An hour later and there had been nothing but radio silence. Elizabeth sat stiffly erect, not having moved an inch since last she heard from Red.
Turning the phone over in her hand, she stared at the useless screen. She had never felt so helpless in her life. And that included the night of Carver's attack.
She couldn't call them in case they were in the middle of something. Couldn't even call Aram should he be delivering them Intel.
It was a terrible position to be in. It was the worst position in the entire Universe in which to 'be'.
Her team mates and friends in danger and her unable to offer any sort of support what-so-ever.
Growling with the aggravation she felt, she threw the phone. The impact, lessened by the pillow it hit, did little to ease her frustration. She stared at the dark plastic, frowning, before snatching it up again, gripping it to her chest protectively. This was her only life-line to Red Reddington.
Steadying herself against the bed, she hobbled a pacing rhythm, willing the phone to ring.
"Please, let them be okay." she whispered.
She stopped her fruitless path, leaning into the bed. She dropped her forehead into the palm of her hand, rubbing the mounting tension that grew with each passing second. So many silent prayers had been uttered, so many unanswered.
"Dammit Red!" she hissed softly. "Where are you?" her shoulders slumped as the depression descended.
"Lizzy..." the man's deep voice washed over her like a soothing balm and for a moment, she thought she surely must be hallucinating.
Liz raised her head quickly, finding the man standing in the doorway, filthy, sweaty and...
She blinked at the sudden wash of wetness in her eyes, a flood of relief releasing itself in a shuddering breath as she pushed off the bed, hobbling for the man.
Red caught the door with his fingers, slamming it closed as he quickly walked towards her.
"Why didn't you call?" She held back tears of relief and joy, before wrapping her arms around his neck. "You promised." she whispered sacredly.
"Ressler's a damn idiot." Red grumbled irritably, tossing his broken phone to the table top beside them.
He sounded so pissed. So agitated. So vital. So alive.
She gripped him around his neck, hugging him harder. Happy that he was all those things and not... she didn't even want to think it.
"If someone doesn't tell me what the hell is going on..." She felt herself about to snap, not above voicing the fact to any and all.
"I plan to," he dropped his nose further into her neckline, breathing in her delicate scent, "now be quiet for a minute." His voice was slightly muffled, the warm breath fanning her skin.
He just needed a minute, to gather his thoughts. To feel her.
Red nestled his nose into the woman's neck, his lips brushing her silky flesh. He relaxed into her soft warm curves, so very relieved to be home and with her again.
Red tightened his arms around her back, lifting her feet off the floor slightly before walking the short distance to the bed. Her toes caught the top of his boots, at one point, as she rested her weight on the gritty leather.
The man smiled, his lips momentarily caressing the shell of her ear.
Tonight had been... interesting. A fucking joke, truth told.
This was the first moment of sanity he had felt all night. He reluctantly gave her the opportunity needed to break the embrace, hoping like hell she would not take it. But fortunately, Liz seemed to need the closeness as much as he did.
She held tightly to his form, her soft breath fanning his neckline. Elizabeth breathed in the subtle masculine scent of cigars and the mellow spice of cologne, relaxing further against his solid mass. She nuzzled her nose into his jacket, cool from the crisp night, finding the man's warmth hidden beneath, ever so comforting.
He swayed with her a minute before she finally relaxed, loosening her hold enough that he could set her down fully. She stepped down from her perch on the boots, her eyes raking the tension in his face anxiously.
When he stepped back, once from her influence, the memories of the evening resurfaced, leaving the man fuming...an acid taste in his mouth.
"Before you start spouting off a hundred questions, let me finish talking." He put his hands on his hips, taking a few short steps, before turning around, just short of pacing.
Liz did not like his curt tone. He had never spoken to her in such a manner.
"I'm sorry." He apologized instantly, realizing he was taking his mood out on the wrong person. "I'm just damned... pissed."
"I noticed." She clamped her mouth shut when the curt glance cut her way. Within seconds, the mood seemed to pass however and the softer gaze rested on her.
"First of all, Patrick and what's left of his armed bandits are with your people." he began, filling her in on the events of the night.
"We went down to the warehouse, surrounding on all sides, Samar was with us, luckily, on the South side." he thanked the God's That Be. "Ressler didn't even get four words out of that damn bullhorn, which I insisted he not use, before all hell broke loose."
