"I won't leave you, Raymond. I'll do anything to keep you alive…"
He'd shot her, but his killshot had failed.
She still lived. How was that possible?
…
Her eyes fluttered open; unshed tears leaked from them. As if falling to earth, the small-boned woman in her seventies, a weapons expert, was coming to in a picturesque patch of countryside where birds chirped, bees buzzed, and chipmunks darted to and fro. The air was rife with irony. She, brimming with expertise of weaponry, and here she was. A victim of weaponry, shot at pointblank range. Her shooter, a man she thought she knew. A man she had stood by, had protected so many times from all manner of mayhem and discovery. An arcane man, whom she'd developed a fondness for. She had never known what exactly his feeling for her were. Not before this atrocity visited on her person. He had wanted to do her in, and he thought he had...
The Concierge of Crime was a man obsessed. His obsession was slavish devotion that transcended all rhyme and reason for a woman, a beautiful, young, unobtainable woman.
A married, young mother, who was still depending on Raymond to bring her baby girl back to her, safe, sound, whole.
What caused this iron-fisted obsession that fettered him? She cringed, remembering his wrath, his vacant eyes and hollow stare when he'd turned on her, shooting her down.
Raymond Reddington. His name pulsed like a faint heartbeat in Kate's brain.
It was sunny in this pleasant meadow, the breeze balmy. Kate was wrecked. Her body felt alien to her, as though it wasn't hers, and yet, this wasn't, by far, the worst pain she had ever experienced. It was pretty close, though. Face down, she grimaced. Disoriented, dazed, drained, severely damaged, but not dead, Mr. Kaplan managed to drag herself over to what appeared to be water. It was water, a lay of it, smaller than a pond. It was very cold to the touch, bracing. She burned with thirst as she tried getting some water to her mouth. She couldn't let herself fade into some dark corner of her mind, or permit the tiny flicker of light in her eyes to go dim.
How was it she wasn't dead? When she glimpsed her gruesome reflection staring back at her, she gasped. Like a wounded animal, which was how he'd left her, she moaned and cried out in unbelievable horror. Her injuries were ghastly; more than half of what she could discern was her face was covered in blood. She couldn't control her hand's jittery movement when she reached out to touch the creature in the water. She was that creature, and she sobbed louder, shattering the silence of the tranquil tract of green earth.
How long had it been since he'd done this to her? Several hours? A day? Days? She was weak and so cold, but warned herself she mustn't pass out. Not again.
Through chattering teeth, she breathed, "Help...help me...please help me." Instinctively, she knew she'd lost too much blood. The water was now dull scarlet. Her precious blood, how to staunch it? Was his bullet still in her? Had it merely grazed her flesh? Even if the projectile had done that, there was much damage. She was covered in blood; her heart still beat, pumping it out of her.
Renewing her effort to focus, Kate resolved that the only way she could do that was to concentrate on Raymond Reddington. Her one-time associate. He had severed that relationship with a pull of a trigger. He was her attempted murderer now.
"Help—help—help…" she wheezed, her voice soft. She could hardly breathe.
He could not forgive her for what she'd done to him. If she survived, would he try killing her again?
If I survive…
Kate erased the 'if' from her mind.
I will survive!...
"You did this to me, Raymond. Never, never again." Kate tried raising her voice. "Help…help…help me." She'd die another day; not today. According to him, she richly deserved this payback. There'd been no changing his mind. He'd pulled that trigger, wanting her dead, making his wish a reality.
But, he'd failed. By some inscrutable miracle, she was still here, breathing what she could of this rarified air. Her battle to breathe intensified. Determined she was to win the battle. Her will to survive, insurmountable.
"I suppose you consider my membership in your syndicate terminated, Dearie," Kate squeezed through clenched teeth. She attempted to shift herself on her side, but the ruthless pain was far too great. Was her bleeding out slowing down? Her smirk wry, she muttered, "So, you'll leave me to dispose of my own body this time. Is that what you think? Clean up after you, as always, the mess that is me, eh? Well, so sorry to disappoint." She grimaced more acutely as fresh misery racked her. She half-whimpered, half-spat, "We've known each other—"
Her choking cough silenced her. Her head dropped. She sagged, her countenance inches from the stained pool. Careful not to overexert herself, she regrouped her thoughts, intent on keeping still. Having calmed herself, Kate rallied.
"Raymond, Raymond... Ah, there you are. I can see you as clearly as I see glint rippling on the water. Y-yes…yes…there you are."
He wasn't smiling, he wasn't laughing. He stood, towering over her, just staring at her in her mind's eye. Was he gracing her with his hypnotic presence? A faint, weak smile materialized on her lips.
"Raymond, you could have changed your mind. I only tried to save her from you. You've gone mad, quite mad, you know...," Kate murmured, closing her eyes. "It's so peaceful here." A peacefulness that gripped her in its overpowering embrace. Was she going to die?
She pushed the air out of her lungs and sighed, "Dearie…you didn't have to do this," and for a spell, fighting again to breathe as normally as she could under this dire circumstance.
Her thought patterns flowed and ebbed. She wrestled with herself as she teetered betwixt life and death.
Keep breathing, keep living...keep breathing, keep living.
The mantra went on and on, keeping her from slipping into that greedy abyss where life did not exist.
But, she had miles to go before she slept. No one was putting her in a grave just yet.
"Robert Frost," slid past her lips. Kate slurred the poet's name again, as Reddington's name whirled around in mind. Old memories haunted her. "Raymond, Dearie, a-are y-you h-here?"
No, she wasn't dreaming. She thought she was, but she wasn't. She heard the dog. Some dog, with a powerful bark, was yammering in the distance. A strong, immediate chill coursed down her spine, and she praised goodness that she wasn't paralyzed. Again, the dog barked, nearer this time. She listened with all of her might for the footfalls of the dog's owner. If the dog was out alone, scenting blood, would it attack her? Then, before she could twitch, the animal she glimpsed was a Rottweiler. The powerful dog was yipping, snuffling and snapping over her half-dead body. Mercifully, it didn't sink its teeth into her.
The next time Kate came to, she was aware that her body was strapped to some makeshift stretcher. Bound fast, she was being dragged along through the woods by someone. The woods seemed to press in around her from all sides. She heard the woofing Rottweiler keeping pace with its master.
Who might that be?