First chapter of the new year! Hope you guys enjoy! A little dramatic, but necessary! Again thank you to all my reviewers, i love ya! Thanks again!

Enjoy

14: What Goes Wrong

The sun glinted off the black paint of the two large suvs as they rolled their way conspicuously through downtown DC. The people of the city were used to seeing caravans of cars, usually associating it with a visiting diplomat or some kind of politician passing through. Even though it was considered normal, two massive black vehicles driving in sync drew some attention.

In the first, Donald Ressler was driving with a straight-faced Elizabeth Keen in the passenger seat. Both had clear cords that spiraled their way into their ears, attaching to a compact earpiece. At Tough Book laptop was sitting up in the dashboard holder, the screen glinting with a gps mapping system. They were heading to what looked like a shabby apartment complex in the back of DC's Chinatown district. Although it wasn't as big as New York's or L.A's Chinatown, Washington DC's could get a little crowded whenever there was a festival or gathering. It was a Saturday, a gorgeous day at that, and the taskforce was expecting the roads to be busy with tourists. They were going to set up shop in an empty tea shop a few blocks down from the apartment complex and keep it under surveillance for twelve hours until midnight.

"Do you think it's smart to just go in guns blazing without any surveillance?" Elizabeth asked, turning and looking at Ressler through the dark shades of her sunglasses.

"We're setting up a twelve hour watch," he answered, resting his elbow on the armrest of the door and rubbed at his temple. "Cooper and I want to get in and out as fast as possible. If he's in there, great. We can get him out and close down this location. If he's not, and this whole flash drive thing was a red herring, we won't be wasting weeks' worth of resources.

Liz pursed her lips. "I suppose that makes sense…it's just that I don't like going to brand new locations."

"I feel you on that," Don said, looking over his shoulder and merging into the right lane. "We're agents, we don't like the unknown. That's why we try to fix it. We had a remote controlled drone fly overhead and the pictures it takes will transfer directly to Aram's computer at the base."

Listening for the first time Aram leaned forward from the middle of the backseat. He was pressed between to SWAT members, their rifles laid across their lap. "What will I be doing?" he asked.

"Getting the drone images," Ressler said, glancing in the rearview mirror.

"Oh yeah, I'm doing that."

"Glad to know you're all caught up."

They drove past the big crimson and gold ornate Chinatown gate, the metro stop right next to it, and made their way to the building that was going to be their stake out. The team of six swat members got out, along with Ressler, Elizabeth, and Aram. Aram was holding a computer and a huge black backpack was strapped to his back. In order to not draw any attention, each car had brought along another agent to drive the suvs back to the taskforce headquarters.

The tea shop was small, but the front windows and doors were frosted over and there was a bar for Aram to set up two laptops, an external hard drive, internet router, antennas, decoders, a transmitter, and a few other technological things that Lizzie didn't even recognize. There was a booth in the back of the shop and Lizzie made her way back to it, setting her pack on the table and leaning against the wall, her legs propped up on the seat of the booth. Ressler followed suit, looking down at the screen of his phone and resting across from her.

"Aram's finishing setting up, then he said he'd forward me the images from his email to my phone."

"I still don't really like this, Don," Lizzie answered, leaning her head back and glancing at him. "We haven't had any time. We don't even know what this guy looks like."

Donald shrugged. "If anyone's that building, we'll just take them into custody and go from there."

Elizabeth heaved a sigh and closed her eyes, readying herself for the long wait in the tea shop. She thought back to Reddington, indignant and angry with the situation. He had followed her back in her office when she went to put on her Kevlar and holsters.

"What do you think you are going to do? Go in guns blazing to an environment you don't know?"

"This is my job," she had replied, smoothing the Velcro straps of her protective gear.

Red turned and shut the door. His eyes were hard when he faced her again, but she could see something glint in them, something pleading and worried. "I don't want you hurt, Lizzie. These people are ruthless."

She tossed her head back and crossed her arms. "I've been put in those situations before, Red. Like I said, this is my-"

"It's your job, I understand," Red retorted, his voice raised, "And what about the Stewmaker? What about Tom? I've warned you several times. I went and I saved you, kept you safe and now you're going to thrust yourself headlong into something you haven't planned out." His arm was outstretched and motioning out the window and she was glad the blinds were drawn.

"Donald just wants glory. He doesn't care about the safety of this taskforce. Doesn't even know what kind of danger is out there for you."

Liz watched him. His eyes were pleading, mouth hanging open slightly to compensate for the way his breaths grew heavier. He let his arm fall back to his side and he straightened, waiting for her to speak. She was beautiful to him, her jaw set and her blue eyes calmly watching him. He hated the way the Kevlar looked on her chest, hated the way the gun sat at her hip. The inside of him tugged to be closer to her. Protectiveness blossomed inside of Red and all he wanted to do was to approach her and pull her to him, feel the press of her lips against hers again.

