Grabbing the bag, Red exited the vehicle, sticking his head back in the opened door. "Leave it running, I'll only be a minute."
Unfortunately, he thought regretfully.
He looked up to the sky, squinting after a particularly bright flash lit the heavens in a strobe of varying colors. He loved night time storms, they relaxed him like nothing else. Maybe tonight he would get more than his usual couple hour's sleep.
Glancing at the house, he thought better of his decision to return for a moment. The house was pitch black. But surely she couldn't be asleep by now? He had only left about fifteen minutes ago.
A low crashing sound drew his attention. Looking down the street both ways, he didn't see anything out of the norm. The area quiet of traffic or pedestrians even.
As he went up the first step, his senses tingled. The hair on his neck stood on end.
Reaching for the pistol at his back, he hesitated, listening out into the night.
Dembe shut the car down, before quietly opening the driver's side door.
Red held up a hand to still the man behind him. Silently taking the second step, he was brought up short when a bone chilling scream filled the air.
His name bounced down the brick facades lining the street in a nightmarish echo, making his blood run cold.
"Lizzy!"
The frame of the door and nearby windows shuddered with the force of the door being kicked, then a heavy crashing sound indicated the first door giving way.
Liz took heart, unreasonable hope rising in her chest. "Help!" she continued her entreaties hoping someone was now out there to hear.
Hitting out with her good hand, Liz heard a crunching sound, glad she had been able to inflict some sort of injury on the bastard.
He didn't cry out, but it was enough for her to know he would be feeling an ache for a couple of days, or maybe not at all, if whoever the hell was at the door got in and was hopefully armed.
The sound of a body or foot connecting with the main door and shattering glass stopped both combatants in their struggles. Instantly, the heavy weight on her lifted and she was able to breath again.
The sound of his footsteps retreating to the back, allowed the woman's brain to begin functioning again.
"Elizabeth!" Reddington searched the blackened area religiously, only able to make out a few discernable shapes and objects. His gun arm was lifted at the ready as he swept the room with a professional detachment. But in his mind one thing and one thing alone, screamed out in alarm.
She could see his silhouette lit by the street lamp in the darkened entryway, followed by that of his friend.
Dembe's large frame was unmistakable as was the lethal weapon he hoisted.
"Here!" Liz gasped weakly, rolling to her back with great effort. She whimpered with the pain, black spots blurring her vision. "Kitchen!" she croaked out hoarsely.
Both men moved forward, scanning for unseen enemies in the darkness as they neared.
Red slipped in the wetness covering the floor, sliding the last few inches to her. He threw his hat, hovering over her protectively, his hand braced by her shoulder.
"Where?" Red spoke quickly, quietly. His eyes having adjusted enough to see her condition.
Red glanced up to see Dembe disappear out the opened back door. The house fell silent except for Liz's labored breathing.
"Tom?" he whipped off his black scarf, pressing it against a spot where he could see blood flowing on her face in the hazy beam given by the street light.
"Carver." she weakly whispered.
Even in the low light, she could see the grimace cross his face. "Are you sure?" The note he had found left on her windshield, flashed vividly in his mind.
"Oh, I'm sure." She felt the dozens of cuts stinging her skin more acutely now that the adrenalin was leaving her body.
Red leaned forward, looking at the gash on her head, before adding more pressure to the wound.
"You really do come when called." she laughed, stopping short when she felt the deep ache in her chest.
Red blindly felt for a light switch, "Where do you hurt."
"Be better to..." she panted with the pain, having moved her leg, "ask where I don't."
She gasped as broken bone rubbed against a raw nerve ending, sending a searing pain twitching through her body. "I'm not sure," she strived for a lightness after such a dark menacing moment, "but I think my arm is broken." She sought his eyes. "It is still there right?"
Light suddenly bathed the hall in a warm glow. Red had left her long enough to find the switch.
Turning back, he choked on the air, seeing her bathed in blood, head to toe.
Her clothes were a tattered mess of cuts and holes, the blood seeping through the dozens of slashes where the bastards blade had made contact. Her arm and ankle were bent at an awkward, unnatural angle.
"Jesus..." he said breathlessly.
"That bad?" Liz, now that she didn't feel the overpowering horror she had just moments before, continued to try to lighten the moment when a sharpness in her back left her breathless. Adjusting her position to stop the jabbing agony, a burst of air escaped her battered body.
"Don't move." Red brushed a hand over her drenched brow, wiping away the sweat and blood on his tuxedo pants, uncaring that he was ruining the expensive fabric. "God..." he whispered brokenly.
"Something hurts." She arched her back as much as she could without jostling her broken limbs. She tried to move the object herself.
Gently reaching under her back, Red pulled out a piece of broken pottery, gripping it rigidly. The colored clay bit into his palm, cutting deeply into his skin. It seemed a small penance for being too late, again.
