Red looked into the man's eyes before him. He knew he had to lower his weapon. But if he was to gauge how far Broken Nose would go, he needed to test the waters. And nodding to himself, having seen more in the man now, he lowered his weapon.

"I may have lowered my weapon, but understand that I am not doing anything for you unless you let me get help for my man here. You have me. Now let my men go," he told their captor.

As his two men held their weapons on Red, Broken Nose lowered his weapon on Dembe. "Fine. Go get help from your Coast Guard buddies out there," he told Dembe, "But he will likely be dead long before they get here," he added, indicating Frank lying bleeding on the ground.

He turned back to Red noting the distaste. "And before you go judging me, I also have a job to do. Now move it, Reddington," he told Red, pushing him from the room, the three gunmen following him, as Dembe dropped to the floor beside his bleeding colleague.

###

The large orange and white helicopter touched down on the green lawn of the abandoned Sanatorium, the rotors slowing but not stopping. Waiting back by the wall beside Ressler and Aram, Liz felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. As she looked at the caller ID, she answered it with concern.

"Red?!" she called over the sound of the helicopter.

"Elizabeth. I need the Coast Guard medic." Dembe's calm voice came to her.

"Dembe?! Oh god, is it for Red?!" she asked, as Ressler leaned down to her, seeing her expression. "What happened?!" she asked Dembe over the sound of the helicopter, then listening to his reply. "Okay! The medic is right here with us!"

Shanks walked back to them from the helicopter. "Okay folks, time to go!" he told the agents, his voice raised over the roar of engines as their clothing and hair were whipped up in the draft from the waiting chopper.

Liz hurriedly passed on Dembe's message, staring wide eyed at her partner. Ressler turned to Shanks, holding his hand up against the debris, "Wait!" he yelled to the medic. "We can't leave!"

"What?!" Shanks looked at him, urging them forward to the waiting chopper. "What do you mean you can't leave? We need to get both of you out of here!"

Turning to the abandoned building and pointing, Ressler held the medic's arm, yelling over the chopper's engines. "They took Reddington! One of his men is down!"

Glancing at the building behind the chopper, Shanks digested that information. "Damn." Looking to the chopper to see the firemen standing near it, he then turned back to the agents. "The man who's down, where is he?" he yelled back at Ressler.

Ressler looked to Liz for that information, as she relayed it to the medic quickly before adding, "Dembe is with him and he will meet you at the top of the stairs!"

Nodding to them quickly, Shanks jogged to Rusty, yelling instructions to him and pointing to the building. As Rusty acknowledged the message and ran to the chopper, Shanks turned back to rejoin Liz and Ressler. "Rusty is a paramedic. He'll help your man!" He pointed his thumb back to the chopper, motioning again to the agents. "But now you both need to get on board!"

Ressler was shaking his head, "Reddington is a government asset! I can't leave here without him!" he shouted to the medic over the incessant roar of the waiting helo.

Shanks shook his head in frustration, needing them both to comply. "Damn it! We need to get her checked out for internal bleeding or organ damage!" he shouted, looking to Liz who was leaning wearily against the wall. "And I don't need to remind you that your belly was wide open just hours ago! You look like you're about to keel over!"

Ressler regarded the medic knowing he was absolutely right. His gut was on fire as his entire body silently quivered with the onslaught it had taken. And Liz needed to get checked out. But he couldn't leave right now. Sucking in a breath against the pain, he turned to Aram, "Take Liz! Get her out of here and safely to the hospital while I find Reddington!" he ordered the man.

And in his new found confidence that he had found buried beneath piles of numbers and red velvet cupcake recipes, Aram faced Ressler. "No sir! You just had surgery!" he shouted at him above the roar of the helo. "I'm sorry sir, but I'm not leaving you here alone!" He stood his ground, facing Ressler as he shielded his eyes as the wind whipped around them.

Ressler glared at Aram, wondering why the hell he'd chosen this moment to grow a pair. And opening his mouth to say something he then changed his mind, instead leaning close to Liz, "Liz, you need to go. I'll go find Red and Conrad with Aram and Dembe," he told her as she shook her head.

