As the helicopter flew on a straight course away from the quarry over the snow packed ground beneath them, Red regarded Young as he sat across from him. The man hadn't spoken since they'd boarded the helicopter. Keeping to himself, he had simply looked out the window the entire flight.

"So what is the plan, Mr Young?"

Clenching his teeth a moment, the outline etched in his jaw, Young drew his eyes from the window and motioned to his boss in the cockpit. "That's up to him. I'm just the hired help here," he said.

Red regarded him a moment longer, then nodded. "Oh, I think you're capable of being more than just the hired help. Each of us make choices in our lives. It just depends what choice we make at the right time that counts. Wouldn't you agree?"

Young didn't answer as he looked at Red steadily before his eyes landed on Dembe, seeing the man's dark eyes looking back calmly at him, despite the blood seeping down his left side.

Campbell spoke up from his position on the seat beside Young. "I'd have to agree with that. I can't say I'm feeling too good about this turn of events, if I'm honest."

Red tipped his head a little and pursed his lips, addressing the injured man. "Well, we agree on that, Mr Campbell."

And to emphasize the point, his steady gaze landed back on Young until the man grew uncomfortable under the scrutiny and looked up. As Young again met his eyes, Red leaned forward. "And how are you feeling about this turn of events?"

"It's out of my hands," Young said, then dropped his gaze. Leaning back in his seat he closed his eyes and didn't see Red smile knowingly across from him.

###

In their submerged room, Ressler and Liz sat huddled together in the cold. Feeling Liz's supporting shoulder against his back, Ressler sat with eyes closed and his head down, waiting for the pills to take effect. His breathing more even now, he'd resigned himself to the fact he was now back on the pill bandwagon. And in a long remembered, achingly familiar sequence his body began to respond to them. That drawing, tingling warmth as the sedation entered his muscles. That calming sensation in the back of his brain that signaled them hitting his nervous system and dropping his pain level. And yet through that, his heart was cold and almost detached from the rest of his being. The hard weeks he'd endured without pills were now washed away and he was starting from scratch all over again.

"Ress, are you okay…?" Liz asked him from close by his head.

Her voice startled him out of his thoughts and sucking in a quick breath, he nodded and opened his eyes, but couldn't look at her just yet. Feeling the drugs moving through his system and invading every cell, he forced himself to stop thinking about the long term effects of taking them and instead raised his head to look at the gaping hole in the ceiling above them. Shattered wooden planks ringed the opening, forming a ragged semi circle through which the cloudy sky was visible. Liz followed his gaze, shivering beside him, taking in the spectacle above them.

Despite the throbbing in his head from where he'd hit the floor, his mind was already turning to the task at hand, dropping his eyes to the boxes Liz had already stacked. Estimating they were 12-15 feet below the surface they'd need six or seven levels, and each level was going to get increasingly more difficult as they hauled the boxes higher. But they wouldn't be doing anything if his arms wouldn't function. Which, of course, was the entire point to the descent into pill-popping territory again.

Moving his right arm a little, he tested how it felt. Sucking in a breath as pain radiated from his shoulder, he shook his head to clear it. While the pain was there, it was certainly not the searing pain he'd experienced earlier. Moving a little he leaned away from Liz to enable him to free up his left shoulder. Again, as he moved it there was pain and weakness, but not enough to stop him working on their situation at hand.

Now he looked at Liz, meeting her worried eyes with his. Their eyes matched, he thought, both in redness, tiredness and concern. He hadn't answered her yet. "I'm fine. Let's do this."

Gathering his knees under him to rise, he stopped midway and faced her again. This wasn't her fault. Licking his bottom lip and then attempting a half smile, he met her eyes again. He failed at the smile, but she saw the intent. "I'm sorry. You were right, Liz. It really was the only choice."

"But not the easiest," she told him, nudging into him as her hand found the back of his neck. He leaned into her touch for a moment. Definitely not the easiest.

"So let me help you up here, partner, and we can get to work," she smiled then put her arms around him and helped haul him to his feet as he leaned on her. Stretching out back muscles that were stiff from hitting the ground hard, he grimaced at the tightness, but those wonderful little pills were enabling him to stand. Extending his arms and testing them again, he hissed through his teeth as he did so, but kept flexing them.

