I am SOOOOO SORRY for the long, long wait. I must admit i had a bit of writers block and i had to take some time away and rewatch a few episodes of TBL, thank you so much for your patience!
20: Sand
Dana drove like a mad woman. Her car weaved in and out of traffic, causing sleepy motorists to slam on their breaks in surprise, momentarily getting shocked awake. In her back seat was a leather duffel bag, worn to a buttery supple brown, filled to the zipper with clothes, money, weapons, toiletries, anything she could fit. In her lap sat a black .45 Smith and Wesson pistol, the magazine filled and the heaviness in her lap felt good and reassuring. Behind her seat on top of the duffel was a 12 gauge Mossberg 500 riot shotgun, stocky and loud, a bull of a gun when needed.
The woman's green eyes flicked to the rearview mirror of her black audi, a gift of an overeager date from a few years back. No headlights were boring down her. That was good. Good enough.
Dana knew that Knapp was done with her. She also knew that once Alexander finished with someone, they disappeared. Quickly and quietly and conveniently, forever gone and forgotten and Knapp was free to continue with his business. Schmidt was dead. That young man was Knapp's voice of reason while Tom Keen was the flame that heated the pan too hot, the lethal voice in Alexander's ear that drove him to commit hot-headed acts of cruelty and violence.
Cruel words resounded in her head
Except you…you are completely useless. Tom will be collecting your things.
Why did she have to say that? One little sentence that drove Knapp into cold insanity.
He wasn't even your best employee. Why had she said that?
"Fuck," she muttered to herself, glancing in her rearview mirror, her eyes narrowed in paranoia. A black pickup truck was getting too close to the rear of her car for comfort. Her left hand withdrew from the steering wheel and enclosed around the pistol, her index finger hovering on the trigger guard.
Thankfully, the truck put on its blinker and powered through in the left lane. The muscles in her neck relaxed and she let the gun rest in her lap once more. She was driving so quickly that the streetlights flashed past her, strobing her face quickly from light to dark in the mirror. A single light cut through the gloom behind her, coming up quickly. In the quiet of the car's interior, she could hear a high whine and hum grow louder and louder.
Sleek and black, cut similar to a hornet, the crotch rocket sidled up beside her, the driver hunched over and hidden behind a black helmet and visor. Dana looked over at the person on the bike and immediately knew that she was in for trouble when she saw the driver looking back at her. Just as the biker pulled a gun out and aimed at her window, Dana slammed on the brakes, her car screeching and the bike zoomed past, the bullet missing the Audi. Bike brakes whined in response but Dana was already gone, pulling a u-turn in the median where cops often parked to catch speeders. Without waiting for a gap in traffic, Dana shot off in the opposite direction. The bike, small and maneuverable, was close on her tail.
"Fucking shit!" she cussed, screaming and gripping the pistol in her lap. Her rear window shattered behind her, the bullet zooming through and ripping into the back of the passenger seat. "Fuck!"
The crotch rocket shot after her, the road nearly deserted in the late night hours. Her eyes jerked frantically from side to side. Why now were there no cops out? Why now?!
Pulling up to her side again, the driver had his arm extended. Ducking right in time, Dana felt the shower of glass patter over her head and shoulders. Staying hunched, which was nearly impossible in the streamlined cab of the Audi, she fired back, desperately trying to distract him just enough to make a move.
Dana knew it was Tom, she had seen the bike once or twice in the garage when it was hidden beneath a white sheet. When she had asked other workers of Knapp's who the bike had belonged too, every response was that it was Keen's. Knapp had sent him to kill her, just as she had expected.
Trying to shake Keen off of her tail, Dana jerked the car hard to her left, swerving into the lane that the biked assassin inhabited. The side of her car came mere inches from the bike as it danced away nimbly. It was Dana's turn to fire. The pistol barked four times, sharp and loud, her ears ringing after each shot. Tom flinched visibly on the bike and the woman grew hopeful, maybe she had struck him somewhere vital! When he steadied himself, however, she could see that there was only a small tear in his jacket.