"You can't do that, Ress! You may want to but Aram is right! You just had surgery!" she told him, standing back up from the wall.

Gritting his teeth, Ressler turned away from her as another wave of pain rippled through his gut. But he couldn't let Liz see that or she'd never leave without him. Looking to the waiting chopper and the darkened building, he caught sight of Rusty and another fireman running with first aid kit and stretcher, heading for the rear of the building. He knew what he was going to need. He stepped toward Shanks, who was now looking like he wanted to haul all three agents off in straight jackets.

"That medicine you said you had that was…safe. Give it to me," he told Shanks, looking at him determinedly, "because I need to be able to retrieve Reddington."

"That's not what I meant it should be used for!" Shanks told him firmly.

Ressler leaned closer to the medic, clutching his stomach as he did so. "I don't have time to argue with you."

Shanks shook his head, looking at the agent. "Okay, fine! I'll get the shot ready for you. But then I'm sticking right by your side. Deal?"

"What?!" Ressler exclaimed. "That's not-"

"It's the only condition I'm agreeing to this," Shanks told him, standing his ground. "You're still my patient! You want it? That's the condition!"

Ressler faced the medic, glowering at him. "Damn it! I don't need-"

"Ressler!"

Eyes shooting to Liz, he couldn't tell whether she wanted to thump him, or burst into tears. But at the look in her eyes, Ressler turned back to the medic. "Okay, fine!" he told Shanks through clenched teeth, furious that he needed a babysitter but relenting somewhat.

Turning back to Liz, his arm found her shoulder as he left Shanks and Aram and led her away from the wall. "I'll do as he says for now, but I need you to get on board and let them take you to the hospital, okay?" he told her, close to her ear, leading her slowly to the chopper now while trying not to stretch his belly too much.

"You need to come too!" she begged him, looking into his eyes, as her hair few around her face in the downdraft.

"You know why I can't!" he told her, yelling in her ear as they got closer to the engines of the waiting chopper. "You really think I can leave Aram here to do this? No way, Liz! I have to stay."

Looking into his eyes, she knew he was right. She also clearly saw the pain he was trying to mask, just as Shanks had. "Okay. But promise me you will let Aram and Dembe do the physical stuff, okay?! Promise me, Ress!"

"I will try," he told her, as he suddenly turned into her and held her close to him, mindful of his incision and belly pain, his mouth by her ear. "Just do this for me, please, Liz," he asked her, and in his ear he heard her tell him how stubborn he was. Of course he was. Pulling back from her she nodded to him, attempting to hold her hair in place, "You take care," she told him. "I wanna see you in one piece when this is done!"

They stood at the chopper door now and from inside, Rick jumped out and greeted them. "Here we go, ma'am," the fireman told her, then gently scooped her up, lifting her as easily as he would a child and gently handed her up to Adam who was also waiting on board.

"We got her, sir!" the fireman yelled, giving Ressler a thumbs up.

Liz looked at him as they sat her down, her eyes pleading with her partner. Nodding to her, he backed up as the deep burn in his belly grew. He seriously needed to lie down before he fell down. But there was no way he was letting her see that.

Still on the ground with rotors slowing now, the helo sat on the grass as Ressler stepped back further from it then turned and walked slowly back toward Shanks, trying not to hunch over too much. Or fall flat on his face. The medic had his kit opened, an injection at the ready in his good hand. Ressler approached slowly, panting with the pain, stomach on fire and wondering if he really could do this. But he needed to. And he was going to need a little help to do it. Taking off his jacket and pulling up his shirt sleeve, he silently exposed his upper arm for Shanks as Aram stood by.

"This will sting-" Shanks started to say, then stopped. The man had a fresh incision in his belly. He'd just had surgery and was walking around defying orders when he should be lying down on his way to a hospital. A shot in his arm was the least of his worries.

Rolling his shirt sleeve down after getting the shot, Ressler stumbled forward and leaned hard against the wall, sliding down it to find himself sitting on the grass. His face ashen in the glare of the helo lights, he leaned forward panting in pain, waiting for the medication to kick in. Shanks was in his face, leaning down to him.

