"In love, there are two evils: war and peace." (Horace)

CHAPTER ONE

Tell me what happened. Please.

He would never lie to Lizzie; that was Raymond Reddington's golden rule, and he was nothing if not a man of his word. In turn, one would surmise that would also entail never denying her anything she were to ask of him, but events from 26 years ago and their ramifications were topics he knew she wasn't equipped to deal with.

Not yet.

And there were more dangerous developments to worry about. The bullet extracted from his chest five days ago was a physical reminder of how delicately - how cautiously - he would have to travel for the weeks to follow.

Red was a smart man.

It was a stroke of fortune to have survived as long as he had - not that he was old. He wasn't as young as he was when this part of his life commenced.

Recovery was a process that required a combination of patience and time, neither of which he enjoyed. Did he want to get back to his normal routine? Absolutely yes, but the requisite physical therapy - walking and strengthening exercises for his shoulder - took a toll. He couldn't remember ever feeling as exhausted which was ironic since he slept more in recent days than he had in years. Despite being in near-constant pain, he refused to take the medication.

He at least wanted to be able to think clearly.

In another few days, the stitches could be removed, given that the wound continued to heal properly. Soon after, he hoped to be cleared for travel by air.

That was phase one of his plan.

This particular set of circumstances was more likely to pan out for years which was a contingency of many he long prepared for. A quick resolution would be a disservice after spending a significant portion of his life trying to locate, salvage, and rebuild what had been torn from his grasp.

Then, there was Elizabeth Keen.

His Lizzie.

Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he dialed her number and pressed the device to his ear, anxious not so much about the conversation itself but more so how she would respond to what he had to disclose to her. After four rings, her voice mail greeted him, and while the sound of her voice usually brought about a sense of calm now it inspired a hollow, sick feeling.

Had he pushed her too far?

Was it presumptuous on his part to believe that she would afford him an opportunity to explain himself, for lack of a better description, because he requested that of her?

Sighing, he closed his phone and planted it on the table next to him. He blinked a few times to stem both the tears that threatened to spill and the gnawing disappointment as his gaze moved to the very photograph that created yet another rift between them.

You tell her the truth by telling her everything.

Simple advice.

Following through on that, however, was hard.

Diverting attention to his left, he studied Dembe who was thoroughly engrossed with assembling the puzzle - together, the pieces resembled the cabin they rarely visited but regarded as their home - and found a reason to smile.

There's at least one thing I've done right.

Memories of Dembe as a young boy flashed in his mind's eye.

In the immediate months that followed his rescue, Dembe rarely left his side. At the time, Red couldn't imagine opening his heart again as the pain of losing his own wife and daughter was still fresh and raw, but there was a spirit in the boy's eyes that he could not ignore.

Treating his physical injuries took time, and there were some residual anger issues to deal with as well - and understandably so. Beneath the surface, however, was a well-mannered, gentle, soft-spoken child who demanded nothing except his company, and Red was happy to oblige. True, it complicated business affairs, but Dembe's presence reminded him that other things were more important.

So he delegated tasks, attending transactions only when his presence was warranted, and spent every second of every day with him.

Dembe was gifted, intelligent, equally driven to learn and explore as well as adapt to Red's lifestyle. The latter point wasn't met with much approval as Red aspired for him to experience stability and craft a life of his own - one that didn't involve moving from one location to another every couple of days, living out of suitcases, maintaining a separate "go-bag", and checking over your shoulder.

It was a lonely existence, a necessity for him.

Dembe deserved much better having spent so many years in captivity already.

However, in addition to a love of reading, linguistics, and culinary talents, they shared a stubborn streak. It was hard to dissuade either of them once a decision had been reached. Red continued to hope that years of studying at university would change his mind, but it didn't; in fact, the distance only strengthened his resolve.

He had never been prouder than the day he watched Dembe receive his English Literature degree - his attending the ceremony itself was a surprise - and they'd been inseparable since then.

I'm not going to tell you what happened, Lizzie.

Then I'll find out for myself.

With that, his thoughts quickly returned to brunette. He sank further into the soft leather, wincing as he inhaled deeply. She continued to perceive him as the villain, misconstrue his motivations, and a part of him could rationalize why. Intensifying his discomfort was the idea that if she wasn't turning to him there was only one possible recourse.

She wasn't likely to divulge what was transpiring between them with any member of the task force as questions and scrutiny were elements she preferred to avoid.

Dembe and Kate were the only people in his sphere that he loved, and they knew him. He respected them enough to never mince words or veil anything; they would know immediately and acknowledge it in their own fashion. He envisioned Lizzie seeing him in that light as he already held her close to his heart.

She wanted to know him and vice-versa, begging the question: Would she allow that to happen?

Uncertainty.

That was the crux of their cycle of conflict.

How could he tell her that the monster she constructed in her mind and existed in an official dossier was a fabrication? How could he begin to explain that it was a morally and ethically right decision that cost him everything, transforming him into the person he was now?

