Blacklist 1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Lizzington - No daddygate - English is not my mother tongue, I tried my best though.  
There will be topics you might feel uncomfortable - vomitting, excrements things like that. Also, there will be a lot of hurt and dark things - be aware of that.  
This is a multi-chapter story and I am currently working on it.  
By the way: There will be no sexual content - the M-rating is for everything I mentioned above. But definitely Lizzington. :)

* * *

She had been a means to an end.  
He´d never intended to see that little girl ever again. The girl he had nearly killed by setting a fire to a man's house he was told needed to disappear. _They _had betrayed him by not telling him about the child. _They_ had wanted her dead too.  
But when the flames had burned his shirt and jacket into his back he had known, that his whole life was burned too by saving a child's one.  
Raymond remembered his wife's scared look. He remembered his young daughter's cries when he had told both that he needed to bring the unknown girl to a safe place. He would be back in a week at the latest he had told them, because it was Christmas then and he didn't wanted them scared about his whereabouts at such a time. He had whispered into his wife's ears that he would bring the presents then, which were securely hidden in their car's trunk. Sometimes he could even smell her perfume, mingled with the smell of smoke and burned flesh.  
He'd took the small kid in his arms and had told her that everything would be okay. He would save her and bring her to a lovely man who would cherish her so very much.  
Her small voice barely reached his ears when she had spoken into his shirt that she didn't want to be without him. She needed him.  
For 300 miles he had cried about those quiet words. Had tried to entertain her while tears ran down his cheeks. It had bonded them so strongly that his heart still aches when he remembers her tears strained smile.  
It was the first time he met Mr. Kaplan then. A former comrade of his had once told him that if he was ever in need of unofficial help he should call Mr. Kaplan. He couldn't remember if he had been surprised that Mr. Kaplan was a woman.  
She had treated the girl's wrist while her other hand had a death grip on his pants.  
"My name is Elizabeth Milhoan, Ma'am", she had answered Mr. Kaplan's question about her name. She had spoken carefully and slowly, trying to pronounce her name the right way. Red's eyes closed on their own accord. He had never wanted to know her name. He would never forget her name and cries. "But I like Liz better" She had kept talking and sniffing and had looked up to him, waiting for any response of the man she held on for dear life.  
"I think that is a very beautiful name, sweetheart" he had acknowledge sweetly and she had smiled so shyly as if no one has ever complimented on her name. "And I think I like Lizzie even better."  
And then he had never wanted her to let go of him. She was so innocent and yet she was in the middle of such a chaotic and dangerous war.  
Mr. Kaplan had insisted on treating his severe wounds too. He remembered how she had sat on his lap, had cried with him when Mr. Kaplan had extracted the fabric from his wounds, cleaned them. He had hoped it wouldn't damage her to make such an experience.  
It took so much time until they could drive again. Mr. Kaplan had explained his medication, her medication and that he shouldn't drive and needed to rest. He had wanted to ignore it but Lizzie couldn't take any more driving. So Raymond had asked, for the very first time, if Mr. Kaplan knew any place safe where they could stay, only for a night.  
She had brought them to a house then, had given them clothes – and he had wondered for a moment how she even came to get them. Shirts and simple jeans for them and food. But neither he nor Lizzie felt like eating.  
When he thought back to that night his heart would ache. How Lizzie had seemingly tried to crawl into him. How tight she had gripped the shirt.  
He had woken to such a cruel pain. Lizzie had been laying on top of his chest and his back had seemed to be on fire all over again.  
She had said she was sorry for hurting him and he had explained that there was nothing she had to be sorry about.  
The last part of their trip had gone on easier. They had talked, not much but a little and he had told her about the man she would meet – Sam.  
But Lizzie had been wary and never acknowledged anything he had said about her new father.  