After a few moments, he hurled the piece against the wall, shattering it further.
A sound from the back had Red turning fluidly, arm up and gun aimed. His arm steady. His eyes cold and unwavering.
"Raymond." Dembe's soft voice sounded from behind the safety of the wall before venturing out. Red Reddington shot first, then if the person was still breathing, maybe questioned later, if he was in the mood.
Raymond Reddington was in no mood at present, it was abundantly clear.
"Call the Doctor." Red turned his troubled eyes back to Liz, his lips pursed tightly. "You'll be okay, I promise." he stroked Elizabeth, feeling down her body gently.
She didn't even mind as his large hand brushed over her breast. She didn't even think he was consciously aware of having done so, not meaning to give an arousing touch, but a reassuring one for them both.
His touch reminded her that she was alive and breathing.
And funnily enough, as his hand brushed her bare thigh, she realized that she hadn't put her pants on. She had left them laying on her bed upstairs. If she wasn't hurting so much, she knew she'd be embarrassed for him to find her in only a tank top and panties.
There was something seriously wrong with her to be thinking of something so trivial, when she was laying broken and bleeding, on the floor.
"I'll be fine... now." Her head lolled to the side, the adrenaline having left completely, she felt the heavy weight of sleep coming.
"That's right. You'll have the best doctor and care." Red attempted to smile, but his lips quivered with the effort, "Don't go to sleep."
"So t-tired." Liz slurred.
"I know, I know you are. You have every right to be. You fought hard." his hand shook as it wiped away the blood still seeping heavily out of her head wound. "Are you dizzy? Blurry vision?"
She opened her eyes with effort, looking around. "Not really." her eyes fluttered shut. "Just tired."
Dembe came back, crouching beside them, "He wants to meet at the safe house, cut our time in half."
After a few short commands to Dembe, Red turned back to the broken woman on the floor, feeling the bile rise in his throat, knowing what he had to do.
He cupped her forehead, under the clamminess, he felt the cool. Tiny tremors traversed the entire length of her body. Her eyes were glazed and fixed on his.
She was going into shock.
Liz's heavy eyes struggled to stay open and aware. "Is he coming?" she asked almost timidly.
"Is who coming Elizabeth?" the man thought perhaps she was still in the throes of the horror she had just experienced. "He's gone. You're safe with us, safe with me."
Liz's brow furled quizzically as she shook her head slightly, "Doctor."
His eyes watered at the reminder, what he was going to do, what he had to do to her.
"I'm going to have to pick you up." Red smoothed her brow, then touched his forehead to hers, "And it's going to hurt like hell, but we have to get you out of here." Raising a few inches from her face, his tear filled eyes locked with her own. "I don't want to hurt you."
She reached to his face, her weak hand shaking with the effort. Touching the outside corner of his eye, a single drop fell, mixing with the ones coming from her own eyes.
Brushing away the remaining wetness, she streaked his skin red. Her blood marking him.
Shaking her head negatively, "Helping." she panted with the effort of talking.
Taking a few deep steadying breaths, he grabbed the scarf off the floor.
"I'm sorry." he whispered hoarsely.
She nodded, then he moved her arm to her chest. She sharply inhaled, the pain agonizing. Her face paled visibly.
"God, I'm so sorry."
He wasn't sure if she heard his repeated mantra as he continually apologized for the pain he was causing her, but he felt it deep in his soul, so he continued as if it would cleanse them both of this awful moment if he said it enough.
Pushing back her anguished cries to a corner of his mind, he secured the arm as best he could with the soft fabric. While under the heavy weight of pain, he swiftly wrapped a scarf supplied by Dembe securely around her ankle, holding it in place.
Red wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his tux. He fought the tremors of rage and sickness racking his body.
Swallowing convulsively, he kept down what so desperately wanted to come back up but, just barely. It's acid burning at the back of his throat. The anger roiled inside his mind radiating from him so much, his skin actually burned.
Finished with his task, he waved away Dembe's silent offer to take her.
"The blanket." He pointed to one laying on the floor, near the door.
"C-Cold." She mumbled incoherently.
"I know." He took the blanket, wrapping it around her then hooked his arm under her legs and one behind her back, lifting in one sure motion. The small movement jostled her ankle slightly, she groaned so deeply, he felt it ripple up his arms.
There had been no strain on her part, but it had exhausted her. She sagged limply into Red's firm chest. Her head fell back, to hold it up just too much effort on her part.
"Elizabeth!" Red's stern voice cut through the fog. Mindful of her arm, he cradled her higher on his chest, rubbing his face against her wet one. Her blood and tears mixed with his sweat.
"Resting." She fought to keep her eyes open. "You came." Her head bobbed before resting on his shoulder. "You... came."
"How did you know?" Red questioned, remembering she had called out for him during the attack.
"Didn't," she slurred, "only hoped."
And with that, she blessedly passed into oblivion.