"Far be it for me to tell a member of the FBI how to do their job. But you are one stubborn son of a bitch!"

Looking up, clutching his stomach and leaning his head back on the brick wall, Ressler faced the medic. "I do it well, though," he grimaced, gritting his teeth.

"That you do, sir," said Shanks, shaking his head as he hunched down beside Ressler to check his vitals.

"Says the medic who's been shot in the hand and is still out here doing HIS job," Ressler panted. Then immediately regretted the comment, knowing he was the reason the medic had stayed.

Shanks looked at him as he put his stethoscope in his ears. "I guess we're both stubborn."

Aram stepped back nervously, almost afraid the two men might come to blows.

"I'm fine," Ressler told him as the medic listened to his chest, now feeling the first warming through his system as the pain meds began to overtake his pain receptors. In a long remembered ritual, he both loved and loathed the feeling of the meds creeping through his system. But now was not the time to think too deeply on that.

"I'll be the judge of that," Shanks told him, listening to his heart and glancing up at his patient. Ressler looked away but sat silently as the medic checked him. His eyes landing on the waiting chopper that was still parked on the grass as it waited on the firemen. Ressler was more concerned he'd see Liz leave it if she saw the medic checking him for too long.

His breathing steadying as his pain dropped a notch, Ressler's attention was brought back to the medic over him who was now holding out his left arm. And reaching up and grasping the medic's offered arm, Ressler allowed Shanks to help him to his feet, then stood hunched over, hands on his knees as he thanked the man.

As Ressler drew himself up to a standing position, the two men stood together eyeing each other in mutual acquiescence, each suddenly breaking into a half smile and shaking their head at each other.

"Okay, let's do this," Ressler told Shanks.

Beside them both, Aram breathed a sigh of relief.

Looking to Aram, Ressler slapped him on the upper arm in that age old communication between men that spoke volumes. Aram was well aware he'd defied the lead agent's orders, the momentary buzz at doing that having quickly subsided. But that one gesture from Ressler helped alleviate his uneasiness.

On the grass, the helicopters rotors fired up again, gathering speed as the engines roared, whipping up debris around them again. Unsure if it was leaving without a dead patient or getting ready to receive a live one, Ressler drew his eyes from it and back to the two men with him.

"Let's roll," he shouted above the chopper and headed along the wall toward the building to look for Reddington and Conrad as Shanks and Aram followed.

###

Ressler's question was answered fairly quickly. As they came level with the building, Rusty and Mike were coming around the corner. As the two firemen walked briskly by with their patient between them on the stretcher, Ressler looked down to the man. He'd seen him a couple of times with Reddington, but he was barely recognizable now.

"He looks bad…" Aram said beside him, barely audible over the chopper, echoing all their thoughts.

Leaving the grass they now headed along the building, and as soon as they got behind the building, the roar of the helicopter engines abated somewhat. They came to the broken door, the shattered hole in the woodwork announcing it as the entry place Red had taken earlier.

"This looks like the place…" Aram offered again to his silent companions. Inside the building they walked quickly along the dark hallway, their way illuminated by flashlights. From the shadows a familiar figure was coming toward them.

"Agents Ressler and Mojtabai. It is good to see you," Dembe greeted them, nodding to Shanks behind Ressler.

"Dembe!" grinned Aram, meeting Aram's smile, now noticing the dried blood on Dembe's hands and jacket. "Your man doesn't look-"

Ressler interrupted Aram, dispensing with the pleasantries. "What happened?" he asked as Dembe swung his backpack off his shoulder. Opening it, he pulled out two semi-automatic pistols, handing them to Ressler and Aram.

"Raymond mentioned you were unarmed. You will need these," he told them noting Ressler's raised eyebrows. "Raymond always insists on being over prepared in some things. And the men who took him did not see the pack as they left," he added in explanation before answering Ressler's question. "A man with a broken nose took him after we walked into a trap. We were outnumbered."

