Disclaimer: I wish I owned these characters...but alas, they aren't mine, and I'll try to handle them with care!

Daylight was fading fast, the final fiery streaks of orange light slipping beneath horizon, leaving a subtle aura of pink and purple to frame the gathering clouds. Raymond Reddington reclined leisurely in the passenger seat of his car, the day's newspaper spread out over his lap. Dembe, his bodyguard and most trusted friend, stood just outside the driver's side door, taking what appeared to be a very important phone call.

"Bad news, Raymond," Dembe said as he slipped back into the driver's seat, returning his aging flip phone to his jacket pocket. "They just decrypted a message sent to Mr. Keen. They suspect it is from his handlers." He paused, as if unsure how to continue.

Red was unfazed. "Why would anyone buy such a god-awful boat?" he wondered aloud, pointing to a picture in the ads section of the paper. When he looked up, Dembe wasn't smiling. "Ah, let me guess: they know we're on to him." It was only a matter of time anyway, he thought. "We'll just have to be a little more clever from this point forward," he said, returning his attention to the newspaper.

"Perhaps," Dembe said, his voice deep and resonant. "The message was…" He paused. "Mr. Keen has been ordered to eliminate his target."

Red looked up slowly. "When. When did they send the message, Dembe?"

"Over an hour ago." He shook his head. "I'm so sorry Raymond. I'm afraid we are too late."

"We're not too late. GO." Of course, what he really meant was "we can't be too late." Because if Elizabeth Keen was dead, then so was he...or he might as well be. There was really no point in going on without her.

As Dembe weaved deftly in and out of traffic, Red dialed Lizzie's number. There was no answer.

Moments earlier, he and Dembe had combed through Tom Keen's base of operations: an abandoned warehouse not too terribly far from where he and Liz lived. The stale white walls were plastered with rows upon rows of surveillance photos and newspaper articles, forming a meandering but undeniable link between the life of Elizabeth Keen and that of the notorious Raymond Reddington. It was clear that there had been some kind of altercation in the room, which for Red was simply a confirmation of what he already knew to be true: that Tom Keen was a very, very dangerous man. He had killed both the Cowboy and the girl. And now he was going to kill Liz.

Dembe shut off the headlights as they pulled in front of the Keen's handsome brownstone. There were lights on at the back of the house, and the door had been left ajar. Dembe moved to check the nearby alleyway as Red slipped inside, steeling himself for the sight of blood, or worse—a body. Instead, he found the living room as tidy as ever, with not so much as a pillow out of place. Suddenly he heard a shout from the direction of the kitchen.

"Who do you work for?!" A wave of relief washed over him at the sound of Liz's voice. He hurried toward her, imagining that she was probably tied to a chair, attempting to make conversation in a last-ditch attempt to prolong her life. How long had her so-called 'husband' been torturing her? The thought of it made his stomach churn.

Instead, he came upon a very different scene. Liz stood at one end of the dining room table, her gun trained at the far wall where Tom Keen was slumped in a pool of blood, presumably his own. He was unarmed, with both hands pressed firmly against his left thigh in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Liz's hands were shaking, her face streaked with tears.

"ANSWER ME!" She half-yelled half-sobbed, cocking the gun.

Tom rolled his head to the side, catching sight of Red in the shadows of the hallway.

"Well now. Look who's decided to join us," he sneered. "Welcome to the party Mr. Reddington."

Liz spun to her left as Red stepped into the light. "Red? What are you doing here?"

"Saving your life...though it looks like you already have that under control." He smiled and shook his head. "Well done, Lizzie."

Tom laughed darkly, coughing up blood in the process. "The dear wife and I were just discussing new curtains for this room. I thought maybe blue would look nice but she clearly disagrees. What do you think?" He laughed at his own joke, sending another stream of blood trickling down his neck.

"I think your time is about done," Red replied coolly.

"C'mon Liz...you really trust this maniac? Hey. I have an idea. Why don't you ask him how your father died? Huh? Go ahead. Ask him."

Liz glanced sideways at Red, and back at Tom. "What are you talking about?" Her voice was strained. "What is he talking about?" She reinforced her grip on the gun, which looked like it might just shake right out of her hand.

"Nothing. He's just trying to distract you. Shoot him, Lizzie."

"Wait, you mean you two never discussed it during...pillow talk?" Tom's eyes were cold, calculating, his voice loaded with malice.

Red clenched his jaw as he slowly drew his gun.

"What's the matter," Tom taunted, "cat got your t—" BAMBAMBAM. Three deafening shots and Tom Keen—or whoever he really was—was no more. Red exhaled slowly as he lowered his gun.

"NO!" Liz screamed, dropping her weapon as she stumbled forward. Red caught her as they both dropped to their knees, wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed into his shirt. Her entire body was trembling now, her skin sticky with sweat.

"Call Mr. Kaplan," Red instructed Dembe when he appeared in the hallway. Dembe nodded and moved back toward the entryway to make the call.

"Shhhhh, it's over Lizzie," Red whispered, running his fingers gently through her hair.

"You didn't have to kill him," she whimpered into his chest, though deep down she knew that wasn't true at all. In fact, if there was anything she knew for certain, it was that Tom Keen had to die.

"I underestimated how dangerous he was."

