Her mousy brown bun barely skirted Rosalie's chin as the other woman stepped forward, looking up to meet her gaze. "We all chipped in. Richard told us you were planning to make innkeeping your full time gig."

"And with us backing you, you can start building a whole network of safehouses," chimed Ignatious, resting against the kitchen island with Flint, who nodded vigorously. "We have faith in you, Rosie. You're a good investment."

"I- I couldn't possibly take this," Rosalie stammered, balking at the balance, which seemed like a terrifyingly large sum to have to eventually pay back.

"You can and you will," the Metalist advised sagely, holding her with a stalwart gaze. "Our world needs a real player in the safe harbor game. It'll be beneficial for criminals and innocents alike, having a gatekeeper to take the most notorious of us off the streets."

Rosalie swallowed thickly, "You really think I can do this?"

The group chuckled softly to themselves, sharing an array of amused looks before Calixte's voice filtered warmly over the low murmurs of agreement.

"Doll, you've been doing it for months already."

Rosalie's eyes shone bright with moisture when she looked up at the others. There were no words to convey what she felt at receiving such a generous show of confidence.

"I…I…"

"No thanks needed," Fred assured, "Just do what you do and we'll all be the richer for it."

The whole room laughed, except for Dahlia, who had remained on guard at the door.

Without warning she came striding through the room, holding a finger to her lips and grabbing Rosalie's shoulder in a tight grip.

"Wha-?"

"Shh!"

Dahlia waved the others silently into the dining room.

The fugitives scattered, leaving the Lilets, Rosalie and Dahlia to bring up the rear as the front door flew open with a bang.

Calixte hurriedly shoved Dahlia and Rosalie into the nearest closet, closing the door with a snap before turning back to the foyer.

Richard stood with his hands held out from his sides, a red and fuming Archie Higgs standing framed in the doorway, a cocked pistol in his beefy hand.

"You," he snarled viciously, aiming the weapon at 'Richard, "You were there today, at the courthouse, with that lawyer bitch."

"I believe her name is Luli," 'Shard responded cooly, taking a couple cautionary steps back.

Archie didn't seem fazed by the subtle rebuke.

"You had a hand in it, I know you did. There's no other explanation for how that development firm was ready and waiting with purchase papers."

Richard gave a non-committal shrug, his expression perfectly careless. "You've been insisting 's been on the verge of bankruptcy for months, is it really so unbelievable she would find a buyer rather than continue fighting you jackals?"

Archie scoffed loudly, "I don't believe you."

'Shard couldn't restrain a dry laugh, "Face it, she outpaced you. No one gives a damn what you believe, old man."

"You won't mind if I ask the broad then, will you?" Higgs gestured pointedly at Calixte with his handgun, banking on Richard to crumble.

The young fugitive smiled darkly in response.

"Oh I wouldn't recommend pointing that at my wife, Archie boy. She'll castrate you where you stand."

Calixte strode slowly forward, batting her dark lashes coyly up at him before leveling Archie a caustic glare. Her words held a stringent hiss of acidity as they fell from her poised lips, "Mr. Higgs, I believe you've overstayed your welcome. Perhaps your time would be better spent looking for your son."

"My son-" Archie's face turned an ugly shade of puce, "Don't you dare talk about my son!"

The man charged forward, preparing to take aim at Calixte.

'Shard immediately inserted himself between the two, swiftly arcing his hand over the barrel and twisting the firearm from the other man's grasp in an action as smooth as silk.

A deafening bang echoed through the first floor.

Calixte reached for her husband, her face horror struck.

Richard whipped around as well, expecting to find her injured.

To his unimaginable surprise, behind her stood Rosalie, arm extended with Dahlia's .50 caliber in hand.

Archie dropped to his knees, holding the space just below his heart. A crimson stain was blooming where his hand rested, oozing over his spread fingertips at an alarming rate.

Rosalie came to the center of the room, the rest of the house's occupants following close behind her.

With the tip of the barrel, she used the handgun to angle Higgs's face to meet her own.

A sly, amused smile met his horrified look of recognition.

"Dearie me, Arch. Looks like you've seen a fearsome ghost indeed."

---

Moments later, Archie Higgs was tied to the bannister of the Haywood family home, steadily dripping blood onto the polished wide oak floors.

The contingent of fugitives stood opposite him, observing the first shot over the bow in Rosalie's all-out war with the surrounding ranchers.

"Ho-How?" Archie rasped, staring at Rosalie as though she couldn't possibly be real. "You were barely alive when we left you. We set fire to the field. They found your body-"

'Shard flashed him a brilliant smile and made a sweeping gesture to the rest of the group, "That would be our doing, monsieur. Us criminals, we don't trust anyone easily, least of all cowards. There was a contingency in place for you and your little band of thugs."

Their captive looked between the faces of the group, "Criminals?"

"Francis tried so hard to figure out how I was keeping this place afloat," Rosalie sighed, looking wistfully around the foyer. Her nose crinkled in amusement, "The self-absorbed fool never once considered that sweet, gullible little old me might be breaking the law. Ah well," she waved an airy hand, "Frank got his in the end."

"Where is he?" Archie shouted, lurching forward only to crumple in pain. The bullet in his side produced a fresh stream of blood, drip, dripping, steadily on the staircase.

"Ugh, I'm going to have to replace the floor boards, aren't I?" Rosalie grumbled, turning to the others for confirmation.

They all gave a uniform nod before Iggy piped up, "I know a guy who knows a guy, we'll have it all fixed in two shakes of a lamb's tail, Rosie."

Rosalie beamed a grateful smile, "You're a dear, Igg."

"Where is my son?" Archie repeated forcefully, murderous eyes shooting daggers at the woman across from him.

Fred stepped forward, crouching from his considerable height to squat in front of Higgs. "That was my doing." His voice rumbled ominously, washing over its target with a shiver-inducing foreboding. "What's left of Francis Higgs is scattered to the wind fifty miles south of here, in a landfill, where trash like him belongs."

The look of fury which consumed Archie could have been frightening indeed, were he not cuffed to the banister. "You Son of a B-!"

Fred backhanded him on his way up, cutting off the insult with a staggering blow.

A tooth clattered to the floor and an agonized groan left Archie's throat, his body slumping against the bannister once more.

When he looked up he saw the burly biker smiling vindictively down at him.

"'Twas the least I could do, considering Frank's hand in the attack on our Rosalie."

"Rosalie? Who?" Archie squinted upward, focusing his confused stare on the Haywood brat when she came up alongside the biker.

The top of her head was only an inch or two above his elbow.

She turned and lifted a hand to Fred's cheek, bringing him down to her level so she could place a warm kiss to the other. An adoring smile graced her features before she turned the deadly gaze on their captive.

"Poor Archie. All this time you thought you were dealing Georgianna Haywood, when in reality you were dealing with me." She gave a sardonic little wave as she left the room, returning moments later with the painting which had once covered the safe in the dining room.

She turned the painting to face Higgs, showing him the strikingly realistic picture of a copper mug against an inky black background, its sides shining with condensation from the crisp, cool-looking beverage held within.

"Look familiar?" Rosalie lowered herself so she was eye to eye with him. "You once sat at a bar drinking from one of these cups, heckling me to sell when you were one of the people responsible for my father's death."

Higgs paled, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp.

Rosalie tilted her head unsettlingly, "That's right, I know what you did, Arch. I know all the dirty lies and secrets. Now it's time we educate you."

She stood unflinchingly, with her back erect and her shoulders back. "They call me Rosalie, Archie, because I'm a criminal, like them. There's little space for Georgianna Haywood these days. You sought to drive me into bankruptcy and I responded by making my home a safe haven for all manner of ne'er-do-wells. Rather than going under, I've made an obscene profit which has, oddly enough, spun itself into an all-out career."

Archie simply stared, shellshocked at having the truth revealed to him. "It sold," he snarled, hoping to wound her with this bit of intel, "Your hideaway for thieves and murderers has already been sold to a real estate development firm."

"Yes." Rosalie grinned, turning the painting around once more so she might admire it. "It sold to an RE development firm which is a shell, of a shell, of a shell, of a shell company which all leads back to a pesky little LLC called...Magnus Enterprises."

Higgs's smug sneer fell at the sound of the name.

Rosalie let out a throaty, sarcastic laugh, "You'll never guess who owns that one, Arch."

It seemed Archie Higgs was finally out of witty replies.

He shrank back slightly as Rosalie advanced on him, the painting still in hand.

