Samar," she said shakily, "can you pass me my handbag?"
"Sure Liz."
Invisible fingers pressed at her throat, preventing the tears from falling but making her almost dizzy enough to pass out. She had thought she couldn't be more panicked than when she'd discovered the empty crib.
She was wrong.
She walked into the bathroom, unobtrusively closing the door and pulling the toilet seat down. Seating herself shakily on the lip, perched on the very edge, she allowed herself a moment to breathe, to take deep, calming breaths. They didn't help though. Her heart was still in her mouth as she reached inside her bag, pulled out her cell and dialed the number.
"Did you do as you were instructed?" Asked a cold male voice with no preamble.
"Yes," she said, choking on the word. "I haven't told anyone. Where is my baby?"
"Listen to me carefully Elizabeth, your activities with Raymond Reddington...your little mission to destroy an organization that existed before you were even born, that holds the pieces of the world as we know it together with a thread-that ends now. Do you understand?"
She nodded vigorously, as though he could see her, anxious for him to understand she'd do it, she'd do anything for her baby. "Yes, I understand. It stops now. I promise you, I can quit my job-"
"That won't be necessary," he interjected silkily. "We have plans for you. We require much more from you before you'll see your baby again."
"Please," she said desperately, tears standing in her eyes. "I'll do anything you want, just give me my baby back."
"You'll receive a photograph of the child every time you do something that we ask of you. If it's something of significant risk, you may receive a short video, but nothing is guaranteed. Are we clear, Elizabeth?"
"How will you fe-"
The line went dead.
"Feed her," she finished disconsolately into the phone.
They'd be able to feed her. They would. After all, little Melody had been going to a new home before she'd changed her mind. They would have bottle fed her anyway. But it hurt. It was a claw in the middle of her chest, ravaging at her soul, the thought of her tiny child being fed from a bottle by some uncaring mercenary.
Ten minutes was all it took to gather herself and walk out of that bathroom. She avoided looking directly at Reddington, instead focusing on his tie, the richly colored, neat lines as it fell from the centre of his chest.
"Lizzie?" He said questioningly, holding out a pen and paper to her.
She took them wordlessly, jotting down Tom's contact details and anything else she could think about his whereabouts. He'd indicated he was going to be in Mexico until the birth of his child. They were probably there now, sunning themselves on a beach, having a pleasant babymoon. It gave her a twinge to think of it. She didn't want anything terrible to happen to Gina's baby but a small shameful part of her asked why her? Why did this have to happen to her baby?
She looked up to find Samar watching her, a terrible expression of sympathy on her face. It was more than she could bear. She didn't want sympathy. It made her weak. She needed to be strong. For her baby. She couldn't tell Reddington. Not until she knew more about who was involved in the kidnapping.
Jacob had thrown a stone at the corrupt Mexican cop who had brought him in. The man was sporting a lump on his head the size of an egg and the vengeful look on his face as he stood guard at the door of the abandoned warehouse did not bode well for Jacob.
Reddington entered further into the room, picking out a handkerchief from his pocket and disdainfully wiping a spot on a nearby table free of dust. He lifted himself up onto the table, swinging his legs, a vaguely menacing look of cheer on his face.
"Jacob, we've got to stop meeting like this."
Tied painfully tight to a chair with a significant amount of duct tape was the aforementioned Jacob Phelps. He smirked at Reddington, no visible signs of fear in his face. "You've never had me in this position before. Someone's got an inflated sense of self, I see."
Reddington's mouth quirked downwards in annoyance. "Normally I'd take this opportunity to obtain what they call, tit for tat. But time is of the essence, and I need information. So tell me, where is the child?"
He watched the tied down and bloodied man closely for signs of knowledge. He found none. Jacob's face creased into a small hint of confusion. His eyes narrowed. "Liz had the baby already? And someone's kidnapped it?" He snorted in derision. "Great job you're doing of protecting her. Looks like I'm well out of that little circus." His eyes lit with mocking brightness. "Hey if you find it, are you planning on playing step-daddy? Is that what this is about? You didn't get a chance to bend her over and make babies with her yourself so you're content to play-fuck."
Like a snake, Reddington had left his perch on the table and surged forward to deliver a stunning blow across the face. "You are impertinent," he said softly. "You will not speak of Elizabeth, at all. If you can give me information, I may let you live to go and play happy families with your little lightskirt. If not, Gina's going to be a single mother. I can't honestly say she wouldn't be better off," he added scathingly.
In the end, he gave what little he knew about any credible threat he'd heard about in the months leading up to the birth. It wasn't enough, it wasn't anything Reddington himself hadn't already known.
He brought Brimley in anyway. Just to make sure.
