A/N: I didn't want to have to break this into two chapters because I feel like it messes with the flow but it was soooo long. Hopefully it's okay….

38: Reckoning

Red's phone rang early that morning but he'd been up with the birds. Without Laney to soothe and distract him, he didn't sleep much, anticipation and concern for the day's vote weighing heavily on him. He picked up the phone and was disappointed to hear Jasper's voice. Hobbs had failed.

"It's me. It's done," Jasper said.

"I'm listening," Red said, noncommittally. Let the old man show his cards first.

"The vote went your way. The Director wasn't very happy but a vote's a vote."

"And Hobbs?" Red asked carefully.

"He wants to meet," Jasper supplied casually.

"Yes, I'm quite sure he would have," Red replied, his voice low. "But he can't, can he?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Hobbs was to contact me after the vote was cast. He didn't. Which means he's dead. Which means you betrayed him. Betrayed me." Red was dead calm now. He knew what had to be done.

"That's not true," Jasper tried to cover. "He specifically asked that the three of us should meet so that we can discuss the future."

"You need to run, Jasper. Run like the prairie wind because I'm coming for you. And when I find you, I'm going to cut out that forked tongue of yours and deliver it to the Director myself."

With that oath burning his heart, he disconnected the call. He was often given to theatrics but his threats were seldom anything but veiled promises. He would avenge Hobbs. He stared out the window for a moment, hating what he was going to say next. SF8 would have their green light now. It was only a matter of time before the attempts would begin. With no Fulcrum to hold off the Cabal, Red was now the biggest threat to those he loved. He couldn't allow that.

"It's time to go away, Dembe," he said, turning to his friend as he entered. Dembe was disconnecting his own call.

"Agent Keen wants to meet regarding the Fulcrum," Dembe announced.

That gave Red pause. The case was over. They'd lost Cruz and she was now safely in his employ. Why would Lizzie want to deal in the Fulcrum now? He had nothing to offer her. This couldn't possibly end well.

He and Dembe made the drive to her apartment. When they pulled up, she was waiting in her work vehicle. Red pulled on his hand and walked toward her. She was carrying a black bag and she looked grim. Exhausted. Defeated.

She'd spoke to Tom.

"What's wrong?" he asked, already guessing.

"I just spent the last forty-two hours dealing with a man who is a lifelong, habitual, pathological liar."

"Tom."

"Yes," she sighed. "Tom."

"Lizzie," he said, shaking his head.

"Don't…give me advice. This man. This liar. He told me something. Something that I need you to confirm. Now before I ask, I want you to understand that," her voice broke but she pushed on, "I expect you to give me the dignity of a yes or a no. Do you understand?"

Red's heart broke as he watched this young woman, who meant everything to him, struggled with what she knew in her heart to be true. She was giving him an out by pointing out Tom's inability to be truthful. Supplying a pattern of behavior that could cover Red's own indiscretion. She was hoping against hope that he'd take it. He could see it in the emotions playing just behind her eyes.

Lizzie had placed her trust in him and though he had done his best not to compound the lies, she would still see this as purposeful deception on his part. What was it Laney had said about lying by omission? His own eyes misted knowing that this would tear asunder all that he had worked to build with her. But he'd do it. Because he wouldn't lie to cover what he'd done.

"Yes," he said, unequivocally. He choked a bit on the rest. "I'm the one who entered Tom Keen to enter into your life."

She stumbled backward, stricken by his words. She'd known what he was going to say but she'd hoped. It was written on her face. Pain lanced through his heart as he reached for her.

"Can I explain?" he asked. He wanted to beg.

"No," she managed, tears filling her blue eyes. "No, you cannot explain."

She fumbled with the leather bag, her hands trembling. She was in a rush now. She wanted to be done with him before she fell apart. Somehow, that made it worse to him.

"Here," she said, pulling out a smaller, hard shell black case. "This is all you wanted."

Her tone was reasonable as she flipped it open to reveal the bubble module. He didn't give a damn about that right now. He just wanted to make this right. To erase the devastated look on her face.

"Now you have it," she said, shoving it at him. He refused to take it.

"Lizzie, when I hired Tom…."

"I said please do not attempt to explain why," she snarled. "I don't care why. I just want this to stop. I want it all to stop. Right now."

She was desperate as she pushed past him, laying the case on the car. She was hurting and he couldn't stop it. He had done this to her. He had caused her this pain. What she saw as his betrayal.

"Take it!" she yelled, hurrying to her vehicle.

"Lizzie," he managed. Then he raised his voice. "Lizzie!"

Without another word, she got in the SUV and slammed the door. Reeling, stunned, hurting, Red turned back toward his own car. He heard the shot and felt the searing pain that didn't even begin to compare to what Lizzie made him feel. He felt like he was suspended in time. He couldn't breathe.

Finally, he thought before the world went black.