Placing a heeled boot on his chest, she pushed him to his back, then leaned forward and slipped the picture wire over his head.

The large painting hung about his neck at a wonky angle, and she stood back to admire the effect.

"Yes, I think that will do."

Rosalie held out a hand, into which was placed the same handgun as before. It was not how she had planned to take down Archie Higgs, but it was certainly a poetic end to their acquaintance.

Without a moment's hesitation, she took aim and fired off another round, which tore through the center of the painting and lodged itself into his chest.

A death rattle echoed in the room as Rosalie leaned forward, meeting Arch's watery blue eyes with a look of utmost loathing.

"A good man. Good people. Those were your words. I hope you choke on them." She handed the firearm back to Dahlia, then added, "...If you do manage to survive, please, tell the others I'm coming for them. McAllister, Wilkes, and the Welch brothers, especially that murderous wretch Tiberius. They can fight until their dying breaths, but I'll own every hill, rock, and twig for three hundred acres by the time my I'm finished with them."

Archie Higgs took his last gurgling breaths without so much as another look from Rosalie.

The Pepperwood boys and Helia went tearing through the house, a plan already formulating in their minds.

They pulled out drawers, knocked aside artwork and toppled furniture without doing any real damage, ensuring the place looked like it had been looted.

"What now?" Rosalie asked, looking about the ransacked home with resigned curiosity.

There was a palpable excitement in the air as the other fugitives grabbed their belongings, preparing to disembark from their haven and dive back into the criminal underworld.

'Shard reached out warm hands to cup her face, leaning forward to place his lips to Rosalies forehead, a look of fierce pride overtaking him.

"Now, sweetling…you run."

---

Los Reyes Sagrados Camp - Unknown Location, Colombia - February 16th, 2000

The Capo sidled leisurely back into the tent, taking in the state of his captive with relish.

Rosalie knelt atop the pillows, leveling him a hate-filled glare as he wandered ever closer.

The look did not give him pause. Quite the contrary. He grinned vindictively while he slowly removed his shirt, revealing a thick, barreled chest with a very sparse dusting of black chest hair.

"It's time you learned your place, Querida."

---

En Route to Los Reyes Sagrados Camp - Unknown Location, Colombia - February 16th, 2000

"She disappeared, just like that?" Dembe questioned, his curiosity sufficiently piqued.

"Yeah," Fred sighed wistfully, "She hopped into Dahlia's armored vehicle and took off for the south of France. We followed as a security detail until they reached the port in coastal Virginia, then we all went our separate ways."

"Hey, Dahlia?"

The woman in question rotated in her seat, looking to the back of the vehicle where 'Shard was seated with his legs crossed. "What?"

"Whatever happened to the ranchers? I saw newspaper articles, but I never heard what actually happened. Rosalie didn't really talk about it."

---

The Armel Estate - Corsica - April,1996

"It's time, Rosalie."

Dahlia's voice echoed ominously over the line. It had taken a couple years, but the first casualty in their plan was finally on his last leg.

Rosalie stepped out of the lounge as quickly as possible, mumbling her apologies to Marietta, who had been teaching her a necessary lesson in the art of handling volatile male criminals.

The younger woman had a run-in with a particularly difficult client the week before, and though the man was now six feet under courtesy of Florian, Madame Armel felt it was imperative to double down on her part in Rosalie's criminal education.

"Which one?" Rosalie whispered, quickly scanning the halls for onlookers.

"Harvey Welch. Admitted last week to the same hospital which treated your father. The poison has been taking its toll, retribution is not far off."

Rosalie nodded to herself, steeling her nerves. "I'll be on the next flight out."

"Next flight out to where, young lady?"

The deep voice made Rosalie nearly jump out of her skin, "Florian!"

Florian Armel smirked slyly at his charge when she turned around, pleased he had managed to catch her with her guard down. "What have I told you about secret conversations?" He chided, tapping his foot expectantly.

"...'Never out in the open and only after the secure space has been checked for interlopers and interference,'" she recited dryly, making the man chuckle.

Florian remained focused on the curiosity at hand, "Where are you flying to on such short notice, chérie?"

She rocked on the balls of her feet, working to school her face into a more believable mask. "I need to go back to the states for a day, two tops. I'll be back as soon as possible, there's just a minor matter which needs attending."

"Is everything alright, Rosalie?" Florian questioned, his features immediately riddled with suspicion and concern.

"Yes, everything's fine," she assured, convincing no-one, "Just a family matter."

---

Los Reyes Sagrados Camp - Unknown Location, Colombia - February 16th, 2000

Rosalie scurried backwards when the Capo mounted the bed, getting entirely too close.

"Get away from me," she spat, pulling herself as tight to the headboard as humanly possible.

"This will be much more unpleasant if you fight me," he warned ominously, moving even closer.

Rosalie fumbled frantically with the shackles at her wrists, terror clutching her insides as he inched further and further up the bed, eyeing her in a way which made her want to vomit.

---

En Route to Los Reyes Sagrados Camp - Unknown Location, Colombia - February 16th, 2000

"It was McAllister in '97…"

The others in the vehicle murmured their recognition.

"Bruce." Dahlia recalled, eyes fixed on the black scenery which zoomed by.

Calixte nodded sagely from her place alongside Richard, "I remember that day, she called me afterward. That Corsican fellow was with her…"

---

The Armel Estate - Corsica - May,1997

"This is the second time this has happened, Cedric. You're her closest confidant, I'm begging you. You needn't tell me what she's up to, I simply don't want her going alone. Rosalie is too much of a target these days. See if you can't coax her into bringing you along for safety if nothing else."

"You have no idea where she's headed?" Cedric questioned in disbelief, brow furrowing when Florian confirmed he didn't have the slightest clue where Rosalie was flying off to at a moment's notice. It was completely uncharacteristic of her.

"Why isn't she taking Horace?"

Florian groaned and threw his hands up in exasperation, "I have no earthly idea, but she made it perfectly clear she will not have him come along."

Fifteen minutes later, Cedric Durant stood in the open doorway of Rosalie's room, watching her pack a small bag of necessities before clearing his throat.

"Pére wishes me to accompany you."

A disgruntled sigh met his ears.

"Really, Ced, it's nothing exciting."

She hadn't even turned around.

Stepping into the room, he closed the heavy doors with a snap.

"Rosalie," Cedric chided, entirely unfooled, "I assure you, I'm not trying to but in, we just want to keep you safe."

"You all do realize, at some point, I'm going to have to function on my own," she grumbled, in no mood to be molly-coddled.

Cedric grinned, reaching out a hand to rumple her curls, "Florian knows, he's just not eager to get to that point yet. You'll always be his bébé…Sa fille."

Rosalie scoffed at his teasing, "I doubt that. He had me pick out my own surname, despite the fact Marietta has been hinting around for months that they wanted to name me an Armel…"

A deep, full laugh roared through the room at this.

"You have no idea what's going on, do you?"

She scowled hotly at him, "What on earth are you on about?"

Cedric was still cackling with mirth, "Florian is so far in the doghouse he might as well be under it. Marietta hasn't said a word to him in two weeks because he advised you to choose your own surname. She had every intention of making you an Armel by name."

"Oh…" the small whisper held no small measure of surprise, "I- I didn't know that…"

Cedric plopped himself on the duvet, looking up at his pseudo-sibling with a triumphant grin. "So, bébé sœur, where are we going?"

Rosalie hesitated for several long moments before finally giving in.

"What used to be my home. We're going to pay a little visit to an old acquaintance of mine, Bruce McAllister."

---

Los Reyes Sagrados Camp - Unknown Location, Colombia - February 16th, 2000

Seconds passed and the Capo was upon her, grasping at Rosalie's arms and pulling her roughly to him.

With a smile of malicious pleasure, Rosalie allowed her body weight to topple forward.

Her brow rose challengingly as the Capo's eyes bulged in their sockets, his brain taking a moment to register the ungodly pain searing from the place where his thigh and groin met.

Blood began to pool there, staining the front of his trousers red, except for the place where a glinting black handle stuck out, held there by Rosalie.

A choked gasp was all the more noise his body could muster when she yanked the blade free and buried it once more in his gut, twisting as she did so.

---

En Route to Los Reyes Sagrados Camp - Unknown Location, Colombia - February 16th, 2000

"Who came after McAllister?" Fred questioned, unable to recall.

Dahlia's mind wandered back, "Wilkes, David Wilkes. We didn't get him until '98."

"Rosalie and I started working together late '98," Red commented idly, trying to recall those blissful early days with a bit more clarity.

