Focal Point

by Daniel Davies

(Lizzington) A dangerous serial killer targets Elizabeth Keen as the newest Blacklister hits too close to home for Red Reddington. She must rely on the one person her instincts tell her she can trust. Liz finds herself inexplicably drawn closer to the only man capable of protecting her from this insidious new threat. (Mature Content)

174. Vindication

AUTHOR NOTE:

I wanted to give a shout out to Wolfbridge. I tried reply to your incredible feedback, but FF tells me that darned Private Messaging is disabled. Just wanted to say, your kind words and compliments were amazing! :D

---

"I have to say, Reddington," Lister squinted at the smoke rolling in his eyes, "you've had one of the most exciting vacations of anyone I've ever known."

"Yeah, my life is just one big thrill, laugh a minute, carnival." Red said, keeping his arm lifted out of Lister's way.

"You'll need to watch these for infection," Lister gestured to the wounds inflicted. "The knife wounds especially. I have disinfectant soap I'll send over."

"Carver assured me, he kept his weapons in meticulous condition," Red offered the sarcastic retort, "and I was to not worry about such an occurrence."

"Yeah, cause you'd be dead." Silas crossed his arms, leaning against the doorjamb. "Right?"

"Be that as it may," Lister sighed heavily, injecting more numbing agent into the Red's side, "disinfect them religiously... or don't, at your own peril. I'm just the doctor."

"I think, on this one, someone... meaning you," Silas motioned to Red, "should thank the Big Guy that Dembe and I showed up and saved your scrawny ass, just saying."

"To say what? That I'm thankful you halted your sexual activity to actually deign to do your job?" Red cut the man a glaring look. "Or that I'm thankful God was on my side in this instance?"

"Do you know how hard it is to rappel down a wall without the proper equipment..." Silas arched a brow.

"Or to maintain an erection." Dembe muttered sotto voce. "When one's mind and body is lacking the 'proper equipment".

"...And do I get a thanks for that?" Silas continued undaunted. "I heard that little aside, Zuma." he shifted the guy an amused glance.

"I didn't even know you could scale a wall," Red was befuddled, his mind not as clear as it could have been, he could not have said the 'why' of it all. "Let alone rappel down one."

"I can do a lot of things you don't know about." Silas boasted. "And that's why you're still alive today."

Red canted his head lazily. "For which I am grateful, so thank you, Silas... and Dembe, for being there when we need you." He was sincere.

"And the Big Guy." Silas lifted a warning finger to the ceiling.

"I was unaware you believed in a higher being than yourself." Red closed tired eyes, leaning his head back into the chair.

"I'm good," Silas agreed, "but I'm not dumb enough to think a higher being hasn't got my ass out of a sling a time or two."

Red turned his head to seek his friend out, frowning curiously.

"Did I shock you?" Silas lifted a brow.

"That," Red glanced at the deep slice in his forearm, "or I'm suffering tremendous blood loss and this is all a hallucination."

"Hey, Lister, help me out here." Silas suggested lightly. "Let him know this is his reality." The man shrugged halfheartedly. "And yeah, you're out of it." The guard relayed pertinent info. "You're never sincere like this unless you're in shock or some shit."

Red winced as he felt the puncture of the needle pierce his muscle. He grimaced, tensing, "Thanks doc, I needed that." he muttered, having felt that pinch. He turned darkened eyes to the guard. "And, fuck you."

Silas chuckled under his breath, enjoying the return of Red's humor.

"Considering the alternative..." Red gestured to the sutures Lister was placing in his side, "this isn't so bad... I guess."

"Always look on the bright side of life." Silas' jaunty grin widened. "Would you like I should sing... or whistle it for you?"

"I don't need Monty Python at this exact moment, thank you." Red stated sourly.

"I will get you some juice, Raymond." Dembe offered. Juice always helped with shock, among other ailments. Juice was Dembe Zuma's stock and trademark.

"Juice is God's way of saying... you should have bolted your doors that psychopaths might not sneak in unexpectedly." Silas casually remarked.

Falling silent, Red's brow furrowed, the words unsettling him for some unknown reason.

"He was jesting, Raymond." Dembe stated, giving the guard a scolding look.

"What's wrong with you?" Silas asked, noticing the sudden change in Red's demeanor. "Besides the obvious."

"Sorry to interrupt your banter," Lister muttered, tying off the thread on Red's side, "but I should look at your fiancé as well, I think. I noticed she–"

Lister broke off, stumbling back on his haunches as Red hastily sat upright in his seat, just then realizing... Lizzy had yet to return from the other room.

Not finding evidence of her presence, Red's attention shifted questioningly to Elizabeth's personal guard.

Silas, too, having sensed the reason for Red's agitation, pushed from his relaxed position, turning about to look through the rooms in his line of sight.

"Well, shit." Silas shook his head woefully. "Where the hell is that woman now!"

Red arose, waving off Lister's attempts to bandage his side. "Search the suite."

Scowling, Lister balked the sudden retreat. "I am not done here!"

"Elizabeth!" Red pushed into the closet, finding it empty. He searched the bathroom area rapidly.

Francis sauntered into the bedroom, Michael Fairfax on his heels. Both men sensed something amiss.

Michael pulled up short, noting Red's condition.

"What?" Red snapped, in no mood to answer inane questions at the moment.

"Uh..." Michael tore his attention away from Red's wounds, "I sense I am not being kept in the loop here." the man glanced furtively about.

"Doesn't matter." Red said, his tone clipped.

"Have we lost something?" Michael asked helpfully, watching the large guard move efficiently about, muttering curses under his breath and, of course, Red's anxious face.

"I've misplaced one very sorry individual... or she will be when I get my hands on her." Silas' face had taken on the same tight tenseness as his employer's. "Did you perchance pass Elizabeth on your way in?"

"Right..." Michael remembered why he was there, "she just ran past me on the main staircase." He hooked a thumb in the needed direction. "She had a rather determined look on her pretty face."

Grabbing his shirt, Red scowled hard at the man, hurrying across the room. "Which way was she going?"

"Towards Mark's office." Michael pointed lamely. "Should I have intervened?"

Red's scowl increased before understanding hit him full force. "Son-of-a-bitch!"

Rushing towards the door, Red grasped his gun, bolting from the suite... Dembe and Silas hot on his heels.

---

All in all, Liz was doing better than she expected.

How long she had been in the room, alone with the monster... she couldn't have said. Time was a variant, one which didn't matter.

What did matter, she was surprisingly holding her own and had yet to go down... but then, neither had Carver.

The room held only the bare minimum; a table, chair, and other odds and ends. The space was working to her advantage.

Everything within reach became a weapon in Liz's eyes. If she couldn't throw it at the bastard, she hit him with it.

She was quite proud of her accomplishments as the man appeared in worse shape than she was at present.

True, most of Carver's injuries had been inflicted by Dembe and Silas... Carver had obviously caused a few himself in the interim.

When she first entered the room and Carver stood, she had been too shocked to contemplate how such a thing had come about. Now she could visibly see the cuts and gashes on his badly torn wrists.

She should have known, given the man had cut himself and enjoyed it; the asshole wouldn't have any issue tearing into his own wrists to remove the zip-ties that had bound him.

No matter. In her time here, she had added a few wounds to the son-of-a-bitch herself.

A gash ran along the man's arm. He was sporting a welt above his eye, and his lip bled in a steady stream.

She had done well considering... she could do better, but she had only just got started in her world.

Dodging the wide arc swipe of Carver's burly arm, Liz sneered. "Come on, asshole. You wanted me dead, so get to it all ready."

She had kept up a steady gait, keeping him moving, using whatever reserve of strength he had remaining, hopefully. That was her initial plan at first, anyway.

Lunging for the woman, Carver cursed his ire as Elizabeth ducked and dodged his attempt once more.

"Missed me again." She taunted. "That's the fourth time... what's going on with you, shithead?"

Both knew his injuries were affecting his abilities in more ways than one. A point that worked in her favor. The man's leg was definitely impeding his headway.

Dembe and Silas may be more suited to beating the holy hell out of the jerk, but she was nimble and quick... a fact he was having to deal with in his present state.

Each attempt Carver made, she dodged, irritating the man to no end... as did her mocking tone.

"Come on, you bastard..." Liz spat the barb "you claimed you would put me in my coffin... here I am." She glared hatefully at the monster stalking her. "What's the hold up?"

Throwing a punch, Carver cursed when he only grazed the woman's cheek, offering nothing more than a passing blow.

Squeezing her eyes tight, Liz battled through the biting pain.

"The nun I had in Sunday school hit harder than that." Liz retorted abrasively. Kicking out, she caught the bastard in the chest, pushing hard against the already weakened bone.

She cheered inwardly as Carver cried out his pain and cradled his mid-section protectively. He swayed uncertainly for a long beat, holding the position.

"You said you wanted to teach me a lesson," Liz beckoned the man, "... so enlighten me, you sick fuck! I'm here!" She shouted angrily. "Come on!"

---

Inside the observation room behind the two-way mirror overlooking Mark Donovan's self-professed 'Torture Room', two security personnel examined a particularly gruesome discovery they had removed from Carver's person.

Knowing he was being watched, Carver took great delight taunting his captors. The man's hollow gaze had remained fixed as he unflinchingly related his kills in vivid and gory detail.

The gratified tranquility in his voice grew in intensity as he described the sounds his victims made until their untimely deaths, which was enough to turn even the most seasoned of professional's blood cold.

Unable to stomach the vile diatribe Carver had been spewing since his capture, the men turned off the intercom... silencing the sick bastard.

"Look at this shit." One guard whispered his disgust, flipping through the disturbingly grisly chronicle they unearthed.

"What the fuck, man..." the other guard grimaced as he read the repulsive passage.

Page after page of the sadistic descriptions within were more than unsettling. It was the small blood stained trophies of unknown origin stuck between the pages, however, which made them ill. Pressed like flowers in some treasured journal.