Sam had been great. Surprised, shocked but had kept himself in check for the little girl. As if he had always expected Raymond to show up with a little girl, asking him to give her a home.  
He had stayed for four days and it was longer than he should have.  
She had bonded with Sam but not as much as she did with him. She would grasp his hand whenever possible, would be at his side when he woke up in the morning – it hurt him.  
"Will you stay, please?" she had asked quietly. He had held her in his arms, trying to say goodbye. "I will be very good."  
He had sat her on her new bed then, his hands on her small knees.  
"I can't stay with you, Sweetheart" he had started to explain. "I need to go back to my family and Sam will be here and be your new family, ok?" She shook her head, stubborn. "You need to forget me, Elizabeth. I can't be in your life anymore." He had stood then and had expected her tears and cries but not the silence. She had stretched her arms for him but he didn't move.  
"You need to forget me."  
Her arms fell to her sides.  
"I will miss you Mr. Red."  
And when he had been back with his family, his car left behind because he never thought about to refuel, he had walked into an empty home. Blood and death.  
For a moment he had thought to drive back to Sam. To take his Lizzie and … he realised that he couldn't go back. If they had killed his family, they would want him dead too.  
It was the last night he had cried. As if he had spent all his tears that night. For his wife, daughter, his Lizzie.  
It took him five years to get the information about his family being in witness protections.  
He kept talking to Sam, he never asked but Sam would always talk about Liz – his butterball – and he would cherish everything that is told.  
Sam had told him how Liz had asked about her former family. Her life before she came to live with Sam. She couldn't remember Red.  
It hurt.  
One time it was Lizzie who had picked up and without thinking he had hung up on her. It had startled him so much to hear her voice.  
By accident he saw her again when she was working in Baltimore.  
He had learned from Sam that she wanted to become a cop and he had to admit that it really suited her. And after Baltimore she went to Quantico. FBI.  
For the first time he used his resources to look up on her life. He learned about her struggles, how she had trouble to connect with people. He learned about a man called Thomas Keen. And it changed everything.  
Because he could also remember how he had pulled some strings to get passports, documents, even a gun for a man with the exact same face. He could remember people's faces so good by now.  
And then he came up with that weird plan in his mind. He could use the FBI to get his business going – to eliminate all those enemies he had listed up in his mind and most of all he could protect his Lizzie like he used to a long time ago.  
He could use her for his own agenda and protect her while doing so. What a great way to get what he wanted and on a side note to vanish his guilty feelings about a girl he had once nearly killed.  
But when he put his plan into action he never really thought he would fall in love with her along the way. But he did, when he finally stopped to see the little four year old girl but the woman in front of him, that strong willed and beautiful woman.  
And sometimes he had entertained the thought that she would feel attracted to him too. When she began to stand or sit closer to him. Would visit him without real reason. The mere chance that she could feel something romantically for him changed him somehow.  
But he also noticed how dangerous it was for her to be around him. To get close to her. And it interfered with his need to protect her.  
And then he had her nearly killed again and there had been no way he could have saved her then. She would have died – he would have been dead if it hadn't been for Dembe.  
He had to get rid of the man they called Concierge of Crime and he needed Liz to forget him all over again, just like her four year old safe had to.  
It seemed ages ago when he had slurred to Dembe he would never act on his feelings for her. It would destroy her even more to know that she was loved by a man as destructive and manipulative as him.  
Now, he slurred into an empty room that he would never see her again because it will break her to see him crippled and weak, even vulnerable like he was.  
It broke him and maybe already killed what was left of the man he once wanted her to see in him.

