On Monday, Liz awoke with a groan. She really didn't want to go to work and face Red. She hadn't gone to her scheduled meeting with him on Saturday. Surprisingly, she hadn't even heard from him all weekend.
Apparently he was heeding Samar's not-so-friendly suggestion to leave her alone.
Forcing herself to get up, she quickly went through her morning routine, and breathed a sigh of relief when she arrived at the Post Office to find no Red waiting for her.
That relief quickly turned into frustration when he walked out of the elevator five minutes later, marching straight into the war room, his booming voice asking everyone to gather around.
Liz stood next to Samar, avoiding Red's gaze, trying to focus on what he was saying about their new case. The next name on the Blacklist.
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The case kept them extremely busy. By Wednesday, Liz, Samar, Ressler, and Red were parked near a construction site, waiting for Aram's confirmation that their blacklister had set up shop inside.
They snuck onto the grounds, guns at the ready, Liz and Ressler going one way, Red and Samar the other.
They had been there for only a minute, she and Ressler having cleared the first floor of the unfinished building, when gunshots rang out above them.
"Shit," Ressler whispered, as Liz immediately ran toward the sound.
As Liz ascended the stairs, she almost collapsed at the sight that greeted her.
"No. No no no," she mumbled.
Her legs were numb as she forced herself toward Samar's slumped form on the concrete floor.
Samar was unconscious. Blood was gushing out of her abdomen. She was losing so much blood.
So much blood.
Liz was having trouble breathing.
"No no no no!" She was practically screaming now, tears running down her cheeks. She tried to put pressure on the spot where the bullet had entered while checking for a pulse. She could barely feel it. Samar was hanging on by a thread.
She looked down and saw signs of another bullet wound on Samar's thigh.
"Oh my god," she whispered, whipping her head around. "Ressler! We need help!"
He had just reached the top of the stairs, and he ran to his colleagues as soon as he saw what had happened.
"Her pulse is so faint. We have to get her to a hospital. Oh my god." Liz was choking back sobs. Ressler immediately called for medical backup, as more gunshots rang out a floor above them. Liz barely registered the sound.
"Samar, I don't know if you can hear me, but please, please stay with me, okay? You cannot die on me. Not now. Please. Hold on, Samar. Just hold on. We're getting help, okay?" Liz pleaded. She pulled off her jacket and wrapped it around her friend as tightly as she could to try to staunch the flow of blood. Ressler did the same for Samar's leg wound.
Suddenly, Red was there, his voice ringing out, somehow piercing through Liz's fuzzy brain. "Meiyun shot her. I followed him, he's dead." He sounded hollow, emotionless.
Liz couldn't stop the tears as she looked up at Red.
"Lizzie, I don't know if she's-"
She cut him off, her voice filled with anger and emotion. "Don't say it. We have to save her, Red. We have to." She was forcing the words out, the realization of what would happen if they didn't cutting her deep.
Ressler broke into the conversation. "Medics are on their way, minutes out. I'll go down and wait. Keep pressure on those, Keen."
Liz nodded at Ressler before turning her full attention back to Samar. "Hold on, Samar. Hold on. I'm here."
Her breath hitched and her stomach clenched with fear. "Hurry the hell up!" she screamed uselessly, her voice echoing throughout the unfinished structure.
Red tried to place his hand on her shoulder for comfort, but she leaned forward away from his touch, putting as much pressure as she could on Samar's abdomen. Squatting down, he tightened the jacket around Samar's leg wound, keeping steady pressure on it, allowing Liz to focus her attention on the more critical injury.
The minutes simultaneously dragged endlessly and flew by as Liz obsessively checked how tightly the jacket was tied around Samar's abdomen, over and over, murmuring constant reassurances to her friend that everything would be okay, that everything had to be okay.
Once the medics arrived, it was a blur. Samar was carefully moved onto a stretcher and rushed down to ground level, Liz frantically following as closely as she could without getting in the way. "Please help her. Please," Liz's voice broke. She didn't know if the medics had heard her, but when she forced herself into the back of the ambulance with Samar, no one said a word.
They sped to the nearest hospital, Liz clutching at Samar's motionless hand, the medics' words a flurry of nonsense. Phrases that Liz should understand, but that her mind couldn't follow.
"Samar, I'm here. I'm right here," she whispered over and over.
When they arrived at the emergency room, Liz felt like she was moving in slow motion, drowning in quicksand. Samar was rushed into the belly of the hospital before Liz could even register where the hell she was.
