Previously...

Ressler cups her jaw in his large, warm hand and she finally turns to look at him. He's smiling very softly, his usually hard features contorted into a soft expression. She's not seen him like this often, normally only so gentle with Sammy, and having such adoration aimed at her makes her heart beat fast.

He leans in to kiss her, but before their lips meet, there's a knock on the door.

Ressler jumps up. "I'm going to fucking kill him!" he shouts, stomping to the door in anger and frustration. Cock blocking, smarmy bastard!

"Reddington, I swear to God - "

Oh, that's not Reddington!

Shots ring out before Ressler has time to react, and he's pushed harshly to the side, his head connecting with the door jam as someone shoves past him and into the room.

The last thing he hears before passing out is Liz scream.

June 15th, Ressler's Apartment, 1:10 PM

Liz screams without thinking - panic overtakes her and she momentarily forgets all of her training, all of her badass-ery. She sees a man dressed in black shove through the door, fast and lithe, knock Ressler over, and come toward her, and she's ashamed to admit that her first reaction is to yell.

Her second reaction, however, is far more favorable.

Stupid FBI agent, she chastises herself, moving her body to block the man in black's view of Sammy. In the next three seconds, she has her gun drawn and she's fired off three shots in rapid succession. She feels herself recoil as they hit wetly into the man's body, throwing him off balance. It's not a sound you ever get used to - the sound of metal digging into flesh, of blood beginning to pour from a wound. It's not a sight that you become easily accustomed to, either - the man hits the floor with a sickening 'thump' and Liz feels herself choke back her gag reflex as he twitches once, twice, before settling still on the ground.

"Ressler!" she shouts, dropping her gun and moving toward him. She passes the man in black, kicks his gun away from his hand (just in case, she'd seen enough spy movies to know that turning her back on an armed corpse was a bad idea, full stop) and bending to check his pulse before sighing in relief. No heartbeat, she thinks, and feels slightly less disgusted with herself this time than the last time she'd killed someone. She had a lot more to protect now.

Brushing the blood on her fingers onto her jeans, she drops down beside Ressler and cups his face in her hand.

"Ressler," she prods, tapping his cheek lightly with her fingers. She can see his eyes rolling around and knows he's coming to - he probably has a nice concussion from where he hit the corner of the wall, though. She uses her other hand to probe the back of his head, wincing when she feels blood.

"L... iz," he groans, and she shushes him, running her (still slightly shaking) fingers through his hair.

"Hey, Ress," she whispers, her voice shaking just as much as her fingers. She shifts slightly, and gently pulls him until his head rests in her lap. Sammy chooses this moment to begin crying (loudly) and Liz glances back to make sure he's OK. He's still sitting on the couch, and it doesn't look like he's going to be able to get far, but Liz recognizes that leaving Sammy unattended on the couch for a long time is a bad idea - she's already imagining him scooting his way to the edge and falling off.

She bites her lip and turns back to Ressler, she's torn - go get Sammy, or stay here?

Ressler, who is coming around more and more with each passing second, pulls himself into a sitting position. Liz falters, unsure where to put her hands as panic flows through her.

"Ressler! Don't move, you could be hurt, you - "

He cuts her off gently, reaching up and pressing two fingers to her lips. "M'fine," he says, breathing in and wincing (Liz knows his vision is probably swimming, he has a concussion for sure and moving is bad). "I have a concussion," he decides, licking his lips and leaning heavily against the wall. "But I'll be fine. Get Sammy," he says, nodding in the direction of the wailing baby. He winces as he nods. "And an ice pack," he adds weakly, and Liz chuckles a little, standing (a little more confident now that she knows Ressler is - more or less - going to be ok).

"Hey, baby," she whispers, scooping Sammy into her arms as she heads for the kitchen. Ressler doesn't have an ice pack, but he does have a bag of frozen peas, and that's close enough, really.

Liz is surprised when Sammy suddenly stops crying, intent on stealing the bag of peas from her hands. She hands it to him, smiling slightly. "Oh, you want to give Ressler his ice pack, don't you?"

"Ah bah bah," Sammy agrees, nodding and gripping the ice pack in both hands as he sniffles a little, trying to deal with the snot and tears he'd produced during his crying fest. Sniffling doesn't work, so he reaches an arm up and spreads the snot and tears around, coating his little shirt. Liz grabs a tissue as they head out of the kitchen, wiping his face and his hands the best she can. She smiles and kisses him on the head, glad to have his warm, solid weight in her arms as she walks back to Ressler.

She cringes a little as she steps over the body of the man in black (one of Anton's men, for sure) and marvels a little at the fact that Sammy seems to care less about the dead man on the living room floor than he does the bag of peas in his hand.

Liz leans down next to Ressler and puts a hand on his shoulder, nudging him to lean forward. He does and as Liz checks his head (a small cut, lots of blood, but head wounds bleed a lot - surely that's normal, right?) Sammy holds out the peas triumphantly and grins. "Ah!"

Ressler grins his thanks and grabs the bag, pressing it to his head and moaning happily as it soothes his aches. "Ah, God that feels good. We should call Reddington," he adds, and Liz nods (why didn't she think of that?) and fumbles for her phone. She deposits Sammy into Ressler's lap (the munchkin grabs onto Ressler's collar and hauls himself into a standing position, eager to help Ressler hold the bag of peas to his head) before grabbing her phone and walking into the living room where the dead body lies. She knows Reddington will want to ask her questions.

She hits speed dial number 3 and holds the phone to her ear, sighing as she lets herself fall onto the floor. She sits next to the dead man, and tries not to let the relief that's flooding her turn into tears.

Reddington picks up after two rings.

"Ah, Lizzie, just who I was going to call!"

