Jacob watched as the woman on his monitor flipped over her table, sending food and wine crashing into what Jacob assumed would henceforth be her ex-boyfriend. Five minutes earlier Ronnie, the "writer", that she'd been dating for the past year had left the kitchen to use the restroom and Liz had taken the opportunity to steal his cell phone from his jacket. After about a minute of exploration, she'd returned the device to where she'd found it and sat, stock still, until her boyfriend had return to the table. Then she'd begun her attack.

Jacob was surprised to find himself smiling as the cheating asshole dodged the plates, and glasses that were being thrown at his head. There wasn't much in the world that actually amused him, but for some reason it was satisfying to watch the leech that had been screwing around on his meal ticket get what was coming to him.

This assignment was a bit different from his usual fare. Naturally Jacob still had a cover identity and was living under a fake name, but there was no infiltration, no target to deceive, no secrets to gather. His only tasks were: Observe and protect. No direct contact with the subject unless absolutely necessary. It was a bit boring, but it was also relaxing. When he'd come in after his last job, being the adoring boyfriend of a Mafioso's daughter, he'd needed a break. This gig had been the perfect opportunity for a rest. So far it had been the easiest money Jacob had ever earned.

The client was the Raymond Reddington, and Bill had been emphasized the importance of keeping him happy. Everyone in Jacob's world knew The Concierge of Crime and his reputation for taking care of his contractors. Jacob had never had a more important client. A good reference from Raymond Reddington was currency in it of itself, so naturally Jacob had been thorough in his preparation. He knew everything there was know about Elizabeth Scott...or rather everything that there was to find.

Elizabeth was adopted at the age of four by Sam Mulhuin. The copy of the official record named Patrick and Diane Scott as her birth parents, but Tom hadn't been able to find any information on either one of them. The adoption agency listed on the certificate had burned down along with all records of Scott's origins. Given Reddington's interest in the woman, that blackout regarding her biological family was intriguing. Jacob had made a hobby of speculating who she really was, and what Reddington wanted with her.

Scott's life after her adoption was well-documented and he'd gone over it thoroughly. As a child Scott had regular appointments with a psychologist. She was apparently treated for "anti-social tendencies". At eight years old Scott was suspended from school for punching a fifth grade boy in nose. Her teachers noted that she was academically gifted, but struggled to relate well to her classmates. This trend continued into her teen years when Scott had apparently hooked up with a young petty thief named Frank Malone. Scott left her adoptive father's home the summer before her senor year, presumably with her boyfriend. She returned home six months later. There were no existing records of Frank Malone after that point in time and Jacob couldn't help but wonder if Reddington had had a hand in that.

Jacob was surprised how much of Scott's profile aligned to his own; orphaned young, high IQ, anti-social tendencies, criminal behavior. Elizabeth Scott would have been a prime candidate for the Major, had it not been for her adoptive father.

After the "Frank" era Scott apparently turned her life around. She committed to her education, was accepted into the University of Baltimore, graduated with Honors, and currently was pursuing an advanced degree in Forensic Psychology.

Things hadn't been so good for Scott during the last year. Her father had been diagnosed with lung cancer and was currently receiving Chemo treatments. In the three months he'd been watching her Jacob had witnessed numerous fights between Scott and Mulhuin about her dropping out of her graduate program to be there with him. Mulhuin had absolutely refused and had gone so far as to threaten to stop the treatments altogether if she quit school. The bond there was clearly very deep.

Scott had been struggling with the stress her father's illness and was currently taking anti-depressants. Jacob wasn't sure those pills were the best idea for someone with Scott's psychological make-up, but he wasn't her doctor and it wasn't really his business. Watching Scott's rage, Jacob couldn't help but wonder if Ronnie had been aware that one of the side effects of his girlfriend's medication was mood swings. That may have made him think twice before cheating on her.

"Liz, stop! You're acting crazy!" Not the tactic Jacob would have gone with but it seemed to take the wind out of Scott's sails. She dropped the picture frame that would have likely have been her next projectile.