"What the hell is that stuff?" One man disdained.

"I don't want to know." The older shook his head. "But I think I do."

Too engrossed in the leather-bound book they confiscated from Carver, both men remained unaware of Elizabeth's entrance into the room minutes earlier.

"Do you believe this sick, twisted fucker..." the older man felt a little sick at such depravity.

Their investigation was rudely interrupted by a sharp thud hitting the two-way glass.

Both men stared transfixed for a brief second before their knee-jerk reaction jolted them into action.

"Dear God!" The older guard cursed his shock, slamming his hands on the counter before him, unintentionally hitting the switch to the intercom.

The man's eyes widened as the sounds of the struggle accompanied the scene unfolding before him filled the room.

---

Hitting the bottom of the stairs, Red hobbled hurriedly down the long corridor, frantically searching for any sign of Elizabeth.

Shuffling the length before him, Red barely heard, let alone registered, Dembe and Silas come in behind, fast on his tail.

Red grimaced as a loud, piercing crackle echoed down the cavernous passageway. "What the hell was that!" he bitched, pulling up short.

He snapped his mouth shut as the sound of a man's rumbling voice bounced off the walls, chilling him to the bone.

"I'm gonna enjoy skinning your succulent little ass!" Carver's tone was a little perturbed for a change, lacking the usual urbaneness Red had come to associate with the creep he instantly recognized.

Red's heart seized in fear and trepidation. "Carver!" He rasped coarsely.

Barely aware of the pain throbbing in his side, Red ran full tilt towards the sound, adrenaline shooting through his weakened body.

Noticing a gap in a nearby door, Red hurriedly pushed it open, nearly colliding with two men exiting the exact same room.

"You can fucking try," Lizzy's voice filled the space, "but not before I get to speak for the others who never had a voice!"

"How very touching." Carver's taunt came back swift.

"Get the fuck out of the way!" Silas barked the order, demanding the men blocking their path move. "Make a hole!"

Shoving the men aside, Red growled, pushing past, entering the darkened room. He cursed his disbelief as he came face-to-face with a two-way fucking mirror!

Red's panic soared as he looked into the adjoining room, watching the carnage taking place.

"Jesus Christ!" He exhaled his shock and panic.

"We're on it!" The older guard assured, gripping his weapon tighter. He shoved through the sea of humanity filling the small space.

Red stood transfixed as Lizzy's voice rang out from the speakers once again, demanding to be heard.

"You took everything away Red had given me!" Liz shouted the proclamation. "You stole my confidence..." she spat indignantly, "my happiness... my serenity!"

Red's brow furrowed sorrowfully as the woman released a blood curling scream that tore at his psyche.

The poignantly stated words affected his natural instinct to go to Elizabeth... to protect her from the evil she faced.

"Wait!" Red brusquely demanded, halting all activity. His hollow directive stunning all present.

"For what!?" Silas snapped angrily. "A fucking downtown train!"

"I want back what you stole from me!" Liz grated her rage, punching Carver hard, and fast, twice in his kidneys. She bolted out of the man's reach, her face distorted with fury.

Red gestured triumphantly as the bastard cried out painfully.

"People in hell want ice water." Carver growled, grabbing for the wounded area to ease the ache.

"You'll know firsthand," Liz kicked out, catching the bastard on his injured knee, "cause that's where I'm gonna send you!"

Carver went down but struggled back to his feet, a grimace of pain gracing his face.

Red gripped the table before him as Carver reached for his waist, coming up with a serrated blade a moment later.

"You and what Army." Carver's eyes lifted with a menacing promise, chuckling his mirth.

Silas glared angrily at the guards beside him. "You didn't fucking frisk him!" His own anger shot through the roof.

"We did!" The younger of the guards promised, apparently as shocked as anyone to see the weapon in hand.

Shifting restlessly on his feet, Red focused squarely on the woman, waiting to make his move... whatever it may be. "Just... hold on a minute." He cautioned all concerned.

"Your little toys don't scare me anymore, cocksucker!" The woman did not seem impressed.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you!" Lizzy vowed so vehemently it was as if she swore an oath.

Spinning about quickly, she kicked her heel into Carver's wrist, knocking the blade from his hand.

The man stood a moment, amazement on his face. "Well, would you look at that." He seemed impressed.

Rushing for the fallen weapon, Lizzy kicked it clear across the room just as her assailant came up on her.

Wrapping himself about the woman, Carver squeezed his arms tight, controlling her movement.

Jerking in the man's grasp, Liz kicked upward, causing Carver to wince painfully for the jarring action. He loosened his hold. "Well, aren't you a handful." He rasped shakily.

Turning her head about, Liz bit hard into the man's arm, hurriedly ramming her elbow back into his side. She hit the man repeatedly until she felt the bone give, making Carver release his strangling hold.

Suddenly, the man fell silent.

Lizzy threw punch after punch at the wounded man opposite her.

"You've humiliated me!" Liz's voice cracked for the shame she felt.

Grabbing what appeared to be a broomstick, she swung it hard into Carver's side. In attempt to avoid the hit, the man jerked away, snarling his pain as his fracture ribs shifted further out of place.

Red nodded tightly as Lizzy hit out once again, solidly connecting with the weak spot.

"You made me look weak... pathetic," she snapped the words, "in front of my friends..."

Clenching his fists at his side, Red listened to the words Lizzy shouted for all to hear.

"You made me look like a coward in front of Red!" Tears stung her eyes.

Red's heart broke hearing the doubt, pain, and distress in Lizzy's voice. No matter how many times he stressed those words were the furthest thing from the truth, he knew, until Lizzy felt it for herself... his feelings on the issue held no merit.

He hoped she was only projecting, releasing everything she bottled up for so long... and that she sensed nothing but love and admiration from him, but understood where her misplaced doubt originated.

His brow furrowed deeply, watching Lizzy lash out, beating Carver with the handle in her hands until it snapped in two, leaving it useless and ineffective.

She fought to regain her identity, demanding that part of her she felt missing be returned.

Though it was holy unwarranted, for she had not lost it, she fought to regain the respect she struggled so hard to attain.

The woman fought for everything she held dear.

Red tempered the indecision warring within him. What could he do to support her? What did she need the most?

The sound of feet moving behind him jarred Red from his stupor.

"I said, stop!" Red commanded angrily, demanding everyone obey his orders.

"Raymond..." Dembe shifted a concerned stare, fully understanding what it was taking for Raymond to stand here, inactive... watching. "Has she not proven herself?"

"What the fuck, Red!" Francis voiced everyone's opinion with a raspy proclamation. "We need to be in there! Now!"

Red hadn't even heard the man come on scene. Mark was standing in the light of the opened doorway.

Red swallowed the sick feeling rising in his throat, his hand lifting in a curt 'wait' motion.

He could not pull his attention away from the interaction taking place in that room.

"Are you fucking kidding me!" Francis' anger came to the forefront.

Red's fingers gripped the gun he held with such intensity, his fist shook.

He did not notice...

"You're just gonna stand there," Francis' tone held his disdain, "all of you!?"

Silas closed his eyes, his heart breaking. It went against everything inside him to... not go into that room, to end that fucker with as much pain as he could possibly manage.

He felt less a man, but still... if Red could stand it.

"She needs our help, Red!" Francis repeated frantically as Carver backhanded Lizzy, sending the woman into a careening spin.

"No," Red whispered, swallowing his own pride and need, his own instincts, "no... she needs this."

Silas grasped the kid's shirt front, holding Francis from any actions, his own features grimly set.

Francis eyed the guy as if everyone had taken leave of their senses.

"We must give Elizabeth this time." Dembe's low intense voice served to calm, rationalize. "As difficult as it is... she has earned it."

Red's eyes filled with unshed tears, he blinked them back... his determination rising as Lizzy swung her clenched fist towards her enemy.

"Dammit..." Silas mumbled through clenched teeth, watching what was unfolding before his very eyes.

Grabbing the fist swinging for his head, Carver twisted the hand in his hold, pushing Elizabeth face first into a wall.

Gripping the chair beside him, Red clenched his jaw painfully watching the intense struggle.

Crowding the woman, Carver reached, cupping Elizabeth between her legs.

"Oh, how wonderful." Carver chuckled menacingly. "The tide seems to be turning," he whispered the threat, "now... the real fun begins."

Bile filled Red's throat when the bastard popped the button on Lizzy's jeans, releasing the zipper.

Grabbing a fistful of the woman's shirt, Carver threw Elizabeth face down onto the table beside them.

The force of the impact pushed the air from her lungs, cutting her cry of pain short. Gasping for air, she struggled as Carver's heavyweight bore down on her back, making it nearly impossible to catch her breath.

"What the fuck!" Francis pulled at Silas' crushing grip, to no avail. "That's sicko's hurting her!" He thrashed about frantically, but still, Silas held fast.

Red gritted his teeth, furious beyond words. Being forced to watch what was happening on the other side of the damn glass, and not do a damn thing, was torturous. But he had to give Lizzy a chance. He had to show his trust... and faith in her.

His entire focus was with the woman.

He shook with tension, waiting it out. He had to... wait it out.

"C'mon, Lizzy." He growled bitterly. "Fight, dammit!"

Wrestling with her pants, Carver chortled as Liz fought to push upright with little headway.

"Judging by Reddington's reaction," Carver yanked at the tight fabric, "and as little as you are.." the man's voice lowered seductively, "I bet your pussy's fucking tight."

He grunted as the woman's bare ass came into view. "On second thought, maybe I might fuck this pretty ass of yours... just because I can." Groping the bared flesh, he pushed his hardening shaft against her backside.

Leaning his heavy bulk on her desperately struggling form, Carver growled in her ear. "I'm gonna fuck you til you bleed."

"Please..." Red prayed silently, sweat beading his entire body. His fingers tightened painfully on the ledge of the glass pane, his fingers bleeding of color. "Please, baby... fight. Do something!" He pleaded.