Mind racing, Dana searched desperately from side to side, looking for an entrance or exit ramp, something winding and not so open. She tried to think of the mechanics of the bike, tried to remember about the days when she too liked to ride on two wheels. Her foot was to the floor now and the Audi was raging, surging forward like a powerful black panther. She pulled away from the bike, hearing one more crack of a gun, Tom started to fall away.
Bikes….What do you know about bikes, Dana? The woman's eyes darted about the road, shooting from her rearview mirror and seeing the bike steadily behind her, to look out the windshield as she drove.
Lean when turning…watch for other motorists…look out for sand…
Sand! That was it! With their speed, if Tom Keen hit a patch of sand just right, the bike would skid out from under him! Maybe if she was lucky, that helmet wouldn't protect him from the collision with the ground.
But where the hell was she going to find sand?
Dana's eyes widened when she spotted it up ahead, a gift from god shining in florescent yellow lights and orange markers. Road construction.
Swerved between the cones into the closed ramp and swerved left to right, trying to kick up some gravel and sand onto the only open lane. Dana then pulled out and accelerated, rocketing off into the night.
Then she heard it, like the singing of angels. Loud screeching, the crunch and skid of metal. The bike had wiped out, skidding on the sand she had kicked up onto the road. Dana thought about turning around, going back and blowing that skeevy face right out from that helmet, but her flight response had kicked in too strongly…there was no stopping.
Behind her, clutching at the leg that was pinned under the motorcycle, the stinging flecks of gravel ground into his flesh, Tom Keen cursed so loudly his words filled the night.
"Look who decided to come around…" Ressler muttered, glancing up at the elevator as it slid open. Next to him, Aram's head jerked up from the computer he had been typing on, looking as eager as a puppy.
"Agent Keen!" he exclaimed, springing up and shutting the laptop with a click. Ressler quickly lunged over and opened it back up again, momentarily panicking that whatever research they had acquired was lost. The screen was fine and he glowered after them.
"Hi, Aram!" she exclaimed, hugging the tall gangly tech with excitement. "What's new?"
"We found a shipping container that we think is Knapp's," Aram said. "Full of guns and several kilos of cocaine." He watched her. "How are you since the….the a…."
She knew he was talking about the kidnapping. Elizabeth looked at Ressler who was looking sour. "I'm fine, Aram. Just a few bumps and scratches…."
Aram was about to speak but Ressler interrupted. "Could I speak to you for a moment?."
Elizabeth nodded, her smile wiped off of her face. "Yeah, ok."
Ressler followed her up the stairs and pulled her aside into their shared office, shutting the door behind them, cutting Liz's noise of indignation.
"You don't have to pull me around," Agent Keen snapped, yanking her arm free.
"Where have you been," Ressler demanded.
"I've been at home," Lizzie replied coolly. The thought of Red's fingertips tracing along her skin. She prayed that Ressler wouldn't be able to see through her lie.
"Without your phone?" the agent pressed.
"I haven't felt like answering it," Elizabeth mumbled. That part, at least, was true.
"You are a federal agent, Keen," Ressler was nearly throwing his hands up in the air in annoyance. He stared at her, his eyes even, yet dark. "I don't understand you, it's almost like you don't even work here anymore. And where's Reddington? Isn't he usually on your heel?"
"Look. Cooper gave me the week off, I still have three or four days. I came in to get my medical file like he told me too," Agent Keen replied, not subscribing to Ressler's contagious temper.
He crossed his arms, his suit jacket looking slightly too small across his body. He sighed and shifted his weight to one leg. Elizabeth could see the outline of a prescription pill bottle in his pocket.
"How have you been since the attack? I would think Cooper would give you time off as well," Elizabeth Keen asked, her voice quiet and soft.
Ressler huffed before answering. "I wanted to come back to work," He muttered, looking at the mess of his desk. Lizzie's only had a small stack of files. The one on top had a sticky note plastered to it and Elizabeth took the lull in the conversation to look it over.
