Ressler didn't know what time it was when he woke up, but the pink glow of dawn was visible through the dirty warehouse windows. His head felt thick and heavy and his chest tight under the fresh bandages. With an effort, pulling an oxygen mask off his face, he drew himself up to a sitting position on the couch and looked around the murky building. Cooper was dozing on a nearby recliner, and Red and Dembe were nowhere in sight.
Liz was gone, and his aching heart needed to see her. His breathing was easier, something he reluctantly thanked the nurse for. Pulling himself up off the couch, he made his way toward the ambulance, all the while ready to punch out Red's lights if the man was once more sitting beside Liz.
But no one was around. Ressler was alone as he stood outside the ambulance and climbed up into the back to sit beside the sheet covered corpse. He felt drained. As if the anger at Reddington had taken the last of his strength. Yet when he lifted the sheet a little to reveal Liz's pale, still hand, the ache that had settled into his chest welled up and he stifled a sob.
After a moment he took her cold hand in his, as if willing his warmth back into her. Still covered in the sheet, she was unseen apart from her lower arm and hand.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. If he'd only figured it out sooner. If he'd only been able to run faster without his lungs straining for air, he'd have got there in time. He'd failed her at the very end.
Drawing her hand up, he turned it over and kissed her palm, then held her lifeless hand next to his cheek. As his eyes closed, he once more remembered holding her hand as she'd lay next to him in the hospital. Then her hand had been warm and solid in his. Now, it was cold and lifeless in his grip. Bringing his other hand up he held her cold hand and wrist as his heart ached. Tears rose up behind his closed eyes, spilling over as he sat and held her hand.
At first, he dismissed it. But when it came again, it startled him. His eyes sprung open, blinded by tears as he looked at the sheet. No, he'd imagined it. She was gone. He had not just felt a tiny heartbeat under his hands. He hadn't.
Yet…he had.
Now he held her cold hand across his lap, and placed his fingertips along her wrist, waiting. And there was nothing. He'd imagined it. And just as his eyes closed against the inevitable, mourning her loss even deeper, he felt it again.
An unmistakable tiny pulse in her cold wrist, right under his fingertips.
Eyes wide, now he stood and pulled the sheet down, revealing her pale face, white lips and closed eyes. As his hand found her cheek it was met only by cold skin. And now his finger traveled to her carotid artery in her neck, and once more waited. And this time he was rewarded with a stronger pulse.
She was alive! Impossibly, against all odds, she was alive!
He should call Cooper, yet part of him still believed he was dreaming. That this wasn't real. But the other part was now coiled like a tight spring, waiting for another beat of her heart. And there it was. They were coming about every 30 seconds, yet to all intents and purposes, she was dead. And yet deep inside her, her heart was slowly beating. Which was impossible with where she had been shot.
Lowering the sheet more, his eyes now looked fully at the deep red stain on her white sweater. And even with the possibility she might not be gone, it hurt him to his core as he looked at her blood.
But was it her blood…?
Mind racing, every other thought flung aside, he lifted her white sweater and saw the pale skin of her stomach. Lifting it higher, the wool pulled against the dried blood as he moved the sweater all the way up past her bra.
He almost collapsed right there at what met his eyes. There was no exit wound from a gunshot. Instead a shattered and torn dye pack that had been filled with blood. His mind whirling, he rolled her to her side and found and even bigger dye pack splattered all over her back.
She had not been shot at all!
Eight Hours Earlier:
Liz had forgotten all about it. It was so tiny and hidden in a pocket she had not given it another thought after escaping from Latvia and with Neville Townsend dead.
The tracker was still active.
And just as she'd parked her car to go inside and see Agnes and Mrs French, her way was suddenly blocked by a figure silhouetted in the alley. As she strained her eyes to see, the man stepped forward. It was the gun in his hands she noticed first, but as her hand flew to her hip, she already knew she was unarmed.
Neville Townsend's second in charge, Vandyke, stood before her brandishing his weapon, his grey hair moving in the gentle breeze. "You killed my boss."
"Well, technically I didn't, Reddington did," she countered, wary, but unafraid. If Vandyke had wanted her dead he'd already have pulled the trigger and been on his way.
"It makes no difference. The result is the same. They are all gone, blown to pieces in that damn bunker."
"But you survived," she replied, stalling, moving slightly to get a better look at the man, as her eyes slyly searched the alley for a weapon.
"Let's call that divine intervention." He leaned against the wall behind him, leveling his gun at her. "But you're not going to survive me."