A frisson of panic shot through Liz's system, hitting her like a bolt of electricity when she felt the cold air in the room hit her bare backside.

She was letting this asshole touch her! Her rage flared like fiery lava. Red didn't like people touching her!

"Like hell!" She spat her indignation. Jerking her arm from Carver's grasp, she knocked over the table lamp, shattering the glass globe.

Straining outward, her fingers caught a jagged slice of glass, dragging it toward her. Grabbing the piece in her hand, she forcefully swung back, stabbing it into her assailant.

"You bitch!" Carver pulled back, clasping his side. Curving his fingers about the thick shard, he worked to pull it free, growling his agony.

Scrambling off the table, Liz tugged her jeans up her hips, grabbing the heavy metal stem of the broken lamp, stepping on the cord dangling from it.

Yanking the rod upward, she snapped the cord free, wielding the decorative stem like a baton.

She laughed victoriously as Carver slowly removed the long sliver of glass, his fingers shaking from the pain it caused.

"You're the only one that's gonna get fucked!" Liz bared her teeth, swinging the heavy rod in her fist with every ounce of strength she possessed.

Carver yelled out as the stem connected against his face, cutting him across the eye.

"You are not allowed to touch me!" Liz screamed in the man's face. "No one touches me but Red! Not ever!"

Tears stung Red's eyes as each hit of the rod in her hand was followed by a disparaging comment, backing Carver into a nearby corner.

Lifting his arms, Carver attempted to block the rapid fire assault.

Moving quickly, Liz swung the rod hard and fast, hitting any opening available to her in rapid succession.

"I am sick and tired of men thinking they have a right to touch me!" She screeched venomously. "You are not allowed to touch me!" she strongly reiterated.

Red swallowed at the lump forming at his throat, only to feel it return a breath later.

Wiping the blood from his eye, Carver fell into the wall as Lizzy pounced on her wounded prey.

"I'm tired of men hurting me for piss poor reasons!" She growled, hurling the metal pole down across Carver's head, drawing blood on her first shot. "You make me violently ill, you sick fucker!"

Silas, who had watched the melee quietly until now, urged the woman on. "You go, baby girl!"

He broke off as Liz jabbed the pole into Carver's throat.

"Remember the follow through." Silas whispered tightly, encouraging the woman to apply her new, specialized training.

The guard hissed triumphantly through his teeth when Liz's doubled up fist followed shortly thereafter.

Carver spit blood, gurgling wretchedly, foam spilling from his lips.

Though pleasantly surprised, all winced as the woman drew back, delivering a hard, swift kick directly between Carver's thighs.

Hunching over, Carver grabbed for the throbbing pain, bellowing a shout of agony.

Silas' smile grew. He sighed a release, allowing the tension in his body to filter out at its own pace.

Hastily throwing his arm out, Carver caught the downward motion of Liz's arm, grabbing her throat with his free hand.

"I'll squeeze the life out of..." Groaning his anguish, Carver clenched his fingers tight around the delicate slope.

"No!" Liz rasped, jerking her knee upright, once again connecting with the man's groin.

The pain was overwhelming, breaking his ironclad grip. Carver yelled out, grabbing for both his knee and crotch.

Grasping his shirt in her fist, Liz jerked her leg upright once more, ramming her knee solidly into Carver's face as the man lurched forward, falling to his knees.

Rolling on the floor in agony, Carver curled into a fetal position, warding off what he could of the ensuing attack.

"I'm tired of paying for what they did!" Liz screamed ferociously. She kicked the man's head hard... twice.

Retrieving the metal pole, she reaffirmed her grasp, bringing her arm back... only to be suddenly restrained by an unexpected obstacle.

Hurriedly swinging about, her balled fist was caught and held in a tight, but gentle, grip.

Red's eyes were gentle on her face. They softened tenfold for the anguish he read there.

"Enough, baby..." Red's calm voice cut through the rage.

But the woman was still too wired, too tense! She couldn't let go... not yet!

She had not yet achieved her vindication!

Grasping the pole tight with shaking hands, she stood, adrenaline pumping fast through her veins.

Keeping the woman's attention fixed solely on him, Red blocked sight of Dembe and Silas taking Carver back into their custody easily enough, for the man was too wounded to do much else.

Silas heaved the guy back in the chair, none-too-gently. All the fight seemed to have left Carver's body.

Dembe secured him with metal cuffs. Silas shackled both legs, biceps, and thighs with zip ties to the metal chair. The large guard smacked his opened palm into the guy's smarmy face, to rid himself of a little of his pent up ire. "I'll get to your ass later, fucker." He promised, snarling at a reticent antagonist.

Curving his fingers about the golden rod, Red gingerly rolled it from the woman's hand.

Liz released the object absently, watching Red's every action with a blank stare.

"Baby..." Red soothed, sitting the makeshift weapon aside.

"You... have to let me do this." She whispered brokenly. "You can't... you shouldn't stop me."

Looking into the woman's wild, unfocused eyes, Red's jaw tightened. "It's over, baby."

"No!" Liz yelled, jerking from his touch, seeking out her prey hidden behind Red's form. "It's not finished!"

"Sweetheart..." Red kept his tone low and soothing, "let's talk... come out here." He wrapped his arm about her waist, urging her away from the fucker's vicinity. "Come with me."

She followed, but only because her path to Carver was blocked, and she sensed it. "It's not finished!"

The man held tight to her small hand, gently guiding her away from such disturbing surroundings. Something he had wanted to do from the second he saw the predicament she had gotten herself into.

"You showed that fucker. You did it. You've won." Red reasoned, walking her a short way down the hall. "You did it all by yourself, Lizzy."

Liz remained quiet, fuming inwardly.

Red racked his brain, sensing her state. "You took back everything that bastard stole... you must feel that."

"No..." She had to make him see. "It's not about me. Not now."

Red wasn't sure he followed that statement. She was just confused right now, surely. It had to be some heavy shit going down in her brain along about now.

"Baby, please... let me handle this now." Red pleaded. "Trust me to give you the justice you want."

Liz only felt an all-encompassing black rage. But she also sensed this man would overrule any objections made at this stage. Liz was confused. His voice was calming her despite herself. His presence was to be reveled in. She felt protected again, safe... she could smell Red's scent. His very essence calmed.

The man tried to cut through the emotions inundating the woman, reminding her of what waited for them in the real world. Reminding of the future now stretched out before them with this horrible threat now neutralized.

What with the walls having ears, he had to be circumspect... which wasn't really helpful at this point in time.

"I'll get him on a plane tonight." Red vowed. "Cooper will take charge of him." he whispered the words. "Carver will go in the box."

"I want him dead..." Liz stated flatly.

"I know, I know..." Red frowned at the cut on her palm. Retrieving a handkerchief from his pocket, he pressed against the wound before wrapping it as best he could.

"Then why are you stopping me!" She asked plaintively, those vacant blue eyes, questioned his actions.

"He'll get what's coming to him." Red placated the woman, kissing her temple to calm her. "I promise you, he will get his..." he sought her eyes, his own holding that promise.

Red silently vowed he would give Elizabeth the closure she needed one way or other, should her justice system fail.

"Do you believe me?" Red searched the woman's face. "Is there any doubt I can deliver on my promise?"

It hurt to see the indecision... perhaps even distrust, flit quickly over her features. Tensions were high, the woman's emotions... raw.

No one better than Red Reddington understood what Lizzy was feeling at this moment. The need for retaliation and swift vengeance ran high. It was a hunger needing to be fed.

"I..." Liz choked on her emotions, "I'm tired of this," tears suddenly streamed down her face, "... I'm so tired of paying for what my lousy, stinking parents did!"

Twenty-five years of frustration hit her like a slap in the face.

Red waited patiently, having hoped some sort of emotion would surface.

Dropping her face into her hands, Liz sobbed out the rage, exhaustion, and fear.

"It's all right. It's over." He stepped, embracing the small, trembling body. He nuzzled her neckline, slowly bringing his breathing back under control.

"It's not over." She inhaled shakily. "It'll never be over, will it?" she looked up at him, pleading for an answer. "Someone will always want to punish me because of their fuck up. I'm being punished for having just been born to them." she ducked her face into his neckline, hiding her tear-streaked face. "It's not fair, Red. It's just not... fair!"

"I know it's not fair, baby." Red kissed her sweaty temple, hurting for the pain she felt... wishing more than anything to make it better. And he would. "I'll fix this, I promise."

She huffed lightly, deflating against Red's chest.

"You know I don't lie to you," he lifted her chin, "and I'm not now. I will fix this." Wiping the tears off her face, he directed her eyes to his. "I promise, Lizzy."

Nodding after a brief hesitation, Liz relaxed against him, exhaling shakily.

Even if Red couldn't, that he tried meant the world to her. Not that she wouldn't have more meltdowns as they went along, but that he was trying... she pushed emotions back.

"Are you okay?" Liz said, running her hand along his side. The man's shirt was stained and tacky with blood because of the activity Red subjected himself to. "Oh, Red... you're bleeding again."

"It's pulling a bit, but it's nothing I can't handle." Red assured, looking her over. "You, on the other hand..."

Slowly tilting her face towards the light, Red's eye ticked, finally getting a good look at the damage done. The sight of her swollen and bruised features stirred his own anger to new heights.

Wiping at the blood trickling from her nose with his thumb, he pulled at his shirt, tearing a strip off the bottom to blot the flow.

"Hold that..." he murmured. Lizzy held the cloth in place as he gently felt along the ridge of her nose. She winced a couple times from the pressure.

"It doesn't feel broken," he muttered, "though how it isn't...I don't know."

"He didn't hurt me!" She stated bitterly.

Red's eyes flashed, remembering how hard Carver had hit the woman.

"You must be bruised from top to bottom." He begged to differ, looking the woman over critically.

"It was worth it." She said, her voice muffled behind the tissue.

"Wait until morning..." He teased, knowing well enough... she was probably still running on the last of her adrenaline rush.