"Our broken nosed friend again…" said Shanks softly behind Ressler who merely nodded before clipping the gun into his holster, feeling the pressure that put on his stitches and incision.

Aram was looking at his weapon, feeling the weight of it in his hand.

Ressler caught the look. "Pretend they're paper."

"She told you?!"

As Dembe handed a weapon to Shanks, he held up his hand and indicated his right hip under his blue USCG jacket. "I'm armed," he replied.

Ressler looked to the medic, raising his eyebrows. "Then I hope you can shoot left handed."

Shanks looked at Ressler with a small smile. "Hey, between you limping around clutching your belly and me with one banged up hand, I think we'll make do."

Dembe was now taking something else out of his backpack, and turning on the FLIR scanner he showed the agents. "There is no one in the building. They have left," he said, moving the dark scanner slowly around them.

They walked along the hallway, stopping at the staircase. And clearly visible on the floor as Ressler shone the flashlight up and down the hallway of the empty building were small drops of dark red. Wet blood - leaving a definite trail down the stairs and away from them.

"Someone got shot?" Ressler asked Dembe, then groaned. "Oh, please don't tell me it was Reddington. I don't have enough blood to spare right now."

Dembe smiled at that. "I clipped one of the men in his arm," he told Ressler as they now followed the trail along the dark hallway, picking out the wet drops of blood at intervals. Moving further into the building, they passed quietly down a dark corridor. Closed doors lined the hallway at intervals as Dembe scanned each room to find them all cold and empty. At length they came to a door that led outside.

"Wait here," said Ressler, walking on a few more steps. Satisfied that the blood trail had stopped at the door, he went back to them. And knowing no one was out there thanks to the infra-red scanner, they turned off the flashlight yet still ventured cautiously through the door, finding themselves on the side of the main building. Across a narrow strip of grass a small open gate was visible in the moonlight. The building behind them now, they moved through the gate and entered the forest again. Their way was clear though, as a well-worn path wound through the trees toward the sound of crashing waves in the distance.

"Keep scanning," Ressler told Dembe, who didn't need to be told. "What's the range on that thing? How much notice will we have?"

Dembe's reply was suddenly drowned out in the roar of engines as the Jayhawk helicopter lifted off, hovering above the building, its searchlight shining down over them. Taking cover under a large tree and shielding their eyes against the light and downdraft, they stood back as the orange and white chopper turned in midair in a perfect motion. Pitching forward, taking Liz and Reddington's wounded man with them, the helo then headed toward the coastline before them.

Stepping out from under the tree as the chopper left their immediate vicinity, Ressler watched it above the trees as it slowly turned, heading back toward the mainland, extinguishing its searchlight as it did so. And in the relative silence with the helicopter fading out of earshot now, he heard his phone ringing. Retrieving it quickly from his pocket, he saw Liz's caller ID.

"What's wrong?!" he asked her.

"We saw them! Four men with Red, heading toward a small building out on the point above the beach!" she told him above the roar of the chopper's blades.

Ressler was pointing forward, motioning for them to move out as he still spoke to Liz. "How far?" he asked her, attempting to move as quickly as he could through the trees. He was well aware he wasn't moving as fast as his companions and they were compensating for him.

"Not too far from where you are at! There is a very small beach with a dock and they were walking on the grass above it toward the building. It was hard to see clearly through fog on the ocean though!" she told him.

"We're on it!" he told her, about to hang up when she quickly added for him to be careful.

"I will," he told her in a softer tone, then hung up and slipped his phone back in his inner jacket pocket.

###

Red was sick and tired of being pushed roughly through the trees by the idiot with the assault rifle at his rear. And after one particularly rough shove, he stopped and whirled on the broken nosed man behind him.

"Enough. I am quite capable of putting one foot in front of the other without the butt of your rifle reminding me how to do that at every step."

"We need to move," was all he got from Broken Nose.

Red ignored him, his face suddenly lighting up in a large grin. "I must say, that looks awfully bruised and painful. I had a broken nose once. Strangest thing. Funny actually now that I look back on it. The man whose life I've saved a few times since gave it to me. Apparently that's a specialty of his, giving his attackers broken noses. I believe you're intimately acquainted with his methods too now."