* * *

He is dead they had told her. Those minutes it took Cooper to add "officially" were gruesome and heartbreaking. She had felt that cruel pain and it confused her and somehow killed her too.  
It has been his plan all the way. Cooper had wanted to see her reaction, had wanted to find out how much she really cared for a man she used to call a monster.  
But her reaction had been so obvious that it had gotten her a two hour talk with Cooper about her professionalism and how dare she would start to care about a man like Reddington.  
"Do you love him, Agent Keen?" he had asked bluntly. And she had answered in the very same manner.  
"I don't know. What would you feel if someone would go through hell for you?" She had tried to wipe off the tears from her face angrily. "He saved my life and yours and Ressler's and everyone's. I can't make me feel any less for him."  
It had been the very first time she had ever acknowledge feelings for a man she wasn't sure she knew. And it scared her. Because she was indeed attracted to him in some strange way.  
"I´d like to tell you that your personal feeling don't matter but I can't to that" he had continued with a pained look on his face. "_Officially_."  
He never explained to her what that meant exactly and had begun then to explain what the next steps would be.  
Reddington wanted himself to be dead too. And she didn't understood that. It just…didn't made sense at that point. So she nodded and he kept talking how Dembe was now leading the business of Raymond Reddington. How he was the sole heir of all the belongings Reddington had had.  
She wasn't mentioned in his testimony.  
Dembe would tell them the names and do all the business meetings. Like before but without Red being an active part.  
For a long moment Liz stared into space and thought to ask for her resignation. She was pulled into this mess called blacklist because of Red. She had no real motivation to work on it without him. But the investigator, the cop in her told her how egoistic that was.  
She had nodded her understanding of the words spoken to her even though she had missed half of it. But they needed to wait for Dembe to get better and eventually for Red too. Only then she had realised that between all the chaos and heartbreak she had never thought about his condition. She had simply assumed that he got out safe.  
Cooper showed her the pictures of the hospital, the reports about the condition Raymond Reddington and Dembe Zuma was in she had wanted to scream.  
She had been with him when the car had crashed into theirs. But Dembe had been okay as far as she remembered. Blood on his face, and some fingers had been bend in a strange angle.  
But Red… Red. It was all she really remembered. All the blood around him and all he had cared for had been her.  
Her eyes flew over the photographs and the report.  
Broken wrist and nose, bruises and scratches all over his body.  
_Damaged vortexes_. […]_No control over lower-body […] limbs. […] paralysed. […] Expected to recover with rehab. […]_  
And she had thought it couldn't be worse but she saw his back and for a long time after that she had fallen into a dark place.  
Cooper had never asked what had her so shocked – he'd only assumed.  
She had been suspended two days later and they officially dismissed her a week after that. She became a confidential informant just like Red had been.  
Because at the end of the day Dembe Zuma told the FBI that he would only talk to Elizabeth Keen.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This story is not influenced by S02xE09/E10. If you haven't watched Season 2 at all you might be warned about spoilers though. Enjoy reading!  
**