Liz sat back, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand. "You warned me. I didn't want to believe you. Why couldn't I see it?"

"The people we love most are in the best position to deceive us. You couldn't have seen it even if you tried." He paused to tilt her head to the side, examining a shallow cut beneath her ear. "Are you hurt?"

She didn't respond. Something about the word "deceive" had triggered a thought in her brain. "He said to ask you about my father, but that doesn't make sense." She paused, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "My father died from cancer. Why would you—" she stopped, the implication of what she was about to say hitting her like a ton of bricks. "You...you killed him, didn't you?" She snatched her gun from the floor, pressing the barrel hard into his chest. Red said nothing, his expression pained.

"Tell me why I shouldn't." Her voice was low and would have been menacing had she not looked so patently pathetic.

Red opened his mouth and closed it again. Nothing he could say could ever take away the pain she was feeling. But maybe...maybe if he was honest with her, she could forgive him. Not now, but someday. "I'd known Sam for a long time," he began. "Over the years he and I grew very...close. The doctors gave him six weeks, give or take… six weeks of grueling rounds of drugs and seemingly endless misery. He didn't want to go through that, Lizzie. I promised him..." he swallowed hard, his throat tightening. "I promised him that I would look after you." A sad smile crept across his face.

"No," Liz croaked through gritted teeth, blinking away the tears. "You're lying!" She jabbed the gun harder into his ribcage.

"I'm only sorry that you didn't get the chance to say goodbye," he said softly. A single tear escaped the corner of his eye, causing him to avert his gaze over Liz's head; down the hallway, Dembe gave him a nod.

Liz felt like throwing up. "Get out," she hissed between her teeth, lowering her gun. Red didn't move. Even in her agony she was beautiful, and he knew he only had moments to drink in her eyes, the soft curves of her face, before he had to leave her again. Perhaps their relationship was fated to be this way, her serving as only a brief flicker of light in the endless sea of darkness that had consumed his life. Or maybe...maybe there was hope for the both of them.

"I said GET OUT!" she shouted. He stood up obediently, taking a few steps back to give her some space. When he spoke again, his voice was gruff, commanding.

"Listen to me, Lizzie. Mr. Kaplan will be here soon. In five hours, you're going to call and report your husband as missing. Tomorrow morning, FBI investigators will swarm your house where they will find this slip of paper in Tom's school bag." Red slipped his hand into a black glove before removing a small piece of paper from his pocket and setting it carefully on the counter. "On it they'll find an address that you don't recognize, and at that address they will find enough to incriminate Tom. What they won't find, unfortunately, is enough to rule you out as a suspect."

"How long have you known about this?" Liz snapped.

Red smiled weakly. "Take care of yourself, Lizzie. I don't know when I'll see you again." He paused. "I am truly, truly sorry." And with that, he was gone.

Liz lowered herself slowly to the floor, drawing her knees up to her chest. Part of her wanted to take one last look at the man who was supposed to be her soul mate—the man that, just a few short months ago, she was going to start a family with. However, she couldn't bring herself to do it, opting instead to kick off her shoes and stare idly at her toes. She had a million decisions to make now, and none of them were easy. What would she do with the house? Would she keep her last name? She would have to...Tom was supposedly missing, not dead. How would she convince Cooper and Ressler that she had nothing to do with his disappearance? How would she convince them that Reddington had nothing to do with his disappearance?

And Reddington...he could go to hell for all she was concerned. How was it that everything seemed to be his fault but nothing actually was? She thought about what he had said about Sam and it made her blood boil. He killed the one person she had left in this world and then used his death to get her to open up to him. Another wave of nausea washed over her and this time she couldn't fight it, throwing up on the kitchen floor beside her. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she lay down and stared at the ceiling. Her brain was a swirling mess of thoughts, none of which made any sense, and before she knew it blackness was creeping in at the edges of her vision. Exhausted, she closed her eyes and promptly passed out.

Meanwhile, miles away in a non-descript black luxury sedan, the Concierge of Crime fought back tears. He and Dembe drove silently through the backstreets, onto the next safe house, onto the next plane, onto the next deal. Such was his life, and the only person he could blame for it was himself. He chose to pursue this path of vengeance. He could have just walked away.

A full twenty minutes passed before one of them spoke.

"Can I ask you something Raymond?"

"Yes."

"Miss Elizabeth... You love her." It wasn't really a question, but it got Red's attention.

It was a long time before he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yes."

"That changes things, does it not?"

Another long pause. "Yes my friend. I suppose it does." Protecting Liz was no longer solely about serving his own interests, or fulfilling a promise to an old friend. He loved her, and that complicated everything that he had planned for her. But maybe, just maybe, there was another way. He checked his watch. Mr. Kaplan would be there now, cleaning up the mess they had made. It would take a long time for Liz to recover from this, but he was confident she'd be all right. And if there was anything he knew about Elizabeth Keen (and truthfully, he knew much more than she did), it was that going through something like this wouldn't break her. It would only make her stronger.

To be continued.

Author's Note: I know that this doesn't exactly end on a cliffhanger, but there's a bit more to this story floating around in my head. Things to look forward to if I actually have the motivation to finish this: a blacklister, an undercover op, a rescue, and some full-on Lizzington. :-)