Red walked to the end of the bed, scratching his jaw, gathering his thoughts. Calming down.
"Bullets were coming from all directions, just as I said they would." the man's jaw tightened in open annoyance. "I told Ressler we were on his six, and because he never listens, he didn't hear the call." he cricked his head this way and that.
"We got in position and Dembe started firing off cover fire," Red regrouped his thoughts. "I stepped out to allow Ressler to see our position, when I guess he saw movement... turned and shot me."
"He shot you!" Liz came out of her reclined position, instinctively reaching for him, but he held up a staving hand.
"It's not over yet." she was jovially instructed. "I yelled at the idiot... explained what we were going to do, then started firing everything we had and what does he do?" his hands spread out before him, his expression astonished. "He ran."
"Ten foot out, he went down. Pretty hard, it knocked him senseless. More senseless then he already is, anyway." it was a given. "But it was enough that I had to step out of position to grab him, the men inside were purposely aiming for him or that damn bullhorn, I couldn't tell... and about that time I thought along similar lines to be truthful." he stepped for a breath.
She opened her mouth, then closed it quickly.
"What?" He asked, having noticed. She started to ask her question then hesitated again. "Go ahead." he bade.
"Are they... Ressler, Samar? Did anyone..."
"They got Ressler in the back, twice. But, I insisted that they double their vests, it probably saved his life." he stopped pacing quickly to inform her stoutly. "No, it did save his life."
He fell silent for a moment, "The rounds went through the first vest. He'll have a painful bruise, but he's alive. Samar might have some minor bruising from when I pushed her down, but otherwise she's fine." he stopped pacing, his head bowed for a moment.
"No one died." he waited a second for her to assimilate. "Though, there were injuries."
"I told the other teams to distract them, that we needed to grab Ressler. At which point the North team came up with the most idiotic plan in the history of Warfare as we know it." again his hands motioned expressively. "They stormed the building."
"Men came pouring out all three sides of the building, shooting at everything and anything. It was hell on earth Lizzy, I tell you." he was on a roll. "I went out to grab Donald, with Samar's help, when one of Patrick's men got her in his sights. I blocked her and he got a shot in on me before Dembe put a bullet in him... The End."
"Red, are you telling me you have been standing there, this whole time, knowing you've been shot... twice?" she was aghast.
"Don't panic." He pulled off his jacket, revealing his left arm slick with blood.
"Dembe!" Liz yelled out, her voice carrying through the closed door.
A few seconds later Dembe opened the door, carrying the first aid bag, heading directly for Red.
"Why aren't you sitting?" She pushed at Reddington. "Make him sit." She gestured at Dembe.
All the annoyance Red had felt in the last two hours started to fade, melting away to nothing as he watched the woman fidget and bully him. Liz crawled around on her knees, following him, pushing him towards a bench at the end of the bed.
"Did I just say not to panic?" Red looked at Dembe, "She's doing exactly what I told her not to do."
Dembe's mouth lifted at the corner, pointing to the bench indicating Red should take a seat. But the man shook his head.
"I don't want to get blood on it." it was stated. "That's a twelve hundred dollar bench."
"Who the fuck cares about the bench!" Liz had mentally swept the man's frame but the black material of his garments hindered her search. "Where else were you hit?"
"Did you just say fuck?" Red held his laughter.
Liz pulled at his shirt, bringing him back towards her after having just pushed him away.
She examined every part of the man available, all areas clear except for one enormous gash running across his arm. Running her hands quickly over his stomach, she grazed his hips to the top of his thigh.
The fabric was tacky with the man's own blood.
"Take off your pants, Red."
"Well I guess she did say fuck." he chuckled at his own wit, allowing her every whim. His innate sense of humor came to the fore as he watched her hopelessly fumbling with his belt buckle.
"I'll fuck you!" she blasted with a scathing look, but then Dembe's muffled laugh, she realized with horror, what she had just said.
"But darling... now?" Red smiled tenderly, not stopping her actions, finding them oddly endearing, "Dembe is in the room."
"Like that would matter." Dembe voiced sotto voce.
"Shut up." She muttered while pulling the buckle open.
"Sorry." Dembe apologized.
Liz looked at him weirdly for she had not heard his quiet statement. Red's grin widened... because he had.
