A/N - apologies for the delay in getting this update to you. A few too many distractions at home lately. Thanks for sticking with me though.

Chapter 10

Agent Keen had dozed off as they bobbed up and down in the vastness that was the ocean. Something woke her. She looked around and wondered what had disturbed her but saw nothing in the darkness.

Then she heard Reddington muttering some slurred, fever-driven words.

"Kate…..no…..Masha….."

The names meant nothing to Keen, assuming they were just the ramblings of a delirious man. But of more concern to her at that moment was Reddington's condition. She put the bottle of water to his lips and tried to get him to take a sip, but he was barely conscious and uncooperative. She tucked the survival blanket more securely around him and held him even tighter and wondered who Kate was.

"It's okay, Red. Just hold on," she pleaded with tears in her eyes.

"Masha?"

"No, Red, it's me. Lizzie. I got you," she said, feeling completely helpless. Tears of frustration trailed down her cheeks.

Reddington had stopped shivering, she noticed. She couldn't be sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She looked skywards. The rain had stopped and the clouds were clearing. It would be light soon. She decided to rest some more, closing her eyes for another few minutes or so it seemed. However, she fell back asleep, her energy completely drained by the events of that night.

It was the noise that first woke her, quickly followed by the down draft from the propellers overhead. She panicked at first, thinking they were in danger, that they had been found by the Director and his men. But to her relief, as she considered her and Red's impending death, a Coast Guard swimmer leaped from the helicopter hovering over them and landed, feet first, in the sea about 20 meters away.

Liz tried to rouse Reddington to tell him that they had been rescued, but he just toppled to one side when she shifted her position. She scrambled to her knees in sheer panic and desperately tried to find his pulse. Her hands were numb from the cold making it difficult.

"Help," she yelled, waving frantically at the approaching swimmer. "I can't feel his pulse."

The swimmer reached them quickly and deftly pulled himself on board the tiny craft. Liz was holding Reddington's limp body and pleading with him not to die.

"Help him," she begged. "Please."

The swimmer removed his goggles and gloves and felt for Red's carotid pulse. He held his fingers in position for several seconds until he was certain.

"He's alive," he told her. "His pulse is weak, but it's there. Is he injured?" he asked, seeing the blood covered shirt thrown on the floor of the raft. He removed the survival blanket and checked him.

"He was shot….five days ago," Liz told him.

The swimmer looked surprised and no doubt wanted to ask what the hell anyone who had been shot only days previously was doing out at sea, but he hadn't time. He had to get the two victims onto the rescue helicopter and try to stabilise the male patient.

He signalled to the spotter in the helicopter to lower the winch. He told Liz that she would go up first.

"No, take him. I'm fine," she told him.

"No, you need to do as I say, Miss. You're up first," the swimmer told her, as he grabbed for the safety harness that dangled close to the boat.

He strapped her in then told her to inform the winch man to lower the basket the next time. He signalled for her to be winched.

Liz was carefully hauled into the hovering aircraft by the winch man. As she was being unharnessed, she recognised Dr. Lillis, sitting at the back of the craft. She glanced to her right and to her delight saw Dembe propped up on his elbows on a stretcher on one side of the craft, straining to see who had been lifted in. There was a sheen of perspiration on his brow, a heavy bandage wrapped around his thigh and an IV going into his arm.

"Elizabeth," he said, glad to see her yet there was an pained tinge to his voice. "Raymond?" he asked, afraid of the answer.

Liz didn't know what to say to him. In a situation like this there was no point hiding the truth.

"He's alive," she told him as one of the crew placed a blanket around her shoulders. "But he's not in good shape. Are you okay?" she asked, looking at the heavy bandage.

"I will be," he told her.

They waited for several minutes until eventually the winch man hauled the swimmer and the basket holding Reddington into the helicopter. Liz was placed on a seat beside Matt while the coast guard medic tended to Reddington. He secured him to a berth and quickly hung an IV line and placed him on oxygen. He appeared very concerned for him.

Dembe lay on one side of the helicopter cabin while Red lay on the other. Dembe could not take his eyes off his boss who was oblivious to his presence.