"Yeah... looking forward to that." Liz said. In truth, she didn't feel much of anything, emotionally or physically. She just felt... numb.

"When you start to hurt, you tell me." Cupping her cheek, he kissed her soft lips, smiling warmly. "Lister has the good stuff. Don't be shy about taking it."

They stood in the silence, allowing themselves a moment's reprieve.

"Okay, listen." He ran his hands down her arms gently, seeking her out. "The prick bastard is secure. What say, you and I head for the room... another room." He amended hastily. "I'll have our stuff switched over, if it hasn't been already. It's not like staff doesn't know the routine by now."

Liz lifted a tired gaze, listening half-heartedly.

"It's just that... there are a few loose ends." he motioned to the room a couple doors down. "I should take care of that, if you should want–"

"No," Liz rasped quietly, "no, I want to stay with you." She held onto his shirt with tight fingers. "If... that's okay."

Red didn't realize how relieved those words made him feel. While there was a part of him that wished Lizzy would go rest... there was also a part that wished her to remain in arms reach.

"I don't want you anywhere near," Red said, tenderly kissing her brow, "that bastard again."

Liz's eyes drooped languidly, remaining silent.

Assured Lizzy was calmed and content where she was, Red took a breath, heading for the problem at hand.

"I'll be right back. Do you need anything?" He inquired. "I'm just across the way, baby."

Liz offered a weak smile, shaking her head negatively. "I know."

Giving the woman one last kiss, Red retraced his steps to the needed location, standing unobtrusively in the opened doorway.

All moved stiffly, alert to the evil sitting so quietly obscure over by the far wall. Carver resembled a specter of his former, vital self.

Scanning the area, Red's eyes rested on Silas. The large man leaned into his fists, which rested on the tabletop, glaring hatefully at his prisoner.

Red got down to business. "Bring me up to date."

"He has said nothing, Raymond." Dembe assured, settling Red's nerves somewhat. "Which in itself is a revelation."

"He's actually been very quiet." The fact visibly unsettled Francis. "He's up to something."

"That's a given." Red concurred.

Red noted Silas' knuckles were white against the wood grain of the tabletop. Pushing off the table, the guard stalked towards Red's position.

"The fucking prick had the gall to demand medical treatment." Silas bitched. "Like that's gonna fucking happen." the man scoffed irritably.

"Let him suffer." Francis suggested. "Serves the bastard right."

"I say we put a bullet in his forehead." Silas wanted the jackass out of his hair... and Liz's. "End it quickly, for all concerned."

Grasping his side, rubbing absently, Red grimaced. "Get medical down here."

"Are you kidding me!" Francis squawked in protest. "After what he did to Lizzy!"

"We..." Red cut the young man a stern look, "I would hope, are more civilized than that fucker could ever think about being, Francis.."

"Yeah... whatever." Francis grumbled, clearly unhappy. "There is a right way and a wrong, Red. What you are saying... feels wrong."

Shrugging, Mark lifted the radio, calling for the required assistance. "Right, wrong... the guy wants medical."

Silas arched a curious brow. "Should we see to Elizabeth?"

"Lizzy is..." Red lowered his tone, "calm now. Lister can treat her shortly." He nodded his satisfaction, comfortable with his decision. Noticing the woman's presence in his peripheral vision, Red subtly motioned to the observation room. "Baby, I'm about finished here."

Inching forward, Liz watched the byplay taking place, her ears open to everything anyone had to say.

Smiling softly, Red clasped Lizzy's elbow, guiding her to forward.

Francis' face lit with joy, an object catching his attention. Bending to retrieve the colorful cylinder off the floor, he hurried after the retreating group.

Entering the observation room, Red gestured to a nearby seat. He helped Lizzy over to the spot.

Glancing to his left, he breathed a sigh of relief as Dembe's bulk partially obstructed the woman's view of Carver.

Sitting at the table, Liz sighed heavily, tiredly leaning her forearms into the cool wood. She flicked her eyes about the room, her disinterest apparent.

The furniture was scarce, the light muted, the sounds muffled. She actually felt a sense of normalcy here, having been in many like it during her career.

Closing her eyes, she scented the air to further center her mind, only to chuckle lightly a breath later. It smelled clean and fresh... unlike the ones to which she was accustomed. Not that she was complaining in the least.

Relaxing back further into her chair, she rested her sore body... waiting, vaguely aware of the conversations taking place around her.

Shifting angered eyes to his enemy, Red fought to rein in his rage, to little avail. He tried to hide the emotions he felt from Lizzy.

"Well, at least the cleanup will be a snap." Mark smiled to brighten the mood and take everyone's mind to somewhere safer to be. He had noted Lizzy sat quietly, her hands folded primly before her. "I spared no expense, as you probably noted."

Francis nodded his agreement, grinning widely. "That room is state-of-the-art, trust me."

Red snapped his head towards the two men, his expression more than slightly askew.

"And the room is available, anytime," Mark eagerly gestured. "It's open for your disposal, should you want?" He informed, a hopeful expression on the handsome face.

Glancing about his surroundings finally, Red noted the odd setup and unusual paraphernalia laying scattered about in the room which Carver occupied.

Aside from a long table, chair and lamp that Lizzy broke... the room was devoid of much else aside from a shelf and what appeared to be a shower on the corner wall and a drain situated in the center of the room.

"What do you think?" Mark grinned, waving about the space, eager for approval.

"About... what, exactly?" Red drawled slowly, comprehension dawning.

"Come on, Red, be honest!" Francis said, excitement tinging his voice. "Who couldn't use one of these things? It's not like you don't have a few floating around, right?"

"I gotta say," Mark jumped into the conversation, "sure, I had my doubts... but I think it turned out pretty well!"

"You idiots went and made your own version of... a torture room." Silas looked upon the room with a fresh eye. He craned his head this way and that, peering into the room in question.

Red studied the objects laid out on a shelf across the way, glad to have his mind off what just went down, truth told.

"And that little item?" Red pointed to a long piece of rubber hosing which had caught his attention..

"Well, you remember in Rambo," Mark gleefully related, "when they got Stallone in the shower..."

"And beat him with a rubber hose?" Red nodded, his tone a droll one. "Of course."

Liz's brows furrowed, tsking her slight annoyance. Men could be so silly sometimes.

Red glanced at her demeanor, relaxing in his own stance, for she seemed a little better now.

"Yeah, that exactly!" Mark was excited Red was following along. "Well, Dembe gave me the idea–"

Red shifted his chastising glance towards his reticent friend, dying to hear how that conversation came about.

He turned his attention as Lizzy stood slowly, nearing the group, listening politely.

"He said Brimley often used hoses," Mark continued, "only... I think he used it for an enema?" The man frowned, wondering if he was remembering events correctly, then shrugged it off. "Anyway... we thought it had a lot of potential, so we have a bunch on hand." He said, gesturing to the pile available.

"And... and," Francis pointed to his own contribution laying on the floor, "I brought in the waterboarding mask."

"That's a Halloween mask." Liz pointed out the obvious. "Like from that movie–"

"So?" Francis took umbrage. "It'll work."

Liz grimaced at the grotesque face staring back at them, one of which filled her youth with ghoulish nightmares.

"No, it won't." Liz disagreed, for she had firsthand experience with such torture. "It only has three small holes for the water to go in."

"And stay in." Francis was quick to point out the brilliance of his plan.

Liz shook her head sorrowfully. "You did not think this through."

"I did too!" Francis assured one and all. Frowning, he dropped his attention to the colorful tube in his hands, placing his fingers into the opened ends. "I think everything through." he muttered dejectedly.

"Yeah, so," Mark jumped back into the discussion, proudly proclaiming the perks of the room, "we also have the usual, run-of-the-mill devices like electricity, fire, salt–"

"Salt?" Red repeated, though he wasn't sure why. He wasn't sure why they were having this conversation either, but... what the hell?

"Well, yeah," Mark shrugged, "you know... to pour in the wound."

"That does sting a bit." Silas added his two cents. He glanced at Red. "What? It does."

"Lemon juice..." Dembe muttered, recalling an unfortunate incident of his own.

"God!" Silas hissed. "You ever get that shit in a paper-cut!"

"What about..." Red stopped himself. Lizzy didn't need to be reminded of Carver just yet, "when you were held for three days in a steel box... in the desert. You're not gonna bitch about that?"

Silas shrugged. "Kind of made me think of that room we had in Guatemala." He jogged Dembe's memory. "You 'member, with the goat?"

Red's expression contorted to one of disgust, remembering that hell hole well. Eight people crammed into an eight by eight room with no running water, facilities... and a goat. The smell had been horrendous...

The only saving grace had been an old village woman who made the most delicious Hilachas. Though the meat had looked like shredded beef, he was positive it was anything but that. Not that anyone had given a damn, as they were starving for something other than MREs.

"The food was good, though." Red remember fondly. Francis suddenly pulled frantically at the grip placed on his fingers by the toy gadget, his terrified countenance amusing to behold.

"Hey!" Panic was setting in. Francis held his fingers aloft. "Hey! Get these damned things off!"

Sighing, Red stopped the panicked movement, slowly bringing Francis' hands close to one another, releasing the hold of the flexible bamboo Chinese finger trap from around the man's fingers.

Breathing his relief to be free, Francis flung the offending object aside, eyeing them with disdain.

"Your contribution as well?" Red asked of the boy, holding the crisscrossed toy aloft.

"Those things are freaking dangerous." Francis muttered, shaking the feeling back into his numb appendages.

"Better your finger than your dick." Silas proclaimed prophetically.

A look of horror crossed Francis' face. Mark consoled the guy with a comforting hand on the shoulder.

Cutting a glance Dembe's way, Red felt a small chuckle well in his chest for the long-suffering look on his friend's face.

It felt good... to laugh, and why in the hell he was doing so was beyond him.

"I'm surprised you don't have a rack..." Liz inspected the room more now.

"I suggested we get one," Francis piped up, forgetting his earlier confinement easily enough, "but those things don't grow on trees, you know."

