Chapter Text
“Lizzie.” As usual, his tone was flat, somewhat deadpan, and deathly serious; a voice that gave commands more often than statements. Even though he’d said nothing more than her name, it was still an order, and although she was reluctant to obey anything he demanded, Elizabeth saw the sense, and stepped a little closer.
Without ever taking his gaze off the five men in front of them, even to blink, Reddington reached out towards her, crossing his arm bodily in front of her chest like a simple barricade. It was hardly a protection in the face of the guns pointed at them, but irrationally, Liz felt a flicker of safety from his action.
True to his promises, he would always look out for her best interests.
As she edged closer too slowly for his taste, Red dropped his hand across her diagonally, until his fingers brushed her hip. Any reaction she might have normally had faded into the anxiety and weight of the situation, but her jaw was frozen and in the silence she’d have normally filled with a complaint, his message was perfect clear, and she stepped behind him completely.
“We have no interest in shooting you, Raymond,” drawled the leader of the group in front of them, the very man they’d come to try and take out. Number fifty-seven on the Blacklist, Jonathan Dunnan, otherwise known to Reddington and other members of criminal society as the Patriot, had taken them all by surprise.
He’d surprised the FBI by being a known and trusted member of the executive office, working an incredibly well concealed inside job and helping many minor and major wrong-doers simply disappear off the grid without leaving the country. He was the go-to guy for seamless reintegration into American high society. Needless to say the news had been more than a little unsettling.
He’d surprised Reddington by planning an ambush.
“All we want is the girl. She’s of no use to you at all, Red. Give her to us and we’ll be on our way.”
“I don’t think so.” Reddington said it with a laugh, but he was unarmed and for once, entirely unprepared. The mirth sounded genuine, but was forced; Red was a brilliant actor. He couldn’t look at her, but he was comforted slightly by the feeling of Elizabeth close to his shoulders, well concealed behind him; if anyone wanted to hurt her, they’d have to go through him to do it.
“What use is she to you?”
“I could ask you the same question, Jonathan.” Reddington sneered, shaking his head in disapproval. “She’s just a rookie profiler, she’s got two months federal experience at best. There’s nothing special about her at all,” he lied, and Elizabeth recalled their very first conversation.
“I’d be inclined to agree Raymond; you’d make a much more sensible and exciting goal.” Liz bristled as their criminal target spoke, and Red felt it in the air between her and his back, but they remained silent and in their places. “But, they didn’t ask for you. In fact I was specifically told to let you go, to carry on your merry way with whatever it is you’re doing. All I know is that an abhorrent amount of money is available to me if I can deliver her alive.”
“Who’s paying you?”
Dunnan barked out a harsh and unpleasant laugh, looking at his watch. “A client.”
“Which client?”
“Now, now, Raymond. You know exposing the personal details of the people who trust me would be so very bad for business.”
“And as you know, it would be equally bad for mine if one of my people is shanghaied.”
“Luckily for you, she’s not really one of your people, is she? No one else would even know you’d lost her, aside maybe the federal agents who rented her out to you in exchange for me.”
Red’s expression fell, losing any trace of mock cheer. Instead he became an impassive, blank slate with dark eyes and a silent frown. This Blacklister knew far more than he should have done, and if he was to be believed, he wasn’t the only one. And that was a serious problem.
A pressure on his back nearly made the mask drop completely off his face in surprise, but he gritted his teeth and reached behind him again with his hand; Elizabeth had placed her fingers gently against the pleat in his suit coat. He could feel her barely containing a tremble through the touch, and couldn’t blame her. This situation had escalated far out of their control.
“Are you going to step out of the way, Red? I’d rather we remain friends.”
“I’m afraid I can’t really do that. How would it look to the FBI if I simply let their agent be abducted? Keeping up a ruse about being on the inside is of pivotal importance, as you know.”
Across the room, #57 shrugged lazily, as if he’d been asked to decide between Cheddar or Swiss. “Very well then.” He waved his gun in the air, a gesture to the four backup men he’d brought with him; one couldn’t be too careful when taking on Raymond Reddington. “Get the girl, we need her alive.”
“Are you sure you want to do this, Johnathan?”
Without missing a beat, Dunnan added to the goons that were now approaching Red and Elizabeth, “And for the sake of hospitality, bloody him up a bit so that he can maintain face with the feds. He’s much more useful to the community when he’s not in prison.”
“Lizzie,” Reddington spoke again, quietly for her ears only, taking a step backwards against her and putting her in the uncomfortable position of being firmly wedged between his back and the wall behind them.
“I’m going to bloody kill you,” she hissed, alarm and fury pitching her voice in his ear, and she felt his chuckle rather than heard it as he continued quickly.
“You mightn’t have to. Listen, when I move, duck. I’ll go left, you go right, throw yourself and roll, under that table, and then you’ll be at the base of the stairs. Go up, and get out.”
There wasn’t time for her to argue, nor register that he hadn’t included himself in this escape plan, because in the next second the guards were upon them, and Reddington had launched forwards after his feign of submission.
At the near immediate sound of gunfire, Liz ducked, ran, tumbled, and found herself rolling under the table as directed. Her ears rang from a deafening crack, and the wood splintered behind her as she flung herself up the steps two or three at a time, fighting back tears of panic, because right now she needed clear vision to make it up, and out- just as Red had said- and escape.