Lizzie's words snapped him out of his trance.

"I shouldn't be your obligation to keep safe."

But you are! You are Lizzie! Reddington closed his mouth and cleared his throat, blinking a few times and then looking down to the floor.

Liz's brows furrowed when she noticed how her words had affected him. There was something he was hiding and she could see the defeat that settled over him like a heavy burden on his shoulders. She didn't like it, but time was running short.

"Red, this is my job. I'm an agent. I'll have a team with me."

"You just don't know what will happen."

"I never know what's going to happen, Red," Lizzie said, turning and grabbing a file that sat at her desk. "That's part of my job. You can't have this kind of worry every time I'm out in the field. It's not your job to worry about me, even though you clearly do."

She walked past him towards the door. Her hand sat on the handle and she made sure their eyes met before she left. "I'll be ok. I'll have my phone on me before the job. I'll be in touch."

As if reliving the events from earlier, Lizzie's phone buzzed in her pocket. It took a little bit of maneuvering to pull it out from the way she sat on the narrow booth, but she managed to look at the screen. Two messages, one from Aram and one from Nick's Pizza.

"I sent them to Lizzie too!" Aram called from across the shop. Lizzie waved her hand up in the air, giving him a smile to let him know she received the photos.

She read the other text.

I'm worrying, Lizzie.

She wasn't aware of the sigh that escaped her lips. Don glanced up at her and watched her thumbs dance over the screen of her phone. He decided not to say anything.

The hours ticked by. Surveillance didn't pick up anything at all, no one went in or came out. Lizzie dozed on an off or got up and made her way around the room, looking over Aram's shoulder or talking with one of the SWAT officers. An agent in civilian clothing that Lizzie remotely recognized stopped by about six hours into their stake out and delivered some sandwiches and bottles of water. The restaurant had a working coffee maker so there was enough caffeine to go around. Ressler was able to stream TV shows onto his phone and that kept them preoccupied for a little bit.

Dusk had fallen, casting a weakening light through the frosted windows.

Finally, when Lizzie couldn't take the small teashop any longer, Aram spoke up from his monitor.

"We have something," he said, turning towards the booth where Agent Keen and Ressler sat.

The two quickly got up and crowded around the computer with the rest of the team. A scrawny white man was on the monitor, seen slipping out of the back door with two black trash bags in his hands. He had a mop of messy sandy hair and glasses. Worn jeans and a sweatshirt made him look like a young college kid. He made his way down the side ally and he could be seen tossing the bags into the dumpster before pulling his hood back up. On his way back out of the ally, he went to the small restaurant next door and was inside for around ten minutes. When he came back out, he was holding onto a plastic bag with a fortune cookie printed across the front. The young man then made his way up the stoop and back inside.

Ressler looked at his watch. "We're moving. Load up."

The tea shop was an efficient flurry of activity. Liz could hear the pull of Velcro and the click of gun magazines. The SWAT members pulled on black helmets and pulled goggles over their eyes. A few tested the lights that were mounted on the M4 carbine rifles. Lizzie pulled out her own Glock and checked the magazine before readying it and placing it back in the holster.

She could feel a few anxious churns deep in her stomach and to help settle herself she pulled out her phone. There was a message from Reddington that she hadn't responded to, she had fallen asleep at the time and forgot about it. She quickly responded.

Team is getting ready, heading in soon. Kevlar is on, gun is ready. I have the team and I have my training. I will text you after.

The message sent without problem and Ressler approached her.

"Ready, Keen?" he asked, sliding on a glove and securing the Velcro around his wrist. Liz looked him up and down and realized that he was the poster child of an FBI Agent. Black tactical pants tucked into black combat boots. He was strapped into his vest and a small earpiece was tucked into his ear.

Elizabeth nodded, putting in her own earpiece adjusting the frequency until she could hear clearly. "Do we have agents setting up a perimeter around the building? There's still some light out, I don't want to chance them seeing us and slipping out the back."

"Perimeter is already in place and the road is blocked from both directions," answered the most senior agent on the SWAT team. His short hair was starting to gray and he had a solid jaw. Lizzie couldn't remember his name but recognized his face. She thought it was something along the line of Carlson.

"Perfect," Agent Keen replied, feeling the churning in her stomach start to ease. She focused on the job and her training, focused on what she knew and what she was supposed to do for this raid. She thought of handcuffing techniques, self-defense techniques, just anything to calm the nerves and to keep her brain sharp.

"Ready?," Carlson called, motioning towards the door. The whole SWAT team formed up and they opened the door, quickly pooling out into the street. Ressler and Keen followed suit, their guns drawn and pointed towards the ground as they moved.

They approached the building and Lizzie pressed her back against the wall when they took the tactical door ram and pounded their way inside. Then, almost as if a dam was opening, there was a flood of adrenaline.

