Chapter 9: Bad Ressler

AN: Gracias por tus reviews! They make so incredibly happy. I own nothing and hope you enjoy!

It had been two months. Two months since Red had been cleared of all injuries, two months since everything had gone back to normal. And already the bastard had gotten himself shot again.

Liz was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles hurt. Of course, no one had bothered to tell her that Red had gotten shot until he was already at the hospital. She swore loudly and honked at the traffic in front of her. She did not have time for this; she would not let that asshole fucking die on her before she yelled at him for how much of an idiot he had been for rushing into that situation without backup. Then, if he didn't apologize to her standards, she would kill the bastard herself.

Liz finally snapped. She turned on her sirens and drove forwards, hardly paying attention to the cars around her. If they wanted to move, great. If not she was going to go through them.

Liz was still cursing up a storm when she pulled up to the hospital, going 60 in a 25 mph zone. Oops. She parked, taking up at least three parking spots and jumped out.

Ignoring the stares, she ran into the hospital, straight up to the clerk. That's where Ressler found her, screaming incoherently at the manager who looked a little panicked. "Keen, Keen calm down!"

Liz wheeled around to look at him, looking slightly feral. "Reddington is fine. The bullet hardly clipped him."

Instantly she relaxed. "What happened? Where is he?"

"I'm sure he'll tell you himself what happened. He's been complaining nonstop since we got here. He's through there."

Liz hurried through the door Ressler had pointed to. From there, all she needed to do was follow his loud voice down the hallway.

"And I promise you, I will be seeking just compensation for the grievous harm, both psychological and physical, I have suffered…. Lizzie!"

Liz walked into the blaring white of the hospital room. Red sat swinging his legs on the examination table. His vest was discarded on a chair and the sleeve of his shirt had been rolled up, revealing a large white bandage slightly bloodstained. Across from him stood an agent in a CIA vest that was practically cowering under Red's yelling. He seemed extremely grateful for Red's shift in focus and turned to look at her.

"Jimmy! Did I say you could look at my partner?"

Jimmy turned a shade of purple. "No sir, I'm so sorry sir."

"Go in the corner and stare at the wall."

"Yes sir." Agent "Jimmy" scurried over to the wall and practically pressed against it, looking like he wanted nothing more than to disappear.

"Donald told him I was an FBI special agent working directly for the president," Red whispered to Liz with a grin. "He now takes all my orders."

Liz rolled her eyes. "What the hell happened?"

Red seemed to sense the undercurrents of anger and looked slightly concerned and confused. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes something is wrong! You nearly got yourself killed again with another one of your insane plans!"

Jim had turned to gape at Liz, genuinely surprised that the president's special agent hadn't assassinated her yet. "Eyes back on the corner, Jim!"

Red turned back to the enraged woman before him. "Lizzie, sweetheart, you really must calm down. This one wasn't even my fault..."

"Then whose fault was it? I swear to god Red, if you make up another plan to get yourself killed I will find a way to lock you in the box permanently and…"

"It was my fault!" Jim cut her off, looking like he was about to burst into tears. "I'm so sorry, I was told there was going to be an armed terrorist meeting with my man, and I didn't realize he was secret services."

Liz had turned her blazing eyes on Jim and the poor agent wished he had kept his mouth shut. He had thought the mysterious secret agent man had been scary but it was nothing compared to the mysterious secret agent man's partner.

Red chuckled, getting Liz's anger driven back at him. "Jimmy, I really think it's time for you to go. She can be a bit unpredictable when she's angry. I would know." He winked at Liz and pantomimed someone driving a pen into his neck.

Jimmy did what any sane man would do- he turned and fled, not stopping until he was safely locked in his car in the parking lot. He sincerely hoped that the mysterious secret agent man- and more importantly his partner- did not hold grudges.

"Explain," Liz bit out, looking like she wanted to murder Red.

"Donald had gotten a tip about one of the blacklisters. He couldn't get a hold of you…" Red paused and Liz blushed a little. She had been taking a bubble bath and left her phone downstairs. It was a Sunday, she deserved some time off! "…so he finally got desperate enough to call me. I confirmed the lead and we went to confront the witnesses."

"Turns out the whole thing was setup by the CIA. I posed as a terrorist, not knowing this, and young agent Jimmy got a little trigger happy while arresting me. Poor kid was aiming for my chest, hit my arm instead. Hardly grazed me really."

Red studied the bandage on his arm and experimentally flexed. "Doesn't even hurt," he said brightly.

Liz studied the arm. Just below the bandage she could make out a thick pale pink line a few inches in length. "What's that?" Red looked back down at his arm as if he had forgotten about the scar.

His smile lit up his face. "That was a gift from our dear friend Donald. He caught up to me in Paris one day. I was toying with the kid, not really expecting him to take the shot. He did."

Liz looked pissed. For a second Red thought she was going to start yelling at him again, but instead she whipped out of the room. He could just make out her yelling "Ressler, get over here," as she walked to the waiting room. He grinned.