She looked around, lost, aimless. What was she supposed to do now?
One of the medics from the ambulance was walking toward her from where they had just taken Samar. Liz forced herself to focus as he began speaking.
"Miss? They're doing everything they can. Someone will come find you when they know anything."
Liz nodded absently. "Thanks," she mumbled as he walked away from her.
She stood, staring straight ahead of her, unseeing. She didn't notice the other people in the waiting room looking at her. She didn't notice Ressler's voice approaching behind her, saying her name. She didn't notice Red's hand on her arm, Red standing right in front of her, until he quietly uttered "Lizzie."
Suddenly aware of who was standing in front of her, touching her, her eyes widened. She was having trouble breathing, but not because of Red.
Because her only friend was dying somewhere beyond those damn doors.
"Lizzie."
His hands were on her arms, squeezing.
She didn't care that he had hurt her, rejected her. She needed him.
She stepped forward, burying her face into his chest, wrapping her arms around him, frantically clutching his shirt into her fists, allowing herself to collapse fully into him, sobbing.
Red hadn't been expecting this reaction, so it took him a few seconds to fully register what was happening before he quickly folded her into his arms, supporting her, letting her lean all of her weight into his chest.
He didn't try to say anything. He was just there.
Her tears were soaking through his shirt, but he just held her. He reached one hand up to stroke her hair, attempting to calm her.
After what seemed like hours to Liz, her sobs began to subside, but she stayed glued to Red's chest, holding on for dear life.
He gently pressed a kiss to the top of her head, letting his lips linger in her hair.
She couldn't bring herself to care – about his lips in her hair, about her letting him hold her like this, about Ressler watching from just a few feet away.
"Samar," she whimpered helplessly.
Red tightened his embrace, cupping her head and holding her even closer to his chest.
He wanted to tell her everything would be all right. But he didn't want to lie to her – he couldn't lie to her. He didn't know for sure that Samar would make it through the night. She had lost a lot of blood.
After a moment, Liz lifted her tear-stained face slightly, looking at Ressler. "Can you call Aram? He should know what happened."
Ressler's face was pained looking at his partner, but he nodded and walked away to make the call.
Liz stayed in Red's embrace, not wanting to go back to the reality of the situation – that Samar might not be okay, that Red had told her they could never be together. She didn't want to look at his face.
"Lizzie." His voice was a low rumble in his chest, vibrating against her ear. "You should get yourself cleaned up. There's a restroom around the corner."
She nodded against him, then pulled away without meeting his eyes, squeezing his hand in a silent thank you before walking away.
In the restroom, Liz tried to scrub Samar's blood from her hands, her arms. It was everywhere. She grunted out of frustration, sheer agony, anger. Gripping the edges of the sink so hard her knuckles turned white, she straightened her elbows, allowing her head to fall into her chest as hot tears burned down her cheeks again.
She forced herself to keep scrubbing away at the blood, but it was staining her skin. Samar was leaving a tattoo on her body, as if she were saying 'don't forget me.'
Liz's life had become a nightmare two years ago. And every time something started to go right, it all fell apart before it could even come together.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror, noticing dried blood in her hair. She leaned over the sink, trying to rinse it out, scrubbing at it with the hospital's cheap hand soap. She splashed her face with the cold water. Her shirt was wet by the time she finished, but she didn't care – she barely noticed.
She pulled her wet hair back in a ponytail, grabbed a stack of paper towels, and began drying off.
Liz had been in the bathroom for at least half an hour by the time she deemed herself cleaned up enough to face the waiting room again. To face the possibility of Samar being gone. To face him again.
She cleaned up her mess of slightly pink-stained paper towels and blew her nose. Some of Samar's dried blood was still lodged in the crevices of her fingernail beds, but she had done the best she could.
She walked out of the bathroom, the blood stains still faintly tattooed on her hands and arms, unable to be washed clean.
When she entered the waiting room, she took a deep breath. Red was sitting with his hands clasped, legs crossed, looking down, waiting patiently for her to return. Ressler was sitting a few seats away, legs apart, leaning his elbows on his thighs, head in his hands. As soon as she started walking towards them, she heard Aram's voice behind her.
"Liz!" he shouted, running toward her, toward them.
She turned and he ran straight to her, throwing his arms around her.
"Aram," she whispered. They held on to each other like they were drowning.
After a few moments, he managed to get out in a broken voice, "What happened?"
Liz let out a shaky sigh, unsure if she would be able to relay the story without breaking down again.
