A/N: So, super long chapter here. Lots going on though, and it needed to happen all at once.
El stared at the useless phone, then back to Brooke. "I'm sure Peter will be here soon," she told her, trying to smile confidently for the blonde. "He was tracing the call, and his team will find us."
Brooke coughed, spat a fluid Elizabeth told herself wasn't blood, then took a deep breath. "Yeah," she said dubiously. "Well, I think I'm done sitting here waiting to be rescued." She used her good leg to push herself to the edge of her seat, groaning as she grabbed the back and pulled her body into an awkward standing position.
"What are you doing?" El asked, moving to guide the girl back to her chair; but Brooke shook her arm free, hobbling over to lean against the wall as she investigated the contents of the room. "Brooke, you're hurt and you're sick; you shouldn't be—"
"I'm not going to die like this," Brooke told her, her green eyes flashing with intensity. "I'm not going to sit here, pathetic and useless, so they can just walk in the door and blow my brains out."
"Peter won't let that happen, he'll find us in time- and you can barely stand," Elizabeth reminded her.
The blonde wiped the sweat and blood away from her face. "Then until he gets here, I guess adrenaline and smarts will have to replace speed." She looked at the brunette, the determination in her eyes only slightly undermined by the trembling of her leg as it weakly supported her weight. "I'm getting out of here, Elizabeth—so either help me or get the hell out of my way."
El believed in Peter, but she knew what he would want for her. "What do you need me to do?"
Brooke smiled grimly. "We're going full-assault."
Peter and Agent Rice stood at the corner of State Street and Whitehall with their teams. Hughes had put them back together after Elizabeth's call and the fiasco at the docks, as well as agreeing to setting Caffrey loose. Too many complications all but threw out protocol on this one, he'd told them in frustration. And besides, Peter'a team was the best, and Hughes trusted them.
"Okay Burke," she told him. "It's your lead on this one."
Peter looked at the group. "Okay, Neal's buying us some time with Keller, and we've got two potential buildings." He pointed at the map. "Here at South Ferry, and over at Whitehall."
He studied the map. "My team will take South Ferry," he told Rice, then spoke up to the rest of the group. "Everyone is in street clothes and on comms. If you see any sign of Ramsey or our abductees, call it in and proceed with caution. The Russians may still be looking for them as well, and they aren't afraid to get their hands dirty on this one."
"Caffrey's buying us thirty minutes," Rice called to the teams. "Let's make them count." As the agents began to separate, Rice met his eyes. "Good luck," she told him, and hustled down the block.
Peter quickly caught up with Diana and Jones. "Ramsey signed in at South Ferry this morning," Jones updated him.
"And this building has been under contract for reconstruction for three weeks," Diana added, flashing a picture of a rundown warehouse. "But there's no record of any work ever being done."
Peter looked at the blueprints. "Pre-war construction, ground-level fountain, and there's multiple lower-level corridors that run parallel to the tracks," he noted.
"Perfect place to cut and run if something goes wrong," Diana commented.
"Let's get the bastards."
El had been sitting in the dark for five minutes now, she was pretty sure. After Brooke's brazen statement, the blonde had started limping around the room, rifling through the trash scattered on the ground. Elizabeth had watched the pitiful movement for a moment, then moved next to the other, grabbing the dirtied newspapers littering the floor and folding them stiffly. biting her lip as she strung them tightly against Brooke's misshapen foot to create a makeshift brace. Brooke stared at the device in surprise, then spoke a quick thanks before instructing El to sneak back out into the hall to turn off the lights to their closet from the security desk. Of course, when she had returned and closed the door, they were reduced to a pitch-black room, but apparently that didn't bother the injured girl at all. She'd simply instructed El to act more or less as a crutch, helping her redistribute her weight as she stood on one of the chairs, fiddling with the hanging lamp that had been their one source of light.