"Yeah," Mark said, "so we have commissioned one... or two."

Shaking her head for the boys' antics, Liz stepped away, needing to hear no more of the mindless babbling.

"I see..." Red winced lightly, adjusting his stance to lessen the pull in his side.

Sensing Red was nearing the end of his endurance, Silas took pity on the man... for once. The guy still had unattended open wounds, after all.

"Okay, enough frivolity for one night." The guard's stern tone demanded attention and action. "Let's get back to a semblance of order here, huh?"

Noting a water cooler at the doorway, Liz walked towards the refreshment, stretching her sore muscles. Pulling a paper-cup free, she filled it with the cool liquid. The sound of the bubbling gurgle left her suddenly parched. Drinking her refreshment thirstily, she refilled it once more, glancing towards the guys' hushed tones.

Hesitating at the sight, she lifted her finger slowly, releasing the pressure on the valve.

Without thought, she moved closer, shocked to see her reflection staring back at her in the two-way mirror.

Her clothes were a tattered, blood-stained mess. Her bare feet, cut and bleeding. From what, she did not know?

Her hair was a mess of tangles. Her eyes...

Liz stepped closer to the mirror.

Her eyes; they were empty...cold. There was no light in her eyes. They were vacant of emotion of any kind.

It was frightening. Disturbing.

Liz peered closer... and the voices in the room muted.

---

Red quieted, their situation brought back to mind suddenly as he noted Carver's slight movement out of the corner of his eye.

"This is all I found on the sicko." Silas said, placing Carver's confiscated weapons on a nearby shelf.

Holding up Carver's belt, Silas tossed it beside the man's belongings. "He lined his belt with blades." The guard threw the security people yet another glare of animosity. "That's how he sliced the zip-ties."

"He will not escape the restraints, Raymond." Dembe assured, settling Red's nerves. "We have many options open to us."

"What do you want us to do with him?" Silas wanted to know, "I have a few ideas I can throw out."

"I don't know." Red fought a warring battle within himself.

There was nothing more he wished than to end that bastard and eradicate Carver's evil from the world. There was also another part that wished to allow cooler heads to prevail, and do as Lizzy would expect and hand Carver over to the Taskforce.

It was a tough decision.

"I'm with Silas, let's just off the freak." Francis was getting antsy. "The guy gives me the willies." he shivered reflexively. "There's something terribly wrong with the fucker."

Everyone glanced at the fucker.

"Okay, wait," Mark, having sensed Red's hesitation, offered to be the voice of reason. "Who is this asshole, anyway?" he wanted to know.

Massaging his sore neck, Red glanced at the man beside him. "... Carver."

"Oh, man..." Mark's features pinched in open disgust, "dude, kill his ass."

"See," Francis tossed his hands up in the arm, "that's what I said."

Hanging his head, Red heaved a sigh.

"So... what are we gonna do with him?" Silas repeated the question, eager to move things along one way or other.

"Turn him over to the Feds." Red's reply was met with groans of dissension.

The muted sound of discord and disbelief broke the hold her mirror image retained, Liz's mind rejecting the idea outright.

...No.

No, that wasn't right. That wasn't what they should do at all.

Without thought or reason, Liz turned her attention away from the mirror... her fingers curving about the cold handle of the blade which had caught her attention.

Slowly backing away from the disturbing image glaring back at her, Liz made her way into the empty corridor, welcoming the silence.

She stared at the door beside her... the one she knew Carver was behind.

She watched the red light turn to green as it had once before as she typed the code in.

Once inside, she turned toward her nemesis.

Carver sat, his head down. His heavy breathing was the only sound in the room.

Liz stayed close to the door, casting the two-way glass a compulsory glance. They couldn't see her if she stayed close to the door.

She looked around, for what, she didn't know.

Her hands held tightly to the doorknob.

Sensing another's presence, Carver lifted his head slowly.

"Hey..." Liz smiled over at the man, "look what I found in the other room."

She held the serrated blade aloft.

"Silas conveniently left them by the water cooler," she said, her tone light. "This one especially reminded me of you."

"Well, it should." Carver nodded. "It is mine, after all." The man reminded. "Oh, hey... did you bring a drink? I'm parched." he smiled. "Or... have you come back to get that fuck I promised you?"

Liz stared blankly at the man, one part of her wondering... how did such an aberration come into existence?

"I'm a little tied up at present, as you can see." The man shrugged, then winced for the pain. "If you just sit down on my lap... I think I can improvise."

"No, that's not why I'm here." She suddenly realized.

"Oh, bummer." Carver was clearly disappointed. "This clearly is just not my night."

"No," Liz agreed. "No, it isn't. It's just not your night at all." She allowed the hatred, fury and overwhelming desire to see this creature ended come to the surface. "Besides, in a few minutes, you'll be out of the mood, anyway."

"Just like a woman..." the man scoffed, "make up your mind, would you? You're confusing me." Carver made mention.

"Thanks to you," she traced the jagged cut of the blade, "there was an entire set to choose from, but I felt this one... it suited my purposes best."

"Well, that sounds ominous." Carver offered a pretend shudder, but his heart wasn't in it because his pain was too intense.

"Yeah... that's the word." Liz stepped hastily, knowing she was now in sight of anyone behind that mirror. "Ominous... that's a great word."

She must work quickly.

She determinedly crossed the space, her knuckles white about the hilt of the knife. She stood before her enemy; her eyes as cold as his own.

"You don't have the nerve." Carver grinned at the knife held in trembling fingers.

His grin was short-lived as he felt the sharp sting of that knife pierce his body.

Liz leaned into the moment, the blade sinking further into the spongy tissue.

She felt a rush of adrenaline for catching the man off-guard, followed by a sickening jolt of nausea.

She stepped back, watching the blood ooze from the wound she had inflicted directly where his shoulder and chest met.

"Is this what you feel?" Liz asked, the monotone of her voice foreign to her.

"If you feel a bit euphoric... orgasmic," Carver drew in a deep, steadying breath, "... then, yeah."

"No," Liz shook her head, watching the bloody blade skirt over the man's pectoral, "no... I just feel... indifferent."

Carver frowned at the woman, her vacant manner confusing him.

---

Lifting a placating hand, Red settled the unruly crowd. "If things don't develop how we hope," he pacified, "we will return him to our custody... and handle the sick bastard accordingly."

"I think you should just hand him over to Lizzy." Francis muttered. "She was well on her way to ending the fucker."

"Yeah," Silas chuckled, "she packs quite a wallop when she's pissed, don't you, kid?"

Red and Silas turned towards the woman, but found only empty space where she had been.

"Oh, shit!" Francis squawked his shock.

Francis' sharp intake of breath was enough to alert Red to something amiss. Turning in the needed direction, his eyes widened at the sight before him.

All the men rushed to the corridor, covering the space in record time. Silas' flying fingers input the code to unlock the door with due haste.

Pushing against the rigid surface of the man's chest, Liz barely registered Carver's snarl of disbelief. Blindly watching the thick blade, she drew it downward before flicking her wrist to the right.

"There..." she exhaled slowly, "a little gift to remember me by."

Glancing down at his chest, Carver's frown deepened, taking in the sight of a 'L' carved into his skin.

Pushing his way into the room, Red breathed out his shock and awe. The blade the woman held aloft and poised to inflict damage, or worse, halted any intended intervention.

"Elizabeth!" Red barked. "Stop... wait!"

"For what?" She held Carver's eyes. "For him to hire an amazing lawyer? For the court system to ignore the fact, he's murdered countless victims... or worse, allow him bail!?"

"They are funny that way, aren't they." Carver had to agree. "Justice my ass, right? For the bad guys." He chuckled lowly, closing his eyes, he let his head fall back against the support of the chair. "Just makes you sick, doesn't it?"

"Lizzy," Francis pushed into the room, his features concerned, stunned. "What are you doing? He's not worth this fuss."

"I most certainly am!" Carver disagreed.

"How did it feel?" Liz had to know. She had to. "Did you ever once think about the pain you were inflicting on those women?"

Carver seemed to give the question its due consideration. "Well, that was the whole point of the endeavor, now wasn't it?"

Liz's rage magnified. She stabbed the man's viciously, drawing the serrated blade down at a slow pace.

Red's eyes closed. Is this what association with him had driven the woman to?

"Liz, stop!" Francis bolted forward.

"No! Back off!" Elizabeth turned, positioning the knife over Carver's heart. If the bastard possessed one, she thought fleetingly. "Stay back, Francis!"

She returned her attention, redirecting the blade upwards. "Does that feel good to you? Is that what you would have me believe?" She slowly put her weight on the hilt, shoving the shiny metal through layer after layer of flesh.

Carver moaned brokenly.

Red stood, simply watching the scene unfold; hoping beyond hope, Lizzy would tire of her need for vengeance. With each minute that passed, the woman looked more beaten... exhausted than when he first arrived.

Silas checked with the guy, then settled his massive frame into a waiting mode.

"Really, Elizabeth." Something amusing struck Carver. "What would your contemporaries think?"

"We think," Francis narrowed his eyes at the sick freak, "she's gonna fit you with a Columbian necktie if you don't shut the hell up!"

"Who says they even have to find out?" Leaning close, knowing Carver had meant her Federal associates. Liz whispered, keeping her weight on the blade. "You forget who I'm engaged to? He will hide my impulsive actions... both you and I know that."

Carver shifted, trying to assimilate the excruciating pain... to filter it through his system, but was just too weak.

"Lizzy, I'll put the sick fucker down for you." Francis had no problem offering his services. Seeing his friend so affected... affected Francis. "I don't want you to do this. This... it isn't you." He gestured to her position. "Maybe you should come over here... with us."

"You talking to me," Carver panted weakly, "or her."

Given pause for thought, Liz glanced at the faces of the men, staring so oddly back at her.

Her attention fell on Red.

The man seemed in pain. "Is this what it's come down to, Lizzy?" He asked quietly. "Do you think this is the right action to take?" The man willfully held her eyes, relaying a private message.

