Her words evaporate into the cold air and are replaced with the foreign noises of the building. The temperature seems to drop even further and she forces her hands into the decorative pockets of her coat.

Worry infiltrates her thoughts and she stares at Red propped against the wall. His chest rises and falls evenly, and with the exception of the dirt and blood marring his features he looks almost peaceful. She knows how futile Red's usual efforts at sleeping are – they've discussed it, compared their similar plight, and she knows he struggles to let go. His injuries are certainly more than he is expressing for relief to come so easily.

Her gaze travels down his arms and over the streaked cotton undershirt that covers his torso. The garment has come mostly undone from his dark pants, which, though still intact, are wrinkled and torn. His shoes though, his shoes are still pristine.

That small piece of normalcy, the perfect shoes, brings a momentary respite to her scattered thoughts and she lets her eyes wander up to his face again. His expression, still peaceful, appears both so familiar and so unknown to her. She can't put her finger on what it is, what characteristic has changed, but he looks…bare. His features are devoid of the confident mask that he usually wears and he looks – he looks younger.

She's seen this face before, at the fateful meeting at the park when he pulled her to him with the tale of the sea gypsy and evaded death. She was surprised at how young he looked in that moment, the sun shining down on his face, and lighter somehow – as if the rest of the world had fallen away and the two of them, his words, her words, were all that mattered in the universe.

Xxx

Her thoughts travel back and she sees Red lying on the ground, his arms restrained behind his back and his beloved fedora fallen unceremoniously to the dusty ground beside him. The agents were rough with him, rougher than she had seen them with anyone before, and the skin around his cuffed hands was already pink and raw.

Still, despite the dire circumstance, he kept his eyes trained on hers and the look he gave her…she'll carry that look with her for the remainder of her days…that look was pure love.

It had all changed then for her. In that moment with him on the ground. The new reality of the future, the current predicament, her life falling down on her and making it hard to breathe.

Red, she had called out his name, reaching for him despite the situation. Despite the watching eyes of the armed agents surrounding them, despite everything.

He had stopped looking at her then. Pointedly ignored her actually. As if he was trying to force himself away from her using the only part of his body he still had control over.

She thinks she remembers calling out for him again, and then Ressler's arms were around her pulling her back. Back, back, back, away from Red and into a waiting Suburban.

She remembers pulling the seatbelt across her chest and checking and rechecking the safety on her gun. She remembers pulling her gloves off and stuffing them into the space between the leather seat and the door. She remembers the curious glances thrown her way by the other occupants of the car and then she remembers not caring.

It's funny how everything becomes clear when it's gone.

She remembers Cooper approaching the vehicle. Opening her door. Telling someone in the front seat that he needed Agent Keen. Needed her to ride in a different vehicle, and she found herself walking across the pavement to the sedan where Red was caged.

She remembers feeling overwhelming relief at seeing him again followed by paralyzing panic that this was her fault in the first place. All of this playing out within the space of a second.

She remembers thinking that it was odd that Cooper didn't detect her emotions. Couldn't read the thoughts that were speeding through her head, but he seemed calm. So did Red. So did everyone in the car.

And she remembers realizing that Cooper needed her to talk to Red. Pull out any intel he might have on Berlin. On what was coming.

But before that could happen the sedan pulled to a stop at a red light and out of nowhere four masked men surrounded the vehicle and began firing.

She remembers the blood, and the sound of breaking glass, and the cold sting of the concrete as she felt herself being dragged along the sidewalk.

She remembers being forced into another vehicle and seeing him…seeing Red…the ugly burgundy stain already spreading across his shirtsleeve as the masked man beside him went to work applying a tourniquet and bandaging the wound.

She remembers the bile rising up in her throat.

And then she remembers his hand. Finding hers in the darkness of the car as they sped off into God knows where with four men heavily armed and intent on doing God knows what to them.

His hand, holding onto hers. Steady and sure, soft and gentle. Holding onto her own.

And there they were.

Xxx

A muffled thud from somewhere above them startles her and she instinctively jumps to her feet before sliding back down the wall. She strains to hear what is happening but only the maddening sound of water dripping in staccato bursts meets her ears. She has never, in all of her time with the Bureau, been contained in an environment quite like this before, and the lack of contact with anyone, friend or foe, has her nerves on edge.

