Donald Ressler considered himself a relatively sensible human being. He lived by the book, and concentrated on the facts at hand. Well, most of the time. It wasn't that he no longer stuck to his moral guns. Just that things had a way of becoming grey, instead of black and white. And they'd been getting greyer with each passing year. Then there were those moments where everything seemed to be one thing and then turned out to be something entirely different. Like going to a crime scene with his partner, distraught at the thought of her husband missing, only to lose sight of her mere minutes later.

And now he stood among the carnage of blood, bodies, and a wood chipper that had been used in a horrific manner as techs processed the scene. Yet all he could focus on was Liz. Not minutes after she'd broken down in his arms and sobbed against him, she had disappeared. Vanished after receiving a phone call. Calling her number again, he listened as it rang and rang. He was worried about her. More than worried, he was afraid for her safety. Who knew what the hell Tom had got himself involved in that had caused his disappearance and the resulting bloodbath he now stood in. No answer again on her phone. He hung up and began a systematic search of the scene. But she wasn't there. He already knew that. She'd left of her own accord, it would appear, and hadn't told him. And that hurt, as much as he tried to squash it.

After another ten minutes, with a final look around he climbed into the vehicle, still dialing her number. And still all he heard was the incessant ringing before it cut to her voice recording. He'd left two messages. There was no point leaving more. Either she was okay or she wasn't. Either she'd call back or she wouldn't.

"Liz, what are you doing? Where are you?" he whispered, darting through the traffic on the way back to the Post Office. But one thought was paramount. He might not know where she'd gone and what she was doing, but he was damn sure Tom Keen was behind it. He shook his head, let loose a string of expletives aimed at the man and kept on driving. The man was forever going to be the bane of his existence. But worse than that, was how much the man's irresponsible actions continually affected Liz.

Ressler called Aram to have him put a more thorough trace on her phone, explaining briefly that Liz had left the crime scene, while ignoring Aram's questions. "Just start tracing her phone, Aram," he told him, then hung up, eyes on the road in front of him. As he drove he could picture her. She'd been frantic and afraid all day. Hell, she shouldn't have even been at that horrific massacre he'd just left. It had been too much for her. If he inhaled deeply enough, he could still smell her perfume lingering on his shirt and jacket. He could almost feel her fingers gripping his lapel, leaving a slight crease visible even now, and still remember the weight of her head pressed into his left shoulder as his arms wrapped around her shaking form. And that wasn't something he wanted to forget too quickly. "Liz…"

Finally arriving back at the post office, he paced as the elevator dropped the three floors to the war room. At the sound of the elevator doors opening, Aram and Samar lifted their heads simultaneously in his direction as he stepped out of the yellow box. Walking briskly toward them, he was speaking before he reached them.

"Aram, anything yet?"

"No. Nothing. Everything is going straight to voicemail. I left a message, but-"

"Ping her cell phone again. Track her GPS. Keep trying." His own phone hung uselessly in his hand, her number on speed dial still visible from his multiple attempts to reach her.

"I'm on it," Aram replied, busying himself at his computer.

"What happened?" Samar asked as Ressler reached them.

He exhaled heavily. "I don't know." He shook his head, not telling her that he was pretty damn sure Tom Keen had been what happened. "She was literally an arm's length away from me and got a phone call and she stepped away. I was talking to one of the evidence guys, turned and there was no sign of her. No one saw her leave."

"And you're sure she did leave?" Samar leaned back on her desk, her hands gripping the desk at her sides.

Ressler threw her a look. He'd searched the entire blood splattered scene for her, stepping over bodies and tech guys before finding himself back at their SUV. She was not on site. "Yes."

"Then could this be Tom related? The phone call she received?"

Ressler looked at his own phone in frustration, the signal for Aram to try again to reach Liz. Aram complied, his eyes darting to his computer screen again. Ressler didn't look at either of them, his jaw set, restraining from letting rip at the man again. "That would be my guess."

"Really? But if he called her, why wouldn't she say anything?" Aram asked, still running every trace he could think of to try and locate her phone.

