Red awoke with a start, shutting his eyes forcefully, blocking out the bright light that stabbed painfully at his aching head.
There was nothing worse than waking with a headache, especially one that had fed off of extreme adrenaline.
Squinting at the clock over Lizzy's silent form, he was perturbed to see only four hours had passed since he had lay down.
He sat up, stifling a groan, driving the heel of his palms into his eye sockets, relived by the temporary pressure.
Reaching over, he felt Liz's warm arm. He sat for a long moment, just watching her breath.
Throwing back the covers, the man crossed to the long closet, pulling clothes for the day, then went about his morning routine.
Checking Lizzy once more, he left the room, phone in hand.
Entering the kitchen, Red was surprised to see Dembe pouring a cup of coffee. "Did you sleep at all?"
"I woke an hour ago. I assumed there would be much to do today?" the stately man replied.
"I need to call Cooper and inform him of the situation." Red had nodded his acquiescence, securing a cup of the strong brew for himself. "Tell Kaplan I want that fucking house put up for sale."
Dembe looked up hastily from his coffee.
"She's not going back there, Dembe." he silenced any debate. "Kaplan will know what to do and what Lizzy will need."
"Elizabeth will not appreciate..."
"Elizabeth can yell at me later." Red rather enjoyed any heated exchange with the woman in question on any given day, but right now, he would settle for any emotion from her what-so-ever.
Dembe took out his phone. "Is there anything else?"
Red took a drink from his hot coffee, thankful for the caffeine. "Did the doctor give you the prescriptions?"
Dembe nodded, pulling out the slip of paper. "I will get food and anything else she requires."
The large man stole a last drink of his coffee, then took his leave.
Red watched him go truly thankful for such an ally. He felt the weight of his cell calling to him from his trouser pocket.
The man sighed heavily. Often, the phone felt an extension of himself. More and more recently, he was starting to resent the hell the object. He would have to start making calls but for the present, he would finish his coffee... come hell or high water.
"Why the hell didn't you stay with her!" Cooper's voice sliced through Red's already pounding head.
He should have stayed with her, he knew something had been wrong. He had sensed it.
"Suffice to say, it's a mistake that will not happen again." Instead of wanting to keep the peace that had come between them recently, Red should have dealt with any annoyance that would have arisen.
"Where is she now?" Cooper's tone was curt.
"With me." Red stared at the sleeping woman, frowning.
"And that would be where?" Cooper questioned.
"Until she otherwise specifies, she is perfectly safe and is well taken care of, that's all you need to know." Red was not open to compromise.
Harold sighed into the phone. "Are we certain this was Carver?"
"She resembles a fucking Picasso painting." Red held his anger admirably. "Who else could it fucking be!"
"I'll assemble a team and have them at Keen's house in thirty minutes." Harold stated. "Can you make it, we need some sort of run down about how things unfolded."
"When Dembe returns, I'll meet you there." He hung up the phone, then dialed again.
Dembe remained with Liz while Red drove across town to keep his rendevous with Cooper.
He turned the corner, slowing the car, the street congested with every sort of Federal vehicle known to man.
He had expected the fiasco which greeted him upon his arrival, but quite frankly he was in no mood to deal with bureaucracy today.
Media crews were already on site. Feds were literally combing through the bushes, surrounding the neighborhood, let alone Elizabeth's home.
Taking a spot that obviously had been left for him, he exited the vehicle, greeted by Samar.
"Do you think there's enough people here?" Red pointed to the menagerie surrounding them.
"It's one of their own." Samar shrugged slightly.
"Oh, they're claiming her as one of their own now." Red said sarcastically. "Only took some media attention and her losing a couple pints of blood for that to happen."
"Is she all right?" Samar asked quietly.
"She's alive." He bit out. She frowned at the tone, backing up. "Sorry. It was a long night." he instantly apologized.
She nodded in understanding. "Come on, I don't want to have to repeat this twice." He took her arm, leading her up the steps to where Harold waited.
Stepping through the threshold, Red felt a wave of nausea crash over him, the smell of vomit and blood combination, that had escaped his senses last night, overwhelmed him this morning.
"Red, what can you tell us?" Harold and Donald stood gravely before him.
"This..." He waved at the doors, "is my handiwork. I kicked in both. They were locked and she used her key to get in."
"Is that when that happened?" Harold pointed to Red's bandaged hand.
"No." Red glanced at the appendage, his tone curt.
He stepped further into the entryway, staring around at the blood smeared all over the floor and walls. Broken furniture left in the wake of last night's brawl, sprawled through out the area.
Red pulled his stare away from the spot where he had found Elizabeth. His eyes closed as he imagined how terrified she must have been, alone and hurting... thinking she was going to die.
"When I came in, she was laying there." He pointed to the hallway.
He remembered skidding, and he could see the imprint where he had knelt next to Elizabeth, clearly out lined on the bloodied floor.
The flowers he had given her lay trampled and strewn about the room.
His eye ticked spasmodically for the fatalistic symbolism.
The Elizabeth he saw last emerging was self assured, self confident. She was beginning to believe in herself.
He now feared that her dreams for pushing beyond that self doubt, were just as haphazardly scattered and crushed as the flowers on the blood covered floor.
He knew she would see this moment as a failure instead of an achievement.
Where others hadn't...she survived.
"There's blood by the backdoor." Ressler jotted the note down on his pad, having just spoken with a forensic tech.