"Are you good…?" she asked, watching him moving his arms.

He smiled ruefully then, giving in completely to this plan, fully aware they only had a window of a couple of hours before he'd need more pills to keep going. "Oh, I'm great. Raring to go."

Of course he'd use sarcasm, she thought. It was always his first defense. She smiled at him, "Then let's go build us a staircase, shall we?"

As they approached the boxes, stepping through the snow around their feet, Ressler was already working out a plan of attack. "We need more boxes on the first level," he told her, counting in his head. "We need eight, then seven on the second level, then six, etc, giving us seven levels each 2 feet high."

"That's a LOT of boxes, Ress…" she said, quickly counting the boxes she could see through the daylight filtering through the hole above them.

"Yes it is, but that should get us to within a foot or two below the opening with two boxes on the top level. So we'll need…" he stopped, counting to himself, "thirty five boxes…"

"Yes, Aram," she smiled, as Ressler's calculations reminded her of their colleague's love of numbers.

He snorted at the comparison, looking up at the ceiling again, then back down to her beside him and added, "And I hope he's calculating just where we are…though he's gonna need a bigger slide rule to figure this one out."

Neither of them had mentioned Red and what had happened above them. "Do you think Red and Dembe are okay…?" she asked him suddenly.

Looking above him as if the jagged opening could shed some light on that question, he pursed his lips before looking at her, "When is Reddington ever not okay?"

Nodding, she had to agree with that.

"So let's do this," he told her and together they dragged three more boxes over the wooden floor to the first level, increasing it to eight. Ever mindful of the boxes contents, they handled them as carefully as they could. Estimating the boxes weighed about 15lb, Ressler carefully kept his elbows locked to his sides as he lifted the boxes, taking some of the pressure off his wrecked shoulders. And lifting the boxes together, grunting as they did so, they added three more boxes to the second level as Liz pushed them toward him for him to stack.

"Why is this so hard…? They're not that heavy," she asked him, panting at the bottom of the staircase, leaning forward to catch her breath.

"Well, let me see. We survived a plane crash, haven't eaten properly in days, haven't drank enough, have been freezing cold, slept under trees, you have a concussion, I got shot, and then just for good measure we fell ass first through a hole in the ground," he offered helpfully, almost teasing her. And as he did so, he realized it was the pills that were having that affect on him. They had always kept him on an even keel.

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "Well, when you put it that way."

"Oh, and the biggy. We haven't had a change of underwear in four days," he said seriously.

She laughed out loud at that. "Okay, I'm sorry I asked," she said, meeting his smiling eyes. "Shall we continue our Lego project here?"

Smiling, glad for the momentary respite, he turned and gingerly stepped on the first level, testing the strength of the boxes. Fully expecting (and dreading) that his heavier weight would go straight through them, he breathed a sigh of relief as they held firm. And climbing to the next level, carefully placing his foot on the next box, he looked up at the ceiling which was now four feet closer.

###

Miles away, the helicopter flew in a straight line on a course for Rochester, carrying Reddington and Dembe further away from the quarry and its trapped occupants. Dembe leaned a little on Red beside him as blood continued to seep down his side, pooling on the seat.

"Do you think they are okay?" he asked Red, not needing to explain who he was referring to.

Red tilted his head a little before answering Dembe, noting the sweat beading on the man's forehead. "That I don't know. All we can do is assume that they are doing everything they can to survive and get out of that situation." As are we, he thought.

Below them, the snow depth tapered a little as they headed north, approaching the outskirts of Rochester. Noting a change in the pitch of the rotors, Red looked out the window again, drawing his attention off Dembe. Making a mental note of the direction of the nearest highway and surrounding features for future reference, he spied a lone building on the snow filled ground, surrounded by pine trees. Isolated, it was the perfect place for them to be landing, he thought, as the building grew closer as they descended.

Opening his eyes at hearing the change in the helicopter, Young looked out the window and also saw their landing point underneath them.