Agent Keen, here is your medical file. I have a copy and I would appreciate it if you visit your physician before you come back to work whenever you deem fit. We will keep you updated if there are any more advances in the Knapp case.
"What's happened since I was gone?"
"Just finding that storage container," Ressler answered, seemingly grateful for the change in topic. "We searched the compound that you were held in, we found some useful information, maps and stuff like that. We're working on finding his compound."
"You'll tell me if anything comes up?" Agent Keen asked.
Ressler ran a hand over his jaw but nodded all the same. "Yeah, just answer your phone, will you?" His brows were high on his forehead as he regarded her. "Please?"
Keen nodded, "Yeah. I'll be better about that."
"Thanks."
Elizabeth and Ressler said their goodbyes quickly and awkwardly. She gave Aram another hug goodbye and reassured him that she was alright, she'd be in next week, she promised. Ressler stayed brooding in their office as she left, looking the blinds to the warehouse floor as Elizabeth moved to the elevator and out of sight.
"How did she get away?!" Knapp roared, slamming his fist on the table. The bruised and battered Tom Keen jumped slightly in his chair then winced as his bruised ribs screamed.
"I hit a patch of sand, laid the bike down," he mumbled, his lip swollen from where he had bit down on it.
"But why?" the man before him seethed, getting up to pace about the room. "Why did you allow yourself to be put into that situation?"
Tom's eyes were dark, "It's not like I tried to nearly kill myself…"
"But you were sloppy!" Knapp quickly moved to his desk, pulling one of the drawers open harshly. He pulled out a sleek and lethal looking gun, a .45 if Tom had to guess. No doubt the magazine was full and Knapp's finger hovered dangerously close over the trigger.
The coppery taste in Tom's mouth made him want to gag, but he held it together.
"My empire was thriving before you and that whore got involved," Knapp said, his teeth clenched. "I had found the daughter of my only business partner, you had gotten nice and close to her. And Reddington had fallen into our lap! Connected by Elizabeth Keen! And yet, with those two people handed to us with big giant bows on their head, you manage to let it all slip away. Poof! Gone! Nothing to show for my hard work."
Knapp was positively furious by now, a vein in his neck bulging and his face scarlet.
"Two people that could just let me be. The woman didn't even know about my practice, it was Reddington that spilled the beans. But still, she was captured and Schmidt couldn't even stay alive. An entire house of my workers, gone, shot down by Reddington and his dog that he rescued from who knows were."
"Dembe," Tom said quietly.
"Who the fuck cares what his name is!" Knapp screamed, his eyes bulging. He stomped forward and grabbed Tom Keen by his shirt, stained russet from dried blood. With a fist full of fabric, Alexander Knapp jerked him forward violently and jammed the barrel of the gun against his already sore temple. Tom winced and squinted his eyes shut. He had been tortured before, run through the wringer when he had first started working for Knapp. Alexander wanted to know how loyal he really was. But with legs covered in road rash and a few bruised ribs and a bitten tongue, every movement was searing.
"I should've killed her myself," Knapp hissed through his even teeth, "And then you. Both of you were utterly worthless to me. Even Schmidt was useless, but at least he listened and followed orders. If I gave him a job he would finish it."
Knapp's fist tightened around the fabric of Tom's shirt. "You….you let an amateur get away. I had called on her for a favor, she wasn't even employed fully with me and you lost her."
Tom looked up at Alexander as best as he could, his eyes narrowed as his pulse throbbed in his temple against the cold steal of the gun. "You have been slack. Going around and sleeping with women and being lazy when you really should be doing your job!"
With pure strength that surprised Tom, Knapp flung him out of the chair and too the ground. His boot collided with Tom Keen's side and the pain was so sharp Tom had to hold the bile that bubbled up into his throat.
"You. Were. Married. To. Her!"Each word that passed through Knapp's gritted teeth landed another blow somewhere on Tom's already tender and wounded body. "And you still couldn't have kept an eye on her! You got lazy! Took too long! Let that Reddington bastard get in and whisper into her ear, tell her who you were!"