Dahlia placed a hand on his forearm, patting it gently.

He lifted his head, noticing the blades which were strapped to the underside of her forearms.

"She has blades very similar to those…" he pointed, truly seeing them for the first time.

"I should hope so," Dahlia smiled, "The Metalist and I made them for her. I'm glad to hear she still uses them."

Raymond's curiosity soon got the better of him.

"So, did Wilkes suffer the same fate as the others?"

---

The Altiplano Safehouse- Bolivia - June, 1998

"Hey, can you meet me state side?"

Rosalie had called Cedric once Dahlia confirmed David Wilkes was the latest victim of their dastardly plans. In the five years after leaving her life behind, Rosalie had managed to even the score for all but two of the purpetrators, Dave and TIberius.

She had purchased the properties out from under the others and ended their sorry existences in due time. The anger hadn't fully abated for Rosalie. She supposed it would lessen when the deed was finally done. For now, she wanted someone with her that she could trust.

After the first time, Cedric had become that person.

He didn't question when he realized what had brought her back to Kentucky. He never told Florian, either.

Instead, Cedric supported Rosalie's decision and assured her he would be ready and willing anytime she needed his assistance.

Now, it seemed, that day had come once again, and Cedric didn't hesitate.

"Of course, I can leave immediately. Same location as last time?"

---

Los Reyes Sagrados Camp - Unknown Location, Colombia - February 16th, 2000

The Capo fell backwards in a heap, staining the sheets with his blood.

Finally creating enough space between them, Rosalie managed to wrangle the long catch pole from its hiding place beneath the pillows where she had managed to stow it earlier.

Catching sight of the thing, the Capo took a deep, whooping breath, preparing to call for help.

Rosalie moved just in the nick of time, slipping the noose about his neck and choking off the strangled cry before it could leave his throat.

He began to trash violently about, clawing uselessly at the noose which cut off his oxygen supply.

Rosalie held on with both hands, tightening the mechanism as much as she could and hanging on for dear life as the Capo fell into his dying throes.

---

En Route to Los Reyes Sagrados Camp - Unknown Location, Colombia - February 16th, 2000

A tangent memory from their time at the Palio in Siena invaded Red's thoughts.

' I'm not going to mess about with Tiberius, Luli. If he doesn't want to play ball, I'll just buy the house out from under him.'

"She was speaking with her accountant about a man named Tiberius, back in July…Was that the last rancher?"

Dahlia nodded darkly, "Rosalie made sure Tiberius Welch was the last man standing. He was the one who installed the contraption which robbed her of her family, and so she ensured he would be the last one to go, and that he would still be alive when she took everything from him. He got to watch as the men around him dropped like flies, their ruined properties sold for pennies on the dollar and absorbed into the Haywood estate by Magnus Enterprises."

---

Saint Mary Magdalene's Hospital - Leslie County, Kentucky - August, 1999

"Hello, Tiberius."

Tiberius Welch blinked open bleary eyes, scanning the dark of his hospital room to locate the source of the voice.

A blonde woman in her late twenties sat in the seat beside him, the pale light of the bedside table lamp casting some of her features into shadow.

If he didn't know any better…

She looked like an older version of Georgianna Haywood.

A tall, dark-haired man and a red-headed woman clad all in black stood guard beside the door, one watching the hall, the other's gaze fixed intently on the woman beside him.

"Come now, Tiberius, I know the poison I've let seep into your bloodstream may have mottled your mind a bit, but surely you'd remember me? You did kill my father, after all."

Tiberius's eyes widened in sheer panic, his hand reaching blindly for the nurse's call button.

"Looking for this?"

She held up the white remote he was searching for, tossing it carelessly on the table beside her.

"I'm sure you know why I'm here, Tiberius, having watched all the others waste away before you. I'm surprised you didn't see me coming. Tell me, was it wishful thinking or just arrogance?"

"How?" Tiberius questioned in a hoarse murmur, "Why?"

Rosalie leveled him a glare which could curdle milk, "I refuse to believe you don't know the why, Tiberius. I was there the day you installed that poisonous contraption in my parents' faucets and sinks. I found them years later, after I inherited the state, you murderer."

Welch's face gave him away, shocked recognition shadowing his already gaunt features.

"I- I- It wasn't my idea," he insisted, "Archie-"

"I dealt with Archie years ago," Rosalie cut him off, "Even if Higgs was the man behind the idea, you and the rest of your little group followed without question. You were the one who ultimately killed my father and left my mother in a state of complete mental deterioration."

"You killed Archie?" Tiberius stared with a look of horrified awe, "The police said it was a burglary-"

"It was a shot over the bow," Rosalie corrected, "I tried to warn you, but you all kept on your merry way."

She bent to lift a flower arrangement from the floor. "You no doubt recognize this, don't you, Tiberius?"

A copper mug brimming with blood red chrysanthemums was set on the table beside him.

"Funeral flowers." Tiberius answered, "They were from Barty, at the bar. Higgs, McAllister, Wilkes, my brother…they all had flowers just like that left on their tombstones."

Rosalie cupped one of the dark blooms and brought it to her nose, inhaling its rich floral scent with a sigh.

"They were from me."

Striding back to the woman at the door, she held out an expectant hand, into which was placed a glass phial and a syringe.

"Listen here, you little brat-"

He was duly ignored.

"You know, Tiberius, the lovely thing I've learned during my brief stint as a serial killer is that when it comes to major bacterial infections, the physicians will always start a central line. It makes everything so much easier on me, I don't have to wait long." Rosalie slowly and methodically filled the syringe, placing the phial in her coat pocket before taking the central line in hand.

"You don't have to do this," he rasped, attempting to knock her hands away.

"You didn't have to destroy what little family I had left, try to bankrupt me, then beat me half to death and leave me to die on a burning hill…yet here we are."

The deadpan retort was like a slap in the face, leaving Tiberius Welch gobsmacked long enough for Rosalie to plunge the syringe full of liquid into the line.

The effect was instantaneous. The man's vitals plunged and his body began to tremble violently.

Leaning forward, Rosalie bid her final farewells before following her companions out the door.

"Be sure to give the others my best. I'll see you all in hell when I'm good and ready."

---

Haywood Estate - Leslie County - August, 1999

"What about Reddington?"

Rosalie and Cedric were laying sprawled on the home's front porch, sharing a bottle of bourbon and toasting to the end of Rosalie's long feud with the surrounding ranchers.

"He doesn't know any of it," she whispered in an undertone, not wanting to out her very new, very fragile relationship with the Concierge of Crime to anyone just yet. This included Dahlia, who was handling a personal matter on the phone inside the house.

"You really think he won't understand?" Cedric prodded, surprised to hear someone with Rosalie's disposition hiding pieces of herself from a lover. He was even more surprised to hear a hearty sniff leave her lips, turning to find tear tracks shining on her cheeks.

"I just-" her voice hitched, "I don't want him to know this side of me, Cedric."

He sat up and immediately pulled her into a hug, patting her curls in what Cedric hoped was a soothing manner, "You really think he would judge you? After all you two have been through? After starting a romantic relationship with you?"

Rosalie sniffed once more, "I don't know what he'd do, Cedric, that's what's so terrifying. He could learn the truth and think differently of me. He's only ever seen me as an innkeeper, all warmth and hospitality. What if-" She lifted her head to meet Cedric's gaze and voiced the truth of her fears.

"Cedric, what if he finds out what I am and doesn't like what he sees?"

---

Los Reyes Sagrados Camp - Unknown Location, Colombia - February 16th, 2000

The clock in the tent had just struck eleven when the screams outside ceased abruptly.

An icy feeling crawled its way into Rosalie's insides, engulfing her heart in a chilling hold.

The best parts of her cried out in pain and anguish, but Rosalie smothered them, pushing those thoughts and emotions deep beneath the surface of her psyche. She couldn't afford to indulge the heartache she felt just now. She couldn't fret uselessly over what may or may not have happened to Lita. For now, the night was blissfully still, and one of the men responsible for her capture was laying all but dead on the floor.

"You and I are going to wait for your friend, that coward," Rosalie hissed in a venomous voice, watching the Capo's feeble jerks with an almost careless expression despite the rage which by now had completely consumed her.

She yanked open a nearby nightstand with one hand, keeping the other tight about the catch pole.

There was a mediocre triple-barrel revolver and a stack of cigars nestled within.