"Oh, for god's sake, Red!" Liz disdained. "He's a rabid dog that needs to be put out of everyone's misery."

"I am slightly offended." Carver's smile was almost lecherous in nature. "By the way, I can see down your blouse."

"Maybe," Red shifted placid eyes, "but perhaps there is a more... conventional way to handle this problem."

Were it not for Elizabeth's turbulent emotions; Red would have felt the biggest hypocrite on the planet for throwing her occupation in her face.

He truly believed, however, come the light of day, Lizzy would once again be her normal pragmatic self. Should she not take all variances under careful consideration now... would her actions come back to haunt her?

Listening to the man question her ethics, Liz darted a look of disbelief Red's way. "Are you fucking kidding me?" She scoffed. "You, of all people, are questioning my integrity."

"You do sound a bit sanctimonious, Reddington." Carver's shaky laugh broke off into a fitful cough. spraying blood onto the tabletop. "The duplicitous goings on here," he shook his head, his grin a goading one, "it's all soap opera worthy, if I say so myself."

"Lizzy, look," Francis tried to be the voice of reason once more, "emotions are a bit high at present," he... reasoned, "why don't we go upstairs, get a drink," he planned, "take care of you and Red and–"

Snapping her head about, Liz turned cold eyes on Carver, dragging the blade hard along the man's forearm in retaliation for the wound he inflicted on Red.

Francis' mouth fell agape, turning wide eyes towards Mark. "Dude! I totally miscalculated that!"

"I know!" Mark proclaimed his own awe, curtly waving his friend over.

Rolling their eyes, Dembe and Silas grasped the young man's arm, dragging him back and away.

"They took my property." Carver sought the woman out, ignoring the others. "You get it back for me. It's... important." He strained, his gaze intense. "You get it and... I will do something for you."

"You can't do one fucking thing for me, but die." Liz spat.

"Well, that's a given." Carver coughed, spraying blood spittle onto Lizzy's neck.

She stayed exactly where she was, leaning hard into the blade which had severed an artery by the looks of all the blood oozing around the wound, Red noticed.

"I mean... I will give you the names of my last two victims. They aren't registered in the book as yet. I've been... a little busy of late."

The man closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing. "This is important, Elizabeth. Listen to me. In the book, it's my memories, my cherished memories. You will find," he groaned a stifled pain. "You will find my address... go there. See my collection. It is to be admired. I think..." he held her eyes willfully, "your friends will be most impressed. Will you do this for me?"

Elizabeth studied the man's face religiously.

"I feel we have become rather close, you and I." Carver did. "I think you will find my body of work... impressive. I am not just the run-of-the-mill psycho, believe me. Well, you should know." He conceded.

She arose slowly, taking the weight from the blade entirely.

Red noted the blood flow increased with the pressure released.

Liz stared down at Carver. "I will retrieve the book."

Carver's eyes closed, smiling blissfully.

"I will go to your home," the woman's tone was matter-of-fact, "and once I find that disgusting house of horrors... I will burn it to the ground with every bit of filth inside."

Carver's eyes flew open, his face a mask of disbelief.

"The mark you made on this earth will be obliterated," Liz continued, her voice a whispered vow. "Red will see to it you burn along with it," she vowed.

"Your ashes will be tossed in a dumpster like the trash you are." She glared hatefully at the man. "No one will be told of your timely demise... my friends will never learn about what happened here. In fact... it will be as if you never existed." Her eyes flashed with anger.

"You bitch." The hatred seethed in Carver's very being. "I will come back from hell for you! I will see–"

"No, you won't." Liz laughed mirthlessly. "Even hell wouldn't have your despicable soul."

"You have to tell them!" Carver shouted. "They have to know! It's your fucking duty!"

"I have done my duty." Liz's bitter tone hardened. "All your victims can rest easy now." She felt the weight lifting each second that passed. "Their cries for justice lessen each second your blood hits the floor."

At least she could no longer hear them so loudly in her head.

"Let's end their suffering," Liz's brittle tone caused the man to shiver further, "once and for all, hmm."

Red's eyes darted between Elizabeth and her captive, his heart pounding hard in his chest. His breath caught in the next instant, his surprise complete.

Leaning in on the hilt of the knife, Liz's jaw clenched as the blade slid effortlessly through Carver's skin. Pushing against the expected resistance, she felt the solid thump of the steel shove past bone until it disappeared completely beneath the surface.

Exhaling a gurgling breath, Carved stared oddly at the guard of the knife laying flush against his chest bone. Pink foam exasperated past his lips, dribbling unchecked down his chin.

"I..." Carver mused, his breath coming in ragged gasps, "...I never thought not in a million years," he lifted dull eyes, "it would be a... woman."

"Surprise..." Liz steadily held the man's fading gaze.

Carver scoffed a pained laugh, shifting uncomfortably in his shackles.

"It had to be a woman, didn't it." She grated. "Justice, as they say... has truly been served."

Holding his breath, Red waited... watching the life literally, and figuratively, drain from the man before him.

"...Good," Carver gasped, fighting for air, "... hunt."

Carver's arms loosened against their restraints as his breathing came to a rattling halt.

Like his blood dripping steadily to the floor, the flickering light within his eyes drained of life. The reflection in the glass pools became fixed and soulless.

Stunned by events, all remained rooted in place, trying desperately to assimilate what it was they just witnessed.

Not that they had not seen such an occurrence before, but in this instance... with Lizzy in what was normally their position, it was quite startling to the senses.

Tilting his head, Silas finally took a step forward, checking the slumped form for a pulse. He lifted a steady stare. "You okay now?"

Elizabeth thought the question over for a long beat. "Yes, Silas... now, I'm okay."

"Yeah, are you really okay?" He clearly no longer trusted her word.

"I'm really okay." Liz knew.

Coming alongside the woman, Francis looked down at the dead guy dispassionately. "I did not see that coming."

"Neither did I, Francis." Liz admitted quietly, her attention fixed on Carver. "It's just something I had to do."

Francis nodded. "I had the same feeling at Coney Island once." he commiserated.

Liz turned, frowning curiously at her friend before catching sight of Red, her gaze softening.

She walked to the man, tenderly taking his hand in her own. "Are you mad at me?"

Red's brow furrowed. "...What?"

"It's something I had to do, Red. I hope you can understand." She watched his face closely.

The man drew in a breath, exhaling slowly. Red was all too afraid... he did understand, completely.

"You look about ready to drop." She examined the man critically, gently stroking his arm. "You should be resting."

Red laughed abruptly... the sound catching in his throat.

Liz squeezed his hand. "Can we go now?"

Red glanced at the contact.

"I got this covered." Silas motioned for the man to take the lifeline. "Dembe and I will make it all go away."

"Just as I said." Liz murmured quietly, but enough Red heard her.

On reflex, Red gripped her fingers, silently acknowledging her thoughts.

Cutting the ties binding the dead guy, Silas glanced over his shoulder. "Donovan, where's the incinerator?"

"Uh..." Mark hesitated, lamely pointing the needed direction.

"You are bleeding, Raymond." Dembe had noted. "Perhaps the numbing agents have taken effect now?" He mentioned, considering his friend apparently hadn't noticed. "When Lister stitches you, it won't hurt as much." He added brightly.

"Sure." Red nodded, his thoughts running a hundred miles a second.

Gesturing for security, Silas unfolded a convenient tarp as the men hoisted Carver from the chair.

Stepping back out of the way, Liz glanced at Carver's face for a long moment. The men lifted the corpse and headed for the door.

Red watched the woman closely, alert to her needs; whatever they may be. Wiping his brow, he swept the sweat and blood aside.

"Well," Liz murmured as the men crossed the threshold, "one down... how many more to go?"

Pausing in his movement, Red shifted uncomprehending eyes Lizzy's way.

"Told you she was bloodthirsty." Silas muttered as he tossed Red a towel. "You want blood," he shifted his attention to Liz, "...there's some." he gestured to Red's wounds. "Now, go make it stop."

"Oh, honey... I'm sorry!" Liz instantly encircled the man in her embrace, caressing his side. "Let's get you back upstairs, okay." She said, looping Red's arm over her shoulder.

Taking the offered reprieve, Red leaned into Lizzy's support, allowing the woman guide him out the room and down the hall.

---

As the clock rolled into a new day, Lister grumbled irritably as he stitched the wound on Red's side, once again.

"Put that ointment on after you shower," Lister groused, "bandage as needed only, etcetera, etcetera... you know the drill." he said, stuffing his supplies in his bag. "Notice any heat, swelling or discharge... call me. But don't really. I'm tired. You people wear me out!"

Absently nodding, Red returned his attention to Elizabeth.

When Lister was stitching him up, Red watched the woman hover beside him. She laughed at the inane things the guys said. He knew they were trying to keep her mind off things.

She was completely devoid of any sort of emotion related to the fact... she just killed an unarmed man that was strapped to a chair.

And it worried Red. A lot.

Red blinked, the haze in his eyes causing him to drift vacantly. He zoned out until the chirp of Mark's radio brought him back to the here and now.

"Yeah?" Mark replied to the page, stepping off to the side to better hear.

"Thank you, Dr. Lister." Liz smiled warmly, offering her hand.

"Get some rest, young lady." Lister's expression softened on the woman, placing a soft kiss to her bruised knuckles. "You get some ice on those bruises and rest."

"Oh," Liz giggled softly, "I will. I promise."

"If you need anything for the pain," Lister picked up his bag, "you let me know."

"I will." Liz's rosy cheeks plumped with her smile as the doctor took his leave.

"I've never seen that 'bedside' manner with me before." Red suddenly realized how much the doctor's manner had changed when it was Lizzy the older man dealt with.

"He's just the sweetest thing." Liz nodded amiably to nothing in particular.

Suddenly remembering an oddity he wished addressed, Red sought Mark out, motioning the guy over. "Carver mentioned killing the people above us and using their balcony to get in. Did anybody check?"