* * *

For the duration of 80 days Liz simply did nothing at all. She was so tired. And alone. Aram called from time to time. He told her about what was going on at the post office and how they were back to doing their "usually" counter terrorism work.  
He never mentioned the blacklist or Red or anything that related to both.  
Ressler was less sensitive about the topic. He´d call too. Mainly as a friend it seemed but at some point he would eventually ask if Dembe had called – if she had any name.  
He was as frustrated as Liz thought Cooper was who hadn't called her once. So he send Ress ahead and made him ask all the questions Liz had no interest in answering. Because she didn't have any. And to be all honest she tried to avoid being involved as much as she could for the time being. As long as Dembe didn't call her she wouldn't think about it. Period.  
Aram as well as Ressler had asked her if she wanted to go out for drinks repeatedly until they stopped asking because she would always refuse. In the end Liz thought it was only pity that made them ask. She knew that from Quantico. People she worked with never wanted to go out with her.  
Except for Raymond Reddington.  
He'd probably been the only person to not look at her with suspicion and wariness in his eyes but trust and warmth. The only one she thought of as an ally, maybe even friend, a man who was a wanted criminal and she used to call a monster.  
It was such a mess. Her life.  
Her miserable frame of mind even affected Hudson. They walked only as far as it took them to reach the next light post. He wasn't picky anymore where to do his business.  
Grocery shopping became a pain in the ass. While she tried to ignore all the _happy people _around her, she found some strange satisfaction in those who seemed as lost as she felt.  
But when the sun touched her face on the 90th day Liz woke with such a new strength that she wanted to rip something apart.  
And she did.  
There was no use to wallow in self-pity, to wait for her phone to ring and to sulk over Raymond Reddington.  
He´d messed up her life enough as it is. He´d revealed the truth about her husband, the one man she had so sincerely felt love for and in all her anger Liz thought she´d rather live a lie and die by the outcome than to feel like a betrayed and played whiny woman.  
Raymond Reddington had killed her father. He'd took him from her before she´d the chance to even say goodbye. How much she ached to tell him had how much she loved him and how thankful she was for all the things he had done so naturally for her.  
Raymond Reddington had never told her the whole story. Only pieces of answer to questions she didn't know she needed to ask. He´d made her feel so angry and hateful and sorry.  
All the thoughts running through her head while she ripped off the pictures, articles and notes on the ceiling above her bed.  
Afterwards she´d called it her ten minute Red rage.  
Tears running down her cheeks Liz fell on to the bed and rephrased all the facts in her head.  
She couldn't feel hate for him. There was anger and some silly need to see him and feel him alive. Hear one of his stupid fish stories or just hear him ramble about anything.  
She thought back to Cooper's question of her feelings for Red. And still she knew she didn't exactly loved him. She felt attracted to him in that somehow strange way and maybe she could have fallen for him. But she most likely wouldn't see him again ever so that ship had sailed either way.  
She missed him, simple as it was. But Liz wouldn't let Raymond Reddington take what was left of her life. She didn't owe him that much.  
And that was when her phone rang.  
She jumped from the bed, heard the phone ringing somewhere between the sheets. She rummaged through them hastily and a frustrated cry sounded from her lips. Finally, finally she heard the soft bump of the phone fallen from the sheets to the ground. Desperate to take the call – it stopped ringing.  
And the number had been private so she couldn't call back. Liz sat back down on the crumpled bed sheets. The number was _private_.  
He was calling her? He was calling her!  
But she didn't pick up and -  
Her phone came alive again, a private number and with a shaky breath and hand she picked up. And said nothing.  
"Agent Keen?"  
She wanted to scream at him how dare he waited so long to call. But all that left her mouth was a breath she didn't realize she had been holding.  
"Will you say something?"  
He sounded strange, so far away somehow. Her heart sunk because deep down she´d hoped for _him _to call her.  
"Dembe" she looked around the scattered room. She needed something to grasp on. Or maybe something she could hit herself with just to make sure it was really happening. "I am not an agent anymore." There was a long pause and Liz strained her ears for any sound.  
"I am sorry to hear that" he finally replied and Liz heartbeat increased. He didn't know?  
"I am an informant now, since you told them you would only speak with me" Liz explained and a small smile crept over her face. "You saved me my payment, so to say."  
A small laugh was all she heard before silence once again came over them. She couldn't help but think that her sound echoed somewhat and for a moment she thought that maybe she was on speaker and maybe Red was listening too. She couldn't know.  
"Dembe" she started again, deliberately louder to see if her suspicion was right. "Why are you calling?"  
He coughed slightly and there was rustling noise.  
"I have a name and I'd like to meet with you." He was so formal and so…uptight somehow. "Tomorrow."  
She nodded when she remembered he couldn't see her.  
"Sure, you tell me where and when and I´ll be there" Liz agreed and stood again. He told her the address and time and was about to bid his goodbye when Liz halted him.  
"Dembe -"  
She stopped unsure of what to say. Something inside her was aching to ask for Red. How was he doing? Was he okay and already in rehab? What was happening with him now? But she didn't dare to voice his name.  
"Are we going to be alone?"  
Red's name was thick in the air. She wondered if Red would say anything at all if he was listening too. But her hope died.  
"Yes, it will only be us" he stated dry. "From now on."  
Liz said her goodbye then without further ado and hung up on him. Or them. Or whoever.  
She was back to being angry and hurt and tears.