"They're only flesh wounds, Lizzy." He placed a hand over her shaking ones, not to stop her, but to reassure her. "Nothing to worry about. Really. Calm down."
"The arm can wait until you're out of the shower." Dembe had made that decision, dropping the short sleeve back over the wound.
"I think I'm going to need a towel, please." Red glanced over at the large man.
Dembe returned with a dark towel, sitting it on the bench.
As Red sat, he sensed Elizabeth crawling closer, seating herself just behind him on the bed, hovering.
How long had it been since someone had given a damn about his welfare, besides Dembe? His wife, maybe? Certainly long enough he couldn't remember exactly. It warmed him to be thought of again as a human being.
He felt bad that she was so concerned, but in time she would see it was nothing and he was fine. He needed to enjoy this moment in time, no matter how selfish.
"Jesus, Red." Liz reached forward, tracing the hole in his vest, her probing releasing a stray spent bullet. The copper slug fell unceremoniously to the floor. "You took one in the back too."
"Must have been when I blocked Samar." he imagined. "It's fine, Lizzy. I didn't even feel it... much." He sing-songed his head, pulling the velcro at his shoulder while she undid the sides on his vest.
Dembe took the heavy weight. Red pulled at his laces, removing his boots, then grimaced when he felt the cool air hit his wet sock. Pulling the sock off, his hand and foot came away streaked with blood... Not good.
The woman noticed immediately, gripping the neck of his shirt, balling it in her fist.
"You're choking me, sweetheart..." He soothed, patting her fist comfortingly.
The woman gasped, releasing his clothes instantly. "I'm so sorry!"
"No worries, but I want to let you know..." He wiped off his foot before popping the buttons on his black pants, gingerly pulling them down his legs, "I actually tried that once in Bangladesh."
Dembe rolled his eyes expressively, "It was not Bangladesh..." he exasperated.
Red grinned over at him. "It all begins to blur... the lack of oxygen, you know."
The woman's fist returned post haste to the man's shirt collar, this time practically strangling him. Red coughed once, easing her fingers off the material.
"A flesh wound my ass!" Liz gasped, seeing the through and through on his outer thigh. "Ressler did that?"
"The little bastard." Red poked at the wound, pushing a fresh flow of blood from the openings, catching it on the towel. "If he thinks shooting me is going to stop the 'Donald is a Dumbass' jokes, he is sorely mistaken."
He walked into the bathroom holding the towel in place, followed closely by Elizabeth who was supported by Dembe. The large man placed his ward on the bathroom seat.
Red shrugged off their intrusion, stepping into the shower. He removed his t-shirt and boxers, then threw them out onto the floor. Stepping under the hot stream, he hissed when it hit his leg.
"Why didn't the medics take care of that on scene?" Liz asked over the sound of the shower.
"Because he did not tell anyone." Dembe said disapprovingly. "I only found out about it when we were several blocks away." He grabbed a couple of towels, standing outside the stall.
"It's not like I haven't been shot before." Red pressed heavily into the wound, producing a fresh flow. "And I'm positive it won't be the last." He rubbed the soap around his body, happy to get the grit of the evening off.
Shutting the water down, he stilled. How the hell was he going to get out of here tactfully? She was sitting just out there and now wasn't the time to discuss the past... he wasn't ready to discuss anything besides tonight's events.
Wiping the water from his eyes, he was gratefully when Dembe's arm enter the stall, holding fresh towels.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
Thank God for Dembe.
Red grabbed one, sloughing the water, then wrapped the other towel around his shoulders. Coming to the edge of the shower stall, he saw Dembe blocking Liz's view, allowing him a straight shot to the closet.
He grabbed some clothes slipping them on hastily, then left the sanctuary.
Dembe pointed to the side of the tub, indicating he should sit there. "Put your leg in." He shook the disinfectant, waiting for Red to get in position.
Liz came up behind them, placing her hands on Red's shoulders, craning over his head to see what was happening.
"Are you ready." Dembe popped the cap on the bottle, tipping it towards him.
"I shiver with antici..." He turned his leg for better access, bracing himself. "...pation."
Dembe pursed his lips slightly, "Not bad." critiquing Red's performance before pouring the burnt orange disinfectant directly on and around the hole without warning.