Setting the firearm in her lap, she checked the chamber to find it fully loaded. She flicked the thing closed and spun it with a series of satisfying clicking noises. Rosalie then pulled out one of the cigars, looking the item over thoughtfully before dragging out a cutter and a lighter.

With the aid of one of her legs, she managed to hold the cigar in place long enough to cut it.

Popping it in her mouth, she picked up the Capo's heavy silver lighter and flicked it on.

The Capo gurgled softly, his face growing more and more purple.

Rosalie took a few languid puffs from the cigar she held, blowing the smoke down at the Capo's unmoving form.

"We're going to wait right here for the German, you and I…"

She took another bracing puff from the cigar, letting the soothing smoke fall like a pale white river from her lips.

"There's no force in heaven or hell which will save him from the destruction I have in store."

---

En Route to Los Reyes Sagrados Camp - Unknown Location, Colombia - February 17th, 2000

Reddington was ruefully shaking his head, "I'm sorry, but this doesn't even sound like Rosalie."

Dahlia sniggered as they made yet another turn on the bumpy mountain road.

"It will when I tell you what happened to those men's families."

Red lifted his head at this, looking at her with no small degree of expectation.

"Rosalie set up a charity for the families affected by the fire which started on her property. Which were the Higgs, Welch, Wilkes, and McAllister families. It was funded under one of Magnus's many subsidiaries." Dahlia groaned, "She helped their wives buy homes elsewhere, got them jobs, put their remaining children through school…I told her they didn't deserve it, but Rosalie insisted they shouldn't have to pay for their fathers' cruelty. What was left of those five families flourished thanks to her kind heart. That's how I knew she would be one hell of a criminal."

"How so?" He asked curiously, eager to hear the viewpoint of someone who, admittedly, knew Rosalie longer and perhaps better than he did.

It was Fred's turn to laugh.

"Unlike common killers, once Rosalie's blood lust was appeased, she immediately stopped hunting. It was a very personal vendetta she had with those men. With their fates sealed and her last remaining family member safe from any further retaliation, she was free to completely return to her true self."

Dahlia's gaze grew distant, "She would never be the same, but then again, none of us would. Just like now, Rosalie will come back from this ordeal a little different, but she'll still be exactly who she's always been once the dust settles."

"You don't know that...we haven't found her yet."

Raymond was guarding himself against false hope. He wanted Rosalie to be there, he wanted her safe, but the likelihood of that eventuality seemed less and less with every minute they spent in that damn suv.

"How are we not there yet?" He snapped, the anxiousness getting the better of him.

The others in the vehicle shared quiet, knowing looks.

'Shard leaned forward in his seat, "Not finding her is not even a possibility in our minds, Raymond."

Red whipped around with a formidable scowl, "Stop insisting everything's going to be fine, dammit. She's been there for four days. Stop. Just- Stop getting everyone's hopes up."

Dahlia wasn't fooled by the outburst. She reached out a hand to squeeze his arm, "You're so used to seeing the worst…You never even consider a dollop of optimism, do you Ray?"

"What the hell is there to be optimistic about?" He growled darkly, "How are you so sure she is going to be okay?"

"Because Rosalie endures, Raymond." Dahlia gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, "It's a trait common to the best of us criminals, and it is something at which Rosalie is particularly exemplary. There's no doubt in my mind her steadfastness was one of the main traits which drew you to her. Just like I'm certain your inherent goodness drew her to you."

"I'm far from good."

The irritable grumble was an outright lie, but Dahlia wasn't about to out him to the whole caravan.

"Rosalie will disagree, and wholeheartedly." Dembe's voice ended any further conflict from the driver's seat, "That's enough reminiscing for now. The lead car has stopped."

---

Los Reyes Sagrados Camp - Unknown Location, Colombia - February 17th, 2000

A dense blanket of fog had settled on the mountainside where the cartel had placed their base of operations. As the midnight hours crept toward dawn, the cloudy mist shrouded everything in the stifling haze, obscuring the entire landscape.

There were two guards standing watch at the mouth of the camp, kicking rocks with their shoes and conversing in low whispers while they waited for the sun to rise.

In the distance, four dark shapes could be seen making their way towards them.

The guard on the left sighed irritably. "¿Qué paso?" he called, crumpling to the ground when a bullet came whizzing through the air and lodged itself in his skull.

The other guard stood frozen in abject panic when another bullet was fired, catching him in the chest and taking him to the ground as well.

Slowly, Rojelio emerged from the mist.

He was followed by a battalion of heavily armed men, one was tall and black and significantly younger, the other was just as tall, older with pale skin and sandy brown hair. There were men with ponytails and bald men, men with shotguns and men with rifles. They were all hulking, large and menacing, but the most formidable was the man walking in the center of their group.

He was not quite as tall nor as broad as his companions, yet the man somehow struck an even more ominous figure striding deliberately through the mist.

Dressed in a crisp white shirt beneath a waistcoat and slacks of a blue so dark it was nearly black. His head played perch to an immaculate grey fedora which served to partially obscure his face from view.

He had an air of wealth, power, and terribleness which set him apart from all of them. Straight-backed and snarling, his large hand curled around a heavy pistol, his finger firmly curled around the trigger, a silencer extending the length of the barrel, which was summarily pointed at the guard's forehead.

"You have someone of mine."

The deep, graveled voice seemed to shake the other man to his very foundations.

Without argument, the guard gestured toward the largest tent in the campground on the other side of the hill. "El Capo, he has her."

Red silently fired off another round, ensuring the guard could not raise the alarm before they could secure Rosalie.

Gesturing to the extraction team, he sent groups by the half dozen to ensure the space between the top of the hill and the Capo's tent was clear.

They received the go-ahead moments later, whereupon Raymond and his associates descended the hill and entered the large structure.

The tent was cold and looked empty at first glance. However, upon scanning the room, Red found what he was looking for.

Sitting chained to the headboard of a bloodstained bed, was Rosalie.

"My god...Rosalie."

She looked at Red without seeing, her face pale and wan except for a split lip and a cut above her right temple, both of which were a vibrant red. Her right eye was developing a bit of a shiner, the delicate skin there just beginning to turn a dull purple.

Her wrists were a tattered mess from pulling on the shackles which held her trapped on the bed.

The restraints didn't much matter, it seemed, as one of those hands held a loaded handgun aimed at the entry. The other clutched a cylindrical pole which was attached to a large man laying in a bloody heap on the floor.

Red figured he must be the Capo.

"I wish you were real," Rosalie murmured softly, lowering the gun, her blonde head lolling to rest on the edge of the headboard.

Something broke in Raymond at her statement, and out of it roared an anger so ferocious it made his insides burn. He held his temper in check for Rosalie's sake as he strode to the rear of the tent.

"Rosalie," he whispered, his voice a gravelly rasp. Words could not describe the barrage of emotions swarming inside him in that moment.

"We're here. You're safe."

The words sounded hollow, even to his own ears.

Red couldn't yet stifle the feelings of guilt, knowing that she had been hurt, and it had taken days to find her.

She scurried backward as he neared, fear and distrust evident in her eyes.

Slowly reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his lock-picking kit.

"Let's get you home."

Rosalie remained very still as his hands came within reach, seeking the metal cuff around her neck.

Dark eyes full of suspicion watched his every move.

It was only when his fingertips touched her skin that they widened in hopeful recognition.

"You're warm," she said, a note of surprise lingering in the comment.

"I'm here," he assured, unclasping the cuff to reveal the ring of reddened skin beneath.

Rosalie's eyelids fluttered close when he pressed the whole of his warm, soft hand to that tender expanse.

The others in the room averted their eyes, all feeling as though they had accidentally happened upon a private, intimate moment.

Raymond felt a strange surge of déjà vu as he picked the locks on the shackles which bound her bloodied and bruised hands.

The moment Rosalie was unchained, all hell broke loose.

Caught off guard, Raymond wasn't quite fast enough to grab her as she snatched the handgun back and took aim at the group of would-be rescuers.

"Rosalie-" began Ted, but he was silenced by a lethal look from his charge.

The criminal within the once-sweet young woman had taken over in order to keep herself alive. The wild in her eyes showed she was lost in a sea of self-preservation, willing to destroy any and everyone to make it out of this hell hole unscathed.

Dembe lifted a hand, staying Ted's argument. He gestured for the others to step back, then turned to her once more, "Rosalie needs this. She needs to understand she is safe." He explained, stepping into Rosalie's line of sight, "Don't you, my sister?"

Dembe knew.

Dembe understood.