"It may be her's." Samar gestured to where Red focused his attention.
"No." Ressler pointed to the men collecting the evidence. "They said the drops appeared to have fallen from a height of at least six feet."
Red's mouth pulled at the corner. Lizzy wounded Carver.
"So, Liz got in a few good licks." Samar grinned. "Check area hospitals, maybe?" she shrugged.
"He would have handled it himself." Red muttered then squatted, squinting at a piece of something sticking up from between the floorboards. "What is that?"
Samar came over, tweezing the piece, holding it up between them.
"A fingernail."
Red swallowed convulsively, then cleared his throat. "So he dragged her from there to the back." the man concentrated his efforts elsewhere, determined to learn all he could of events.
Donald walked the scene beside Reddington, noting each and every detail the older man supplied, good little agent that he was.
Samar stood quietly, arms folded tightly over her chest, the lovely face giving away nothing of her own emotional attachment.
"Dembe followed the bastard out the back but lost him minutes later. He had a car waiting." Red finished his narrative. "We immobilized Elizabeth then left."
"And she didn't say anything else besides that she thought it was Carver?" Donald looked up from his notes.
"She was bleeding out and in shock. That she said anythin–" Red growled.
"Take it easy Red." Harold stepped between the two men, "He's only trying to get information so we can help."
"Help?" Red stepped forward, threateningly. "It would have helped if you had kept this contained." the man spewed his fury. "Plug the fucking leak, Harold. I can't keep her safe if the Press splashes her face across every media outlet available." he pointed to the farce taking place outside.
"We have, all records have been sealed and tagged." Cooper mollified. "If they're tapped, warning flags will go up."
"Where's Hudson?" Red inquired briskly, glancing superficially about the area.
"He's out back, we..." Samar started to reply but Red walked away, heading for the area.
He exited the door, scanning for the dog.
Hudson cowered over by the fence which ran the length of the property. People parted ways as the man headed for the furry animal.
Red hunkered down, scratching at the scared animals head before grabbing the leash.
Samar came to his side, "I can take him if you..."
"She'll want him." Red interrupted curtly. "When are you going to be done here?"
"Another hour or so, I guess." Samar shrugged her shoulders, glancing about the chaos. "I could call..."
"Yes, I have Dembe coming to gather her things."
"Red, are you all right?" Samar asked sincerely.
"I'm fine." Picking up the dog, he walked away silently, leaving the woman to wonder, in his wake.
Red Reddington sat, hunched over the silent figure before him. Holding Elizabeth's hand, stroking it, made him feel better.
Thoughts of whisking her away to some hidden place, away from people, away from the danger, wrapping her in a cocoon of safety, had filled his mind from the moment he had sat down.
With all she had seen and faced, she was still quite naive. She was capable, but ill prepared to deal with this life. His life.
A world filled with people that would fight, steal, cheat and even kill to stay ahead of the game.
To climb the ladder.
With him backing her, guiding her... she could learn. Without him...
A soft knocking on the door drew his attention away from his dark thoughts, his turmoil. "Come in."
"Raymond..." Mr. Kaplan's voice calmed him instantly. With this woman beside him, he knew everything would be well taken care of with no involvement or input from him.
His mouth pulled at the corners slightly thinking that she actually preferred when he didn't get in her way.
"Kate." She placed her hand on his shoulder, a slight touch that relaxed him. He felt his shoulders loosen, the sleepiness he'd been fighting all morning making his body sag with exhaustion.
He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the rising tide away.
Kaplan stroked his head lightly, the sensation traversing his entire form. He instinctively fought his desire to give in to the delicious emotions the woman evoked.
If he didn't know better, he'd think she was drugging him. There were only a few people Red trusted implicitly and Kate Kaplan was at the top of that list right alongside Dembe.
"Tell me." Her voice soothed and calmed his tattered soul.
Only two words and he unloaded it all. Everything that happened from the time he saw Lizzy in that red dress to the time he passed out on the bed next to her.
Kaplan sat quietly, listening to the past night's events, occasionally patting his arm during difficult sequences, waiting patiently until he was composed enough to continue.
When he was finished, she asked, in her no nonsense way, what he wanted, needed of her.
"I want her out of that damn house. I don't want her ever setting foot in there again. I want it gone." he stated venomously, then seemed to deflate. "But I'm wrong, aren't I? Deciding that she can't go back there. It isn't my decision."
"No." the woman finally spoke. "If you want someone to be the bad guy, let's have it be me. The house is nothing but a noose around her neck. It needs to go... she needs to move on."
Red was taken aback. He expected her usual humourous sarcasm, in that he was being selfish, too overprotective, impulsive. Kate hadn't even scolded him like she had with the incidents that occurred with his ex-wife.
She even agreed with him. And no one, in his opinion, was more level-headed then Kate Kaplan.
"I will take care of everything." Raymond already felt better. "As for you... you need to rest. So you will get in bed and stay there until I return."
She pushed at him, making him leave the chair, urging him to the other side of the bed, guiding his sluggish movements.
"Shoes..." he kicked them off, "Vest..." he unbuttoned it, pulling it off, "Belt..." he yanked it free of the loops, realizing he was following her low commands without question.
"You'd be a great Dominatrix." Red slurred his words sleepily as he lay back into the bed, his head landing in the cushy pillow.
"Who's to say," She asked, quietly closing the door behind her, "that was not my first career choice."
Author Notes: Maybe Mr. Kaplan is more multifaceted than we think?