Liz tried to hear what the medic was saying but with the noise of the rotors she couldn't. He was closely examining Red's chest. Then the medic approached. She heard him tell Matt that Reddington's lung had collapsed and that he was in respiratory distress. Matt unbuckled his safety belt and hurried to Red's side. He could see the bluish tinge on his lips and his grey pallor. He wasn't getting enough oxygen. He would have to insert a chest tube. The conditions were far from ideal but the medics did have the equipment which helped.

Matt got to work. He administered a local anaesthetic to numb the area then made a small incision between Reddington's ribs. The procedure was complete within a couple of minutes. Red's breathing improved almost instantly.

Liz had watched the whole procedure, praying for its success. Once Red's condition improved, Matt returned to his seat for the rest of the journey.

"Is he going to be okay?" Liz asked, unable to mask her fear for him.

"It's hard to tell what's going on with him. He could be bleeding internally again. His breathing is pretty bad," he told her.

"Will he make it?"

"He's a tough one," he told her. "I wouldn't count him out just yet."

The rescue flight continued towards Charleston, the nearest city.

Liz struck up a conversation with the swimmer who was strapped into a jump seat to her left.

"I've been meaning to ask…how did you find us?" she asked.

"Your friends managed to issue a distress signal before your boat went down. You were lucky they did. They also had a beacon on their life raft. Once we found them, they insisted we keep looking for you. You were lucky we found you so soon because we were running low on fuel," the swimmer told her.

"We sure were. I don't think he would have survived much longer," Keen told him.

"Probably not."

The flight to Charleston City Hospital took almost 40 minutes. Reddington was whisked away to the trauma room for examination as soon as they landed. Dembe was taken to the ER to have his wound assessed. Liz and Matt followed to the ER where medics insisted they were also checked out.

Once given the all clear, Matt called his family. Keen decided she should call Cooper. She knew she would be in a hell of a lot of trouble for going it alone, but she knew that they now needed the FBI's help and protection. They were vulnerable in this hospital, especially if the wrong people heard of their survival and rescue.

She used the public phone in the ER to make the call. Cooper picked up and was more than surprised to hear Agent Keen's voice.

"Agent Keen? Where are you?" he asked. "You have some explaining to do."

"I know and I will, but right now we need your help. There was another attempt on Reddington's life while we were on his yacht."

"Yacht?"

"It's a long story but right now we're at Charleston City Hospital. Reddington's not doing so good and Dembe's been shot. We could do with some protection down here," she told him.

"What? You mean Reddington doesn't have another team lined up to come to the rescue?" Cooper asked sounding peeved.

"Not this time," she replied, sensing his annoyance.

"Fine. I'll send a team," Cooper told her. "Local PD will provide protection until we get there. We will move him to a more secure location as soon as he is well enough."

"Thank you, Cooper," she said grateful for his understanding.

Keen then waited anxiously to hear how Reddington was doing. Eventually, one of the doctor's came out to speak to her.

"He's stable at the moment but he's battling aspiration pneumonia and an underlying infection that has weakened him significantly. We've moved him to the ICU to keep a close watch on him. He's sedated and we've intubated him because of his compromised respiratory system. His oxygenation is low and this way we can better control his levels," he told her.

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked.

"The next 24 hours are critical but, if there are no further complications, he should recover in time," he told her.

Following some treatment, Dembe was transferred to the OR where he had a bullet removed from his leg.

Liz spent the next few hours going from the ICU to Dembe's room. She was with Dembe when he came around after the surgery.

"Elizabeth?" he said, surprised to see her at his bedside. She could see his face change when he assumed that the reason she was sitting with him was that something had happened to Reddington. "Is it Raymond?" he asked, fearing the worst.

"What? No. He's stable. I just didn't want you to wake up alone," she told him.

"That is kind of you," he said, genuinely touched that she would be so considerate towards him. "But I would feel better if I knew you were watching over Raymond."

"It's okay. He's sleeping," she told him. "Matt's with him. He'll be leaving soon to catch a train home. He wanted to say goodbye. I'll tell him you're awake."