Better than anyone, he could relate to what Rosalie was going through, to allow the darkest pieces of oneself to the forefront in order to survive the horrors of a place like the Los Reyes Sagrados campground.

The endearment caught the woman's attention immediately. "Sister…" she whispered thoughtfully, her exhausted frame wavering slightly in recognition.

"Yes," soothed Red, taking a small step toward her, "You're our own, aren't you Rosalie."

"I don't think you're real." She murmured despondently, backing a step away from the advancing men and raising the gun once more.

"Why don't you think we're real?" Ted asked, hands still aloft in surrender.

"I've seen you, wandering around the campsite for days. I called for you. You didn't come for me."

Red looked to Dembe, who could only shrug. Aside from hallucinations, there was no readily available explanation as to why Rosalie might have seen them walking around the campsite.

"We will always come for you." Ted promised, his dark visage filled with sincerity.

"…Always?" she asked, wanting to believe them.

"Always," the three men each assured in turn.

The Lilets and the others in their motley crew shared a meaningful look, finally understanding the dynamic between foursome before them.

Rosalie had found her family.

Raymond took a cautious step forward, "There isn't a corner of this earth where they could hide you from me, little dove."

The endearment was uttered with such a vicious conviction it managed to reach the terrified woman within.

"Ray- Raymond?" She whimpered, dropping the firearm to her side.

He wasted no time in striding across the tent and gathering her in his arms.

Rosalie sagged with relief at being enveloped by his broad, powerful frame. The familiar, comforting scent that was uniquely his permeated her being, soothing her body and soul.

He was there. Raymond was finally, really, truly there.

She was safe, at last.

"God, I thought I'd lost you" he rasped, clutching her tightly to him, "It's alright, I've got you now."

Red pressed his lips to her temple, kissing the spot repeatedly in the hope of soothing himself just as much as her.

Two members of the extraction team stumbled into the tent without preamble, dragging along a gagged cartel member.

"We found this one skulking around the southern edge of the camp. None of the others are awake, what do you want us to do with him?"

Rosalie stiffened in Red's grasp, the hatred evident in the dark eyes which peered over his shoulder, flaying the captured cartel member with her gaze.

She recognized his face. He had been one of the halcones to take Lita from her.

A smug smile pulled at his mouth, setting Rosalie's blood boiling once more.

"You can walk away from all of this." Raymond continued, far too preoccupied with stroking her arms lovingly. His hands trickled down to meet her own, one wrapping itself carefully around the barrel of the pistol she held. "Let me do what's necessary."

"I never wanted you burdened with the weight of my sins, Raymond." Rosalie whispered, handing the firearm back to him, which he immediately tossed onto the bed, out of reach.

"Lets get you out of here."

He moved to pick her up, but she side stepped his grasp. "I need to find Lita first."

"Who's Lita?" Asked Ted, looking around the room as though she would just pop out of the woodwork.

Rosalie lurched toward the tent's opening, but was blocked by Red. "She's a little girl the cartel kidnapped. Please, Ray, she's only ten years old, she must be so scared, I have to find her-"

"You'll hear her screams till your dying day, princesa."

The sinister remark was punctuated by a heinous, raspy laugh before the gag was shoved back inside the captured halcon's mouth.

A thunderous snarl overtook Rosalie's face, the blind fury she felt overtaking all rational thought in a matter of seconds.

Quick as a flash, she pulled the last of her knives from the nearby table, spinning it deftly on her middle finger.

"Rosalie, no!" Raymond bellowed, but it was too late.

With a flick of her wrist, the blade was released, burying itself to the hilt in the laughing man's chest.

He sputtered and coughed as he fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

Rosalie pushed past Red, kneeling over the prone halcon, getting eerily close to his face.

Her voice was nonchalant, detached, factual, as though she were merely telling an interesting anecdote.

"You know what I don't tell people about these knives? They were a gift, you see. The surface of every blade contains a series of nearly invisible holes, each bearing the slightest drop of liquid mercury. That way, when I twist," she did so, resulting in a muffled howl of pain, "That liquid metal leeches out into your bloodstream. So, even if you manage to get this wound treated in time, your body's already riddled with microscopic traces of a lethal toxin. That metal is going to poison you from the inside out until you rot."

Raymond cast a thunderous look on Dahlia, recognizing the small blades at once.

Dahlia raised a lone, challenging brow in response, refusing to look the least bit abashed for her handiwork.

Rising once more, Rosalie spared one final look of purest loathing for the man at her feet.

"I'll hear her screams until my dying breath, yes...but I'll assuage that by imagining your dying throes down to their smallest detail."

Without another word, Rosalie pushed through the wall of her own mercenaries and out into the campground.

She moved stiltedly, stumbling toward the bank of trees where the other captives had once been held while the rest of the group came hurrying after her.

"Oh-Oh, God…"

What she found brought Rosalie to her knees.

A shredded pink sleeve lay cast in the moonlight striking the middle of the lane cutting through the cartel campground, a crimson stain marred the fabric's delicate pattern.

"Lita."

Hitting the hard, warm earth, Rosalie vaguely registered the sting of jagged rocks pressing into her kneecaps before a heaving gasp forced its way into her lungs.

Ted followed her gaze to the small crumpled bit of bloody fabric, recognizing it must have belonged to the girl she had mentioned. He leapt forward and knelt in front of his charge, blocking her view of the object. "Look away, Rosalie."

Ignoring him, she stood, adamant on getting to the little girl.

"Where is she?…Lita!"

Red and the Lilets lunged to assist, but Dembe flung an arm out, halting their interference with an ominous look.

He moved to step in front of Rosalie, who had just shoved past her guard, inclining his head as he did so, obsidian eyes purposefully locking her gaze to his. He allowed his low voice to wash over her, willing her to listen to his words.

"It's time to go, Rosalie. Listen to me, it's time to go."

"No." She shook her head vehemently, a torrent of hot tears pouring down her cheeks. Rosalie broke eye contact to search for Lita once more. The sight of the scrap of fabric now laying beneath their feet rekindled the sense of desperation which spurred her onward. Charging forward, Rosalie was met with the immovable wall that was Raymond's bodyguard.

"Dembe, No!" Her voice broke with the vigor of her rejoinder, "Let go of me. I have to go to her. I have to find her!"

Dembe continued soothing her with his typical calm, placid demeanor, his tone soft and reassuring in her ears.

"She's gone, Rosalie. She's gone."

"You don't know that!" Rosalie insisted, "I promised, Dembe! I promised-" She sobbed against his shirt, fisting the soft fabric as she fought to push past him, her breath coming in ragged, panicked lungfuls.

"I know," he soothed, a minute break entering the deep, steady timbre of his voice. "I know, but there is nothing you can do for her now."

"I told her- I told her I'd protect her," Rosalie's struggle lessened, but her sobs refused to cease, heaving harder, her heart positively slamming inside her chest. "I told her she would be safe. Dembe, I promised." She looked imploringly upward into Dembe's dark eyes, seeing them shining with empathy.

"Shhh…I know," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her with utmost care. "It's over now."

Rosalie clutched at him, his embrace the only lifeline in the emotional upheaval which was consuming her.

"It's all my fault…"

She felt like lava was churning in her guts, why, why was she so hot?

The world spun on its axis, distorting Dembe's features so parts of his face seemed comically large. First his nose, then his forehead, his left eye. Her own eyes struggled to focus.

She thought he said her name…

"…Rosalie?…"

His voice had grown to a distant, muffled echo in her ears, as though she had just been dragged below the surface of a roaring sea.

When did her heartbeat become so loud?

"She has no-one to…to…" Rosalie's lungs were still working at a much too rapid pace, sending a fresh wave of vertigo crashing over her. A fuzzy blackness tickled the edges of her vision, slowly encroaching upon her surroundings. She clung to Dembe for stability, knees feeling strange all of a sudden.

"I promised...I promised I wouldn't leave her. Dembe pleas-"

The grief was too immense. The weight of that broken promise smothered any further thought or feeling in Rosalie. The protective haze which had been threatening to overcome her for days finally swallowed her subconscious whole.

Deep in the recesses of her mind, Rosalie slammed the doors to her psyche closed with an echoing bang.

Dembe watched her eyes follow suit, lids dropping heavily when her body finally collapsed from the strain, the fight sapping the last vestiges of energy left within her.

Ted had closed in behind his charge, helping to catch her still and silent form before she could hit the rocky earth.

Dembe knelt beside him and easily lifted her into strong arms, intent on getting her to Kaplan as quickly as possible.