After a minute, Elizabeth heard what sounded like a cord being pulled through a slot, and Brooke had asked her to help her down. From there the brunette supported the blonde as she made her way back to the door, with a slight jostling of the doorknob and tension in her muscles the only evidence anything was happening while Elizabeth's ears strained to listen for any sounds coming from the hallway.
"Okay," Brooke finally spoke up, and El let out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "Now," grunt," help me two steps to the right against the wall over here."
El conceded, slowly guiding the girl back toward the damp wall next to the door. She heard the sound of sloshing, then liquid being dumped against the door and ground.
"Good thing you didn't finish that," Brooke commented, panting as she moved to face the other in the dark. "Okay, hopefully that will do it."
El nodded, then realized Brooke couldn't see her. "Okay," she said. She paused. There were three guards-how many could whatever Brooke had done take out? "What if it doesn't?"
"It will," the blonde responded, but Elizabeth could hear the uncertainty in her voice.
El looked around the room, feeling stupid since it was still pitch black. She took a step away from the wall, only to have Brooke grab her arm. "What are you doing?" she hissed.
"Finding a back-up plan." she told her. She made her way slowly around the dark, feeling empty bottles and plastic containers and newspaper and cigarette butts. Then her groping hands touched cold metal, and she gingerly felt up the legs of the folding chair still sitting in the middle of the room.
She folded the chair against her chest, gripping the legs in her hand as she made her way back to her injured friend.
Brooke reached out and felt the furniture in El's hands.
"Just in case," El told her.
The other girl swallowed thickly. "Keep a grip with both hands- where the legs meet the bar."
El did as she was told, pressing her back against the wall and hugging the chair to her chest. "Now what?" she asked.
The blonde sighed. "Now we wait."
Peter led his team toward the South Ferry terminal entrance. He looked at the building down the street, trying to guess if the beat-up looking cameras were working; and, if they were, whether the guards were watching for them.
"Peter," Jones called, nodding to a vendor standing near the entrance with a refrigerated machine selling sandwiches.
They crossed over to where the old man was standing. "Do you sell egg salad?" Peter asked.
The man's expression crinkled as he smiled, turning to his unit. "It is your lucky day; it's my last one—" he said, pulling out a plastic container.
And staring directly into Peter's badge. "FBI—do you recognize either of these men?" he asked as Diana held up a picture of Keller and Ramsey.
The tanned old man frowned, brow furrowing. "This man," he told them, pointing to Ramsey. "He comes by every day and buys the egg salad and a water."
"Has he come by today?" Peter pressed.
"Yeah, but he just got two waters," the man replied. "Said he was heading out today."
Peter turned away from the vendor, sighing in frustration. He turned back and asked, "Did you see where he went?"
The man pointed down the street. "He always goes through the alley," he told them. "I thought it was strange because it's just a dead end."
Peter broke into a run, with Jones and Diana flanking him. "We've got a lock on Ramsey," he called into his comm. "Everyone hold your position, but be ready to move in on my signal."
Rice came in across the waves. "We're headed your way Burke," she told him.
Elizabeth held her breath when she finally heard footfalls making their way down toward them. Brooke squeezed her hand, and El gripped the chair tightly.
The doorknob rattled as someone swiveled the unbolted door in place. "Goddamn it guys," Buckingham's voice mumbled. "Could we try to remember to lock the door?"
She felt the blonde grip her tighter, and El stepped away from the wall slightly, adjusting the chair in her hands.
The door opened, and one foot stepped into the room. "What the—?" the man's voice trailed off. "Shit! Benny, hit the lights, would ya?"
Suddenly the door started jerking as Buckingham's body started shaking, before finally creaking open when he slumped to the floor. As light poured in, El observed the stripped wires trailing from the lamp hanging from the ceiling tied to the metal doorknob, and the water left over from El's water bottle dripping from the knob into a puddle at the entrance.
"Jack? Jackson?" a voice called out, footsteps running into the room. El didn't even think: as soon as she saw the figure step forward, she brought the full weight of the chair across the guard's face, then crashing down onto the top of his head.