"Crazy? Yeah, that's is probably it, Ronnie. I'm crazy." Tom leaned closer to the screen and saw that Scott had started crying. "I was crazy to to expect some degree of loyalty from you. To think that you gave a damn about me. Maybe I should go take my crazy pills. Then maybe I'll understand about you screwing around on me!"

Scott left the kitchen and headed to the bathroom, Ronnie following close behind her. She filled the glass by the sink with water, then opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of pills. She unscrewed the top and shook one of the anti-depressants into her hand.

"You know what, Liz? I'm not the only one at fault here. Life with you is like roller coaster. You're up, you're down. You pull me close, then you push me away. You love me. You hate me. Maybe I just needed a break from the emotional whiplash! Maybe I just can't deal with your insane bullshit 24/7!"

Scott stared at her boyfriend for a long moment, pill and pill bottle both still in her hands. In one quick move Liz's tossed back the pill bottle, pouring at least a dozen pills down her throat, quickly followed by the glass of water. When she finished she slammed the glass on the sink.

"How was that for insane bullshit?" Jacob blinked in perfect sync with Ronnie. He could not believe Scott had just done that. Volatile didn't even begin to describe it.

"Are you nuts?!" Despite Ronnie's accusation Scott suddenly appeared calm as a cucumber, crossing her arm across her chest.

"Apparently. Now let's see if you can deal with it." Jacob didn't blame Ronnie for his look of utter disbelief. Jacob was supposed to be a professional at reading people and he had no clue as to what was going on in Scott's head at the moment.

"Liz, you just swallow a dozen Xanax! What the fuck are you doing just standing there?! Call 911!" Scott tilted her head to the side, as though she were trying to decide what flavor of ice cream she wanted to order.

"No. You do it." Ronnie persisted in his slack jawed expression. Whatever game Scott was playing here, it was way over his head.

"What?"

"I do the laundry, I clean, I pay rent and utilities. I think its time that YOU pull some of the weight around here. That is if you can take a break from fucking around and pretending to write the great American novel." Suddenly things became abundantly clear to Jacob. This was a test. A crazy game of emotional chicken. She was provoking Ronnie to see what he'd would do, to test his loyalty, his commitment. The trouble was Ronnie wasn't smart enough to see what Scott was doing. Judging by his reddening face, all Ronnie had heard were the insults, the pricks to his ego.

"Go to hell, Liz." Ronnie turned and walked out of the apartment. Liz stood silent as a statue as she watched him go. The second the door closed she walked stiffly over to the living room couch, sat, and picked up the portable phone from the coffee table. Jacob waited for her to dial. She didn't.

"Come on, Scott. He's gone. It's over. Make the call." Jacob was surprised to hear the words actually come out of his mouth. He'd gotten a little more involved in the little drama than he'd realized. He stared at the screen, willing his target to push the buttons on the small device. The longer she did nothing, the more he tense he got. He had no idea exactly how many pills she'd taken or how long it took for them to take effect. He had standing orders not to infer, except in cases of emergency. Did this qualify? The Major's warnings about breaking cover were echoing in his ears.

"He's coming back. He'll come back." Scott's whispered words, barely picked up by the microphones he'd planted made his decision for him. She wasn't going to make the call herself, because to make the call would be to admit that her boyfriend didn't give a shit.

Jacob yanked out his burner and dialed 911. When the operator picked up he gave the best impression of a panicked boyfriend that he could muster.

"I need an ambulance! My girlfriend just swallowed a bunch of anti-depressants! We're on 114 Lexington street apartment 2A! Hurry please! My phone's about to-" Tom punched the end call button and turned his attention back to the monitors. Liz's head seemed to be lolling to the side. That wasn't good. How long until the ambulance arrived? The phone slid out of her hand and she collapsed on the couch. Shit.

Jacob sprinted for the door, yanked it open and raced out into the hall. Liz's apartment was only four doors down. When he got to the door, he found it unlocked and he pushed his way in.

"Hello?" Jacob tried, in case Liz was still semi-conscious. "I heard yelling. Is everything okay in here?" No response. He rushed over the couch. Scott's eyes were half closed, unfocused.