"You tell me," Ressler answered, his eyes raising to see Cooper coming down the metal stairs toward them. Liz was blind where Tom was concerned and this was not going to end well. His gut churned as Cooper joined them.

"Aram, any luck tracing her?"

"No, sir."

Ressler rattled his keys, still held in his left hand. "Sir, we can't just sit here. Keen's out there and…" And not in a good place. Again the flash of memory of her against him, sobbing into his shoulder washed over him.

"We have a BOLO out on Tom. That should-"

Ressler grimaced. "I don't give a damn about him right now." Cooper flashed him a look, while Aram ducked his eyes and stared intently at his computer screen again. "Liz is who I'm-"

Samar looked to Ressler. "But if she'd heard from Tom, she'd go to him-"

"Shit!" Ressler was already running for the elevator. "Agnes! She'd go for Agnes first!"

"He's right," Cooper nodded, snapped his fingers at Samar to follow Ressler. "Go! Get to her apartment!"

Ressler hurtled into the elevator, slammed the Up button and stood there, cursing the slowness of the yellow box. "Come on, come on, come on," he whispered as Samar ran in beside him, throwing her jacket on.

"Hey," she said, searching his eyes. "She'll be okay," she told him, eyeing him as the elevator began its ascent to the parking lot.

"We don't know that," he hissed. "Not when Tom Keen is in the mix."

With Samar running behind him as the elevator doors opened, he ran for the SUV, unlocking the doors before they got to it. He gunned the engine and squealed out of the parking lot, his mind on one person. One location. He had to get to her apartment. Beside him, Samar had only just got her seatbelt on and was hanging on to the handle above her head.

"I'm sure she's-"

Ressler didn't look at her, his eyes scanning the road in front of him, throwing on the lights and siren as he drove under the lights of the city streets. At the determination and something else far deeper in his eyes, Samar didn't finish what she was going to say. There was no reassuring him.

As they flew through an intersection, their siren and flashing lights clearing the way ahead, Ressler's phone rang in his pocket.

"Here, I can answer it," Samar offered at the speed of his driving, reaching for it.

When he saw Cooper's ID, he didn't give it to her and with one hand gripping the wheel, he answered as Cooper's voice came on the line.

"Dembe called. Liz and Tom are both gravely injured, and-" Ressler gasped as Samar shot a look at him from the passenger seat. "Reddington is heading to DC General with them. Driving a black Ford Galaxie down Florida. I have an escort enroute to intercept them."

Ressler yelled over to Samar, "Get onto Metro PD. Liz is down! We need roads cleared from her apartment all the way to D.C. General!"

"Oh, God," she gasped, dialing the number.

Cooper was still in Ressler's ear. "Tom has been stabbed, probably shot too, and Elizabeth has a severe head injury. Ressler, get to them. Clear the road for them. Aram and I are leaving now for the hospital." Cooper was gone as Ressler dropped his phone into his pocket, eyes staring down the lighted city street before him as his heart hammered in his chest. He took the next right turn, screaming through the intersection, now with a different destination.

"This is Agent Samar Navabi. We have an agent down. We're requesting emergency escort. Roads blocked from Sixth and Florida to DC General. This is a life and death situation!"

As she hung up, Ressler quickly relayed what Cooper had said. Ten blocks later they met the first police cruiser, strobes flashing as they rushed through the intersection. And further behind the police car came the black Ford Galaxie with Dembe driving, followed by two police bikes.

"There!" Samar cried.

"I know! I know!" Ressler gunned the accelerator to get in front of Dembe to escort him, falling in behind the cruiser in front. His eyes flew to the rear view mirror, despite the speed he was driving. But it was a straight shot now to the hospital. Ressler couldn't see into the vehicle behind them. Liz was in there. Bleeding. Dying. He gasped again as Samar's eyes met his briefly.

Samar was on the phone again. "This is Agent Samar Navabi of the FBI. We are enroute to your Emergency Department. We have two victims in critical condition. A male with multiple stab wounds and a possible gunshot wound, and a female with severe head trauma."