She crawls across the rough floor to Red's side of the enclosure and speaks his name softly, "Red –"

He doesn't respond and she tries to temper the panic that threatens to overtake her by watching his chest expand and retract with each breath. He's still here. Just sleeping.

She moves closer and runs her hand along his face, marveling at the texture of his hair, his skin. She's never had reason to touch him like this before. She moves her other hand to the far side of his face and gently brushes bits of debris from the space between his cheekbone and ear. The small pieces of dirt and caked blood fall to the floor soundlessly, and she can see the remains of a close morning shave where they rested. Without thinking she presses her lips to the soft spot of clean skin and keeps them there.

"I'm sorry Red. I'm so, so, sorry…"

The hand resting on his chest registers an increase in his heartbeat and, before she can move away, his eyes flutter open – clear and focused despite the circumstances. She wonders if he was really ever sleeping or just letting her be alone with her thoughts – giving her some space to work things out in her head.

"Lizzie…" the raspy notes of his voice bring unexpected tears to her eyes and she sits completely still, one hand on his chest and one on his face, and waits.

"Lizzie…" he's not making any effort to hide the tenderness in his eyes and she inches a tiny bit closer and –

Screech.

The door to the room flies open with a metallic scream and three men crowd into the small space, one unarmed and familiar, the other two dressed in urban combat gear, their guns trained on the two individuals on the floor.

"Well, well, well…" the unarmed man's gaze works its way over Liz and Red and the closeness of their bodies. "This was unexpected." His mouth moves up in a sardonic grin and he takes another step forward.

"And all this time I thought it was just you they were after." His words are directed at Reddington but his eyes are still fully trained on Liz.

"But maybe I was wrong…." he leaves the sentence unfinished and closes the distance to where they sit on the floor. Reaching down he pulls Red up by his injured arm until Red reaches a standing position.

She can see the resignation on Red's face; mixed with equal parts pain and something undeterminable. Red's eyes find hers in the dark and she tries to detect what he is working to tell her, but she can't.

"You," the lead captor intones forcefully, indicating Red, "with me."

"You," he nods at Liz, his face contorted into a leer, "well, we'll have to see what they want to do with you. For now you wait."

He starts to lead Red to the open door. The armed masked men preceding him out of the open space and into the dark passageway.

"Nooo," the scream comes out of someplace deep in her chest, some place primal and only concerned with the most basic tenants of survival, and life, and…

"Nooo." She throws herself at the door as the metal travels across the rusty track back into place.

"Nooo." Her futile screams dissolve into sobs as the captors lead Red out of sight and she falls down the wall to the floor.

"No." The words quieter now, containing more sadness now and less rage. "No." The words dissolving into tears as she hugs her knees into her chest and waits.

Xxx

"Raymond," the captor's voice raspy and thin in the space of the hallway. "Raymond, she's a surprise isn't she?"

Red's thoughts flash back to that awful day in the Post Office and he sees Anslo's face in front of his own and feels fear – deep, abiding terror growing in the pit of his belly. He had thought he had lost her that day. One of the darkest days before this morning's dawn.

"If I had had even an inkling that her protectiveness of you was borne out of more than overeager obligation" – the man's voice holds notes of surprise and along with a subtle hint of malice. Red's heartbeat quickens, and he breathes deeply to bring his outward emotions back under control.

"But that's not it, is it Raymond?" The larger man continues as if Red is going to answer him – confirm his assertions. "Oh no, there is more too this here, isn't it? And I'm guessing it's not money, or personal revenge, or ill timed second thoughts on sending a man to a certain fate. No I'm guessing it's much more personal than that…but what Raymond?"

Raymond walks silently ahead, not acknowledging the words coming from the man beside him.

"What have you made her do?" The twisted implication of the question evident in the delivery. "What have done to her Raymond?"

He repeats the question again and again but Red tunes him out. His thoughts back on Lizzie. The way she looked at him in the park. The anguish in her eyes. The unhidden fear over what was about to happen. The sudden spark of something new, some silent emotion he had not seen in her eyes before and hadn't seen directed towards him in a long, long time.

The hallway comes to an end and he hears voices coming from behind the large door.

What has she done to me? He asks the question to himself. What has she done to me?