Disclaimer: I do not own the Blacklist… unfortunately.

A/N: This is set immediately after the latest episode, "Mr. Gregory Devry, No. 95", Reddington goes to visit Lizzy in the hospital.

RedPOV

She was asleep when I first entered her room, which was a good thing because, though I braced myself for injuries, I was not expecting to see her face swollen and discolored, and I could not control my reaction.

My breath rushed out of me loudly, quickly, my heartrate increasing in both strength and tempo, causing me to become lightheaded. I felt as if I were about to have a heart attack.

Raymond Reddington, the Concierge of Crime, dying from a heart attack.

I would have found it rather amusing if I was not staring at my daughter in a hospital bed, bruised and seemingly broken.

I am still standing in the doorway when a short, dark skinned nurse walks up to me and hands me a file- Elizabeth's medical report; I'd have to thank Kate later for this. I settle down in an uncomfortable plastic chair in a corner of the room, the chair furthest away from the occupied bed, and open the file. The light was barely bright enough for me to read.

She was found on the ground in a parking lot, barely responsive due to drifting in and out of consciousness.

Swelling and bruising on her face was already evident, her breathing shallow, suggesting a chest injury. Her blood pressure was high, but her pulse was strong and steady. She was responsive to her pain when conscious.

She suffers severe contusions, mostly on her chest and abdomen. No signs of organ damage or internal bleeding.

Three broken ribs. Ouch.

The fetus is perfectly healthy. I stop breathing when the words sink in, rereading them over and over again. The fetus is perfectly healthy, no permanent damage is expected.

The fetus. A baby.

Lizzy's baby.

I look towards the bed again, watching the blonde woman, who I often still saw as my brown-haired little girl. Her breathing, though faster and shallower than I would like, was not uneven. The machine by her bedside showed a strong, healthy pulse and a blood pressure that was closer to normal, but still slightly high.

I walk up to her, drag a chair closer to the bed so that I sat by her shoulders. I tenderly picked up one of her hands, noting that they, as well as her forearms, also sported darkening bruises. My gaze landed on her face, her left cheek and eye were a purple-red color and swollen. She had a cut on her lower lip.

Her eyes fluttered under her eyelids. The hand I was not holding was draped delicately over her lower stomach, as if she were sheltering the life growing in her beneath her palm.

She'll be okay. Very uncomfortable, but okay. Her child was okay. I could be content with uncomfortable and okay for now, but I'm fairly certain I'll shoot Tom sometime in the near future.

A/N: This was fairly short, but if you guys would like me to continue with this, I would. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it!