"Shut up."

Chuckling to himself, Red shook his head, and turned to walk down the dimly lit pathway, as they approached the ocean waves. Ahead of him, two armed men led the way. And behind Broken Nose, the man Red had been studying while regaling him with his short story was not looking too good with blood saturating his sleeve. Red had seen what he needed. And if the time came, he'd use that information.

"Where are you taking me?" Red asked, turning his head to look at the man behind him, who had finally stopped shoving him with his rifle.

"You'll see when we get there."

"Well it can't be far, since we're about to run out of land and hit the ocean, judging by the fog gathering around us. And I'm guessing that Conrad Lucas is already there. And you can't get anything out of him, can you? You need some leverage in the form of an old friend to help sway his mind," said Red congenially.

The broken nosed man didn't reply, which was all the confirmation Red needed. Breaking through the trees as they entered a grassy area, the fog swirled around them. And ahead, barely visible in the beams of the flashlights, the ground dropped away in a steep slope to a beach. As the waves crashed into rocks nearby out of sight in the dark, Red attempted to make a mental note of his bearings in the moonlight. As they walked further along the grass the roar of the helicopter taking off reached them. Stopping momentarily, he turned as the orange and white helo approached over the treetops.

"Move it."

Bringing his gaze back to his captor, he shook his head at the man. "Oh, don't you have anything other than that in your vocabulary?" he told Broken Nose as he received another shove with the rifle.

"That way," his rifle wielding captor told him, moving him away from the beach and further along the point toward the sound of the rocks.

As Red was about to offer another retort, the chopper flew overhead, whipping up the grass and causing the fog to swirl in large eddies around them. As its searchlight lit up the area like daylight with its sudden brightness, Red looked around him quickly, cementing his surroundings firmly in his mind. A small beach was below them with rocks at either end with a previously unseen floating dock in the center. Off to his left the land rose, free of trees and forming a rocky cliff of approximately 50 feet in height. A small building sat further up the slope. His destination, he now realized.

The chopper flew low over them, accelerating and rising over the ocean in a wide turn toward the mainland. As they banked, the searchlight was suddenly shut off plunging them back into darkness. And in a rare moment where Raymond Reddington was mistaken, he wished the FBI agents well on their journey away from the island.

###

As Ressler and his men made their way toward the beach, tendrils of fog became visible, moving slowly through the trees and casting a smoky appearance in the moonlight. Visibility around them was still good as they moved forward, now hearing the crashing of waves on rocks. The memory of approaching the lighthouse rocks suddenly sprang to Ressler's mind. It felt a lifetime ago and he didn't relish the thought of another night swim.

"Anything?" he asked Dembe quietly, the man still holding the FLIR scanner in front of them as they made their way down the pathway, picking their way through the damp forest floor.

"Not yet, Agent Ressler," he replied, still moving the scanner, "though the trees may be blocking it somewhat." Ressler glanced at the scanner, seeing the trees as yellow and green on it. They had to be getting close though. The sound of the waves was increasing as the fog swirled around their legs as they walked.

Aram followed Dembe, bringing up the rear. His new found confidence was rapidly being replaced with nerves. On a wooded path at night, with fog rolling in and armed men in front of them, he was SO over being in the field. And ruing the fact that he had defied Agent Ressler's orders instead of being safely on the chopper, he pushed onward, his eyes darting from the scanner to the trees before them.

"Stop."

They stopped at Dembe's quiet command, as Ressler immediately looked at the scanner in his hands. And now they saw the difference. Beyond the yellow trees were several figures moving slowly, showing up as red ovals with white centers on the scanner.

"Okay, we're getting close," said Ressler, nodding to Dembe to shut off the scanner to keep them hidden. But as Dembe went to turn the scanner off, Ressler put out his hand to stop him.

"Wait!"

On the scanner, someone was moving faster. The sound of a distant gunshot rang out from in front of them.

"Shit. Move it!" Ressler told them and grabbing his stomach, he moved as fast as he could to the beach. Dembe sprinted ahead stowing the scanner as he drew his weapon, while Aram hung back with Ressler and Shanks.

