There was a definite nip in the London air as Katarina hurried across the seat, her arm linked with her husband's. She leaned into Konstantin, not of course that she could steal any of his body heat through the coat he had wisely chosen to wear. Her husband noticed the movement and chuckled.

"I did say it would get colder after sunset." He laughed again at her answering scowl and then shrugged out of his coat. Seeing what he was up to, Katarina's expression softened.

"Konstantin, that's not necessary." She was the one who had stubbornly insisted that she didn't need the extra layer. There was no reason for her husband to suffer for her foolish mistake.

"Of course is. You're my wife. Besides, I've spent every year of my life dealing with cold much worse than this. I'm acclimatized." Konstantin draped the garment around her shoulders, cloaking her in his warmth. Grateful though she was for the coat, she didn't appreciate the implication that she was delicate due to her American upbringing.

"We had winter in Virginia too, you know." Konstantin had no way of knowing this was a bit of a sore subject for her. When she had been training as a KGB operative her fellow recruits and even some of her instructors had looked on her with disdain and distrust, because she had been born and raised in enemy territory. She supposed she couldn't blame them. She hadn't even known she was Russian until she'd been recruited. When most of her classmates had been learning to speak English and how to blend into American culture, she had been learning Russian and to read and write cyrillic.

There'd only been one other girl like her at the academy, Natalya formerly Natalie. Despite the similarly in their circumstances, they couldn't have been more different. Natalya was dark where Katarina was fair. Slow to laugh. Closed off. If not for the external forces bonding them, they likely would have never become friends. Still they had, eventually, and Katarina missed her Natalya's sarcasm, and the rare moments she'd managed to make her friend smile.

"-winter in Moscow. Besides my outfit's a bit more substantial than yours. Not that I'm complaining, of course." Konstantin's voice dragged her back into the present. What had he said? Oh, her dress.

"Enjoy it, because will be the last time you'll see me in it for a long time." Her outfit felt tighter than it had ever felt before. Her body was beginning to betray her, to mold itself into a vessel for the life that was slowly growing inside her. She hated the changes, hated the lack of control. Katarina knew the same couldn't be said for Konstantin. His grin brightened as he speculatively glanced down at her so to be bulging stomach.

"Tell me again about who we're meeting for dinner?" Business was always a good re-direct with Konstantin and it would spare her from having to act excited about the child that would be arriving in five and a half months.

"Phillip Morris, of Imperial Chemical Industries. They manufacture plastics, among other things. Last year they developed an amazing new polymer-" Katarina smiled as he husband rattled of all the relevant details, which he wasn't aware she already knew. She'd been briefed when she'd told her handlers about her husband's request to accompany him on a trip to London. The idea was to have some time together as a couple, before the baby was born. Of course her husband, being who he was, had managed to to schedule in some work in as well. She didn't resent it, it was simply who Konstantin was, and it was undoubtedly part of the reason she'd been permitted to go at all. It was her husband's international connections that made the Centre desire Katarina's marriage to him. An up and comer in the UK's largest exporting company might be a valuable asset one day.

"Have you met Mr. Morris before?" Konstantin shook his head.

"I've spoken to the man on the phone. He's sharp. You'll like him. Ah, here we are." They'd stopped at what appeared to be an intimate french bistro. Konstantin held open the door and allowed Katarina to enter first. The concierge greeted them politely at the entrance. An employee immediately rushed over to take Konstantin's coat from Katarina.

"Reservation for Morris?" The concierge summoned a hostess to lead them into the restaurant. It had a lovely ambience, with the music, the candlelight, and the exposed brick wall. They rounded a corner and suddenly Katarina could no longer appreciate any of it. Raymond Reddington was seated at one of the long wooden tables, sipping a scotch as if he hadn't a care in the world. When he finished he glanced over at her and her husband, smiled politely, and rose from his chair.

"Mr. Rostov, so glad you could join me this evening." Raymond was speaking to Konstatin in a flawless Queen's English accent.

"Mr. Morris. Good to put a face with a voice." Both men shook hand in greeting while Katarina tried to make sense of what was happening.

"Oh Phillip, please, I absolutely insist." It was as though she'd entered some surreal alternate reality. He couldn't be here. It was impossible.