* * *

It was strange to do _business_ with Dembe. He was edgy and he was very forthright. No stories about past encounters with the blacklister – no chatter. He wasn't cheery and smiley, he was all serious.  
They were sitting in the darkest corner of a small café and it just felt awkward because Dembe definitely didn't fit into the ambience.  
"Raymond said that we could rely on this man." He showed her some pictures. "He can give us some locations."  
It was the first time that Dembe acknowledge Red's involvement at all. And she ignored it.  
"I`ll call Ressler and give him the update, we´ll probably need to check into the post office." Liz explained and pulled out her phone. "If he is still in D.C. we should jump at the chance and not waste any time."  
She was about to pick out Ressler's number when Dembe put his hand on hers, that was holding the phone. He slightly shook his head.  
"He needs you." Dembe looked at her earnestly. His hand was so warm.  
"Did he ask for me?"  
He shook his head no.  
"Then I don't see any reason why he would _need_ me." Liz tried to free her hand but Dembe was stronger and she felt his hand grip hers tighter.  
"He won't survive this and I can't let him choke on this. He won't let me help him."  
"I read his file and he is likely to recover fully" she countered stubborn.  
"A week ago his doctor told me that if he doesn't start his rehabilitation soon he won't be walking anytime soon." Dembe's eyes were redder than before. "He is disgusted by the wheelchair, he won't use it and his body becomes weaker every day. He will die that way sooner or later."  
Liz heart clenched at the reality that he was literally throwing in her face. It hurt her to hear Red being that miserable. She could understand, but she didn't see his point. As if she could change anything about it at all.  
"You do not realize what power you have over him" Dembe went on as if he had read her thoughts. "You have always been the key and you will be. He thinks you don't care and that puts him in a bad place."  
She wanted to argue back how dare he blamed her for Red's misery. But she paused with her open mouth ready to form the words she would most likely regret later. Dembe looked so distressed and in pain.  
"Do you still care about him?"  
It caught her off-guard. The question so taunting and raw, but honest and caring. She admired how much he cared for the other man.  
"I…I do care" she admitted sadly. "I don't think he does after all."  
Dembe averted his eyes.  
"He does. But he is too ashamed to reach out to you."  
It sounded strange to her to hear Red being called _ashamed_. But Dembe knew him better than anyone else in this world. And it meant a lot to her that he would tell her and ask for her help. But he wasn't the one who needed it and as long as Red didn't ask her directly for her _assistance_ or help or whatever word suited him she wouldn't give him just that.  
But then again he´d been there for her, unasked but welcomed, so many times before that she at least owed him the chance to ask her.  
"I will see him tonight" she finally concluded. "But we need to talk to the FBI first and make a plan how to get this blacklister. That is our main priority right now."  
Dembe smiled such a fulsome smile that that alone was worth making the compromise.  
She just hoped she wouldn't regret it.

* * *

She knocked at the door and waited.  
It had taken them some time to come up with a plan but with the help of Dembe, who was a better strategist than talker and the information Red had given them they had a solid way of getting the blacklister. They wanted to catch him this evening, so she agreed on meeting Dembe at the safe house he and Red were currently staying. It was the Hempstead house.  
She knocked again and her palm felt sweaty. Her heart beating at such a fast pace.  
Finally Dembe opened the door. He only nodded and he seemed distressed.  
"Everything alright?"  
He shook his head no but invited her in nevertheless.  
Liz followed him the short distance to the living-room where she had once sat with Red, realizing that he´d been right about her husband, the liar. Double agent. Whatever he had been in the end.  
And there he was.  
He was sitting in a wheelchair behind the couch starring at the fireplace. His hair was longer than she had ever seen it. Not as long as it had been on the pictures she had once seen, but not his usual style. In the dim light she thought she saw a growing beard and what made her gulp was how slumped he sat there. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a white shirt. It looked so unfitting and unusual.  
She moved closer to him while Dembe retreated from them. Red was holding a tumbler of scotch and when she looked around him she saw some bottles of alcohol scattered around the place. There were a cushion and blanket on the couch, where he obviously slept.  
She moved closer. Stood right in front of him and he stunk.  
He looked so miserable.  
It felt like Raymond Reddington indeed had died.  
"Go."  
His voice was raspy by lack of use and when he turned to look at her, really look at her she saw his bloodshot, dark eyes and it hurt her more than anything else.  
"Red-"  
"I don't want you here so please go away."  
She faltered. He didn't even blink and his rejection felt so strong and hateful.  
"It's not always about what we want and not want, Red."  
The nerve under his eye twitched, and again and he visibly clenched his teeth, hard.  
"Go."  
He put his hands on the wheels but he didn't move, instead his eyes stared down on his legs. She remembered Dembe's words. Red had no intention of using the wheelchair. And even if, he looked so thin and weak now he probably couldn't move it anyway.  
She leaned down a little and put her hand on one of his – he pulled his hand away as if he´d been burned.  
She felt burned.  
Liz stepped away and shook her head, forcing the tears away.  
"If you want to die, please, but do not ever blame me, Reddington. I won't blame myself for sure."  
She turned around without waiting for any word from him and went to the door where Dembe was waiting. A tear rolled down her cheek.  
"I am sorry" Dembe offered.  
"You are not to blame, Dembe."  
They left.