"Well, here we are Mr Young. I'm ready to find what awaits us down there, aren't you?" asked Red, grinning at the man.

Young regarded him through narrowed eyes, before drawing his weapon from his pocket and holding it on Red. The helicopter lurched, and then steadied as it came to a halt on the roof of the large building, burying the struts in a foot of snow. And as he looked at the gun Young had trained on him, Red held up his hand to stop Dembe from doing anything.

As the rotors slowed, their captor jumped down from the cockpit and slid the door to the passenger compartment open.

"Gentlemen. This way, if you please."

"Oh, it pleases me greatly. Isn't that right, Mr Young," said Red flashing his grin to the man holding the weapon on him.

"His name isn't Mr Young," said the man outside the helicopter.

"Oh, I'm well aware of that. Nor is his name Campbell," said Red, motioning to their broken legged companion, "But they're as good a names as any to refer to them with. And I've actually grown quite used to using those names, so I'll continue if you don't mind," he nodded to the man, clarifying that for him.

"Whatever. This way," the man replied, stepping aside as Young jumped down from the chopper, silently keeping his gun raised on Red, holding it in both hands on the criminal. Red couldn't help but smile inwardly at the similarity in how Ressler had held his weapon on him at times.

"And by what name do you wish to be referred to?" asked Red, standing beside their gracious host now as Dembe climbed slowly down from the chopper, leaving a small trail of blood behind him.

"I understand I am referred to as The Bombmaker. Such a colorful tag, but I much prefer Anton," he replied, not specifying if that were his first name or his last.

"Well, Anton. It's cold out here. Perhaps we should take this inside. And my man here needs medical attention," said Red, tipping his head to the side and regarding Anton steadily, ignoring Young holding his weapon on him for the moment.

###

After almost an hour of carrying boxes and stacking them, both Ressler and Liz were wearing out fast. Their smiles and joking had subsided, leaving them working in a silent environment punctuated with their grunts as the pile of boxes grew. Now on the fourth level, each level took longer with how much higher they had to haul each box, but they were making good headway. They couldn't go for much longer though. Balancing himself with his hands on the next level, blood drops falling under him onto the boxes, Ressler dropped his head and closed his eyes. His shoulders were now seriously picking up the pace in the pain department and screaming relentlessly at him. His head likewise had resumed it's thumping, the little guy in there with the jack hammer having fired it up again.

"You okay?" she asked, fully aware that he was not even close to okay.

"Yeah, hand me the next one," he panted.

Struggling as she placed it on the second level, she stepped back as he came slowly down the steps to retrieve it. Clenching his jaw as he lifted it, he hauled it to the next level, ignoring the blood that he was smearing on the box.

"We need to stop and rest…" she told him, barely able to keep standing now as her breath came in gulps. Hunched over, her attention was drawn to the dark red blood drops on the bottom and second level.

Looking up at her stubborn partner, she tried to stop him again. "Ress, we need to take a break and try and stop that bleeding," she told him worriedly.

"Liz, I have to keep going while…while I still can…" he panted, well aware he was bleeding, but knowing the pain deadening effect of the pills had almost worn off.

Still doggedly persevering, Ressler was pushing another box toward the wall on the fourth level when a wave of dizziness passed over him. Stopping and closing his eyes, he waited for the moment to pass. Liz hadn't seen, her attention still on his blood smeared all over the bottom steps.

"Ress… I know you want to keep going, but I'm not sure I can," she told him, panting hard in the cold air. "And…" she stopped.

He opened his eyes, turning to her and looking down from his elevated position. "And?"

"I need to pee."

"Happens to us all, Liz. I won't look," he assured her.

"I know…I just. Oh, to hell with it." Making her way slowly to the small hallway near the door, she quickly undressed and took care of business. Shivering as she redressed, she then walked back out to the staircase in time to see Ressler swaying up on the fourth level.

"Ress!"

"I'm fine… I'm just…" Knowing he would likely fall if he continued, he slowly made his way downward, then sat heavily against the wall at the base of their stairs.