"Oh, yeah." Mark replied. "I got someone on that earlier... I've been distracted."

"Do you know who those poor people were?" Liz asked, rubbing Red's shoulders comfortingly.

"Not off the top of my head, no." Mark replied. "The intel is coming."

The man held the radio aloft just as it crackled. Placing it to his ear, he listened intently before sharing the news related.

"Did they find them?" Liz grimaced, not sure she wished to hear the gory details.

"Uh, no." Mark's frown deepened. "It was Michael and Susan." He pointed upwards, then hooked his thumb left, "Ben and Amy," he gestured right, "and Janus Xenakis."

"Oh, my god!" Liz startled, clamping her hands over her mouth, afraid for her friends' welfare.

"No, no... they're all fine." Mark hurriedly assured. "It appears all were downstairs when this debacle unraveled."

"Carver didn't kill anybody?" Red scowled. "I wonder why he said..."

"He was fucking with you." Silas muttered tightly. "Mind fuck, torture shit." he grumbled.

"Well, just know," Mark reassured, "everyone is fine."

There were so many unknown variables. Red slumped in his seat, suddenly very tired of everything bombarding his brain.

"Okay, guys" Liz smiled warmly at their guests, "Red needs to rest."

Bidding the couple a good night, all headed for the door.

"Thank you so much for coming..." Liz kissed their cheeks, hugging each man hard. "You saved our lives...literally."

"Anytime..." Francis beamed happily at his friend, unaware of Dembe and Silas' scowl of disbelief.

"You didn't do a fucking thing!" Silas rebuked peevishly.

"I would have!" Francis took exception.

"But," Dembe finished smoothly, "you were not here."

"Exactly." Francis jerked a nod of agreement. "Let's not forget, I did try to talk Lizzy down during the whole... well... you know." He pointed down to the bowels of the hotel where Liz killed that sicko guy.

"Yeah, and what happened?" Silas provoked the guy. "Liz turned Carver into her personal Voodoo doll, with no help from anyone at all...including your ass."

"Well, there was that." Francis conceded.

"We know your heart is in the right place, Francis." Mark consolingly patted the man's shoulder

"Yeah... okay, now get out." Liz pushed Silas' massive shoulder. "Red needs to rest."

Swatting his hand at the indelicate touch, Silas side stepped the ottoman in his path, heading for the doorway.

Francis smiled brightly at nothing in particular, offering Red a jaunty wave.

"Do we have our radio handy?" Dembe asked... smoothly.

Red held the device aloft, then lay it gently back on the table beside him.

Dembe was satisfied, joining Silas in the hall.

"Good night." Liz smiled warmly, closing and locking the door.

Enjoying the sudden silence surrounding him, Red lay his head back against the chair's headrest.

Inhaling a deep breath, Red was grateful the room was without the noxious aroma of blood and sweat. Instead, their new room smelled of crisp linen and vanilla.

He had welcomed the offer of a top-floor suite. One of which, in hindsight, he should have requested from the beginning. That was a mistake he would not repeat again... ever.

Red's attention shifted to the woman sitting silently on the edge of the ottoman, staring sightlessly out into space.

After everything they had been through together, he had never seen Elizabeth so bedraggled. Her clothes were torn and blood spattered. Her hair was an unruly tangle. She was a battered, bruised, bleeding mess.

In all his life, he had never seen anything so damaged, look so beautiful.

Steadying himself, Red pushed from his seat, holding his hand for her to take.

"Are we going somewhere?" Liz frowned, glancing cryptically at the outstretched appendage... taking the man's hand absently.

"Yes... for a shower." Red suggested strongly.

Looking down at her less than stellar appearance, Liz grimaced. "Good call."

Red bypassed the lights, deciding to address them later. His goal at present was to wash the filth and stickiness from his body... and check Lizzy for hidden injuries.

"Go on, baby." He removed his slacks, motioning Lizzy to go. "I'll be there in a second."

Shoving the remnants of their clothing into the wastebasket without hesitation, he stared down for a few seconds, disgust registering. He wanted no reminders of tonight's atrocities in sight.

Stepping in behind Elizabeth's smaller frame, Red scanned her back for anything unusual. There was a large discoloration on the woman's hips. Her back had scrapes and gashes everywhere and other general bruising.

Pulling her back into his arms, he sighed his relief as she lay her head on his shoulder and snuggled closer.

They stood under the pounding spray, sighing their relief as the heavy pelts massaged sore muscles. Red hated to disturb the serenity, in truth.

Reaching for the soap, he turned the woman to face him, gently lathering her flushed face.

"Does that hurt?" He murmured, tenderly running his hand along the slight bruising on her cheek.

"No," Liz rubbed her cheek into his touch, her eyes closing, "but then... you never hurt me."

Taking the soap, she lathered the thick suds in her palm before returning the favor.

Both rinsed thoroughly before Red grabbed the antiseptic wash behind him.

"Did the doctor say we had to let that sit a certain amount of time?" She asked, before rubbing her own hands along Red's body.

"A few minutes." Red pumped the foam into his palm, rubbing it along Lizzy's wounds.

She crinkled her nose at the astringent scent.

"It's red... get it." She joked.

The man spared her a pained look. "I expect that from Francis..." he welcomed her good mood, pleased she was trying to look on the bright side.

He had noted the red tint of the liquid Lister left behind. It pooled at their feet, mixing with his own blood.

"We also have to use a lot of it." Red murmured. He smoothed his hands along Lizzy's back, rubbing small circles into her muscles until he felt her skin burst with gooseflesh.

Paying particular attention to Red's cuts, and the small abrasions on Lizzy's hand... they worked the liquid over their bodies, allowing time for the disinfectant to do its job.

"Come here..." Red waved her closer, grabbing her shampoo bottle off the edge.

Liz turned without hesitation, eager for Red to wash her hair. There was nothing more she loved than feeling his thick fingers massaging her scalp.

"Maybe it'll wash away the smell?" She hoped the fragrant goop would do the trick, at least.

Pouring some of the crisp gel into his palm, Red massaged it into the thick strands of Lizzy's hair. Rinsing the first application, he frowned slightly as the water flowed a slight pink tint.

Reapplying the aromatic liquid, Red's frown deepened as he felt a lump. Turning the woman to the light, he peered down at the anomaly.

"Lizzy, did the doctor see this?" He tenderly probed the area, drawing a slight well of blood to the surface.

Like all head wounds, it bled, but nothing too bad. It could, however, indicate a concussion.

"Oh, Red, it's just a bump." Liz softly touched the spot, pretty sure it had been mentioned. "I don't even know how I got it."

"Are you dizzy or nauseous?" Red inquired. He breathed a bit more easily as he gently pushed against the surface. The bleeding had already stopped., he noted.

"No," Liz replied honestly, "I am starting to feel sore though... but nothing besides that."

"I'll wake you tonight, just to be on the safe side." He said, rinsing away the soap.

"Well, thanks for that." She teased. "I think we've earned some rest, though."

Going through the motions, they cleaned their bodies of their most recent adventures, feeling slightly closer to their own species by the end of the process.

Standing under the hot spray, they held one another until Red felt Lizzy leaned tiredly against him.

Continuing their nightly routine, Red went about shutting the lights down as Lizzy turned back the bedding. She stifled a yawn.

Grabbing the ointment on the bedside table, Red sat, shaking the liquid inside.

"Let me help you." Liz crawled to his side, taking the bottle from his hand.

Any other time, he might argue he could handle it well enough... but there had been enough conflict for one evening, in his opinion.

Besides, Lizzy was better at it, that much was obvious. Where he would growl and bitch when applying the salve himself, he barely felt her touch at all; she was so gentle in her ministrations.

Once finished, Red lay back, motioning for the woman's warmth.

Snuggling to the man, Liz lay her leg over his. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No, no, you're fine." He said, closing his eyes to the feel of her.

Laying in the silence, both ruminated on all that occurred; their thoughts scattered.

"...I felt him." Red muttered, addressing the elephant in the room.

Glancing upward, Liz frowned. "What?"

"I knew something was wrong before..." he trailed off. "Something was nagging at me..." he sighed.

Sifting to her elbow, Liz glanced down at the man. "I'm not following."

"I knew what I had planned. I was moving onto another plane...intimacy wise. I was concerned about possible consequences." Red confessed. "I thought that feeling was unsettling me." His fingers curved to Lizzy's hip, squeezing her gently.

"Red, you couldn't have known." Liz soothed the man's concern.

"I should have checked." Red said, running a rough hand over his brow. "I should have paid more attention. I shouldn't have ignored my instincts."

"There was nothing you could have done." Liz voiced the side of reason.

Red's jaw worked restlessly, for he knew. "I could have done something." he sensed. What, he did not know. "He wouldn't have gotten as far as he did."

What could he have really done to prevent what happened, though, in hindsight?

Done a room to room search? Disturbed all the guests of the hotel? Had Dembe and Silas play sentinel all damn night? Silas would argue, and Dembe... that's exactly what they were paid to do.

He felt secure here at Mark's in the past, though that was a misconception he would never feel again.

He had grown accustomed to always being on guard and questioning obscure shit.

But to neglect the woman he loved and her needs on a vague, nondescript feeling? That was not how Red wanted to live his life at this stage. But the truth was, it was exactly the kind of life he lived, apparently.

What the hell could he have done? The question plagued him here in the heavy silence of the darkened room.

He knew there had to be a middle-ground, he just had to find it... and he damn well would, whatever the hell it took.

Elizabeth's very life depended on it.

"I'm sorry..." Red whispered, pulling the woman closer, kissing her brow, "I'm sorry, I couldn't protect you."

"What the hell are you talking about!?" Liz jerked back, shocked by the words. "You did everything in your power to protect me!"

Scrambling to sit upright, Liz held out her arms, then waved them frantically over her body.

"Do you see any cuts on me!" She demanded his reply. "You took the brunt of that maniac's attention from me! I know that, Red!"