Just to make sure-and because it felt good.
Two days after the birth, Liz was discharged from hospital. She filled out the paperwork to name her baby. She'd deliberated for a while on the name. She chose Melody Victoria Keen in the end. She wept as she signed her own name on the forms. Would she ever see her baby again?
"We'll get her back, Lizzie, I swear it," promised Reddington with vehemence.
But he didn't know. She couldn't tell him. So she waited at home, sitting limply at her kitchen bench with her cell phone lying silent there in front of her.
Checking her phone became her obsession. She refused the calls of nearly everyone, only answering if it was Cooper or Reddington.
Then a knock at her door. Samar.
"Liz, I'm sorry to just drop in like this but...we were worried."
She smiled stiffly, letting her colleague in the door. "I've updated Cooper on any leads Reddington has had. Didn't he keep you briefed?"
Samar paused, surveying her with a sharp eye. "We're worried about you, Liz." She dropped a satchel onto the kitchen bench. "This is a week's worth of meals. Aram spent the whole weekend cooking." She peered into the satchel, unloading container after container of food. "There's spaghetti bolognaise, tuna casserole, stroganoff, a few different stir fries, and apricot chicken."
Liz bit her lip, trying not to let the ever present threat of tears overwhelm her. "Thank...thank you. Tell Aram thank you. That's so thoughtful of him."
Something unfathomable swam through Samar's eyes. Perhaps it was pity, but Liz felt it was something more. There was a determined set to her jaw.
Samar opened her mouth and hesitated a moment. "Liz, we think...there's a suggestion that the Cabal might be more complex than we first thought. We think there are factions within factions. Do you think it's possible that they have something to do with Melody's kidnapping?"
Her mouth went dry at those words. The Cabal. Of course. Reddington and the Cabal and Russian spies and never ending grief and fear and loss. She bent her head as the tears fell. It gave her a strange feeling when Samar moved around the kitchen bench and put her arms around her. She had been someone to watch and mistrust once. But they'd comforted each other once before, the day Samar had been shot and they'd both been infected with a deadly virus. It was good of Samar to reach out now.
She didn't realize how much she needed it.
She sobbed into the other woman's shoulder, heaving painful and gasping tears of anguish. Samar held her tightly, not saying a word, just holding onto her and rocking her slightly. She was only a handful of years older than Liz herself but it felt like being held by a mother and she knew quite suddenly that this was what she had been needing these past few days, what she desperately missed. A mother and a friend to cry with.
"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry Liz," she murmured, "I can't imagine…"
Her tears didn't last forever. Frequent bouts of loud keening on the floor of her kitchen had taught her that. It didn't go on forever. There were so many other things to do. She was determined to pump her breast milk to keep her supply up. She was going to get her baby back, and she refused to think that it would be much longer. Any day now and she had to have a supply of milk for her baby after all.
She sniffled, wiping her tears with the palm of her hand. "I need to pump, I'm sorry. Did you want to help yourself to coffee?"
It was a little uplifting as she sat there on her couch and closed her eyes, letting Samar's conversation distract her while she put herself through the excruciating pain of pumping her milk. She'd been so alone. Cooper had visited her the once but Red hadn't been to see her since the day she was discharged. He'd been in Mexico following a lead, or so he'd said.
Her stomach tightened. She hoped the kidnappers wouldn't ask her to try and convince him to call off the search. He'd know something was up straight away. But they hadn't been in contact. Who knew what they would ask of her when they called?
She found out the next day.
The shrill ring of her cell phone startled her, despite it being cradled in her hand as she slumped forward in her bed.
The voice was different this time, another unfamiliar male. "Time to return to work Elizabeth. You have a job."
"And you'll send me a photo?"
"Of course. Once the job is complete."
Her eyes were swollen and her throat was sore from crying and sleeplessness but she was ready. Anything they wanted, anything they'd ask of her, she'd do. "Just tell me, what do you want me to to do?"
"Raymond Reddington has been meeting someone on the first Thursday of each month at a different location each time. We've found it impossible to ascertain his business or the method of choosing the next location. You are to follow him this Thursday and when you have learned who he meets with, report back to me. Do you think you can manage that?"
"Yes," she said, pulling herself out of bed wearily. "I'll do it."
"Very good, Ms Keen. We're going to get along famously. Just remember, if you're caught, you are to deny any knowledge of us. If Raymond Reddington makes a move against us, we'll know who to look to."
She was breathless as the man hung up the phone.
She had to spy on Red. For the life of her baby. She had to fool Red, the most wary and cautious man she knew.
She didn't eat that morning, instead, she spent the next few hours in tears, dry heaving over the toilet bowl.
The situation was hopeless.