X X X

Liz was reeling. Stunned. Angry. But most of all, she was hurt. She had come to trust Reddington. Care for him. She knew their relationship was odd and defied convention but he was the one constant she'd been able to count on the last two years. She'd meant what she told Tom earlier. She trusted Red. She believed him to be honest with her. How foolish Tom must think her. Even Reddington had been lying to her for his own gain. Of course he had. He was number four on the FBI's Most Wanted list. Hell, he'd even warned her that he wasn't to be trusted. What the hell had she been thinking? That she was special? That she mattered to him? She was a means to an end. To the Fulcrum. That was it.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was angry at him for looking so stricken. Vulnerable. Broken. Like this was hurting him too. She just wanted to be done. She wanted to be away from all of this. The lies. The warped sense of right and wrong. She put the Fulcrum down on his car and stalked away.

"Take it!" she yelled.

"Lizzie." She barely heard him the first time. Then his voice demanded his attention. "Lizzie!"

She slammed the door and was reaching for the ignition when the shot rang out. She watched, horrified, in what felt like slow motion as Red went down. Dropped like dead weight. Dead. Weight.

Oh my God.

"No!" The word ripped from her chest as she fumbled to get out of the car. Dembe was already by his side.

"Dembe!" she yelled as he dragged Red to the meager cover the side of the car provided.

Her weapon was drawn as she ran toward them. Dembe pulled the black case off the car as she tore off her scarf, a gift from Red ironically, and used it to put pressure on Red's chest wound. Dembe produced a pistol and laid down cover fire in the direction of the still active sniper. Liz fired her own shots as Red tried to move before passing out. She and Dembe exchanged horrified looks as their hands pressed together over the wound. Blood poured out of Red's mouth, terrifying Liz.

"Reddington," she yelled, like somehow her voice would anchor him to her.

Please, God. Don't let him die, she prayed desperately before her tactical mindset took over. The sniper continued to take shots and she and Dembe took turns returning fire.

"You have eyes?" she asked Dembe.

"Fourth floor. East side," Dembe replied, sending up more vollies. There was no way they'd hit the sniper from this range even with the luckiest of shots. Dembe ducked back down and she went up, firing once more. At least if the sniper was taking cover, he couldn't get a good bead on them.

"Look out," Dembe said in the closest tone he got to excited. "Down."

His hand on her back pushed her down over Red. He fired once and took down a bearded man with a gun who was coming around the corner. Liz vaguely recognized him as one of the men Aram had complied as possible candidates for SF8 many days ago.

"We gotta get him out of here," Liz said. Dembe stood and hooked his arms under Red's and began dragging him back toward the back passenger side. Liz was gratified to see Red gain consciousness enough to try to help Dembe by scrambling backward. He was still alive. They just had to keep him that way. She laid down cover fire with renewed vigor and had the wherewithal to grab the case off the ground. Maybe Red had been honest about that, at least.

She stood to full height, hoping to draw the sniper's fire as Red and Dembe became most vulnerable. A shot spidered the back passenger window, somehow missing them all by the Grace of God and pure dumb luck. They all somehow managed to get in and Dembe fishtailed out. Adrenaline ruled Liz's actions now and she ran off pure instinct.

Now that they were away from the incessant, deafening gun fire, she could hear Red's unnatural wheezing. His lungs were in bad shape. They'd lose him if they didn't act quickly. With one arm thrown over the center console, she did her best to keep pressure on his wound while she dialed Cooper.

"Cooper, this is Keen." She knew she was probably yelling but she didn't care. "Reddington is down. I repeat, he is down. Shot and critical."

"Shot? Where? Where are you?" Cooper demanded. She glanced at the passing street sign.

"Euclid and Drake, headed southwest."

"Lizzie, don't," Red managed from the back seat, grasping at her hand.

"Reddington, stay still," she demanded. "He's shot in the chest. I'm going to lose him if I don't get him to an ER."

That little truth almost caused panic and hysteria to rise up. She bit them back ruthlessly. His life depended on her keeping her cool. She wouldn't lose him. She would not lose him.

"Are you secure? Unfriendlies?" Cooper asked.

"Unknown but I'm gonna need an escort and back up…." Dembe snatched the phone and tossed it out the window. "What are you doing?"

Dembe pulled his phone out of his inside coat pocket and handed it to her.

"Dial star seven seven," he instructed.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Star seven seven," he repeated. Liz did as she was told.

"Seventy-seven, what is your location?" a female voice answered.

"Who is this?" Liz demanded. There was a brief pause.

"What is your location?" she demanded, forcefully this time.

"Mr. Kaplan?"

"What is your location?"

"Capitol and M." The call disconnected. "I don't know what Mr. Kaplan has planned but we need to get him to a hospital right away."

"No hospitals," Dembe interrupted.

"I'm sorry but we don't have a choice," she pleaded desperately. "I'm not going to let him die and it can't wait."

The gasping from the back seat added urgency to her words. The phone rang. She snatched it open.

"Mr. Kaplan."

"There's a warehouse. 5312 Mass Ave. Say it back," she demanded.

"5312 Mass Ave," Liz repeated dutifully. Dembe nodded once.

"Get there now. We'll be waiting."

"Who will?" Liz asked.

But it was too late. Mr. Kaplan had already disconnected. Red gasped again and she dumped the phone in Dembe's lap before reaching back with both hands to put pressure on the wound.

"Just hold on. Please. Just hold on," she pleaded.