"Dembe, before I go, I need to know one thing," Keen said, before leaving the room. "The Fulcrum. Is it gone? Did it go down with the boat?"

"It was never on the boat," he told her.

"So Red still has it?"

"An associate is keeping it safe until he decides what to do with it," Dembe told her.

"My fear is if whoever attacked the boat finds out that Reddington survived, they will come for him again. We need to use the Fulcrum to take them down," she told him.

"I agree," he replied. "But it is not my decision. Only Raymond can make that decision."

"But he's in no position to do so, not yet," she argued.

"It is unfortunate," Dembe replied. "But I will not make a decision until I know Raymond wishes it."

Liz felt frustrated. She wanted to protect Reddington but felt her hands were tied. She returned to the ICU and remained with Red. Matt bid her goodbye. He had to return to his life. He was only gone when there was a gentle tap against the glass door of the ICU room. It was Harold Cooper.

"Sir," she said, standing up.

"Agent Keen," he said as he entered. "How is he?"

"He's stable," she told him. "They have him sedated so that he won't fight the breathing tube."

"And you? Are you alright?"

"Me? I'm fine," she replied. "Just tired."

"Well, you can stand down now, Agent Keen," he told her. "I have agents assigned on a round the clock detail until he is well enough to be moved to a more secure location. Agent Ressler is waiting for you at the Charles Motel. He'll debrief you and then you can get some rest. We can talk later."

"I'd rather not leave him," she told him.

"I'll sit with him if it makes you feel any better," Cooper offered. "If there's any change I'll call you."

Reluctantly, Liz agreed. She needed a shower and a change of clothes. Another agent drove her to the motel where she met with Agent Ressler and Agent Navabi. They spoke for a while, Keen trying to convince them that she had no idea Reddington was alive when she left the post office days ago. Convincing them that she stayed under the radar for his security was more difficult to explain. But because they trusted her, they accepted that she had her reasons.

She was obviously exhausted so they let her rest. She slept soundly that evening and through the night. She woke early the next morning and was anxious to get to the hospital to check on Red. To her disappointment, his condition hadn't changed. She looked in on Dembe who was sitting out on a chair and preparing to be released.

"I would like to see Raymond, but they will not let me pass security," he told her.

"Don't worry," she reassured him. "Come with me. I'll make sure you are let in."

Using crutches, he followed her to the ICU. The agent on duty was reluctant but when Cooper came over ruled him, he had no choice but to let Dembe through.

"He is still not awake?" he asked, obviously concerned by this.

"He has been sedated, Dembe," Keen told him. "Reddintgon's lungs are weak and they are trying to give them time to heal," she explained. "The machine is helping him."

"It is difficult seeing him like this," Dembe admitted.

"I know, but he is going to get better," she told him.

"I cannot protect him like this," Dembe told her, looking down at his own injury.

"Without you, he would be dead already," she reminded him. "Back on that boat, you saved us, and getting us rescued, you saved us again. Let us help you now. My people will help."

This made Dembe feel uncomfortable. Having to relinquish control to the FBI was unsettling but Agent Keen had proven that she would do anything to protect Reddington so he knew he could trust her.

"Keep him safe."

"No one will get to him, Dembe. You go with Agent Navabi to the motel and rest up. He will need you strong as he recovers," Keen told him. "I'll call you when he wakes."

Dembe placed the palm of his hand on Red's forehead and whispered a prayer before bidding him goodbye.

Keen sat with Reddington for most of that day, only leaving to use the bathroom and get some food. Cooper and Ressler sat with her for short period during the day. The nurse kept a close eye on their patient and the doctor stopped by during his rounds. He reassured Elizabeth that Reddington was stable and his condition was improving.

He decided that it would be pertinent to hold the sedation and let the patient wake up. To avoid stressing the patient, he removed the breathing tube and placed a nasal canula under his nose and secured it behind his ears just to make sure he was getting enough oxygen.

Now all Keen had to do was wait.

To be continued...

A/N - again, apologies for my lack of medical knowledge. All mistakes are mine alone.