* * *

He panicked, he knew all the signs.  
Five hours and Dembe hadn't even called. He always called. Told him when he was back. He was back before Red felt too tired to move at all. Not today.  
He was drowsy from the alcohol and the lack of food. Dembe had been right, he would regret not eating anything.  
And then Liz had been there and it had shaken him so terribly. He'd never wanted her to see him like this.  
Red reached for the phone on the couch. It took all the strength he had left and he was panting when he could finally grab it.  
He needed to call Dembe. His brain was so clouded now and his fingers hardly moved the way he wanted them too.  
He called Dembe twice and then a third time and accidentally a fourth. But no answer and the panic raised. Red wasn't used to be panicked. He didn't know that feeling anymore, but he didn't know himself neither.  
He called Liz then, because he remembered Dembe telling him about their plan to catch the blacklister.  
But she wasn't likely to answer his calls. Not after he´d kicked her out. He called her again and then Dembe and then he throw the phone against the next wall.  
He put his hands around one leg and heaved it down from the footrest of the wheelchair and then the other too.  
They´d told him he could walk. So he would.  
He fell forward, down on his face and probably broke his nose again.  
They'd told him he could walk after month of rehab.  
He needed to hear her again, to see that she was okay. He should have never told her to go away, because he needed her so much.  
His head hurt and his mind was all messed up.  
In the end he would die with Liz in his thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a pungent smell in the air. Smoke and burned flesh. Images from a long time ago appeared in front of his closed lids. A small child's screams, mingled with those of a woman. His body shivered violently.

"Red!"

He knew that voice but his mind was still trapped in another world, a different time.

"Open your eyes, you damn bastard!"

It did the trick apparently. Her voice was so very loud, but it sounded weak all the same. She wasn't yelling he realized, but why was she so loud?

He opened his eyes and a very adult Lizzie hovered over him. One of her hands clutched at his cheek. She looked desperate and scared. But the smell was still there and it was so hard to find the origin of it. It became stronger.

"We need to get out, now!"

She pushed him, weak and with no success. She pulled at him but he wouldn't move. Well, he couldn't it seemed. Oh so slowly did he move his eyes down to his lap.

His hand looked strange, completely wrenched and with that realization came the pain. For a moment he couldn't breathe and his eyes fluttered. He tried to concentrate. Then his eyes fell on his legs. He tried to move them but couldn't, so he concluded that they somehow got stuck under the driver's seat. Even though, it didn't make much sense.

There was so much blood, but he never felt any cruel pain. Not like he did when he´d seen his hand. A ticklish feeling, numbness, but no pain. His head was so dizzy that all he could do was to look back up to Lizzie.

Her hand was still at his sleeve but the last of her strength was gone too. For a moment he feared that she was unconscious but her eyes opened again.

"We need to go, Red."

Her voice got quieter with each word. His eyes moved down the length of her arm and a sickened feeling crawled up his throat.  
He´d found the origin of the smell. But it wasn't him, it was her. Her arm. Burned so badly.  
The door at Lizzie´s side flew open and Dembe appeared. Blood all over his face. The smell was strong now. It seemed that now that he knew where it came from it got worse.

"Take her Dembe. Save her."

His voice sounded strange, as if he was choking.

"No, we need to free you."

She pulled at him again, weakly, so he took hold of her hand with the last strength he could spare. "Go." He knew the strained smile didn't convince her at all. Dembe pulled her out and he could see how her eyes finally closed.

"I will be back," Dembe assured him.