Raymond stepped in front of him before he could get more than a few feet, holding out his hands, silently demanding he be the one to carry her.

Dembe placed Rosalie's limp body gingerly into his protective hold, then turned back toward the campground.

"What are you doing?" Red hissed, adamant on leaving immediately.

"Rosalie promised she wouldn't leave her behind." Dembe intoned, his voice thick with emotion, "I will keep that promise in her stead."

Ted immediately followed him, gesturing for a small contingent of the army they'd brought to come along as well.

Richard stepped out of the group, turning to Red and muttering, "Go. We'll find the girl while we wait for the German. Then we'll meet you back at the safehouse."

A scant few cartel members had stepped out of their tents to see what the commotion was about. Thankfully, they all seemed too ill-prepared, too confused to launch any kind of retaliatory attack.

Red was loathe to leave before securing the German, but the man could arrive at any moment, with any manner of security. As much as he wished to stay behind and end this, he needed Rosalie safely out of the vicinity even more so.

"Place a lookout at the mouth of the road. You have an hour or two, no more." His tone carried to Dembe and Ted, the command brooking no argument. The two guards turned, giving him a curt nod before making their way through the campground, their eyes peeled for any sign of a young girl.

The majority of their guard stayed to apprehend the German, while a single security detail loaded up to accompany Red and their unconscious employer back to the safehouse.

Baz opened the vehicle's rear door, helping Red slip inside, draping a warm blanket around him and Rosalie before retaking his seat and peeling out of the campground.

"I'm sorry, Rosalie," Raymond whispered against her temple, clutching her as close to him as the space allowed.

Rosalie was limp from head to toe, the only movement her body made was the feeble rise and fall of her chest.

Red shifted the light bundle so her head was supported, resting like a dead weight on his shoulder.

Burying his face in her neckline, he continued to breathe deeply, holding his own emotions in check with each thrum of her pulse against his lips.

"I'm so sorry, little dove."

---

Overlook Safehouse - Palmira, Colombia - February 17th, 2000

Red came barreling through the front door almost two hours later with Rosalie in tow.

She still hadn't awoken, and he was starting to worry there was some kind of damage he hadn't seen.

"Kate!"

Kaplan waved him into the kitchen, where the sprawling table had been transformed into a makeshift trauma bed. A variety of portable medical equipment stood alongside it, waiting to be used.

How Kate had managed to procure such items, Raymond wasn't about to question.

"Lay her here," Helia instructed, cradling Rosalie's head as he gently lowered her onto the cushioned surface which looked to be a duvet stuffed inside a white fitted sheet.

The two women gently nudged him out of the way, setting about their examination with little ado.

The thick blanket went first, they needed a clear field of vision.

Kate turned about, leveling a stern gaze at her employer, "Raymond, go to your bedroom-"

"I'm not leaving her." Red barked back, eyes refusing to depart from his companion.

"I wasn't asking you to," Kate retorted, pointing down the hall, "We need to cut off her clothes, and rather than stand their and sulk, I need you to be helpful and get her something to wear so she's not left exposed when the others get back."

The crisp, decisive command bent him to her will, sending the man striding through the house in search of clean clothing.

Kate and Helia shared a look of quiet concern across Rosalie's body.

"I've seen her far, far worse than this," Helia commented, hoping to reassure them both.

The pair wasted no time in cutting away the filthy silk blouse which covered her torso, tossing the soiled garment in the nearby trashcan.

There was no telling whose blood covered its front, though it seemed the newer stains on the sleeves were from Rosalie's wrists.

The shirt was followed by a pair of deep green pants which were also spattered with blood.

"I don't think this is hers…" Kate muttered, looking at the pattern of the droplets.

"Test it," advised Helia, "Rosalie is AB negative, a quick test should tell you all the traces in that splatter."

Kate took a quick swab of the garment before ditching it in the trash.

Helia had a pair of flour sack towels ready, which she placed over Rosalie's chest and pelvis to preserve her modesty once Kaplan snipped away the remainder of her clothing.

The two interim nurses visually examined their patient for a few long moments.

She was badly bruised, but only on her arms and legs, with two more small ones on her face. These were classic defensive wounds common of domestic abuse, it looked as though she had been in a fight.

"Oh sweet girl," Helia sighed, reaching up to brush a few baby hairs from Rosalie's forehead, "I hoped to never see you like this again."

Much to Kate's surprise, Helia bent and pressed her lips to the other woman's forehead.

"My sister was killed by her abusive husband," she explained, "When I first met Rosalie she reminded me so much of her…and Francis, well, he reminded me of my late brother-in-law."

Kate nodded her understanding, prepping the ultrasound equipment to they could check for any internal bleeding.

A quick scan of Rosalie's abdomen showed she was perfectly intact, but the two women wanted to scan her back as well, just to be certain.

Raymond had just come back in, carrying a fresh button down, white socks, and a pair of black boyshorts for Rosalie.

"Raymond, we're going to need your assistance with this next part."

Kate gestured for him to go toward the foot of the table.

"Get right up alongside her and sit on the tabletop, just like that. Now, I need you to lift her upper body so she's in a sitting position. We need to make absolutely sure there's no internal bleeding."

The man nodded, taking the spot and gingerly lifting Rosalie's torso to cradle her gently to his chest.

A small gasp issued from Helia when Rosalie's back was bared to them.

"What?" Red asked, brushing the long blonde tresses aside so he could see what was there.

The whole of Rosalie's back was badly bruised. The marks were very new, less than ten hours at least. A few were obviously fist marks, others seemed to be from some kind of long, rigid weapon, its diameter the size of half dollar.

A ferocious snarl pulled at Raymond's upper lip as he took in the sight of his lover's back, beaten and bloodied where it had once been utterly pristine.

"What is that?" He growled, seeing a set of dark red stripes on either side of her hips.

"They look like scratch marks, from a set of fingernails." Kate immediately set about performing the ultrasound, examining every nook and cranny from the base of Rosalie's scalp to the small of her back.

"Remarkably, there's no lasting damage, no broken bones, no bleeding, nothing. I can see a smidge of bruising on the posterior side of her ribcage, but other than that, she's pristine."

Helia set about cleaning and dressing the deep scratches, applying a number of antibacterial and anti-scarring ointments to the injuries.

A soft groan fell from Rosalie's lips, muffled into Red's shirt.

"I know, it stings a little," Helia commiserated, "I'm sorry, Rosie."

Kate gestured for Raymond to lay her back down on the table.

He did so, more than a little reluctantly, ensuring the cloths which covered her remained in place as he did so.

"Raymond, judging by those scratches, I think a pelvic exam is neces-"

"Absolutely not." He snarled, using his body to create protective barrier between Rosalie and Kaplan. "Kate, she's not awake, she's not consenting-"

Kate held her hands up in a placating gesture, "I'm not saying right this second. There was no evidence on her of any form of sexual assault, I'm just telling you it is something which we need to discuss with Rosalie when she does wake up."

"They didn't touch me."

The three of them whipped around to see Rosalie's eyes open, blinking away the haze of unconsciousness.

"Rosalie," Red leaned over her, tenderly running his hand along her hairline.

"They didn't touch me," she repeated with conviction, meeting his jade green eyes with her own bloodshot ones.

"Okay," he assured, leaning down to press his lips to her forehead, "We believe you, it's going to be okay."

"Lita? Did you find Lita?"

Raymond shook his head, "The others all stayed behind to look for her and capture the German. This will all be over very soon, little dove."

"The Cartel," she gritted, wincing when a frisson of pain ran through her.

"They will be dealt with," Raymond promised darkly.

Kate felt badly interrupting the strangely touching reunion, but far more pressing matters weighed on her mind.

"Rosalie, I'm sorry, but could you please walk us through the past few days? We need to know what injuries to look for."

Raymond blasted Kate with another tumultuous scowl, "Surely her reliving this can wait-"

"It's fine, Ray," Rosalie turned her head to the side of the table where Kate and Helia stood, "If I'm lucky, I won't remember much of today, anyway."

Slowly, without inflection, Rosalie explained everything that had happened to her in the cartel camp.

Raymond listened in silent horror as she wove the tale of four days spent in hell on earth. The sicario who tried to drag her from the corral by her hair, the women's revolt, the Capo's kill order, trying to protect the only little girl who managed to survive…it was a wonder she wasn't completely catatonic after such an ordeal.