"Ronnie?" Scott's soft, hopeful whisper sent a strange and unfamiliar sensation through Jacob's chest. He didn't know why, but he felt reluctant to disabuse her of the notation that her boyfriend had returned.

"It's alright, I'm here. Just stay with me, okay?" As he spoke a small, but sweet smile appeared on Elizabeth Scott's face.

"Okay." Slowly, but deliberately she extended to her hand towards him. After a moment Jacob took it, his fingers gently enfolding hers. Elizabeth gave a soft sigh of relief. Without consciously deciding to do it, Jacob reached out with his free hand and stroked her hair. It was soft and smooth. It was strange seeing her this close after three months of watching her through cameras and binoculars. He'd never really appreciated before how beautiful she was.

"The ambulance is on its way. It's going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine." Jacob was surprised how naturally the words seemed to come out of him. Comforting had never come easily thanks to his "lack of natural empathy" as one of the shrinks he'd seen in his youth had put it. He'd spent hours practicing tone, gesture, the right look of concern. In the past when the moment called for it, he'd had to carefully focus on executing his performance. This felt...natural. Why?

He looked down at the girl and and saw her breathing had become more shallow. That wasn't good. Maybe he should turn her on her side, make it easier for her to breath? It wasn't easy to accomplish one handed, but he managed to shift Elizabeth to a better position. He smiled as he watched her draw deeper breaths. The tightening sensation in his gut suddenly lessened and the truth finally hit him. He didn't have to fake caring, because he did care. He cared her. He cared about Elizabeth Scott. That thought felt like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. The shock caused him to want rip his hand away, out of her grasp.

"I love you." Her mumbled words sent another strange tingle through his chest. What was happening here? What was wrong him? He wasn't some stupid moon-eyed teenager. He'd known dozens of women intimately and not once had he had the kind of response he was having to Elizabeth Scott. This...affection made no sense. He wasn't built for it. It wasn't part of his genetic make-up. Jacob Phelps was detached. Jacob Phelps didn't feel things the way other people did. His whole life this truth had been drilled into him. If this girl, this woman, was somehow the exception to the rule, that made her dangerous to him. He needed to get away from her. He suddenly heard the sound of the approach ambulance. He was almost in the clear.

"Stay." What was the woman, some kind of a mind reader?

"Of course I'll stay." At least until the EMTs arrived. After he'd called Bill and ask him to send a replacement.

"Promise?" There was something almost childlike about her voice then, which somehow made it hard for Jacob to immediately answer. He cursed his own foolishness. This was a grown woman, not a toddler, who thought she was talking to her idiot boyfriend.

"Someone need an ambulance?" A thin black woman and a large white man pushed a gurney into the apartment.

"Over here!" Jacob stood, letting go of Elizabeth's hand to allow the medics to examine her. Elizabeth's soft whimper sent yet another unexpected pang through him. He busied himself by running to the bathroom and retrieving the pill bottle.

"This is what she took. I think she swallowed about a dozen. Is she going to be okay?" Jacob didn't love the fact they didn't answer immediately, choosing instead to lift Elizabeth onto the gurney and roll her out of the apartment. Jacob kept pace with them as they jogged the gurney down the hall to the emergency elevator.

"Hopefully. They're going to need to pump her stomach. We're taking her to Mercy Medical Center."

The doors closed, leaving Jacob alone in the hallway. He knew should get back to his apartment before a curious neighbor popped their head out of the door and saw him standing there. In his current situation is was best to remain as anonymous as possible.

Once he was back in his room, he walked over to his desk, where he'd left his burner phone. Should he call Bill? Perhaps he'd been overreacting. The last thing he'd wanted to do was damage his professional credibility. He'd put a pause on that call for now. There was unfortunately one call he'd still need to make and he was not looking forward to making it. He sighed and punched the number.

"Hello?" The deep rich voice could only belong to Reddington's bodyguard Dembe.

"It's Mike Davis," Jacob said, using the alias he had been hired under, "There's been an incident."