Would she draw a line that a breath couldn't erase?

Would she hold herself responsible?

The desperation in her bright blue eyes haunted him as his grew increasingly heavy and after a time slipped closed. The next sensation to register was someone shaking his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he focused on Dembe, his senses gradually attuning.

It was now mid-evening, and a pair of blankets had been draped over him as well. The cat was perched on the floor by his feet, looking up at him. Even with the nap, he felt more tired than he was earlier in the day. On top of that, he was sore and pulled the soft material tighter around him. The gears in his mind began to turn.

Dembe kneeled and rested a hand on his forehead.

"We should check the incision. Clean with peroxide and apply a new bandage. The antibiotics Kate left for us should take care of the infection, assuming we've caught it early. We'll have a light supper afterward if you're up to it."

He smiled at his friend's generosity.

Dinner sounded appealing, but in truth he just wanted to sleep, preferably in his chair.

And try to forget this day.

Keeping the blankets around him, Red stood, feeling a twinge in his lower back as he did so, and immediately swayed. Dembe anticipated and moved to his side, wrapping an arm around his waist. The distance from the living room to his bedroom wasn't a great one, but Dembe supported a majority of his weight as they walked.

He hated not being in control and having to be so dependent. The first couple of nights, Dembe had to physically help him dress because the pain was excruciating. This morning was the first he managed to dress completely on his own, and by the end he was on the verge of collapsing.

A fresh undershirt and lounge pants were already laid out for him.

Passing the blankets to his friend, albeit reluctantly, he took the garments and went into the bathroom to shower and change. He was mindful of two points; first of which was keeping his incision dry and second was to be careful when moving his right side.

Standing only in his lounge pants, Red planted his hands on either side of the sink and leaned forward, breathing heavily, studying his reflection in the mirror.

He looked exactly as he felt.

Exiting the bathroom, Dembe rose from the corner chair and quickly approached, taking the items except for the crisp white t-shirt from his arms and placing them on the closet's top shelf. He was directed to sit on the edge of the bed for the examination, his friend taking a seat on the ottoman directly across from him.

Dembe cringed, hoping to mask his worry.

Their disagreement - if you could call it that - earlier in the day about his therapy was long forgotten. In fact, he was quite pleased with Raymond's progress. If anything, he was prone to pushing himself too hard too soon, and Dembe hoped this wasn't another of those occasions.

The wound was a rather angry shade of red, the surrounding tissue was swollen, and spots of blood were visible.

"Fortunately, the stitches are in place."

Red chuckled at the younger man's sigh of relief. Kate could be difficult to deal with, especially when it came to their wellbeing, but only because she cared so much. That she instructed Dembe to call her nightly with a full report didn't come as a surprise.

"Would you prefer a relaxant capsule before I begin?"

"No, go ahead."

Probably not the wisest decision.

The process wasn't without discomfort, but it passed quickly. After repeat experiences through the years, both were adept and proficient at tending to their own wounds. Discarding the cu-tip and cloth, Dembe applied a second coat of healing ointment and then carefully the gauze.

Having completed that task, he gestured to the undershirt.

Once Red slid his left arm through, Dembe eased his right side in before pulling the garment over his head. Patting his friend's arm in gratitude, he reached for the vial of medication, shook out a couple tablets in his hand, and washed them down with water. Depositing the glass on the nightstand, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched out across the mattress, drained, closing his eyes again.

He opened them when he felt blankets being pulled over him. Coinciding with the mattress dipping to his left, a soft meow emanated.

Red stroked the feline's fur. He always regarded himself as more of a dog person, preferring Shepherds or Retrievers, but given his lifestyle managing a cat was easier. When she settled comfortably against his side, he diverted his attention to Dembe who instead of retiring to the adjacent bedroom settled in a chair to the immediate right of his bed.

Dembe dipped a fresh cloth into the refilled basin and applied it to both his forehead and neck. The cool felt nice.

What he did to deserve such devotion and commitment, Red would never know.

"You should get some proper rest, Dembe. I'll be fine."

No reply, except for a glare.

Again, not surprising.

Dembe wrung out the cloth and folded it neatly, positioning it along the rim.

"Sleep, Raymond."

On any other occasion, he would have attempted to extend the argument, but he didn't have the energy for that. The medication combined with the day's events made it increasingly difficult for him to do anything but comply.

Almost immediately, Red's breathing evened out.

Dembe watched him for a few minutes before retrieving his cell phone and typing a message to Kate apprising her of Raymond's condition and furthermore assuring her that they would be alright for the night. Within seconds of hitting 'send', she replied, insisting that she be contacted upon any change.

Exchanging an additional text, he closed his phone and focused on Red, his gaze alternating from his chest as it rose and fell to his face. Extending his arm, Dembe rested his hand atop one of Red's and grasped it lightly, praying for a safe continuation of his recovery and a chance to correct his mistakes.

"I won't let you down again. I promise."