People will go on believing that I'm a terrorist.

Liz looks at herself in the mirror and she thinks the person staring back at her is a stranger. She's the most wanted person in America at the moment and the thought turns her stomach, remembering the photos of herself plastered all over the news interposed between pictures of dead bodies.

She stares at her hands and looks at the burn mark on her wrist. Sometimes she looks at her hands and all she can see is red.

Ressler's been put in charge of the task force now and she remembers his face, the set of his jaw as he tells her he will have to be the one to bring her in. To hunt her down.

The thought of Ressler looking at her in disgust makes her close her eyes tight, her hand going to her chest. It feels even worse than finding out Tom wasn't Tom, wasn't the man who she thought he was.

Liz looks down at the box of hair dye and opens it.

When she sees Red stare, catch his breath at her new blonde hair a part of her relaxes because this is something she knows is a part of her – even if its superficial and nonsensical.

'She was blonde. My mother. That picture in your apartment– she was blonde. I look like her, don't I?'

Red nods his head and continues speaking, but Liz doesn't miss the way he continues to glance at her.


The Troll Farmer – or Bo Chang – looks supremely put out by Red and Liz can't help but feel for him. She's been on the receiving end of Red's pushy nature and for once, she's glad that he's doing this for her.

Liz watches the pretty brunette girl who bears a passing resemblance to her walk out in a police uniform, her eyes going wide as she spots Liz.

"I guess I'm you. Elizabeth Keen, right? Is he here, too? Reddington? Are you with him now? I don't mean to pry, but how does it feel?'

'How does what feel?' Liz asks her cautiously.

'To be a fugitive.'

Liz flinches as the camera flashes.

'And if you run, what does that look like? If someone's setting you up, you're giving them exactly what they want. You can fight this, but if you've got to do it from inside the system,' Ressler offers and Liz looks at him, eyes wide and breath short. He's offering to fight for her and she can't tell why, because ever since the Deer Hunter he seems like he doesn't want anything to do with her.

A large part of her wants to put the phone down and go with him.

'You don't want to fight for me Ressler,' she says instead and is acutely aware of the wail of the sirens.

Ressler narrows his eyes, opens his mouth.

'In about 20 seconds, that camera's gonna turn back on. If you're gonna let me go, you've got to do it now, before people see you standing here with me.'

He looks at her and for a moment Liz thinks she's going to have to go through him forcefully.

Ressler steps aside instead and Liz watches him like a hawk as she shuffles past him, placing the phone down on the ground.

'I never wanted this to happen,' she whispers. 'I never wanted this to happen to you.'

She runs.


'If you catch her, it will. It will matter a great deal. What you know about her, what you feel about her could make all the difference. So, my offer. One blacklister in exchange for your word that you will give her the benefit of every doubt. Can you do that, Donald? Can you give me your word?'

Red's words hit him like a punch to the gut. The vest he has on suddenly feels like its squeezing him too tight. Ressler feels like hands shake and clenches his fist.

'What I feel about Keen doesn't matter. She made her choice the minute she ran from me – from the FBI.'

Red chuckles. 'Oh Donald. Always so black and white. Elizabeth is innocent and I thought you, of all people, would be prescient of that fact.'

'Yeah well – Keen's done a lot of things these last few months that makes me wonder whether she's even who I think she is.'

'I wouldn't cast stones Donald,' Red's voice hardens and Ressler presses his lips together. 'Now your word?'

Ressler hates himself for not even hesitating.

'Yes.'


Ressler recognises the shape of her anywhere, despite the blonde hair.

He barely has the car in park before he's out the door, legs pounding as she heads towards the Russian Embassy.

He wants to scream at her, to take her by the shoulders and tell her not to be so stupid.

To trust him.

Instead he watches, heart sinking down to his stomach, as she climbs the fence and jumps down. The armed guards rush her instantly and he's looking at her through the wire fence. Her blonde hair is in her face and Ressler spares a moment to admire the colour.

'Don't do this Liz. Please,' he hisses through his teeth. Her eyes – god her eyes – soften and seem to glisten.

'Help! My name is Masha Rostova. I'm a Russian agent. I work for the FSB, and I'm seeking diplomatic immunity.'

He blinks at the name and wants to tell the guards to ease off as they push her into the fence.

'I don't want you to feel my pain anymore,' her words are barely a whisper but he hears them.

He remembers telling her those words outside the garage, when she had looked so small and he had wanted the same feelings that threaten to overwhelm him now to recede so he could think clearly.

'Don.'

It's the last thing he hears before they haul her away from him.

He can hear Samar come up behind him.

'Ressler,' she murmurs and he jerks his head as Liz disappears into foreign soil.

'Yeah,' he sighs.

Benefit of the doubt Liz. Benefit of the doubt.