In the distance he heard squealing tires and sirens. He tried to move his legs again, free himself somehow.  
He didn't want to die. To his utter surprise it felt unfair to die now. To leave Lizzie behind like that. There were all those things he wanted her to know, to see… to understand.  
Sam… He had promised him to look after her. Protect her. Love her. And now he was stuck in this ridiculously expensive car. And he couldn't even help her. He couldn't protect her. He was helpless.  
His eyes closed again and the only thing left was that nasty smell.  
When Red opened his eyes again he stared straight into Dembe´s very clean face. The younger man looked concerned and somehow disturbed.  
With an effort Red moved his head and saw a fluffy couch at his side.  
He was at the writer's house. The accident was long ago. He had tried to reach out to Dembe… and Lizzie.  
And of course there she was at the entrance, staring at him with that pitiful look.  
In an instant all those sensations came to him.  
There was something sticky at his lips and his head drummed painfully. And even though he had sobered up some, he still felt dizzy and drunk.  
In a poor attempt to escape the situation, Red tried to get up but he failed miserably. Ah, he forgot, he couldn't move his legs.  
He fell back then and it was only for Dembe´s quick reflexes that his head didn't crash on the floor again.  
"Come on, my friend," Dembe muttered and sat the other man up. Red leaned against the soft couch. When he opened his eyes again they burned from the bright light in the room. Someone had turned the light switch. He could barely see anything.  
There had been a time where he would have found something very smart to say. Back when things had been normal and easier.  
Now, he kept his mouth firmly shut. His head was still somewhere between the accident and his last drink of scotch. His thoughts were a mess. _He was_, really.

"Can you move him?" he heard Lizzie quietly ask. "We need to clean him up."

Suddenly she was right beside Dembe and it pained him when she couldn't even look in his eyes. And seriously why would she even bother?  
He literally drowned in his thoughts, when Dembe pulled and lifted him up, one arm around his shoulders, one under his legs.

_We need to clean him up_

Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean, he couldn't quite get. For the past weeks he hadn't bothered to think about cleaning up. There was no need for it. Now he almost felt ashamed for being in such a filthy shape. Dembe had at some point resigned from trying to wash him. Or touch him at all. Even though Red felt a deep love for the younger man and appreciated everything he had done for him… washing him was in no way something he would let anyone do. Well…

He was jolted from his thoughts when Dembe set him down on the closed toilet lit and he had trouble keeping his balance.

Liz stood at the entrance and when Red thought it couldn't get more awkward he realized that his pants were wet around his groin and he sure had peed himself.

He froze.

* * *

She stared blankly at Dembe, her weapon ready to be fired and ducked behind a couch.

"What do you mean you need to leave?" she panted and anger rose in her.

"If you want our work to go on I need to meet contacts and _clients_"

When another shot rang out Liz shook her head and concentrated back on the task at hand. She had learned several things that night about Dembe: He could indeed be more frustrating than Red, because while the older man liked to irritate the hell out of her with strange stories and metaphors, Dembe had an unbelievable bad timing for talking. And on that note he was awkwardly straight forward.

When Ressler declared their situation to be clean Dembe rose from their cover and as the gentleman he was, helped Liz to get up too. With three large steps Ressler was right in front of her while Dembe moved aside, checking for his phone.

"Next time wait for backup, Liz. We nearly lost you guys" Ressler argued and shook his head.

"Well, next time you better stop asking stupid questions and actually _trust_ me when I tell you to get moving!"

Her partner was about to answer when Dembe pulled at her arm, making her move with him.

"We need to go, now." His tone was cold, emotionless and he scared her. Something was wrong and there was only one possibility that would make Dembe look so pale and…angry?

"You just can't leave! We need to debrief at the post-" She was already out of the building and literally thrown into the car.

"What the hell is going on?" Her voice shook but she couldn't care less. Something was wrong with Red or she would still argue with Ressler.

"Check your phone."

She pulled the device from her jacket and unlocked the screen. There were several missed calls all from one number. _Nick´s Pizza_.

"I don't -"

"He is either in danger or dead. I already informed Mr. Kaplan. But she will need some time to get to the house."

And then he went silent. He mind whirled over possible scenarios. _He could be dead_

Liz stared down on the phone in her hand. In all the time since the accident he had never called her. Not once. She suddenly understood Dembe´s worry. She obviously wasn't the only person Red had refused to call in the past months.

The final long minutes of their drive was a blur. Suddenly the car came to a halt and Dembe literally ran out of the car. She followed but he stopped her at the door.

"You will wait here." She appreciated that he wanted to prevent her from whatever horrible scene might wait for them but followed him nevertheless into the house and the living area.

She stopped dead in her tracks at the entrance.

