"Push Liz,"
"I AM pushing!"
Her hair clung damply to her face, sweat dripping and tickling her forehead. She brushed a droplet off of her upper lip, furiously irritated and in agony.
"Ahhh, no, fuck."
The contractions were not messing around.
Her nurse was so damn calm, trying to soothe her in that annoying monotone. As if a hushed voice would lessen the wrenching pain occurring right now in her abdomen.
"Oh god, help me," she moaned, arching and writhing on the hospital bed as the nurse gripped her shoulder.
"Shhh, you're almost there Liz, just one more push, come on."
"Ahh ahh," she panted. "I want an epidural! Give me an epidural!"
The doctor shook his head. His face peering at her from between her legs. She could barely see what he looked like, behind his cap and face mask. "It's far too late for that. One more time now, push!"
What was that noise? That cry? Weird that she hadn't thought about what her baby might sound like. She wasn't prepared. She'd had so many months to compose herself mentally. She'd decided to let her baby go, to sign on the dotted line for a closed adoption. It had been the only way out. There wasn't a family on the planet that would want her involved in their child's life for the foreseeable future. At least not without Reddington's assistance.
This was her baby. Her decision. He'd offered to select a carer, someone who could tend to and love her little girl til she could come for her. But she'd thought keeping Reddington at arms length was the right thing to do for her child. Even if it meant a closed adoption.
"Do you want to see her?"
"Yes," she croaked before she could stop herself.
Oh god. She was slimy, drenched in fluid, a mottled pink color. Her hair, it was beautiful. She had a thick thatch of dark brown hair, the exact same color as her own.
Her baby.
She lay across her chest, her little mouth searching for milk, opening wide and closing again like a guppy fish. Her hands were so tiny . How could she be so small and so perfect? She smiled down at the little bundle of warmth. It was amazing how soft her skin was. She ran a hand along her daughter's back, feeling the silkiness of her skin. She took in a deep breath, breathing in the smell of her beautiful baby girl. She smelt so sweet.
"Do you want to feed her one time? It's best for the baby to suck at least once. The colostrum, you know?"
She nodded wordlessly, lifting her tiny head gently to her breast. Her baby's perfectly formed lips eagerly sought out her swollen nipple.
Her stomach flip flopped painfully as her child's gummy mouth closed around her. She allowed a tiny hand to fist around her pinky finger as the baby sucked.
"Lizzie."
She was on her side, resting after she'd expelled the placenta and been led gently to the shower to clean off the gore of her ordeal. They'd taken her baby away to be washed and weighed. The paperwork was yet to be signed. The adoptive parents would arrive within the hour.
"Reddington," she whispered, turning over to look at him. He had his hat in his hand, a look of anxious understanding on his face.
"I promise, I won't stay long. I just need to know...that you're okay."
Hot tears spilled suddenly from her eyes. "I can't," she keened, "I can't give my baby up. I won't."
Instantly at her side, he dropped his hat onto the nearby chair and leaned over her hospital bed, his arms around her. She gratefully accepted his hug, needing his reassurance. Was she doing the right thing? She couldn't bear to let her baby go. She was the sun and the moon and the stars and every song that had ever been sung.
"I'm going to call her Melody," she said, her tears wetting the front of his vest.
"I told you, it could be done," he said confidently. "I'll hire a team of round the clock bodyguards, an unimpeachable nanny and-"
"Stop."
"Lizzie-"
"No, this is my baby, my responsibility. You can't keep making these kinds of decisions for me. I can protect her."
"You expect to be able to hire the team you'll need on a government salary?"
She eyed him. "I'm a consultant. Do you really believe that I didn't negotiate a significant pay increase?"
For the first time in a long time, she'd left him visibly lost for words. It was a good feeling. Maybe it was the glow of knowing she had just brought a brand new life into the world and she was going to keep her baby; but whatever it was, the feeling was magic. She had never felt such a sense of well being.
"Do you want to see her?"
His look of uncertainty, of hope was adorable. He nodded and she took his hand, steadying herself as she climbed from the bed, her hospital gown hanging off of her in folds. She gestured towards the door. "She's in the nursery. Let's go and see."
They made it to the door and were met by Dembe.
"Elizabeth," he said warmly. "You look well."
"Thanks Dembe," she smiled at her friend. "We're just going to go and see Melody. Want to come and hold her?"
The look on his face sent fear skittering through her. Why had he grimaced like that?
"I think they've already come to take her away," he said gently. So gently that it didn't sink in straight away.
"What do you mean?" Reddington broke in sharply.
"I came past the nursery. Her crib is empty. Have the adoptive couple not come to get her?"
"No," she said, making for the hallway in giant strides despite the post labor soreness. She barely felt a thing other than dread.
Bursting into the nursery, she startled a couple bent over their own baby as she made a beeline for the crib with her own name on it. She looked into the clear plastic crib. Empty. The soft pink blanket lay open where her baby had lain safely not long before. The blanket was still warm.
"Where's my baby?" She heard her own voice, the sharp terror, the edge of hysteria and there was just no staying calm. "Where is she?"
Nausea hit her, a hard ball of vomitous fear unfurling in the pit of her stomach. She ran back into the hall, back into the room, her eyes blurring in panic. And screamed.
She raged.
"What did you do? What did you do?"
His eyes were wide and haggard. "Lizzie, I promise you, I've done nothing."
Nothing. She could see it. Sincerity radiated from every pore, fear shone in his eyes. He wasn't responsible for this.
Not directly anyway. Whoever had taken her baby had done so because of Raymond Reddington though. She couldn't forget that. And the fear in his eyes chilled her.