"It's bad, Aram. It's bad. I don't know. We- we were looking for Meiyun and the next thing I knew she was on the ground, bleeding- god, there was so much blood. So much blood."
She had to stop. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the image that she knew would stay with her until the end of time.
Aram kept his arms around her, as much to support himself as to support Liz. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he took a deep breath.
Liz led him over to the row of chairs where Red and Ressler were sitting and watching them from twenty feet away.
Liz took the seat next to Red's, surprising him. Aram sat next to her, their hands clasped between them, holding on tightly to each other for some small amount of comfort, knowing they both loved the woman who may or may not make it through this.
Red made no move to touch Liz, and she was mostly glad.
They all sat, still as statues, for at least two hours, before a doctor entered the waiting room, walking toward them.
They all looked up at him in unison, Liz involuntarily tightening her grip on Aram's hand. He brought his other hand over to cover them protectively.
The doctor stood in front of them and Liz felt like time was standing still. Her breath was trapped in her lungs. She couldn't move.
"Agent Navabi is extremely lucky," the doctor began.
Liz exhaled shakily, collapsing her forehead onto Aram's shoulder.
"We almost lost her, but she's a fighter. She lost a great deal of blood, but thankfully the bullets didn't hit any major organs or arteries. She's still unconscious, and we'll have to keep a close eye on her, but we think there's a good chance she's going to pull through this," the doctor continued.
Liz cleared the lump of emotion from her throat, standing up to shake the doctor's hand. "Thank you, sir. Thank you so much."
"You're welcome. She's only been out of surgery for about fifteen minutes, but if her condition remains stable for the next few hours, we can allow you to see her. Try to get some rest until then." The doctor placed a comforting hand on Liz's shoulder for a second before turning to walk away.
Aram pulled Liz into his arms again and she breathed a deep sigh of relief into his chest.
Red cleared his throat. "Lizzie, I can have Dembe come pick us up. We all need to get out of these bloody clothes. And we should probably eat something.
Liz's mouth immediately turned down at the corners, but she nodded in agreement. She didn't want to leave, but she knew he was right. If – no, when – Samar regained consciousness and saw her own blood all over Liz's clothes, that wouldn't be ideal.
Red stepped back to call Dembe, and Aram spoke up quietly. "I'll stay."
Liz turned to him and searched his face. She saw determination, pleading, worry. She gave him a sad smile, placing her hand on his upper arm. At least he wasn't covered in Samar's blood.
"I'll keep you updated if anything, you know- changes," Aram continued, glancing between Liz's gaze and the floor.
She nodded. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she told him, lightly squeezing his arm, before letting go and walking toward the exit, followed closely behind by Red and Ressler.
Outside, Ressler gently clasped Liz's shoulder. "You sure you don't want me to drive you, Keen?"
She looked over her shoulder at Red.
"Dembe will be another five minutes. You can go with Donald if you'd like to get home that much sooner," Red offered.
Liz turned back to Ressler. "Thanks, Ress, but I can go with Reddington. Get back to the Post Office. Update Cooper. I'll be fine," she assured him.
He nodded and walked away to find the SUV that he had driven there hours earlier.
Liz didn't necessarily want to spend the next thirty-or-so minutes alone with Red, but she knew that Ressler needed to hold down the task force with Cooper since everyone else was otherwise engaged at the moment.
Liz stood with her arms wrapped around herself to ward off the slight chill. She had no idea what had happened to her jacket after tying it around Samar's gunshot wound. Not that it mattered. It would be ruined from the blood anyway.
Red stood at her side patiently. Neither of them spoke.
Just as Red promised, Dembe pulled up at the curb five minutes later. Red opened the door and Liz gratefully slid inside the car. Within seconds, Red had seated himself on the other side and Dembe was driving in the direction of her motel.
The car remained silent for a few minutes before Red suddenly spoke, in a soft, reassuring tone. "I don't know her well, but based on my knowledge of Agent Navabi prior to joining the task force and my interactions with her since, she's incredibly strong, Lizzie. A fighter, like the doctor said. I have faith that she'll survive this."
Liz was grateful for his comforting words. But she didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything at all.
At her silence, he continued. "I didn't know you were so close."
She cleared her throat. "Yeah, well, it's pretty recent. We started going out for drinks after work a few weeks ago."
The timing wasn't lost on him and she knew it. If he had to take a guess, he would say it was fairly likely that he was a frequent conversational subject between the two women.
He remained silent for a beat, letting this quiet knowledge marinate between them for a moment before speaking.