"Go!" he hissed at Aram, pushing him onward. He looked quickly to Shanks. "My shadow and I will catch up!"

Their way obscured by the thickening fog around them, Aram tried in vain to catch up to Dembe as they moved down the pathway with weapons drawn. With Dembe far ahead of him in the lead, Aram didn't know what scared him more. That they would find the men and take them down, or that they wouldn't find them in the fog and they'd get surrounded and taken.

Moving faster now as Ressler forced himself onward he continued down the pathway as the fog grew thicker around them. At his side, Shanks looked at him as Ressler clutched his belly and gasped as pain shot through his middle. Grabbing at nearby tree trunk, he pitched forward as a wave of pain washed over him.

"Dammit!" he panted, trying to rise.

Shanks dropped his kit to the ground and hastily opened it.

"I'm fine," Ressler whispered, clutching the tree as his belly threatened to split him in two.

"Yeah. Right. Take your jacket off."

"Don't have time-"

"Shut up and take your jacket off," Shanks repeated, leaning close to Ressler who suddenly gave up arguing. He complied, shedding his jacket and rolling up his shirt sleeve as Shanks prepared another injection. And leaning against the tree, he let the medic give him another dose, knowing he wouldn't be able to move much further without it.

"Thanks," he whispered, rolling down his sleeve and throwing his jacket back on, not waiting on the shot to take effect. And dragging himself up off the tree in pain as Shanks hoisted his medic kit onto his back again, he took off behind Dembe and Aram as Shanks dragged him by his arm.

###

Red was still watching the lights of the Jayhawk disappear in the night sky as his captor called them to a halt. Having cleared the trees, they stood on the grassy slope over the beach, the wooden dock below them stretching out into the waves, becoming lost in the grey fog on the ocean.

"Dammit. Where the hell is he?" Broken Nose asked of one of his men, who shrugged, looking out at the ocean. He turned to the bleeding man behind him. "Get down there and wait for him," he said. The man nodded, took a glance to Red and then headed off down the slope to the beach as the fog whirled around him.

"Go get him," he ordered another one of his men, and from in front of Red one of the armed men sprinted further up the slope to the shack.

Red could only assume that 'him' meant Conrad as he regarded the broken nosed man. "Am I to assume the party you were rendezvousing with has not shown up? Staff and coordination problems are such a bitch, aren't they?" he said pleasantly.

"Shut up."

Red laughed out loud, truly amazed at his captors single mindedness. But turning toward the shack as movement up the slope caught his attention, his laughter ceased.

In the moonlight, appearing out of the fog, Conrad was being brought out of the shack at gunpoint with hands cuffed in front of him. And despite the low light and fog, what was clearly visible in the light from his warden's flashlight was the beating his face had endured. As Conrad approached, stumbling slightly then catching himself, Red felt his blood boil at the sight of his friends bloodied and bruised features. One eye swollen shut, black and bleeding; nose clearly broken in some sort of sick retaliation; and lips torn with blood seeping from them. As the man approached, a bruised black band was visible around his throat, the outline of chain links clearly outlined even against his blue skin.

But Conrad wasn't going down without a fight, and as Red watched, he body slammed his captor, knocking him to his feet. Whirling on him, the man grabbed his rifle and fired recklessly, narrowly missing Conrad as he scooted out the way.

Broken Nose's cry rang out. "Don't! I need him alive!"

Red never said a word. Simply turned into his captor so fast, the man didn't even have time to react. Unarmed, Red utilized the only weapon he had. His arm wrapped around the broken nosed man's throat, choking the breath of out him.

Caught off guard, the armed gunman nearby turned back to Red.

In a blur, all Red saw was a dark streak to his left as a shot rang out, dropping the armed gunman in front of him lifeless to the ground. Attempting to retrieve the rifle with his foot, all Red achieved was sending it clattering down the rocks behind him.

"Dembe!" Red yelled, as Broken Nose struggled under his tight grip, "Up the slope!"