"We need to get that bleeding stopped," she admonished him, but was mostly upset with herself that she hadn't insisted on that before they'd got started. But then, at the time all they had been concentrating on had been the pills.

"And I'm guessing you're all out of feminine products, right?" he asked, half smiling up at her before he dropped his throbbing head to the wall behind him.

"All out, I'm afraid," she replied, kneeling down to him before flopping down at his side. Opening up his jacket she shone her phone light on his right shoulder, as the light illuminated the dark red blood seeping down the front of his vest.

"We need something to wedge in there and keep pressure on it…" she said, thinking out loud.

Rolling his head to her as he continued leaning back against the wall, he was about to tell her he didn't know what they could use when his brain kicked into gear. "The tag. The FBI tag on the back of our vests. Pull it off the Velcro…" he told her, leaning forward.

"Good one…" as he leaned forward she ran her hand up the inside of his jacket, found the tag, ripped the Velcro, then pulled it out from under his jacket.

"Damn, now I'm colder," he said as the thick layer of fabric left his back. She couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

Folding it carefully, she leaned into him and wedged the folded fabric under the strap of his vest, then tightened the Velcro strap a little more to keep it firmly in place.

"Shit…" he cursed as she sat it in place and the pressure suddenly increased on the bullet entry point in his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he slowly leaned back against the wall again as he adjusted to the new level of pressure.

"Sorry…it needs to be tight," she apologized.

"I know. It's fine."

"We need to eat something, Liz," he told her as the pain in his shoulders signaled the fading of the pain numbing affect in his system. "Here…share this out…" he told her as he reached for his packet of deer meat from his inside front pocket.

Despite their exertion and the close proximity it had sat to his torso, the meat was half frozen. "Oh, how appetizing…" she said, but realizing they needed to eat, she handed him a piece.

"Grab handfuls of snow and let it melt in your mouth," he told her, "and we'll have a banquet."

###

As Anton led them off the roof toward a small building on one corner, they made their way down a metal staircase to enter the top floor of the building. Young followed them, ever watchful, his gun drawn on Red.

"Just what do think I'm going to do, Mr Young?" Red asked him, glancing back over his shoulder as they made their way down the stark metal stairs.

Young regarded him silently, motioning with the gun for him to keep moving. Behind them, two men carried Campbell down the stairway between them. As he grunted in pain at their manhandling of him, he looked down to Red. "Sure could do with one of those pain pills you had," he said, and then turned quickly to one of his handlers as his leg swung precariously, "Geez! Watch it!"

Red turned his attention to Dembe walking beside him. Obviously in pain and still losing blood, Red knew the man would never complain and would stoically go on until he dropped.

As they exited the stair case, Anton motioned to two men who were approaching them. "Take them down to the lower level," he said and turned to Red, "I'm sure you'll find the accommodations down there acceptable."

"And I take it once we are there, my man here will receive medical attention?" Red stood his ground firmly, facing Anton.

Anton threw a cursory glance over Dembe. "He should have thought about that before he tried to knock me down. He'll be fine."

Red took his hat off and stepped closer to Anton, smiling broadly. "I take it you've heard of a little place called Geneva? Lovely place. One of the most beautiful lakes I've ever had the pleasure to sail on. Funny thing though. In that small part of the world a few men got together and drew up this wonderful little document called the Geneva Convention. A beautifully detailed transcript regarding prisoners and their treatment. An absolute crowning achievement to the inherent good in mankind."

The thin set of his mouth no longer smiling, Red took a step closer to their captor and hardened his tone. "And in that document it expressly states that all prisoners shall receive medical attention. And you will provide that for my man here immediately."

"Yeah, he took care of me…" said Campbell looking over his shoulder as his two handlers led him away from the gathering.

Anton folded his arms and faced Red, a small smile forming. "I'm not from Geneva. He'll be fine." Turning to his men, he stepped back, ordering them to take them to the lower level.

Before he moved, Red drew his eyes off Anton and turned to Young behind him. His weapon still raised he stood silently, his jaw clenched firmly as he maintained his two handed hold on the gun.

Red tilted his head and smiled slightly. "Choices, Mr Young."