"I never intended to hurt you, Lizzie. Please believe that."
Liz released a shaky breath. "I know," she quietly admitted.
She didn't have anything else to say. It may not have been his intention, but he had hurt her – he had practically forced her to confront her own feelings for him and then he'd retracted his admission, like his love for her meant nothing.
Red sat patiently, waiting. He would wait until she was ready to talk.
Not another word was spoken until they arrived at the motel.
Without meeting his gaze, she said, "Thank you, Red," got out of the car, and walked away without looking back.
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Less than two hours later, Liz was back at the hospital, finding Aram right where she'd left him, resting his head face-down in his palms.
"Hey," she said softly to get his attention, sitting down beside him.
He glanced up quickly, looking relieved to see her. She knew being alone with your thoughts in a hospital wasn't fun.
"Hey. She's still the same," he offered, knowing Liz was about to ask.
She sighed. "Well, now you have company."
He gave her a small, sympathetic smile in response and they sat in companionable, worried silence for a while before Aram spoke.
"I can't lose her, Liz. Not before I tell her... I..." He trailed off, his voice rough and strained with emotion.
"She knows," Liz told him gently.
Aram snapped his head to look at her, a look of surprise, confusion, and hesitation twisting his features.
His expression was almost enough to make Liz laugh, but she held it back. Instead, she gave him a genuine smile and a reassuring pat on his clasped hands.
"She's been through a lot, before she joined the task force. I'm not sure she'll be ready to jump into anything anytime soon. But trust me, Aram, she knows. And she thinks you're cute," she added with a smirk.
Aram looked like he was in a slight state of shock at this news, but just then the doctor entered the waiting room and walked toward them. Liz's eyes filled with fear and she tightened her hold on Aram's clasped hands. Seeing her face, Aram shot his gaze in the same direction, his expression quickly matching Liz's.
"Agent Navabi is still unconscious, but there have been subtle improvements over the past few hours. You can see her now if you'd like, to help ease your worry," the doctor informed them.
They both stood immediately and the doctor led them through sterile, white hallways until they reached Samar's room.
Liz inhaled sharply when she saw Samar's pale, unconscious form lying on the bed, connected to way too many machines and tubes.
Aram reached for her hand again, offering a small measure of mutual comfort.
"She can most likely hear you if you want to talk to her, reassure her. Sometimes it helps," the doctor suggested.
"You can go in first," Aram offered.
Liz shot him a look of concern. "You sure?"
He nodded, so Liz squeezed his hand and walked into Samar's room, closing the door behind her.
It was so quiet, with only the constant beeping of the machines to break the silence.
She paused, taking in the image of her motionless friend.
Slowly, Liz made her way to the chair at the bedside and sat down, immediately reaching for Samar's hand.
Liz was trying to be strong, but it was killing her to see Samar like this.
Samar was usually so fierce, full of life. And now she seemed practically lifeless. Just a few hours ago, Liz had had Samar's blood all over her, had to watch it draining from her body, unable to do anything.
It was breaking Liz's heart.
She let out a shaky breath, holding onto Samar's hand, her arm resting on the bed.
"Samar," she whispered.
It felt good to say her name. It helped convince Liz that Samar was there in front of her. That Samar was still alive.
So she said it again.
"Samar."
She gently reached up to smooth some flyaway hairs away from Samar's forehead.
"I don't know if you can hear me. I hope you can." She paused. "Because I want you to know that I'm here with you right now. I just... I really need you to come back to me. We all need you. You're the strongest woman I've ever known, Samar."
She blinked back tears and swallowed the lump in her throat. "Our friendship means so much to me. You mean so much to me. Back when I worked in New York, everyone called me 'sir.' They all thought I was a complete bitch. I can count the number of close female friends I've had in my lifetime on one hand, and I just-" she broke off. "You've been trying to befriend me since the day you joined the task force, and I'm always so stupidly untrusting... I'm sorry for being so rude to you those first few weeks." She paused to take a deep breath. "Thank you for not letting me push you away. I love you."
Liz could feel a few tears escaping, racing down her cheeks.
She sniffed and wiped her face with her free hand, not taking her eyes off of her friend.
After a few moments, she huffed a quiet laugh through her tears and squeezed Samar's hand. "Aram is here to see you too. He came as soon as we called him, and he hasn't left since. It's been hours. I should let him talk to you for awhile, but I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?"
Liz stood up and smiled sweetly, sadly, leaning down to place a soft kiss on Samar's forehead.
"Please wake up," she whispered before leaving the room.