But Dembe had already seen the gunman beside Conrad re-aiming his rifle. And stepping in front of Red, he fired into the fog, catching the man beside Conrad in the arm, the rifle falling to the ground a few feet from him. It was enough. In a move that Red would not have believed possible from the tortured man, Conrad whirled on his captor, thrust his hands over the man's head and began to choke him with his cuffs.

"The gun! Dembe! Get the gun!" yelled Red, as Dembe flew up the slope toward Conrad and his captor, racing the man to the gun.

But Conrad was tiring as his adrenaline rush faded. The beating had taken a toll. And as Dembe ran for the gun the man was quicker. Slipping out from under Conrad and shoving him away, the man grabbed for the rifle right before Dembe.

Another shot rang out.

Red could only stare at the two men, unsure which one had been struck. Red hadn't even seen Aram running up the slope behind him until he had fired beside him, taking down the gunman in front of Dembe.

"Oh my God! Mr Reddington!" yelled Aram, now turning in horror toward him.

"See to Conrad!" Red ordered him, and nodding he ran up the slope toward Conrad who was now staggering.

Broken Nose wasn't done. Not nearly. And as Red choked him, he moved back, pushing Red with him. Feeling his footing losing grip, Red suddenly realized how close to the cliff edge he was in the fog billowing around him. And redoubling his efforts, he tightened his grip on the man's throat.

And out of the fog came a voice, yelling at him.

"Reddington! Don't!"

###

Ressler ran through the trees and onto the grassy banks, moving as fast as his body would let him. The pain pills had kicked in while Shanks had half dragged him; half supported him down the forest path. But more than that, it was his adrenaline sustaining him now. Jogging through the foggy bank with gun drawn he ran headlong into Red strangling the life out of the broken nosed man.

"Reddington!"

Beside Ressler, Shanks saw Conrad fall and seeing that Ressler was still on his feet, he hesitated, then ran up the slope to the fallen man.

Red wasn't listening to Donald. This man had beaten his friend to a pulp. Strangling even harder, he dug into the man's throat, hearing and feeling the small bones cracking under his grip. A gurgle came from Broken Nose's throat as he blacked out.

"Reddington!" Ressler was beside Red now, holding his gun to him. "Let him go! Don't do this!" But he'd seen that look in Reddington's eyes before. There was no stopping the man.

"Donald. Step away."

"Let him go!"

But Ressler was too late. Hearing the man's neck snap under the vice like grip he fell limp in Red's arms. And as if he were a sack of garbage, Red tossed him behind him and down the cliff to the rocks some 50 feet below.

"Damn you!" Ressler yelled at him, lowering his weapon and glaring at the criminal.

Red faced him calmly, as if he had just ordered caviar and fine wine at a five star restaurant. But he hadn't. He had just killed a man with his bare hands.

"Reddington, I swear," said Ressler, shaking his head and walking away from the man, his jaw clenched. He couldn't even look at him.

But there was one gunman they were unaware of. The bleeding man had raced back up the slope at the sound of gunfire. And in the fog he saw his boss come hurtling down the cliff face to land beside him, dead eyes fixed and glassy in the half moon. Raising his weapon he fired at the only man he saw.

The one who had just killed his boss.

Behind Ressler, Red dropped as the shot rang out and with a startled cry he fell back, stumbling over the cliff face.

"No!" cried Ressler, whirling at the shot and sound from Red. As the criminal toppled, blood pouring from his lower left leg, Ressler threw himself to the ground and grabbed Red's arms to stop him going over. Stomach on fire, he felt it rip as he lurched forward to hang desperately onto Red. Sliding forward under Red's weight he was being pulled slowly over the cliff himself.

"Donald! I'll pull you over too! Let me go!" said Red, unable to find any ground under his feet as the agent clung to his outstretched arms.

Behind them a shot rang out as Dembe took out the man down the slope who had been aiming at Reddington again.

Screaming out in pain, hanging on to Red's arm, all Ressler could do was clench his eyes shut against the agony tearing through his belly and yell at the criminal.

"Don't you dare! Don't you dare go over!"