Sighing, Red lay back into the pillow, shaking his head. "You're missing the point."

"You're missing the point!" Liz scowled. "Don't tell me there weren't a million scenarios running through your head about how to take that bastard down!"

"Hell of a lot good it did me!" Red snapped. "If it wasn't for Dembe and Silas..." his fists clenched, blocking the horrific thoughts before they could form fully.

"Their interference was your doing!" Liz reminded tartly. "You remembered the radio, you kept calm, you did everything possible to keep Carver's attention off me!" she stressed the words. "You stalled that asshole and kept us alive!"

Shocked by the intensity displayed, Red fell silent.

"By rights, if anyone should be apologizing, it's me!" Liz choked, swiping at the tears cascading down her cheeks.

Shifting darkened eyes, Red frowned at the woman. "What the fuck are you talking about!"

"I was so busy cowering on the floor... hiding from what petrified me," Liz squeezed her eyes tight, "I-I didn't help you." She sobbed. "I just lay there like a lump of nothing!"

Red pulled her close, holding her trembling body.

"He kept cutting you and," she cried into his neckline, "I-I couldn't move! I couldn't make it stop!" she choked back a sob of anguish. "I did, nothing. Nothing!"

Tightening his arms about the woman, Red tugged her closer, mindless to her weight on his wounds.

"That's why." she sought him out, her eyes wide and vulnerable. "I had to make amends! I had to put it right! I had to!"

Red processed all being said.

"The mistake had to be rectified, don't you see?" Liz desperately searched his face. "I had to make it up to you somehow. That couldn't be between us. It would have destroyed us... destroyed me."

She grasped hold of him, plastering her body to Red's. "I know you're upset I killed him, but–"

"No, baby, I'm not upset you killed him." Red soothed. That wasn't his concern at all. "I'm worried how it might affect you in the long run."

"W-What?" She sniffled unevenly, inhaling shakily.

"Three months ago," Red voiced his thoughts, "it would have never crossed your mind to kill an unarmed man shackled to a chair."

"I wanted him to feel as much pain as he inflicted!" Liz snarled her rage, even now. "I wanted to kill him for what he had done to us! To all those women who had to look in his eyes and face the horror he created."

"Be that as it may," Red continued, understanding passion ran high at the moment, "I can't help wonder..."

Resting his cheek against the crown of Lizzy's head, Red wished more than anything to stop the conversation all together.

"Wonder what?"

"Lizzy... have I," he faltered, "... damaged you?" He cursed his aggravation, for the words had not sounded so vilifying in his head.

"Excuse me?" Liz said, shocked beyond words.

Exhaling a shaky breath, Red wondered how to place his thoughts into words. "When I killed the Stewmaker–"

Tensing in his arms, Liz's eyes welled with tears, very well remembering the words she had said at that time. The accusation, the label... she placed on the man himself... the horrible thing she called him.

"You think ... I'm a monster?" Liz's voice lowered to a distraught whisper.

"Absolutely not!" Red snapped the denial. "No! What the fuck, Elizabeth! That's not what I think at all!"

Relaxing her tense posture, Liz took solace Red did not view her in that manner. Even if she supposed... she had him at one time in her life. What type of person had she been to judge someone so atrociously?

Gathering his thoughts, Red took a breath, forging onward.

"I'm concerned," Red smoothed his lips over Lizzy's furrowed brow, "... scared, I've desensitized you... that what I've subjected you to has taken away a part of you, a very important part."

Silencing the prepared denial she had planned, Liz closed her mouth, taking his words into consideration for a long moment.

"No..." her eyes flicked upward, "no, you haven't. I feel different, but it's such a good difference."

"How can you say that after..."

"I'm sorry, Red." Liz's lip quivered, remembering the hateful words she sanctimoniously spewed at her savior. "I was so naïve." She whispered her pain. "I was so... stupid. I couldn't see–"

"Good-hearted." Red corrected. "You had... have a good heart, I know that. That isn't in question–"

"Self-righteous and gullible, you mean?" She huffed quietly, viewing the matter in a different light. "I thought everyone deserved a chance at redemption... except you, apparently." She scoffed. "What a fool I was."

Allowing the woman her say, Red remained silent, curious about where this would lead.

"Stewmaker was just as grotesque as Carver." Her tone hardened. "I looked into their faces," she could remember the disturbing moment vividly, "the hollow, dead look in their eyes..." she shivered as the haunting visual floated in her mind. "There was never anything to reach."

"I gave them every opportunity to stop... to see me as a person," she lamented.

Stroking his hand along Lizzy's back, Red reminded her she was not alone in this.

"They didn't. They couldn't see my pain." Tears stung her eyes. "They didn't care how terrified I was." She swallowed at the lump in her throat. "They didn't care about the life they would take."

Red knew of what she spoke, having faced it too many times to count in his own lifetime. It sickened and saddened him that Lizzy had seen the same in her life.

"They only felt enjoyment." She inhaled shakily. "They viewed me as a means to achieve the gratification they wanted... nothing more."

After all Red had seen and done, it bothered him people of that magnitude walked the Earth.

"I'm not sorry they're dead." Liz confessed freely.

Red wasn't sorry either, truth told.

"I know you're upset I may have lost a bit of my humanity," she said, clutching Red's hand, "but don't be..." She shifted upward, connecting with Red's eyes.

"While I take comfort knowing they can't terrorize anyone else, ever again." She admitted, brushing her mouth against Red's. "Over all else, where they never did... I feel compassion and love for you, for the people we know and care about... for anyone less fortunate or in pain or suffering. I can still feel that."

Carding his fingers through Lizzy's hair, Red pulled her forward, placing his mouth to hers.

"They haven't taken that from me." He was assured.

"I'm glad to hear it." Red rasped roughly, tracing the slight bruising on her brow. "From what I witnessed, he didn't take anything from you... but a good beating." He attempted a smile.

He frowned in the next moment when the woman shrank inward, a frown marring her features.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Had he said something which triggered some inner chaos?

"You saw..." she whispered, "you were watching?"

"...Yes." Red caressed the woman's cheek with his thumb. "I wanted to stop it. It killed me not stopping it, but your words told me... you needed me to step down for a few minutes."

Elizabeth was too quiet. "Did I make a mistake?" He had to know.

Drawing back, Red frowned for the woman's tone, and the question itself. "Lizzy... what are you thinking?"

"He wasn't allowed to touch me," she lowered her eyes, "... but I let him. I didn't fight hard enough to stop it from happening."

All thoughts came to a screeching halt as Red fully comprehended what the hell the woman was saying.

Red rolled Elizabeth to her back, staring down at the anxious features looking back at him.

"You didn't let him do anything, do you understand me?" Red stressed the words. "You did stop him."

"But I–" Red hushed the woman, placing a finger over her full mouth.

"You were only gathering your strength," Red strongly voiced his opinion. "I knew, once you regained your breath, you would fight back... and you did, just like Silas taught you, right?"

Stroking the bandaging on her hand, Red lifted it, kissing the soft cloth covering her palm.

"Had I not stepped in," he shared the truth of the matter, "I know you would have kept him down."

"Then, why did you interfere?" Liz frowned curiously. "If you truly believed I could–"

Considering the unexpected direction the conversation took, Red treaded carefully in his words.

"We're a team, right?" He aligned their eyes, brushing her temple lovingly.

He relaxed some when Lizzy nodded without hesitation, but there was still doubt behind those blue eyes.

"You're my girl, too, aren't you?" Red brushed his mouth against her and smiled when he felt the pressure of her mouth increase.

"... Yes." Liz flushed, trailing her fingers along Red's collarbone.

"It's my privilege then to have your back, isn't it?" Red nuzzled her small nose, kissing the tip lovingly. His heart ached as the woman cuddled to him, sighing happily.

"I know you didn't need me," Red kissed her rosy cheeks, then the corner of her mouth, "but I wanted you to know, I was there..."

"You really think," Liz's plaintive eyes searched his face, "I did a good job?"

"You did a damn good job, baby." Red's eyes welled with heat. "You didn't let him touch what was mine, did you?" He reminded strongly, assuring Lizzy her concerns were unfounded.

"Well... no." Liz's doubts lifted. "I.. I did stop him."

"You fought back. You showed that fucker a thing or two that he didn't want to face." He jogged her memory, knowing things happened in a blur on her end.

"I... guess so?" Liz sought her memory, trying to remember. Everything was so jumbled, vaguely distorted now.

"Didn't you see him?" He chuckled, trying to lighten the moment somewhat.

"Not really, no." Liz admitted, the pictures hazy now. "I was too busy fighting for my life..." she muttered quietly, "literally, I suppose."

Clamping his lips tight, Red ducked his face into her neckline. He needed this moment. He needed just to hold her.

It bothered him greatly, Lizzy had to face such demons, but that she had come out the other side alive... and with her confidence intact? It meant the world to him he was there to witness it happen.

"I'm very proud of you, Lizzy." He damn near choked on the words, hoping like hell she could hear the reverence in his tone, because... he damn well felt it with every fiber of his being.

"You are?" She seemed stunned by his words.

"Yes, I am." He lay back, pulling her to his side.

Happy now, Lizzy could finally relax. Finally, breath. Settling in comfortably, she closed her eyes, moving close to Red's warmth.

"I love you..." she murmured contentedly.

Squeezing his eyes tight in the darkened room, Red felt the trickle of a tear leak from the corner of his eye and trail down his temple... now that all was right in their world.

"...I love you too, Lizzy." His deep, sensual tone surrounded her. She reveled in the essence of the man.

Liz closed her eyes, turned into the warm rich aroma of Red's neckline and fell into a sound, untroubled sleep.

---

AUTHOR NOTE:

Unfortunately, there will be a short break before the next chapter.

Jami, my co-author and editor, is having surgery on May 25th, and will be in the hospital a couple days. I also have a family matter needing my attention.

We hope the break will be a short one and when we come back... we can have some fun!