"Shut up."

And dismissing the gun wielding man behind him, Red turned back to Dembe before the two of them followed the men to the lower levels.

###

"So…are you ready to take more pills, so we can get started again…?" Liz asked her partner quietly as they sat shivering together on the floor beside their staircase, their gourmet meal complete.

He dropped his head, sighed and then looked up at the stack of boxes on their half complete staircase. "Yes. Give me two of them…" he told her quietly, then closed his eyes, exhaling heavily.

As her fingers broke the two pills out of the foil package, he silently met her eyes before holding out his hand for her to drop them into. The residue from the first three pills was still in his system, enabling him to still move his left arm a little. "Shit…" he cursed under his breath again and then downed the two pills. They dissolved in his mouth, their bitter taste simultaneously loathed and welcomed in the war waging inside him.

Knowing it wouldn't take long for him to feel them, she sat by him in support as he resumed his former position, head down and eyes closed as he waited for them to take affect. He didn't hold that position long though, and looked up after a minute and shook his head, chuckling without humor.

"You're different when you're on the pills…" she said quietly.

"I know."

"You're still 'you' though. But I think maybe the pill version knows how to lighten up a little more? Maybe isn't afraid to show a sense of humor?" she offered, tilting her head as she looked at him, gauging his reaction.

Biting his bottom lip momentarily, he looked sideways at her leaning against him. "I do lighten up around you though," and then gave her his half smile, "well, when I'm not being an absolute prick, right?"

"Well, there is that, yeah," she smiled, seeing the pills calming him and taking affect. Raising her head, her hair fell back onto her shoulders as she counted the boxes. "We're almost there. Three more small levels to go," she said and looked at him again. "Ready?"

He nodded, the pain in his head having settled back to a dull throb as he tested his arms, feeling that he could work again. "Yup. Let's do this and get the hell out of here."

"And then what…?" she dared to ask the question.

"Oh, that's easy. We high tail it to that building and light a damn fire to warm up."

As he placed the final box to complete the fourth level, he kneeled back on his haunches and looked up at the opening. They were still a good 6-8 feet below it. The light in the sky was changing and he quickly looked at his watch.

"Damn. Liz, we're going to be out of daylight in an hour," he called down, unable to believe where the time had gone. Climbing down as quickly and safely as he could, ignoring the light dizziness that brought about, he helped her stack the final nine boxes they'd need near the foot of the staircase.

As he moved up the stairs quicker, she cautioned him to be careful. "No sense in breaking our necks at this point of the game, right?"

"Yes, mom..." he muttered.

"I heard that."

He grinned despite himself, pushing the next box in place. Now she was meeting him on the third level with their next box, giving him one less level to haul the box up to. From his position at the top of the boxes, now some ten feet off the floor, he began the process of stacking the second level from the top, needing only three boxes to complete it. Pushing the third one, feeling the pain level starting to increase again, he again looked to the opening. Testing the hold as he clambered onto the box, he carefully stood, ignoring Liz's hiss from below and standing on the second level from the top, found himself level with the ceiling. Clouds were scudding across the sky, indicating the wind was rising as the breeze ruffled his short hair. They were almost there. Two more boxes and they could climb out.

"Hurry, Liz," he told her, as he again reached the mid point of the steps to retrieve the next to last box. Dragging it up with him, panting as he reached the top he placed it by the wall, barely sparing time to look up before heading back down.

"Last box," she said tiredly, "Is it going to be enough to get us out?"

"Yes, but I have to break some of the wood away first. I don't want to put my weight on that and have it cave in again."

She looked up quickly, seeing how much wood he'd need to break, finding it more difficult now as the light faded in the sky. She didn't relish the prospect of climbing up the stairs to begin with. But in the dark, that was going to be challenging.

Climbing up to place the last box, he grunted his way to the top with it in his arms, and thankfully placed it beside its companion on the top level. Gingerly kneeling on the top level, balancing his weight 14 feet off the floor, he looked down at her. "Stand back, I'm going to push some of this wood down," he called down.