She closed her eyes and opened them again, trying to close her ears to the commotion going on around her. Every doctor and nurse in the room was yelling, the administrator from the front desk was remonstrating with the head of obstetrics, supposedly the best gynecologist and obstetrician in the state. He looked panicked, everyone did.
"Enough!" Reddington's voice, cutting through the cacophony, hosing down her fear just a little. He at least would do everything in his power to get her baby back.
"Stand up against the wall," he said, his voice stony and cold. "In a straight line, all of you. No one leaves this room. You make a move toward the door and I will shoot you, am I understood?"
Confused voices, outraged protest. Cut short again by the businesslike way Reddington and Dembe cocked their guns, waving them all to the far wall. As if in a dream she too followed them, not yet understanding that she was not among those he intended to question.
"Lizzie, sit, you need to sit," he said, his voice transformed instantly into tenderness.
He took her elbow, gently but firmly guiding her to the same bed she'd been lying flat on only hours earlier, delivering her baby.
She watched numbly as he put his gun to the temple of the head obstetrician. He was covered by Dembe, who stood back from the line of hospital employees, his impassive face giving nothing away, his gun cocked and aimed.
"Who took the child from the room," asked Reddington in a clipped voice.
"I-I don't know-I'm not su-sure," the sandy haired doctor stammered.
"Tell me who in this room would know."
A nurse in scrubs stepped forward slowly, her hands raised placatingly. "I took the baby and washed and weighed her. She was put down into her crib. The time will be on her chart."
The grim lines around Reddington's face didn't fade one jot. He waved his gun toward the nurse. "Your name?"
"Tamara," she said, keeping her hands raised fearfully.
"Full name."
"Tamara Brocklehurst...sir."
"You have any children, Tamara Brocklehurst?"
The woman swallowed nervously, her eyes beginning to dart back and forth between her colleagues and the man waving a gun in her face. None of them looked at her, their faces all averted.
Cowards, thought Liz bitterly. They were going to let a strange man terrorize a nurse. The obstetrician should have said something in her defense. This was one of his nurses, in his employ.
"I have a son, he's five," offered the nurse in a strangled voice.
"Then you have an imagination. One that you probably didn't know you had til your son was born, am I correct?"
She nodded, eyes wide.
He moved with the grace of a panther to Tamara's side. "Let's assume that same imagination, the one that has kept you up of a night, that compassion that surfaced the minute you saw your new born son's face, that driving need to protect all the little children of the world - let's assume that is working in overdrive right now. You're desperate to help this woman retrieve her baby, yes?"
Silent tears were running down the woman's face now. She nodded.
Pursing his lips, he circled her like a shark. "Alright then. And so you're going to think very hard for me, aren't you Tamara. May I call you Tamara? Let's think back. Who had access to the nursery?"
The administrator raised her hand, trembling. "I can get a list of everyone who signed in today."
He waved his gun, obscenely calm. She wondered distractedly if he really was as calm and controlled as he appeared. Or was he just as frightened as she was?
"You'll do that. Time is critical. I'll need that list and your video footage. Everyone in this room will stay here until it's done." He turned swiftly to Dembe. "See that she obtains the list and the footage. We'll wait."
They did wait. Hours later and the list had been combed through, the footage examined. Reddington had called Baz and a team in. He'd called Cooper somewhere along the way, she assumed because he was there, along with Ressler and Samar. They hovered, they all clearly wondered if she were about to do something stupid, as though she were about to break.
She wasn't though. She hadn't broken yet. After everything that had happened, this was the worst. They couldn't do anything more to her. She would survive this. If her baby was alive she'd get her back. If she wasn't...she would find out who was responsible and make sure they suffered for a very long and intense period of time.
For now she was blessedly numb.
"Lizzie," his voice washed over her, tired and bleached of energy, but still achingly safe and familiar. "Where is Tom?"
Her head lifted to look him in the eye. She hadn't thought of that. Why hadn't she thought of that?
She opened her mouth, it felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool. She had to be careful that she wasn't going into shock. Her wits would be needed and probably soon. "He left. He sold his boat and left with Gina." She shook her head. "I know what you're thinking but I didn't have to force him to go. When he left...Gina was already pregnant. He told me that he'd leave us in peace. He wanted a family, a simple life and as strange as it may seem, Gina was a better chance of that than I was. Or am."
"He was unfaithful," Reddington said grimly.
She huffed a laugh. "It was a relief. At least I didn't have to feel bad telling him to go. I really don't care...I just want my baby back."
"All the same, it's worth tracking him down and questioning him. Do you have his last cell number? Location?"
She nodded wearily. "Go get a pen, I'll write it all down."
She watched him leave the room in search of pen and paper, wretched in mind and body, watched him sadly as he passed a delivery man in the doorway. A man in overalls carrying a large bouquet of pink roses.
"Delivery for Elizabeth Keen? From," he looked down at the card, "the Mobile Psych Unit?"
Oh. Her old team. Well they probably hadn't heard she'd planned to adopt her baby out. She listlessly accepted the bouquet, placing it on the stand next to her hospital bed.
People were still streaming in and out. It was only through Cooper's quick work that the cops hadn't been called. He'd investigate it personally, he promised.
Well so would she.
She picked the thick piece of cream note card sticking out from the nest of brightly colored roses, unfolding it to read the message.
She sat there for the longest time, reading and rereading it. Eventually it fell into her lap from her trembling fingers.
If you want to see your kid alive again, do not tell Reddington.
Call this number - 555 123 6767.