"Well then you in turn must call me 'Konstantin'." Cool blue eyes turned to hers and she felt her felt her heart leap into her throat.

"Thank you, old boy. And this must be your lovely wife." Memory flooded her mind. Her apartment had been decimated: tables flipped, bookshelves knocked to the ground, pictures smashed on the floor. Raymond handcuffed to bed frame at her insistence, his eyes radiating cold fury. "I will come for you!" She'd thought it was an empty threat. She'd been wrong.

"It is. Katarina, Phillip Morris." Katarina forced a smiled and extended her hand, which Raymond took. She experienced a physical shock at the skin to skin contact, her body immediately recalling a time when Raymond had been a good deal less impersonal. There could not have been a less convenient time for her unruly pregnancy hormones.

"It's a pleasure to met you, Phillip." She needed to focus. Raymond was somehow here, face to face with her husband. She needed to deal with the reality.

"I assure you, the pleasure is all mine. Shall we sit?" Konstantin pulled out Katarina's chair and they all settled into their seats.

"So Phillip, I understand you and my husband have some sort of deal in the works." Why was Raymond here? Why the charade? Why hadn't he simply had her abducted?

"Oh, let's not start with business just yet. Not at least you've ordered our drinks." Raymond summoned the waiter. Konstantin ordered a red wine, while Katarina informed the server that she just wanted water. Raymond raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He seemed to have made the assumption her refraining to partake had to do with his unexpected arrival. That at least was a small blessing.

"To answer your question Katarina, your husband has made what I feel is a very attractive offer to ICI, but my chairman has some concerns. Your government is not known for being friendly to foreign businesses, particularly with nations that don't share its particular economic system." This was accurate and something Konstantin privately bemoaned to her. He claimed that overhaul was needed in order for for the Russian economy to finally thrive.

"Historically you're right, but I can assure you there is a very strong feeling in the party that the time has come to change that. At the end of the day, we're all businessmen, whatever our ideological differences." Konstantin was a great proponent of the reform proposed by the Party's new General Secretary, Mikhail Gorbachev. He firmly believed change was not only possible, but inevitable for their country.

"May I ask you something in the hope you won't take offense?" Katarina narrowed her eyes.

"Don't be disingenuous, Mr. Morris. You already know whether or not it's going to offend him." She suddenly went cold as it occurred to her that perhaps Raymond's intention was to inform Konstantin that he'd been cuckolded.

"Katarina, it's fine. I'm an open book, Phillip. Ask whatever you'd like." Katrina hoped her nerves didn't show in her face. She liked to think that Konstantin would understand if he knew the specifics of the missions she performed, but truthfully she had no idea.

Konstantin knew she was KGB, that was how they'd met. They'd tapped him as a civilian asset to gain entry into a party where many foreign VIPs were in attendance. Katarina had gone undercover as his date and they'd gotten the intel they were looking for. Konstantin had no idea when he'd asked her to dinner that he'd been her primary objective all along. The mission had been crafted to be...clean. Exciting. Romantic even. The uglier aspects her job weren't something she was permitted to share, nor did she want to. She didn't see the harm in letting Konstantin have a sanitized impression of the work she did. Knowing the truth would cause him unnecessary pain.

"How can you, as a businessman be a supporter of the Communist Party after seeing the effect it's had on your country's economy?" Katarina felt the question had been a bit anti-climatic. What was Raymond up to?

"There's an old German proverb, whose English translation I'm sure you've heard: Don't throw the baby out with the bath water. Our system may be imperfect in its execution," Konstantin paused and clearly his throat. Was it Katarina's imagination, or was growing paler by the second? "but you can't deny, the nobility of our core ideals. A system where everyone is provided for. I don't think capitalist societies can make that boast."

Raymond raised his glass in salute. "Touche." Konstantin managed a tight smile before abruptly standing.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment?" Raymond nodded his assent and Konstantin strode off towards the Mens. Katarina stared after him, a knot forming in her stomach. Her husband becoming ill so soon after their arrival could not be a coincidence. She spun back to face Raymond.

"What the hell did you do to him?!"

"I didn't do anything. A member of MI-5 however may have slipped something into his wine." Raymond had reverted to his natural accent and a somewhat sardonic tone of voice.