Ressler shot her another look at the words 'severe head trauma'. For a moment, all he could feel was Liz's long hair on his hands as he'd held her.

Samar listened a moment more, "Yes, you should be able hear our sirens very soon. We're almost there," she said above the sound of the sirens, and hung up, facing Ressler. "We'll get there!" she called to him, as two more bikes joined their escort to tear on ahead to the next major intersection, lights blazing and flashing as they stopped the traffic on every cross street, giving them a clear shot to DC General.

Of that, Ressler had no doubt. They would get there. But would Liz still be alive by the time they did? Chest heaving as every muscle in his body shook imperceptibly, driving up his heart rate and respiration, he gripped the steering wheel and stole another glance in the rear view again. Nothing. Maybe the brief outline of white shirt sleeves on Red. Maybe Liz's white blouse. Liz. Oh, God, Liz, his mind screamed.

Following the police car with their own lights reflecting off the buildings around them they tore down Florida and behind them came Dembe with his precious, bleeding cargo. Beside him, Samar had her GPS open on her phone again. "Six more blocks!"

He nodded, eyes on the road again, both of them lit up in the red and blue flashing of their lights, and those of the police around them. He didn't look back now. Eyes focused as they neared the hospital, he saw the building ahead. As the lead bikes dropped down a ramp into the Emergency Department, followed by the Metro PD police cruiser in front of them, Ressler followed them down the concrete tunnel into the hospital. He stole a look behind him as Dembe followed, then drew his eyes forward again, coming into the underground area where doctors were standing by with two gurneys, and a large crew poised for action.

Following the Police car's lead, Ressler squealed into a parking spot, slammed it into park and was out the vehicle and running before Samar had even exited. Before he reached the double doors, Dembe pulled in and flew out of the driver's seat, opening the back door behind him as the medics surged forward. Ressler ran for the other rear door as Red exited. And for a moment, everything seemed to slow around him as Ressler came to a halt at Red's side, meeting the criminals haunted eyes. The pain matched what he was sure was in his own. Their girl was near death.

A strangled, "Donald," was all Red managed before the two men were jostled aside as the medics flew around to their side of the car to retrieve Liz from the back seat. And finally Ressler saw her, and stepped back involuntarily, gasping. It was worse than he'd imagined. Pale, looking as if the life had already fled her body, her hair matted and bloody, contrasting starkly with the white pillow. Glancing into the back of the car, the blood pool on back seat slammed his mind back to another blood pool and bloodied hair. Hitchin had died from a wound like this.

"No!" he hissed, as he felt Red's arm on his.

"Donald, stay with her," Red whispered, falling into the front passenger seat as Dembe held the door for him.

Samar was beside him and with a last nod to Red, they jogged through the doors, following the two gurneys. Tom was in front, and Ressler hadn't got a look at him yet, followed by Liz. Unable to draw his eyes from the terrible red pool on the pillow under her head he followed silently. There was nothing he could do. He couldn't hold her this time and tell her it was gonna be okay. She wasn't okay. And nor was he.

As the doors to an Observation room stood open before them, the two gurneys were quickly wheeled inside, and slowly he came to a halt, standing by Samar as Liz and Tom were positioned at their stations. Through the glass, the bright hospital lights shone above the two gurneys as the activity increased around them. More medical staff flooded the room and slowly Ressler and Samar walked to stand at the glass, sure they'd not obstruct anyone now.

"My, God," Samar whispered, as she stood to the left of him. He himself couldn't utter a word, only stand and scream inwardly, as doctors yelled commands on the other side of the glass and prepared to intubate Liz. He was going to lose her. He couldn't lose her! He was going to! No! Heart hammering in his chest and every breath an effort he scanned the room, trying to see through the crowds to the monitors to see if she was still alive.