The two women stared for a moment at the unconscious men at their feet, then simultaneously shook themselves to action. Brooke stepped toward the door, pausing to spit on the guard and then murmur, "Sorry Buck—you chose the wrong side," before hobbling into the hallway.
Bracing herself against the wall, Brooke quickly limped toward the exit. Elizabeth knew to expect it, but when the door opened and a shrill alarm began to sound, she still jumped a little in surprise.
"Go!" Brooke shouted, and the brunette ran into the hall.
Neither of them expected Tyrell/Ramsey to already be out there.
Peter entered the building quietly from the side entrance in the alley, pressing himself against the wall. He'd sent Diana and Jones around the front with instructions to report in at the first sign of Ramsey or an entrance to the lower levels.
"Clear," Jones' voice came through the comm. "Everything's quiet on this side, Peter."
Peter looked around the tattered room he'd entered. "Any sign of a way downstairs?" he whispered, his footsteps creaking as he stepped across the plastic sheeting.
"Nothing yet, Boss," Diana reported.
Just then Peter found a large piece of plywood leaned against the wall. "Wait a sec, I may have something," he told them, pulling the material back to reveal a beat up door.
"Okay," he continued as he turned the knob, "I've got stairs leading downward with a light at the bottom." He crept into the stairwell, gun aimed at the light in front of him. "I'm going down," he whispered.
"We're right behind you," Diana's voice replied over the receiver.
When Peter reached the bottom of the stairs, he was surprised to see the tile flooring that the lamps hanging from the ceiling illuminated. It was actually nicer down here than in the warehouse above them. His assessment was interrupted by the loud whirring of tracks, drawing attention to the nearness of the subway.
"There are a lot of doors here guys," he noted, trying one, only to find it locked. He made his way slowly, gently turning each doorknob he reached, finding half of them locked, and the other half leading to closets. "It's like a freaking maze," he mumbled to himself.
Suddenly an alarm began sounding, echoing through the halls; then gunfire, followed by screams.
"Boss?" came Diana's worried voice.
"We've got shots fired down here," Peter shouted as he began sprinting toward the noise. "I need immediate back-up; everyone move in now!"
Tyrell/Ramsey pulled himself out of his stupor before the girls had recovered from theirs. He pulled out his gun and cocked it. "Don't move," he growled.
"Run!" Brooke yelled, pushing El into action. A shot went off, and the bullet rung against the metal chair the brunette hadn't even realized she was still holding. She dropped it with a shriek, and started racing down the hallway, half-dragging the blonde beside her.
El wasn't sure if Brooke was really hurt or really good at dodging bullets, but the girl began pulling her fellow abductee in zigzags through a corridor, slamming into the doors only long enough to jiggle the knob and look for an opening. Even when one of the man's bullets flew into the frame beside them, she only let out a scream before pushing off and continuing onward.
Suddenly they heard cursing and El spared a glance backward, noting that apparently the man had spent all of his bullets and was now racing after them. Brooke, eyes wide, seemed to notice the same thing, and when she found a door that opened, she threw herself inside and slammed it shut behind Elizabeth.
"I'm going to rip the two of you into pieces!" he screamed, slamming against the door the girls were bracing with their bodies for life.
"Okay," Brooke panted slightly. "My plan may have been slightly flawed."
"Peter will get here," Elizabeth said, pushing certainty into her breathless voice. "We just have to hold on—"
Suddenly the door burst open, the two girls flying backward. Tyrell/Ramsey loomed over them, eyes furious as he reloaded his clip slowly, purposely. El looked over to Brooke, but the fall had ripped the girl's newspaper brace, and she was gripping her foot tightly in an effort not to scream. The bastard also seemed to note this, and walked over, kicking her foot from her hands and grinning as she cried out.
"I remember in grade school dissecting Worms," he told her. "It was amazing—sharp object to the chest, and they'd still wriggle." He cocked the gun. "Let's see if that's still true."