In what felt both horrifying and a huge relief, the wood broke away very easily under his gloved hands, raining wood and snow down to the bottom of the room as Liz stood well out the way. Quickly brushing the bulk of the wet snow off the top boxes, having now made an opening safe enough for them to climb out of, he looked down to her again.

"I'm going out, then you come up and I'll help you, okay?" he called down. Not waiting for her reply as the sun began to set, he slowly stood on the box, raising himself waist high out of the hole. With an effort, he put his arms forward and grabbed onto a metal pipe running along the ground, grimacing at the pain that shot through his right shoulder. And supporting himself on arms that screamed at him, he hauled himself out of the room and fell onto the snowy ground. Barely laying there a second, he forced himself to roll to his knees, gasping hard before peering back down into the room.

"Come on!" he called down, kneeling in the snow as she started to climb.

She was half way up when she remembered something. "Wait!" and as he rolled his eyes, leaning further forward to see what she was doing, she climbed back down.

"Liz, come on, it's getting dark!"

"Your weapon! It's still down here and we will probably need it," she called up to him.

"Damn." She was right.

Taking her glove off, she scrambled around in the darkness in the wet snow at her feet, judging where his right hand would have been when he landed on the floor. The cold metal clipped her hand as her fingers dragged by it. Sitting icily in her hand as she retrieved it, she flipped the safety on in the growing darkness and pocketed the weapon.

"Got it!"

"Then get up here…" he said under his breath, peering into the dark room as she again started her ascent. As she grew level with the top she stopped and looked up, her pale face looking out of the darkness at him.

"You okay?" he asked her, holding his hand down.

"Yeah. I don't like this height…"

"Then don't look down. Come on, you're almost there…" he encouraged, as she made it to the second level from the top, reaching out his left hand to her, ignoring the pain level that was now shrieking at him to just quit using his arms.

Grabbing his offered hand, she held on tight as she scooted over to him on her knees on the top level now.

"I've got you… come on, Liz," he told her, moving slightly to the side as he held onto the pipe with his right hand. Blood was seeping under his makeshift pressure bandage, dripping on the snow as he leaned forward, dragging her toward him. As she gasped with a final effort, she flung herself out of the submerged room, flopping down beside him.

"Oh my God! We made it!" she cried, her chest heaving with the exertion in the cold evening air.

And beside her, as the toll of the last few hours overtook his body as he lay on the snowy ground, Ressler chuckled and then began to laugh deeply as tears rolled from his eyes and into his ears.

"Ress…?" she asked him, leaning over him, "are you laughing or crying…?"

"Yes!"

And at his non-committal answer, she grinned and flopped back down beside him, and together they lay on the frigid cold ground, laughing out loud in sheer relief in the dark of the evening.

###

As Red and Dembe were led to the lower levels, they entered a large room with an empty industrial look. There were no furnishings apart from 2 simple plastic chairs, grey bare walls and painted floor and at the rear of the room, 4 holding cells with metal bars lining one wall.

"Oh, how quaint. You were quite correct about the wonderful accommodations," said Red. "Tell me though, what have I possibly done to you to warrant this vendetta you have against me, hhhmm?"

"Oh, I'll give you some time down here to think about that," said Anton.

As Anton's men opened the doors to two adjoining cells, Red stopped walking, motioning to Dembe to do the same before turning to Anton again. "Oh, be a sport. Give me one little clue and I'll try and muddle through the rest on my own, thanks."

"2007. There's your clue."

"Oh, well that narrows it down. Though that was a busy year," said Red and was about to say something more when he was cut off.

"Enough. Get in there."

Entering their cells, Dembe stumbled a little, then immediately righted himself. Red quickly looked at Dembe and then stood back silently while the doors were padlocked shut behind them. Their accommodations were stark. A simple cot, sink and toilet.

As the two men left, Anton stood and grinned at Red through the bars. "Not so talkative now, are we?"

And as Red held his chin higher in silent defiance he stole a glance at Young standing behind Anton. His weapon lowered, he now stood with hands on hips looking at his boss and Red.

And as Red barely tilted his head, not needing to say a word as he met the man's eyes, Young clenched his teeth and looked away.