And now the activity increased on the other side of the room, and for the first time he tore his eyes off Liz to look toward Tom. The man was a bloodied mess, his shirt cut open revealing his chest as paddles were coming into play, shocking him violently. With a high pitched whine and a jolt that made his body lurch, Tom's chest was shocked with the paddles. And somewhere in the back of his reeling mind Ressler heard the continual screaming beep of a flat line on the monitor.

No! he cried inwardly, eyes fleeing back to Liz. An ER doctor was calling for the neurosurgeon to get there stat, and taking hold of a drill. A drill that was going to go into Liz's skull. No!

"Clear!" a doctor yelled and again, Tom's body lurched at the shock. And still the flat line screamed out from the monitor. In a daze, Ressler saw it all, heard it all, but it was as if he were standing a million miles away, out of his own body. The doctors, shouted commands, the shock of the paddles on Tom again, the incessant long beep, the flurry of activity inside the room all became a terrifying blur.

But the sound of a drill startled him and brought him careening back to reality. The neurosurgeon had arrived and was drilling a hole into Liz's skull. Oh, God! Ressler gulped in air. The surgeon drilled a moment more then stopped, withdrawing a gloved and bloodied hand from the back of Liz's head. Liz didn't even look like she was breathing or alive. Ressler thought he might stop breathing himself. He couldn't lose her!

"I need that OR now!" the surgeon yelled to someone running down the hallway behind Ressler.

"We're ready! We have the team in place!"

At that, more activity erupted in the room as Liz's gurney was wheeled out, this time complete with a network of equipment and monitors surrounding her still form. Ressler stepped aside quickly as more medical staff ran to them as Liz was whipped away and taken toward doors that said "No Admittance". Blood poured from the back of her head, dripping on the floor in a trail behind the gurney, splattering all over the clean tile floor and the running legs of the medics wheeling her away. As Ressler took all of this in, the flat line on the monitor still screamed behind him. Following Liz with his eyes he realized for the first time that Cooper and Aram were there too.

As Liz disappeared through the doors to the OR the four of them stood in silence. Aram and Samar held hands, Cooper's eyes closed for a moment, then met Ressler's eyes. The silence that hit them all when the scream of the flat line on the heart monitor suddenly ceased startled them. And as one they turned as all activity ceased in the Observation room. Aram gasped, and Samar turned toward him as a sheet was pulled up, covering Tom's face and head. Tom had lost the fight. Ressler gazed at the still form as lights were dimmed in the room. After flipping off switches on the equipment, the medics filed out respectfully, and a nurse spoke to their gathered group.

"I'm very sorry. We did everything we could but the injuries he sustained were too great. If you'd like to spend a few moments with him, you're very welcome to," she said softly, then quietly stepped away, leaving them alone with the body of Tom Keen.

Ressler stayed outside as Cooper, Aram and Samar filed in. He dropped his eyes when Cooper gently removed the sheet from Tom's head as the three of them bowed their heads around him. Outside the room, Ressler stood silently. The man who'd been a thorn in his side for years was no more. There was no joy in that, no vindication, no relief, not even anger. Though he knew himself well enough to know that would resurface. He felt only sorrow and loss. Liz had loved him, and they had all done everything to find the man today and get him to a hospital in time to save him. Whatever Tom had been involved with, he didn't deserve to die like this.

Ressler turned, left the other three with Tom and walked back down the hallway. Her blood trail marked the path they had taken, and with a gasp he tore his eyes from the splattered floor to focus on the double doors leading to the OR. Liz was in there, on an operating table with surgeons working on her brain trying to save her life. He reached the doors, stopped and leaned against the wall opposite. This was the closest he could get to Liz right now, and he was not going to leave her. And unable to stand a moment longer, his body sagged and he slid down the wall to sit on the floor, elbows on his raised knees. He stared at the closed doors in front of him and despite his attempts not to look, his eyes traveled to the blood stained floor once more.

"Don't leave me…" he whispered, "Please, Liz…"

Inevitably his mind returned to her crying against him. So alive and right there with him, living and breathing in his arms. He'd held her close in comfort and support and had told her it was going to be okay.

But he'd been wrong.