"If you've hurt him, I swear-"

"You really are very good. I'd almost believe you actually cared. You can stow your feigned concern. He'll be fine in a few minutes. I just needed the time to chat with you privately." Katarina considered her words. He had back-up and she was alone on unfriendly foreign soil. He had nothing to gain by hurting Konstantin. Besides she knew Raymond. Killing an innocent man wasn't his style.

"What do you want, Raymond?" Raymond smiled, but it was different from the smiles she's caught herself thinking wistfully of more times than she's like to admit. It was perfectly symmetrical and lacking any warmth.

"You, Katarina. Specifically your skills. Your access. The secrets you have and the secrets you can learn." She blinked. Raymond seemed perfectly serious, but what he was asking was frankly...deranged.

"You want me to spy for you? Betray my country? Are you insane?" Instead of being put-off or offended. Raymond merely chuckled and shook his head. That seemed a bad omen.

"But is Russia really your country? Technically speaking you are an American, born in Alexandria, Virginia, April 15th, 1958. Your parents are illegals, but you are a citizen of the United States of America." Katarina swore her heart stopped. How could he know those things? Private, personal things about her life? Things almost no one knew. It should have been impossible.

She needed to re-focus. Unsettling though it was, ultimately it didn't matter that he knew about where she came from. He clearly had no idea who she was if he thought he could turn her.

"My loyalty is to the motherland. Nothing you could say or do to me will change that." He could abduct her, throw her in deep dark hole, or torture her. She was strong, like her mother. She wouldn't break. Not ever.

"Maybe not. But who said I was going to do anything to you?" There was a coldness in Raymond's voice that Katarina had never heard before and it was frightening.

"If you harm Konstantin-" Raymond waved her off.

"I have no intention of going after your husband. I feel sorry for him. You only used me for a few months. You've been using him for years. No, I'm talking about your father, Frank Richmond. The KGB agent who is defecting as we speak." Katarina's hand flew to her necklace before she could stop herself. Her father had sent her the gift on her 26th birthday. It had been the first time she'd heard from him in eight years. The message had been written in cyrillic, translated mean, "To Katarina. Love, Papa." She hadn't given any kind of a reply. She honestly hadn't known what to say.

"No. My father would never..." Her trailed off. She'd meant to say 'My father would never betray his country,' but she couldn't, not with absolute confidence. As close as she'd thought they'd been growing up, she'd learned at 18 that she hadn't known her father at all.

"Wouldn't he? After all he hasn't exactly felt the same about his homeland after they stole his only child." Katarina felt a chill go through her. How was he doing this? She had never reported her final conversation with her father to anyone, not even within the KGB. Angry as she was, she still had wanted to protect him.

"You don't know anything about my father." She hoped that was true. But, how else could Raymond have known, if her father hadn't told him?

"But I do, because you told me. Remember?" Katarina's mind raced to understand what he meant. Suddenly a memory came to the forefront. It was night. They were on the rooftop of an apartment building that they had lied their way into. Her idea of course. They'd laid on blacket, drank wine, and Raymond had regaled her with story of constellations. She'd loved his tales, his voice. The way his eyes lit up when he looked at her. She'd teased him about his knowledge of astronomy and mythology. Raymond had laughed, but it was a strange laugh. It was sad, and Raymond was never sad.

She'd pressed him about it and he confessed that he'd been thinking about his father, who'd bought him his first star chart. Raymond had shared that his father had died when he was twenty years old and they hadn't been on speaking terms. They'd fought over Raymond's and Carla's decision to remain unmarried, despite Carla's pregnancy. Raymond's father had a heart attack just two weeks before the baby was born. Raymond had been tormented ever since, because the last words they exchanged were in anger.

Katarina had wanted so badly to comfort him, to let him know he wasn't alone. She told him about her fight with her father when she was 18 years old. How he'd kept things from her. How he refused to accept her right to choose her own path. How they hadn't spoken since. That was how Raymond had known. It was probably how he'd found her. He'd found the truth in her lies.

"My father isn't a traitor." Raymond shrugged and took a sip of his scotch.

"That's not what the paperwork will say." Suddenly it all became clear. This was Raymond's play, to fake evidence of treason, in order to coerce actual treason. How ironic.

"You wouldn't..."