"Fuck..." Red tensed, groaning deeply in his chest before dropping his head. He breathed through the shock, finally deflating when the pain ebbed.
It didn't hurt that little hands were rubbing his neck comfortingly.
"He performed in Rocky Horror once at Summer Stock." Dembe explained, ignoring Red's reaction all together. "He did Magenta... of course."
Red nodded agreeably. "And I played the part of Riff Raff."
"Are you okay?" Liz ran her hand over his head, settling her palm on his neck, her mood much improved. She knew the 'performance' they gave was for her benefit.
He exhaled, then nodded that he was. "I'm going to beat the hell out of Ressler."
Dembe came back to his side, supplies ready. Working quickly, he had the leg and arm fixed and bandaged in no time.
"Just like the Chinoso Incident." Red remembered fondly. "We only had the simplest of supplies, but somehow he got me patched up and out the door before the shit really hit the fan." He gave the man a 'thumbs up'. "Good work, Dembe."
"What is it with you guys and incidents? Does anything ever turn out to be good?" Liz's tone was more shrill than she could account for.
"I don't believe we've ever really had anything go completely South on us. It's just that none of them have ever unfolded according to the original plan. There for, becoming the incident." he 'air quoted' with his finger. "Thank you, Dembe. Why don't you go get some rest now."
"If you need me..." The dark man stated before wishing them a good night.
Red finished wiping off his leg and arm, then got off the tub before moving on to his nightly ritual as though nothing untoward had happened, his little shadow watching him the whole time.
"Are you all right?" He finally asked the silent woman.
"Not really, no." She said, suddenly realizing as much.
"What's wrong?"
They moved out of the room unto the bed, slowly but surely.
"I felt useless. I didn't know what was going on. If anything was wrong, I couldn't do a damn thing to help." She replied in one breath.
"Everything turned out fine." he reached, flipping the light off.
"I don't know if you noticed or not, but you have a hole in your thigh." She griped, turning out her own light.
"But, I'm still breathing, as is the rest of your team, which makes it a good night." He listened to her deep breathing, almost wishing he had left his light on to read her face. She was either pissed or understood and was reconciling herself to the fact that even if he had a couple of wounds, the night had turned out okay in the end.
"I was listening." Liz blurted.
"Excuse me?"
"I called Samar before she met you, I told her to keep the line open." she confessed. "I could hear what was happening."
"Elizabeth.."
"Don't you scold me." She warned.
"I wasn't going to scold you."
"You only call me Elizabeth when you want my attention, you're annoyed or wanting to make a point."
"I do not." He smiled slightly, now glad it was dark in the room so she couldn't see it.
"Well... most of the time."
"I'm just worried for you. What if you had heard someone literally go down." he did not like to think about the psychological implications. "You couldn't help them, you couldn't do anything for them. It would have eaten away at you."
"I just couldn't sit here and not..." She sighed heavily. "Thank you... for helping them. Protecting Samar."
"Umhmm." He hummed his reply.
"The explosions?" she asked.
"Flash grenades." Red shrugged. "Though, if I'm right, O'Brian's men may have thrown a few pipe bombs into the mix."
She groaned quietly. Red turned his head to seek her out. He could only see her silhouette, but enough that he could tell she was covering her face with her hands.
"I heard you get shot." she stated her agony, reliving that moment in her mind. "I didn't connect it at the time, but I just replayed it and..."
"Lizzy..." he sighed, "let it go. We're all fine." He lay silently, his arm supporting his head. He felt her move, the warmth of her body infiltrating the t-shirt he had donned as she snuggled close, her arm laying gently upon his chest.
"You said my name." she whispered.
"Yes..." he remembered. "I said your name."
"I'm really glad you're okay." She mumbled in his ear, before dropping a lingering kiss on his cheek.
He pulled his arm out from behind his head, wrapping it around her. "So am I..."
Because if she was like this and he was all right, what would she have been like had he died.
A question he had not asked himself since he'd been married. But like with his wife, he now had this person, this woman, Lizzy... relying on him to be here, with her.
She didn't know and wouldn't know, how close he came to catching a bullet, where that question would have been relevant.
It had been damn near impossible to walk away from her, not just once, but twice.
He didn't know if he could deny her again, because he almost hadn't tonight.