Dembe ran forward and knelt down, his hand frantically reaching for Red´s throat. He visibly calmed when the tips of his fingers obviously found a beating pulse.

Liz let out a breath she didn't realize she´d been holding. A teary eyes stung.

He looked so pale and thin and just utterly broken.

She saw his head moving, an irritated look on his face. Dembe tried to sit him up but when Red´s eyes found her he numbly fell back.

"Come on, my friend" Dembe whispered and her heart just broke over and over again.

He helped Red to sit against the soft couch and she had trouble to contain her reaction to what she saw.

He had clearly been vomiting, his beard smeared with evidence and when her eyes followed Dembe´s she realized that he had somehow peed himself.

Her mind didn't register when her body moved.

"Can you move him? We need to clean him up." It took all her control to stop her voice from shaking. Red´s silent drooling nearly made it impossible. There was Raymond Reddington, sitting in his own pee, puke all over him, totally zoned out and unable to do anything. In the corner of her eyes she was him look at her, but he seemed so far away.

Dembe nodded and carefully lifted Red into his arms, as if the older man was only a small boy. And he did look like one.

She followed them to the second floor´s bathroom where Dembe sat Red down on the closed toilet.

He tried to keep his balance, when his head drifted a bit forward and his eyes fell on his hips.

She knew it was the moment he had realized in what awful condition he really was.

She had never seen Raymond Reddington blush ashamed. He did then.

"Do you still need my help?" Dembe looked at her for long moments until he shook his head.

"I got this."

When the door closed behind her Liz walked forward and turned again, staring at the door.

She didn't felt pity for him, but compassion for the situation he was in. A man like Red, always so _in control_ suddenly not even able to control his own body.

No, it wasn't pity that made the tears roll down her cheeks. It was something so different that she nearly choke on the realization.

Liz´s flinched when the front door suddenly opened and closed and small and quick steps flew up the stairs. She didn't even considered to draw her gun when Mr. Kaplan was already in front of her watching her intently.

"Oh dear."

* * *

It took them nearly an hour before Mr. Kaplan came out of the bathroom. She didn't looked pleased but she nodded approvingly.

"He is fine, at least there aren't any fractures except for his pride and he will most likely have the hell of a hangover." Liz was at a loss for words, so she only nodded. "He needs sleep to sober up and it wouldn't hurt to check for a concussion." Mr. Kaplan moved to the staircase but stopped again and turned.

"I´ll be back tomorrow and I expect you to be here, sweetie" she explained in a dangerous low voice and walked down the stairs.

"Are you threatening me?" Liz asked irritated and followed her quickly.

"Listen, I do what I have to do and you better do that too."

And then she disappeared into the night, like she always does.

What was it with these people and talking in puzzles?

Liz could hear movement from above her but hesitated to go upstairs again. Would Red want her to leave? Was he relieved that she wasn't around anymore?

But didn't Kaplan just told her to whatever the hell she had to?

So Liz moved upstairs to the only open door and nearly crashed into Dembe.

"He will most likely fall asleep soon" he stated simply without any further explanation. Liz nodded and moved aside so the man could walk out.

Red laid in bed, covers up to his chin and eyes open. There was a soft light at the bed´s side and it allowed her to see his face when she moved closer.

His eyes, when they found her, were red and raw. He looked still pale but clean even though it was still strange that his face wasn't shaved and his hair not trimmed short.

"Go, Lizzie." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"No" Liz stubbornly replied and took a chair from the end of the bed to sit next to his side. "I am done with you pushing me away."

He stared at her and she actually appreciated the fact the he couldn't keep the frown and frustration from his face.

"I don't want you here."  
"You are lying, Red."

He averted his eyes then and she swore that the nerve under his eye was twitching.

Slowly Liz crept forward on her chair and slipped her hand under the covers where she assumed his hand must be.

It wasn't all too surprising when her fingers found his hand in a tight fist. But it did made him flinch.

"I am not going to leave you behind, Red." The tears were coming back when his eyes closed. "_You deserve the best in life._"

His eyes stayed close for the rest of the night and Liz wasn't even sure if he had heard her when his mouth suddenly opened.

"I´m sorry Lizzie" he whispered into the room.

It changed everything.


End file.