Panting from his violence, Knapp straightened as Tom retched and coughed below him. He ran a hand through his hair and felt sweat on his palm. "And yet, you couldn't even get Reddington either. That's why we were watching that woman in the first place. Then, two birds with one stone. The woman for revenge and Reddington for progress. Pay a debt set in stone by her father and then get her guardian out of the way so we could continue with our work."
"I'm…sorry," Tom gasped and gurgled, his teeth stained red from where he had bit the inside of his cheek to try and force out the pain. "I'm sorry, I fucked up."
"Yeah, you sure as hell did, Keen!" Knapp yelled again, waving his hands up in the air.
Tom tried to sit up, but the pain in the side prevented him. He was now positive that one or two of those bruised ribs were now broken thanks to Knapp's ferocity. "Please, I'll fix this."
"How, Tom?" Knapp demanded, pointing the gun as Tom rolled and struggled to stand. "How? You're up to three loose ends now, which means countless ones for me to fix as time goes on. Dana, Elizabeth, and Reddington. You don't think Dana will be heading to the FBI as we speak? She knows I want her dead! She'll want protection," Knapp was breathing heavily now, great excited gasps of air that nearly shook his entire frame, yet the gun was steady.
"Three loose ends. I've killed men for not picking up the phone. What makes you so special for a third or fourth chance? How many chances do I have to give you before you go from being a liability back to an asset?" Knapp's voice was now quiet….almost sad, as if regarding a once favorite toy that had now broke. Tom did not like the quiet voice, he preferred the yelling and screaming.
The lethal tone continued. "Convince me. Convince me you're worth the trouble, Tom."
Tom's ribcage screamed with each breath he took, sharp jags of pain stitching into the muscles of his body. "Please. I'll fix this. I'll find Dana, I'll get back to Elizabeth. Seven days, that's all I need. One week. Please, I'll get them. You'll have Elizabeth and Reddington will be in your office by the end of those days, Dana will be dead. "
"You're lying, Tom…" Knapp nearly purred, "It'll take you weeks to get healed up. You have broken ribs," he nudged the man below him with the toe of his boot, causing Tom Keen to wince. "One week? What if you run? Am I going to use up even more of my resources to track you down? Am I going to let you go? Just forget about you?"
The boot slowly pressed into Tom's side with steadily more force, as deliberately as a crushing stone. "Tom, you're done. I'm done giving you chances. I'm done wasting my time. This job needs to get done and all you've done is create more of a mess. You know you're done."
Keen blinked, his whole body alight with pain and panic. His mouth was dry and the coppery taste made him want to gag, get it off of his tongue. He knew that he had been lying when he begged Alexander for a week just moments before. There was no way he could fix the damage he had done to Knapp's franchise. It was too late, people rarely earned second chances from Knapp, and Keen had just wasted the last chance he would've gotten. He had lost Elizabeth and he knew it was from his own sloppiness. She was much smarter than he would've given her credit for. Cockiness had blinded him to his own mistakes. And Reddington…their main target was now waltzing around with the woman Keen had spent nearly three years grooming. Everything…gone. And he couldn't even get rid of Dana, the one small errand that would've put him back on Knapp's good side. He had allowed her to out-maneuver him even when he was on a sport bike. Keen wasn't able to catch up to her, wasn't able to get a shot. He had prolonged the chase for too long and she had gotten away.
The gun in Knapp's hand winked at him as it the caught the light of the lamp that sat on his desk. Keen felt the pain in his body dull and he knew that he was going into shock, no doubt his body filled with internal bleeding from the trauma of his wounds.
To some people, death causes a panic….however, to others, it creates a calm blanket that mutes the senses and dulls whatever pain the body would feel. It comes as a relief, no more discomfort, no more fear, no more hassle. Just nothing….nothingness that, to the moment, seemed like one of the most enticing things Tom Keen had not yet tasted.
Tom managed to sit up, looking at Knapp as he towered above him, his hair mussed and eyes wild yet ice cold. Tom looked at the gun in Knapp's hand and said a silent prayer. The gun wouldn't be too bad after all…at least it would be quick….