Liz matched his pose, leaning against the wall behind her. There was nothing nearby that she could even hope to use as a weapon, even if she could move fast enough without Vandyke firing. "So, what, you're here to fulfill Townsend's last wish? To kill me?"
"Well, technically," he said, echoing her reasoning, "He wanted to kill you in front of Reddington and have him suffer your death. But I'll settle for just taking you out here and now."
Liz might not have a physical weapon at hand, but she wasn't defenseless. And Vandyke had just solidified an idea that now quickly formed in her mind. Her calm exterior concealing her racing mind, she replied, "But what if you could kill me in front of Reddington, taking Townsend's full revenge?" Her breath quickened as she stood in front of the armed man. This could either work, or end very badly.
He shook his head, smiling humorously. "Right, we'll just go find Reddington and then then I'll shoot you. That will work great, thanks."
More than aware that Agnes and Mrs French were nearby, Liz played her cards. "I'm serious. And if you want to hear my plan, let's go somewhere else and talk."
Vandyke waved the gun at her. "Quit stalling."
Sighing, Liz stepped toward the man, her hands up at waist level. "Hear me out, okay?"
Vandyke held the weapon in front of him, aware that she was likely tricking him but decided to hear what she had to say. "Shoot." He huffed a quick laugh, "Pardon the pun."
"You know I stole $40 million of Reddington's money, right?" she said, stopping in the middle of the alley.
"Lady, you can't bribe me."
"Of course not, not with money. But what would you gain with Reddington dead? It would solidify you in the world you live in, as the man who killed Raymond Reddington. You're already in the prime position to take over from Townsend. You could also take over Reddington's empire, in one move." Aware that she was using Red's own words regarding his own desire for Liz to take over his empire, Liz hoped like hell she sounded convincing, because it sounded ludicrous even to her.
Despite himself, Vandyke's curiosity got the better of him. "Sounds crazy to me. But humor me. Go on."
"What if I told you where Reddington will be at 1:00am, and that he wants me to kill him tonight?"
"Say what?" Vandyke lowered the gun a little in disbelief. "Okay, this has gone far enough. I'm done listening. I'll just shoot you now." He raised the weapon.
Liz talked fast. "He's dying of a terminal disease and wants me to take over his empire. And if I kill him in public tonight, he believes that will show his enemies that I'm worthy to take over. They will then accept me as his successor since I was the only one who killed Reddington where so many failed."
Vandyke stared, processing the information, and Liz continued.
"So, if I go and meet him with that intention, and you are also there, you can shoot me," she did air quotes as she said that, "and Reddington will see me die, then you kill him after he's seen me die in front of him."
She looked him in the eyes. "And when I say you can shoot me, I mean Red will think you shot me and that I died. Got that?"
A smile crinkled the corners of Vandyke's eyes. "Yeah, I got that part. You're bat shit crazy, you know that?"
Liz waited for him to start putting it together. "And if you agree, I will transfer $10 million to your account at 2:00am."
"Neat trick, lady. How you going to do that if you're, uh, 'dead'?"
"My team may have been wiped out, but I still know how to handle bank transfers."
Intrigued, Vandyke asked, "How would you look dead though? I'm just curious how you plan to do this."
"Oh, a couple of well placed dye packs that go off when you fire a blank at me, plus a quick acting sedative that slows my heart down to the point I'll look dead, should do the trick." She looked past him, remembering. "I've done that part before..."
Vandyke shook his head, lowering the weapon at last. He was no fool, and saw some benefit to the plan, despite how ridiculous it appeared. "Not that I think this will work in the slightest, and I may just end up shooting Reddington when I see him, you got yourself a deal. On one condition. $5 million now, plus I still get the $10 million after."
Liz sighed, nodding at the man, shaking hands to seal their crazy plan. "$5 million up front, only if you 'shoot' me first." She'd expected a counter offer, and was willing to pay the man an additional $5 million up front.
"But I have to know. What could you possibly get out of it?" he asked.
"Me? Well, let's just say I get what I've always wanted. To be done with Reddington and his world. To go and live my life in peace."
Vandyke looked at his watch. "Then I guess we've got some planning to do."
As they walked back to Liz's car, Vandyke holstered his weapon. "But first you transfer that spending money to my account."
Liz smiled. Oh, her plan would work fine. But not quite the way Vandyke believed it would. Yes, she would finally be free of Reddington's world, but her new partner in crime would never get the chance to kill Reddington. Reddington would drop Vandyke in his tracks the second he 'killed' her. Vandyke was a dead man walking.