A/N: So…starting another one. I'm addicted. I need a pill or a patch! I can't seem to help myself.
Raymond Reddington had been cooped up in this god forsaken hospital bed for a week now.
It didn't matter that it was a tiny hospital in the country. It didn't matter that it was the best money could buy and still leave him close enough to see Lizzie.
He was ready to get the hell out of here.
However, he could not regret being shot, because it brought Lizzie closer to him.
So much closer than he could have ever hoped.
Every day she came to visit. She'd come bearing a little gift of some sort, whether it be a book, a small bag of chocolates, or the daily crossword and she would stay for hours.
He already cared for her, but those days of seeing her small smiles, joking with him, being so utterly unguarded caused him to fall hopelessly in love with her.
He told her that she didn't need to stay, but she insisted that she was exactly where she wanted to be.
In truth, he was relieved. If she were with him, he could better keep an eye on her.
She was with him when he was shot. He suffered no disillusions that they would hesitate before harming her, just because she was a federal officer.
He was close enough to being out of here that he could give Lizzie the next name tonight during her visit. He needed the next player in the game, fast.
"I called your bluff. As no news has hit the airwaves, I can confirm that you do not have the Fulcrum. I do so love being correct."
Red turned his head towards the Director, who was standing just inside of his doorway.
Furtively, he glanced at the clock on the wall. Lizzie would be here anytime.
This was the absolute worst case scenario. Lizzie was a terrible actress.
As much pleasure as he took in her caring for him, she couldn't hide it worth a damn.
If the Director saw that they had any other relationship than FBI Agent and Informant, he would order her death.
He would never let that happen.
"Well hello. I do hope that you didn't bring flowers. This time of year, my sinuses are uncontrollable when faced with florals of any kind."
The Director smirked. "No, no flowers, but I do have a small gift. I don't think you'll appreciate it either way, but then again, it's more of a gift for me rather than you."
In the Director's hand was a syringe. Red knew he wasn't here to help the nurses manage his pain.
His bed, was too far from the IV port.
His range of motion was nowhere near what it needed to be for him to prevent that syringe from killing him as it's intended to.
"If you kill me, every single secret that you've tried to hide will be exposed. You will soon find yourself not just running from those that will avenge me, but those who want vengeance in the name of their loved ones whose deaths you have brought about during your career."
The Director wasn't swayed. He moved closer to Red, uncapping the needle.
The bastard even took the time to express the air bubbles from the syringe. Like he'd need to worry about dying from an air bubble to the blood stream at this point.
He laughed, stopping the Director, who was surprised and a little put out that Red wasn't pleading for his life.
Even if he could get the layers upon layers of bandages ripped off in time to remove the IV line from his arm, he would never be able to fight off an attack.
If that needle stuck him anywhere, he was more than certain that it would be his pink slip out of this life.
"Where's Dembe?" Red was worried that his friend may be injured since he wasn't bursting through the door, demanding to know who his visitor is.
"Oh him, he's fine. He's actually out there talking to Agent Keen. Little does he know that he will be the last person to speak to two dead people this evening."
So the Cabal was cleaning the state. He was horrified for what was going to happen to Lizzie, but he had to keep his head. Think. If he stalled long enough, someone would come.
They'd been in and out all damn day.
Where the hell were they now?
Red reached his emergency button just as the director tried to stab his neck.
With only one usable arm, he grabbed the wrist holding the needle.
He knew it was futile.
He shouted for help.
Before he could finish, the door burst open.
It wasn't Dembe looking down the barrel of a gun. It was his Lizzie. No.
She took one look at them and pulled the trigger.
No hesitation, just deadly intent.
She rushed to the bed, took the syringe from the falling man, and stabbed it into the Director for good measure.
"Lizzie, no!"
Tears were swimming in her eyes. She ran her hands all over his arms and neck, checking for injuries.
"God, Red, I'm so sorry. Did he hurt you? Did he stick you? I was just outside talking to Dembe. He left for a moment to use the restroom."
Dembe, followed by four staff members and a doctor or two tripping all over each other, ran into the room.
Dembe looked relieved, the others looked shocked.
Lizzie took out her FBI badge. It wouldn't matter.
She would still be arrested for stabbing a suspect with an unknown substance after she had already neutralized him.
Once the coroner pulled the ballistics and tied it to her weapon, it would be public record that Elizabeth Keen killed one of the most powerful men in the world.
Dembe came to his bedside and he motioned him closer so he could talk without anyone overhearing.
"If she doesn't leave, she's dead. Follow the protocols. Dembe, I'm trusting you with my life."
Dembe knew that he wasn't referring to his own life, but that of Agent Keen.
"I will take care of her, my brother. We'll need a distraction."
Dembe moved across the room to rush Lizzie out just as Red fell unconscious and his heart monitors went crazy.
A/N: Let me know what you think. Thank you for taking the time to read!