Kate examined each area of Rosalie's body as her story went on, starting with the side of her head where she had been knocked out. She moved down her back and shoulders, checking specific spots on her spine and her abdomen for any subtle signs of breaks or internal bleeding. Remarkably, Rosalie was relatively unscathed, despite having spent half a week fighting off the thugs from the Los Reyes Sagrados cartel.

"They split us apart, one of the men backhanded me, then they took Lita away and dragged me into the Capo's tent. After that, I was relatively safe." Rosalie concluded dully, not moving her gaze from the spot on the wall where she had been staring throughout the recollection.

Raymond was smoothing his hand up and down her back in a comforting gesture, his brow knit together in concern.

"I promised that little girl she would be okay. I promised to take her with me, to keep her safe…"

It was obvious to the room that Rosalie felt a suffocating amount of guilt at not being able to protect Lita. Hot tears clung to her lashes, falling steadily to ear cheeks and trailing down her jawline.

Raymond was surprised to hear Kate's reassuring voice warm the room.

"I made a promise to a little girl once. That she would be okay, that I would be with her always, that I would be her family."

Rosalie peered down at her with a destitute expression, "What did you do?"

Kaplan spared a sidelong glance at Raymond.

"I walked away, to keep her safe. I let her go. I broke my promise and left her in the care of someone I barely knew. Sometimes, even with the best of intentions, we can't keep our promises. You did everything you could."

"I could have done more-" Rosalie insisted, but was cut off by Kate lifting one of Rosalie's hands, bringing her eyes to the bruised and tattered skin on the wrist they hadn't yet cleaned and wrapped.

"Rosalie, you did everything, everything you could to go and help her. You should never have been in that camp in the first place. It is not your fault, dearie."

A strangled whimper forced its way from Rosalie's throat, "It was my fault, it's all my fault."

"It's not your fault, it's-" Kate's breath hitched quietly, warring with herself for a moment before she pulled Rosalie into a soothing hug.

"It's not your fault."

Once Rosalie had quietened, Kate and Helia quickly finished wrapping her various cuts and scrapes. They opted to wrap the portions of her arms and legs where the bruising was heaviest, providing a bit more protection to the damaged areas.

"I feel so dirty," Rosalie grumbled half-heartedly, her eyelids heavy with fatigue. The places the two women hadn't cleaned and wrapped felt seven layers thick with dirt and sweat.

It made Rosalie's skin crawl unpleasantly.

Raymond jumped at the chance to assist, "I can help with that."

He kissed her temple and headed straight for the master suite to do who knows what.

Rosalie watched him go, then turned back to the others.

"Kate, why do I feel like I've been hit by a bus? The room keeps tilting and it's making me nauseous."

Kaplan tutted quietly, then gave Rosalie a stern but sympathetic look. "Rosalie, I can tell from twenty feet away that you're dehydrated and haven't slept a wink since you were taken."

Rosalie nodded, "I think I was hallucinating there at the end. I saw Raymond in the cage with me…"

The two healers shared a somber glance before returning to their duties.

Helia pulled out two IV bags, one clear, the other a pale yellow, and hung them on a portable stand. "It only takes 36 hours of sleep depravation for the average person to start hallucinating," she informed her, "It's not an uncommon occurrence."

Rosalie reached out and took her hand in thanks, "It's nice to see you again, Helia."

Helia gave her a kind smile, prepping the back of that hand for the IV. "Same to you, though I do wish it were under better circumstances. Make a fist for me."

"I'm just glad you showed up." Rosalie confided, complying with the request when her brows suddenly furrowed, "Did the others come? I don't really remember seeing them. I remember Ray, Dembe, and Teddy, but…I think 'Shard was there, too."

Helia managed to get the IV in despite Rosalie's stubborn veins, taping the line down and removing her gloves with a flourish. "Yeah, we're all here, Rosie. None of us would have ignored the call. Reddington got to hear all about our escapades, too. It was kind of fun, reliving those old memories."

"Escapades?" Rosalie's head shot up abruptly, her pupils pinpricks. "You didn't- Please tell me you guys didn't tell him everything that happened."

Helia shrunk slightly, "Well, um, I mean, it wasn't me…"

"Helia what did they tell him?"

She held the apron she had been wearing and wrung it fretfully in her hands. "I'm really sorry, Rosalie, but I'm pretty sure they told Reddington everything."

Rosalie hung her head in defeat, burying her hands in her palms with a muffled groan.

---

"Someone must have tipped him off."

It was Ted on the other line, the anger in his voice matching the rage Red felt inside.

He had been meticulously folding an assortment of plush bath sheets atop the duvet, creating a thick, comfortable base on which to lay Rosalie. He had just finished filling two basins with warm water when Ted called.

"We interrogated the Capo's guards, who all confirmed the German was supposed to arrive shortly after two in the morning. It's now past five and there's been nary a whisper of movement in or out of the camp."

"God dammit," he snarled, flinging one of the soft washcloths into the soapy basin at his feet.

Red took a number of deep, steadying breaths before speaking again.

"Bring everyone back. Leave a small team at the mouth of the mountain pass for surveillance. Have you found the girl?"

"No," Ted sighed, "We want to stay and continue the search, Richard, Dembe, and I."

Raymond recalled how upset Rosalie had been at the very though of the young girl who had been literally ripped from her arms. "Nightfall, no later than that."

He could hear Teddy relaying the commands to the others before turning his attention back to the phone.

"How is she?"

The question was not as simple as it seemed.

"Physically, she's relatively unscathed, a little bruising here and there, a couple scratches, not much."

"Emotionally?" Ted prodded, the desperation in his voice evident.

"Finding that girl would help immensely."

---

Rolling up his sleeves and undoing the top few buttons of his shirt, Raymond stepped back out into the main house upon the conclusion of his phone call with Ted.

Rosalie was seated at the edge of the kitchen table, wrapped in one of the clean white sheets.

Her back was hunched and her head bowed, the visible representation of the immense grief he knew she bore.

He reached out for her, scooping the small bundle into his arms and carrying her easily into the master suite.

Kate followed close behind, carrying the clothes Raymond brought as well as the stand on which Rosalie's IV bags hung.

Setting the clothing in a nearby armchair, Kate helped him get her settled in the plush cocoon before taking her leave.

Finally alone, Raymond simply stared at Rosalie for a long moment, heartbroken for what happened to her, yet also inexplicably relieved at having her safely with him once again.

Rosalie blinked up at him, her exhausted features rife with sadness. "So, you know."

"Know…what?" Red asked, admittedly at a loss as to what she was referring.

"Everything. What happened before we met. My name."

"Oh," he could practically feel the displeasure rolling off her in waves. "No, not everything. I insisted they not tell me your name. That is something I only wish to hear from you."

This appeased Rosalie, but only slightly. "You know everything else, though. What happened in Kentucky."

"Yes." Raymond suddenly felt a little abashed, truth be told.

Admittedly, he had never stopped to consider whether Rosalie would be upset at him knowing this about her. She was always so open and honest, it never even crossed his mind that there were, of course, pieces of her past he hadn't heard about simply because she wasn't ready to tell him.

"That wasn't their story to tell." The scowl which darkened Rosalie's face was positively livid, "They shouldn't have told you all of that."

Red placed a soothing hand on her waist, brushing his thumb idly along the soft dip toward her navel. "I would love to hear your side of the events when you're ready."

"You must understand," she pleaded, eyes suddenly overly bright, "Those men killed my father and turned my mother into a shell of herself. One of their sons manipulated me and gaslighted me into thinking he loved me for several months for the sole sake of taking everything I held dear...My actions were warranted. They were just."

A small crease formed between Red's brows.

Was she under the impression he thought poorly of her now that he knew this truth?

"I know what you must think of me, but-"

"Little dove," he interrupted, shifting to take a seat further up the bed. His hands smoothed over her tousled hair, thumbs circling her cheeks soothingly as he brought his lips to her forehead, kissing the spot repeatedly. "My opinion of you hasn't changed in the slightest. If anything, my esteem for you has grown through the stories of your friends. I would have preferred you were there, assisting in the telling, but what they divulged changes nothing for me."

"It-" Rosalie's looked far too surprised for Red's liking, "It hasn't?"

"Of course not," Raymond assured, smiling when a huge yawn overtook her. "Listen, we can talk about this all you want, but later, okay? I daresay you could use some rest, so let's get you cleaned up and in some fresh clothes."

"...Gray stripes?" Rosalie questioned timidly, looking up at him with a hopeful expression which threatened to tear him in two, right then and there.

A flicker of pleasure welled in Red's chest. He strode over to the chair where the clothes he picked for her lay, bringing the button-down over for her perusal.