Liz feels shocked for a moment that he doesn't seem to know about what happened - the man knows everything! She doesn't let the shock hold her for long, however, and plows forward immediately.

"Reddington, we need Mr. Kaplan."

Her words (just as she'd intended) put Reddington on the defensive immediately.

"What happened? Tell me everything. I'm already on my way."

Liz didn't doubt that - from what she can hear, it sounds like they were already in the car when she called. Why was he going to call her? she wonders, and tries not to let herself worry about it. "Ressler and I were... attacked. Someone knocked, and Ressler was upset so he forgot to check who it was and he opened the door."

Liz pauses here for a breath, because she's afraid she might cry, but dammit, she won't!

Reddington mistakes her silence.

"Is Donald OK?"

He sounds like he's prepared for the worst, but Liz is quick to reassure him. "No, no, everyone's fine - well, except for the man I killed."

From there, it's a quick back and forth between Reddington asking questions and Liz answering them. She can hear Reddington tell Dembe to call Mr. Kaplan as she answers one of his questions (what does the man look like) and feels even more intense relief than before.

"We screwed up, Red," she confides, and she can hear Reddington sigh on the other end.

"It's perfectly alright," he promises her. "Everyone is fine, and we may have a lead now. Keep an eye on dear Donald, we'll be there soon."

As it turns out, Mr. Kaplan turns up before Reddington, and Liz lets her in, pointing to the man on the living room floor. By now, Ressler has moved to the couch, frozen peas still in place, with Sammy using the couch for support now as he helps press the peas against Ressler's sore head. Mr. Kaplan raises an eyebrow.

"Not even shaken. That is a boy who will grow up to be an FBI agent for sure," she comments, and Liz grins, because Mr. Kaplan is probably right - Sammy will either be a spy (Reddington's side of the job) or an FBI agent, like them -

The realization that, no, Sammy probably won't grow up to be an FBI agent because he's not theirs is a sudden weight slamming into Liz's chest. Sammy will grow up to be probably something else entirely, because he won't remember any of this, and he'll probably follow in the footsteps of his actual parents.

Feeling the sudden need to be near the baby, Liz joins Ressler on the couch, sweeping Sammy into her arms and holding him close. Ressler smiles sadly at her, as if he realizes what she's thinking about (he probably does).

"I won't clean anything until Mr. Reddington gets here," Mr. Kaplan informs them. "For now, tell me what happened, and don't leave out any details."

Liz launches into the story for the second time, and she's about halfway through when Reddington strolls through the door.

"Kate," he greets Mr. Kaplan. "Liz. Donnie."

"Ahhh!" Sammy squeals, holding out his hands and motioning for Reddington. The older man grins. "Ah, yes, dear Sammy, too," he says, reaching out and taking Sammy from Liz. "How could I forget?"

"Low level," Mr. Kaplan cuts in, circling the body as Reddington joins her. "He is not high in Anton's ranks. I would venture to say he wasn't supposed to make contact, either, or else Anton would have sent more than one..."

Mr. Kaplan's voice begins to grow softer as Reddington asks questions. Sammy, from his perch in Reddington's arms, looks down on the proceedings with interest, and it's a testament to Liz's exhaustion after the events of the day that she doesn't snatch Sammy away from the dead body. He likely won't remember, anyway, she reasons with herself, tiredly laying her head on Ressler's shoulder. She watches as Reddington and Mr. Kaplan do their thing, feeling herself grow more and more tired by the moment.

As she begins nodding off (really, she shouldn't, considering the danger, but she feels incredibly safe with Reddington there) Mr. Kaplan finishes packing the body up (she'd, thank God, said that she wouldn't feel comfortable dissolving it in Ressler's bathtub).

Reddington joins them, sitting in the chair across from the couch, a dozing Sammy in his arms. He smiles fondly at the boy, then turns his attention to Liz and Ressler.

"How's your head, Donald?" he asks pleasantly, and as Mr. Kaplan and her henchmen leave the apartment, locking it behind them, a sudden silence descends over the apartment.

"Better," he admits, though he's still holding the (mostly thawed) bag of peas against it. "Probable concussion. I've had worse."

Reddington nods, accepting that, and then he sighs heavily. Liz doesn't think she can handle any more excitement or bad news, but finds herself asking, anyway.

"What is it now?" she asks, because she knows Reddington still has something to tell them, something important and something he doesn't like having to reveal.

"Remember how I said I was just getting ready to call you when you called me? Well, we had another delivery at the Post Office," he admits, and Liz feels her heart speeding up, because they were failing Sammy's parents (and Sammy, too, by letting people who would kill him into the apartment). She feels dread settle in the pit of her stomach as Reddington takes a breath to continue.

"It's a ... little more than usual. We're not sure yet if it belongs to James. It could be a scare tactic - designed to put us off our game so it's easier to breach our defenses - "

Ressler sighs, putting the bag of peas in his lap and preparing himself for bad news. "Reddington, what was it?"

Reddington meets their eyes, his arms wrapped protectively around Sammy, covering his ears as if the baby could hear and understand his words.

"It was a heart. We received a human heart this afternoon after you left."

Liz gasps, and Ressler purses his lips. He's angry, she can tell (angry at himself, she's sure, because it's Ressler and he blames himself for a lot of things that are out of his control).

Reddington finishes, "We're afraid Anton might be killing James' family off, and Sammy will be next on his list."

I feel like all I do is apologize about not updating. I don't know what's been up with me these past few weeks, but I'm finding it really hard to write (and do a lot of other things). I hate to use the word depressed, because I doubt I am, but I'm really struggling here. Thanks to EVERYONE who has been so supportive of me and this story. I appreciate every kind word! I'm sure I'll come out of this summer funk soon enough. ;)

Pleas Review! (A sneak peak will be sent 48ish hours before the new chapter if you review!)