"I wouldn't what? Frame a Russian spy responsible for the theft of God knows how much classified information? Who has used and probably killed dozens of citizens and agents of my country?" He would do it. Raymond's moral code would prevent him from harming Konstantin, a relative innocent, but not her father.

"I'll tell them it's a fraud." Even as she said the words, she saw the flaw in them. What good would the word of a daughter be, when she was defending her father? Defection was a huge problem among sleepers and though she hadn't said anything to her superiors, her father had a temper. He probably hadn't kept his displeasure about her recruitment a secret from his handler.

"But will they believe you? Are they as loyal to you as you are to them? Especially when the same papers are being drawn up for you? Not to mention the photographs of this intimate little meeting with your former target, an American intelligence officer. Are you ready to take that risk with his life?" Katarina searched for a flicker of pity in her former lover's eyes, but found none. The man that she'd thought she'd...loved, was putting a gun to both her and her father's heads.

"Raymond, if you want vengeance, take it against me. My father has done nothing to you." Raymond was entitled to hate her after what she'd done to him. If he wanted to pursue retribution, she deserved it. Prison, torture, or execution, she could brave her punishment, so long as it only extended to her.

"Oh my, no Katarina, you misunderstand. I'm not angry with you. Not anymore. You've given me an incredible gift. The gift of clarity. After you disappeared there was an investigation into my degree of culpability. It was not an easy time, but it taught me to appreciate the things I had in my life. Jennifer. Carla. We're getting married next month. I share this with you, so that you can understand that this isn't revenge. This isn't personal. This is just business. Now do we have a deal or don't we?"

Try as she might, Katarina could see nothing of the Raymond she'd known in the man sitting across from her. If his indifference was a performance, it was Oscar-worthy. The truly pathetic thing was that the news about Raymond's upcoming nuptials actually upset her. Granted, not as much as the realisation that she was going to have to choose between her mother's legacy and her father's life, but still a part of her was hurt by it. That was twisted in the extreme.

What should she choose? Katarina's mother had died when she was seven, but that was one of the many things she didn't learn until she was eighteen. Her father had told her a story of her mother running off to Europe with some man, of abandoning them both. It was a fiction. The reality was that her mother been caught while out on a mission. She had broken her cyanide capsule, taking her secrets to the grave.

Katarina's recruiter had shown her the counterintelligence agent's report and the explained the steps the KGB had taken to make Helen Richards disappearance inconspicuously. The recruiter had said it had been necessary to protect her father's cover and Katarina understood that. What she didn't understand was how her father had lied to her for so long. If her father had had his way, Katarina would have lived her whole life as Katherine Richards. She would never have known the truth about her father, or her mother, or who she really was.

When she been asked to serve her mother's country she hadn't hesitated. It made her feel connected to a mother she missed terribly. The KGB had given her a purpose that her life before had been lacking. Intelligence work brought out a part of herself that she'd never known existed. She was good at it. She'd felt as if this was who she was truly meant to be. And yet all of it had cost her her father. The man who had attended countless dance recitals, and taught her to ride a bike. Who'd sat in a department store for hours while she'd struggled to find the perfect prom dress. The man who'd nurtured her through every sickness and heartache of her young life.

"What kind of information are you looking for?" Katarina had never been more thankful she didn't believe in the afterlife. Her mother's ghost would surely never forgive her for what she was about to do.

"I understand you and your husband are acquainted with Mikhail Evseev, one of the researchers at the Novosibirsk Chemical Concentrates Plant. We've learned he brings his work home with him, and keep it in a safe in his home office. I'd like photographs within the week. Reach under the table." Katarina did as he asked and felt a small metal cylinder being pressed into her palm. "Key chain camera. CIA issue. You'll be contacted about where to dead drop." Katarina barely had time to put the device in her purse before she heard her husband's voice behind her.

"I'm sorry, Phillip, I'm feeling a little worse for the wear. I'm going to have to cut our evening short." Every inch the gentleman, Raymond stood as Katarina pushed herself up from the table.

"Do feel better, old boy. Katarina, it was enchanting to meet you. I hope to see you both very soon." Katarina could feel Raymond's eyes on her as she exited the restaurant. Strange how before this evening a part of her had desperately wanted to see Raymond again. Be careful what you wish for.