It was indeed the one with the dove gray stripes.

A tiny, grateful smile twitched at Rosalie's lips, "Thank you."

Raymond placed the article on her nightstand, then turned to the basins at his feet, "I know it's your favorite."

He set about washing her hair first, resting an empty basin atop the bench at the foot of the bed and shifting Rosalie so her head was resting on a rolled up towel, the long blonde tresses dangling over the edge.

She let out a sigh of relief as the warm water poured over her hairline, trickling down her scalp in a wave.

Red thoroughly wet the tangled strands, then began working a dollop of shampoo into her scalp.

Rosalie winced as he passed over the crown of her head, the track halting immediately.

"Tender?" He asked, fingertips still hovering over the spot.

"A little," she confirmed with a grimace.

Raymond checked her scalp, seeing the area was still a little red and irritated. He carefully resumed his action, keeping his fingertips light.

Once the shampoo had done its work and was properly rinsed out, Red took the basin and emptied it into the bathtub. His stomach clenched as the dirty water circled the immaculate white porcelain bottom, washing away several days worth of dirt and grime from sleeping on the forest floor.

He grabbed the brush Rosalie normally used and wandered back into the room, finding his companion struggling to keep her eyes open.

"You can sleep, little dove," he reminded gently, setting the basin back on the bench and pouring a generous amount of conditioner into his upturned palm.

Rosalie blinked sleepily up at him, "I can wait."

Red continued washing her hair, working the slippery conditioner into the length of her tresses. Once he had achieved a liberal coating, he went back through and carefully brushed out the knots.

The process took some time, but the sheet of honey blonde curls soon lay in smooth veil which he promptly rinsed before applying the various leave-in products he knew she used.

She was immensely surprised to find him using the correct bottles in the precise order.

Raymond caught the look with a small smile, his voice lilting into a low, intimate murmur. "I've watched you shower a fair number of times, I ought to have it down by now."

Rosalie felt her cheeks flush with pleasure. She couldn't help the reaction, basking in the feeling as that first wave of normalcy washed over her. The comfort of his gentle touch, the sound of his voice. It was the first time she had felt safe in days.

When her eyes opened once more, they were swimming with tears.

He halted once more, concern etched in his very being.

"What?"

A small hand tugged at his waistcoat, requesting he come closer.

He did so, bringing himself nose to nose with her, a gentle thumb brushing back and forth across her cheek. "What's wrong, little dove?"

"I missed you," she whispered, her breath skirting across his chin. It was soon followed by her lips on his, a tender, reverent reminder of what he had nearly lost.

Raymond kissed her back with a low groan, deepening the contact and pulling her close.

"I missed you, too."

The two merely basked in each other's presence for a few moments.

Rosalie's hand had lifted to cup his cheek, easing her thumb over the wealth of new stubble which was growing there.

Her eyelids were growing heavy again.

"Sleep, little dove, I'll be right here when you wake."

She gave in, relaxing into the plush mattress, her hand still pressed to Raymond's jaw.

Red kissed the inside of her palm as she fell asleep, waiting until her eyes had been shut for a few minutes before continuing to cleanse the dirt from her person.

He fell into the routine with a purposeful meticulousness, happy to let his mind shut itself off and focus only on the task at hand.

His large hands cradled each limb gently, passing the warm, soapy washcloth over the places which hadn't already been cleaned and wrapped by Kate and Helia.

Her wrists and lower arms were nothing but bandages, but after a little attention, her upper arms were pristine.

The expanse of skin above the swell of her breasts had a sunburnt 'v' where her button-down hadn't covered.

Red diligently removed the dirt and grime, then smoothed a generous dollop of aloe on the vibrant red spot.

From there, he made his way to her torso, actively avoiding the spots where he knew she was terribly ticklish.

Her hips and thighs followed after, his hands curling into the supple limbs almost habitually. He smoothed the cleansing suds all the way down to her knees, where the protective bandages started, then all the way back up to the curve of her backside.

Once her limbs were nice and clean, Red dumped the dirty water in the basin and filled it once again. While the water ran, he pulled a couple of large bath sheets from the cabinet and placed them on the heated towel rack to warm. Another idea coming to mind, he stepped back out into the room and grabbed the shirt as well, looping it over the warming metal, too.

Rosalie woke for a few seconds when he moved to cleanse her back, the last bit of skin he hadn't yet

Shortly after he brought her into a sitting position to rest against him, Raymond felt her arms reciprocate his embrace, a small hand circling slender digits through the fine hairs at the base of his scalp.

That simple affection was so disarming, so incredibly comforting, he forgot what he was supposed to be doing for a moment and simply held her.

It wasn't until she fell back asleep, head nestled against his neck, that Red recalled the purpose for lifting Rosalie off the bed in the first place.

He gingerly smoothed the soapy washcloth the length and width of her back, working hard not to press too much on the multitude of bruises there.

His shirt sleeve blocked any trickles of water from soiling the clean white bandages which covered the small of her back.

Raymond recalled the four little red stripes with a feeling of bone-deep nausea.

How tightly must that little child have been clinging to Rosalie to create such gouges?

He wasn't optimistic, but Red felt inside himself a deep-seated hope that they found Lita, alive and well.

Fate was rarely so kind.

When every part of Rosalie was officially clean, Raymond lowered her back onto the bed, sliding stealthily out from under her still-outstretched arms. She was still out like a light.

He moved quickly into the ensuite, dumping the basins for the final time and taking the warmed towels from the rack.

A fine layer of goosebumps had already begun to settle in, much to his dismay.

Lifting Rosalie from the bed, he wrapped her in the wealth of warmed cotton as efficiently as possible and laid her on his side of the bed.

A soft, comfortable sigh escaped her lips a moment later, happy to be bundled up once more.

Red gathered the wet towels and tossed them all in the laundry basket, making a mental note to have Ted contact the property manager for more towels before stepping back into the ensuite.

Pursing his lips at the medicine cabinet, he looked for the little white disks which she typically used for cleaning her face.

He found the pouch a moment later, as well as the micellar water, dousing the disk in the liquid before stepping back out into the room. He hesitated at the threshold, then grabbed another couple disks and gave them the same treatment.

Rosalie was dead to the world, lips parted in a soft 'o', her breath falling and rising steadily beneath the warmed towels.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Raymond carefully, wiped away the residual dirt and grime from Rosalie's face and neck, cleansing away the very last remnants of that horrible ordeal.

The scent of roses lingered from the cleanser, leaving her face pristine once more, though a little rosy from the sun.

When he was finally finished Red collected the warmed button-down, unravelling the towels he had wrapped her in and easing her into the oversized shirt.

The IV bags were just small enough to be wriggled through the sleeves, followed by Rosalie's hand, which kissed once before setting aside.

It was when he was buttoning the garments many small buttons that the full impact of her continued existence hit Red full force.

He felt moisture burning at the corners of his eyes while he tucked her safely beneath the blankets of their bed.

He had nearly lost her, forever.

This could not be allowed to stand.

Raymond leaned forward, pressing his lips repeatedly to Rosalie's forehead and cheeks, cradling her to him in a desperate embrace.

He told her he was sorry.

He told her she would be okay.

He told her, as hot tears fell from his cheeks to hers...

They would pay.

The German.

Los Reyes Sagrados.

They would all pay, with their lives.

---

Los Reyes Sagrados Camp - Unknown Location, Colombia - February 17th, 2000

Richard, Ted, and Dembe continued scouring the mountainside in search of Lita.

There had been no sign of her in the campground, and none of the cartel members they managed to corner would say a word. Without further evidence, they were left to believe she had somehow escaped into the surrounding forest.

Not one of the men was willing to leave the little girl alone in the wilderness, much less return to a despondent Rosalie empty handed.

The waning sun made their task significantly more difficult. The three tripped over all manner of rocks, twigs, and fallen branches in their search, resulting in a low level of swearing every ten or so feet.

It was 'Shard's turn, it seemed, as he just manage to call out, "Dembe-" when he stepped over a gnarled branch, the toe of his boot catching and sending him toppling headlong into the dirt.

A scuffle on his left captured his attention when he lifted his head from the forest floor.

There, in the hollow base of a large tree, was tucked a small girl in the tattered remnants of a pink t-shirt.

'Shard's face broke out into a delighted smile despite the terrorized look on the girl's face. Brushing a few errant twigs and leaves from his hair, he tilted his head and whispered soothingly,

"Bon jou, sweetling."