Upon entrance, voices boomed, "FBI! FBI!"

The team swarmed the building, which was four stories tall and relatively narrow. The walls were bare, the floor dusty, and no rugs or furniture. The lowest level was easy cleared. They made their way up the stairs, Ressler and Keen clearing the way behind them as the SWAT members made sure that the front was clear. On the second level, there was a landing and two large rooms, both bare and empty. A small broom closet was built into the wall next to the stairwell and that was easily checked. As they moved, Lizzie listened as best as she could to try and hear footsteps or movement above them, but it was quiet.

They began to move up the third stair case. Carlson was in the lead. Liz turned and looked up at him just as his boot was about to hit the top step. She saw a red light blink on the wood and she went to scream, but the explosion drowned out her voice.

Smoke blasted around them, making it impossible to see or hear. Lizzie retched and coughed, the harmful smog clawing its way into her mouth and nose and burning down to her lungs. She clambered down the stairs, tripping and tumbling down the last few. She hit the landing hard, the air knocked out of her lungs and she tried to gulp in more air, but the smoke was overwhelming. The Glock was knocked out of Elizabeth's hand and she tried to find it, crawling and blinded, the smoke burning and making her cough and wheeze. Above her rang gunshots and yells, screams and banging. She desperately tried to scurry on her stomach, keeping her head as low as possible to try and get as much fresh air as she could.

Where were the stairs? I have to get downstairs. Find your gun and get downstairs.

There was the thunder of footsteps and screaming down the stairs. Lizzie tried desperately to stand, but her head was pounding from the lack of oxygen and she only stumbled weakly, not able to see or speak. There was a sharp kick to her ribs and she curled up, grunting in pain and trying to catch her breath. She could barely see two shapes above her, their faces morphed into the grotesque shapes of gas masks.

They spoke to each other and Lizzie could see the rifles they held in their hands. With sickening recognition she noticed that they were FBI issued SWAT assault rifles. Two more were strapped on their backs. She struggled to get up and try to run but they quickly grabbed her and forced her back on the ground, rearing back and punching her temple.

Elizabeth Keen didn't even have time to scream in pain before she blacked out.

Red twirled the phone in his hands. Hours had passed and he had not heard from them. He unlocked it, went into his messages, read what Lizzie had sent, and locked it again. He repeated this every few minutes.

He was sitting on the couch in the apartment surrounded by books. A glass of scotch sat on the table in front of him and the room was dark. He had been sitting there for hours and the sun had disappeared a while ago, yet he had not stood and turned on a lamp. Dembe sat outside the door, as usual, and together they waited.

It shouldn't be taking this long.

As if hearing his thoughts, the phone finally rang. Red actually jumped and looked at the screen with hope. His eyes grew hard.

"Harold Cooper what has happened to your team?" Red demanded, not even saying hello.

"There was an issue."

Red stood, his jaw set. "What happened."

"There was a smoke bomb waiting for them. With the confusion, the suspects opened fire and Agent Ressler has been wounded. We lost three members of our team."

"Where is Keen."

There was silence.

"Dammit, Cooper, WHERE IS AGENT KEEN?" his voice grew to a roar and Dembe actually hurried in from the hallway, looking around to see what the commotion was. He saw Reddington clenching his phone and his eyes were hard, breathing heavily. Dembe rarely saw him this agitated.

"She has been taken. We've lost contact with her. We don't know her status. We found her firearm and her radio, but nothing else."

Raymond hung up without hearing another word. He grabbed the coat from his coatrack and told Dembe to go get the car. His friend nodded and slipped back out of the apartment. Reddington approached the desk in the office and opened the drawer. There was a black, sleek pistol nestled at the bottom of the drawer, waiting to be used with a lethal silence. He took it, as well as the loaded magazine that rested next to the weapon and slammed it home, pulling back the top of the gun and cycling a round into the chamber. It fit easily into his pocket.

Reddington then left the apartment, without even checking to see if the door was locked, and made his way down to the waiting car. The entire walk down, his mind was racing. He had warned them about going, they knew nothing of the zip drive, the information, or the people they were looking. He had warned against Ressler's bull-headedness, pleaded with Lizzie not to go, to wait and gather more information about the job that was at hand. The team was even surprised at how easily they had managed to access the information on the zip drive. It was as if Knapp wanted the information to be read….

Reddington paused, his mouth going slack with dismay and a jolt of realization shot through his gut, making him teeter backwards and actually holding onto the wall for support. Carter didn't even feel pressured when he handed off the zip drive. Carter thrust it into Reddington's hand without much questioning. There was no password on the information. It was easily accessible, a full address and name.

He slid into the back seat after recovering from his realization. "Take me to Carter," was the only words he said, his eyes narrowed and jaw set in a hard line. Dembe nodded silently and pulled away from the curb, feeling the anger seep into him from where Reddington sat from the back seat.