A/N: As always, many thanks to my beta thefirstfewchapters for her excellent guidance. I wish I owned the Blacklist, but I can't have nice things.

Red and Dembe went out just before noon on some mysterious errand that they wouldn't explain, and left to her own devices, Lizzie decided to explore the house they were in. It was the first time she had ever found herself in one of Red's safe houses alone. The bedrooms were all upstairs, she had counted them this morning while fighting off the urge to peak into Reddington's room. Downstairs held the communal spaces and a small powder room off the kitchen. She found a small room off the living room that had clearly once been an office. The desk, chair and bookshelves were all still there, though there were no books at all. There was a white board mounted on one of the walls and some rummaging in the kitchen turned up a few dry erase markers.

Lizzie smiled as she grabbed her notebook off the table. Halfway back to the office, she stopped and turned to the kitchen. Red's files were still sitting there along with his notes, just where he had left them. She moved back to the table and began to gather them together. If they were going to work together, he was going to have to learn to trust her abilities, whether he wanted to or not. But, in order to continue to prove her value, she needed to come up with a working theory.

The desk in the office was large enough to allow her to spread out the files and keep everything in neat order. Lizzie sat in the chair, glancing through Red's list of names, trying to find the corresponding file for each one. Most of the names were unknown to her, probably associates of Red's. She found his files on the task force enlightening. Ressler really had attempted to kill him in Brussels. That would explain some things, she mused. Samar's file was predictably skimpy, which was understandable she was a foreign operative. An hour later, her eyes were tired from reading, but she had a better grasp of the situation. Humming to herself, she began to put names on the board.

It was late afternoon, the sunlight slanted in the western windows, when she heard noises coming from the kitchen. She was pretty sure it was Red, but she grabbed her pistol off the desk anyway. She eased open the door, careful to stay in the shadows and slipped out into the living room, staying low behind furniture until she could see who was in the kitchen. She sighed as she saw Dembe carrying in sacks of what looked like takeout food. Lizzie felt her stomach rumble; she suddenly realized it had been a long time since the bagel she had eaten for breakfast. She sauntered into the kitchen just as Red came in from the garage, stopping in the mudroom to hang up his coat. He glanced at the gun in her hand with arched eyebrows, but wisely said nothing.

Lizzie tucked her weapon at the small of her back and began to poke through the bags, looking for something to fill her empty stomach. Red and Dembe began to clear off the kitchen table to make room for all the food. It seemed like enough for a small army to Lizzie, but she considered that Dembe probably ate quite a bit to maintain his muscle mass, and Red just really enjoyed food. She studied him as he moved the computers off to a sideboard across the room. He seemed leaner than he had been when she met him for the first time. As he hefted the weight of one of the file boxes, she could see the muscles of his shoulders and arms flex under his vest and thin dress shirt. Her face grew warm and she knew she was blushing and she turned away quickly before he caught her, yet again.

What on earth was she doing, mooning over him like a high school crush when they were all in very real danger? Lizzie gave herself a mental shake and tried to banish all thoughts of anything not case related. Obviously, her blood sugar was low, because she was borderline hallucinating. She found a container of shrimp lo mein and a fork and began to eat standing at the counter. She kept her back to Reddington, though, just in case she was still flushed.

Red smiled to himself as he moved takeout containers to the table. When she entered the kitchen, she stood facing them, watching. When he moved the boxes, she had abruptly stiffened and turned away. As he moved around the table he saw her open the cardboard container with hands that definitely trembled a bit.

"Not standing on ceremony, Lizzie?" Red gave her a side glance as Dembe moved through the kitchen, collecting glasses, plates and silverware. Lizzie turned around, looked guilty for a moment, then mutinous. At least, as much as one could with a mouthful of Chinese food. Her face was still a little pink. He couldn't decide if she felt guilty over checking him out or about the files she had appropriated. Oh Lizzie, Red thought, what have you been up to, sweetheart? He had noticed the files were missing, along with his notes as soon as he entered the kitchen. He waited for her to finish chewing, then passed her a glass of water.

"I was hungry, I skipped lunch, "she said, after a sip of water.

"So, what did you do with my files, Lizzie?" His voice was mild, even a little curious. He wasn't really angry about her having moved them, but he did want her to keep him apprised of what she was doing. He knew what happened when Lizzie went off book and he didn't want to end up in the belly of another tugboat, cleaning up another mess. He pulled out a chair at the table for her and waited until she sat before he and Dembe joined her. He scooped rice and beef bulgogi onto his plate, Dembe passed him a cold beer. He offered one to Lizzie, who shook her head. Red began to eat his meal while he waited for Lizzie to answer his question.

"I borrowed your files. If I'm going to work with you, I need to know what you know. We have to be together on this. After we're done eating, I'll show you what I have so far." She cringed internally at the belligerence in her voice, but she couldn't help it. He just looked at her with those cool, green eyes and she felt like she'd been called into the principal's office at school. She hated it and it made her defensive. She didn't like the defensiveness much either.

"Excellent. Let's go and take a look." Red stood and picked up his beer.

"Don't you want to finish dinner?"

"Lizzie, everyone knows Chinese food is always better reheated."

Lizzie led Red into the office, and he stood contemplating the web of names on the whiteboard. He recalled having stood like this with her before. In a tiny storage locker, while they tried to sort out connections surrounding Tom and Berlin. Here, she had placed the Rifkin case near the middle of the board, along with Cooper and Connelly. Tom Keen was there, unconnected at the moment. It was a good beginning to the puzzle, even with most of the pieces still missing. He stood silently and looked at the work Lizzie had done so far. He knew she was more than competent, he knew her skill set, understood her methods, yet he still continued to be impressed. He saw her out of the corner of his eye, watching him as though she were trying to decipher his thoughts. He turned and smiled at her, and she came to stand beside him.

Lizzie stared at the board, frustrated. She knew it didn't seem like a lot to work with, but she could sense a pattern emerging. She just couldn't see it yet. It was like a shadow moving, just out of her field of vision. She needed more information. She picked up her marker and tapped Connelly's name.

"He ordered Cooper to beat a confession out of Rifkin. He was willing to go that far. What else has he been willing to do? We need his case records. You said Tom was supposed to be given back to the task force, but he wasn't. He was released. Who signed the release?" Lizzie tapped the closed marker against her lips as she stared at the puzzle in front of her.

"Well, that I can help with." Red took the other marker off the desk and drew a line between Tom Keen and Cooper. Lizzie's eyes flew to Red's face in surprise.

"Cooper released Tom? Why? Why would he do that?" Lizzie felt sick at the thought that Cooper could be involved in this. She trusted him.

"That's a good question and one that definitely needs an answer. It's only the first of many. We can get Connelly's case records. I have a source for that. I think we may need to have a chat with Cooper."

"I need to go back to work, Red. I can talk to Cooper. I can access FBI files. We need their resources."

The more Lizzie looked at the line between Connelly and Cooper, the more uneasy tendrils of doubt crept into her mind. There was something she was still missing, and if she was going to find it, it would have to be an inside job.

Red watched Lizzie ponder the web of deceit in front of her and let her comment about going back in to the Post Office hang unanswered. He was afraid that far more than just her trust in Cooper was going to be crushed as a result of this operation. He didn't particularly want her to go back to the Post Office, but he knew that the answers they needed would be there. Whatever his reputation; Red didn't like to risk people. He hadn't liked sending Meera Malik to find the mole after Anslo's fun and games. She was CIA and good at her job, but he hadn't liked it. The risk to Lizzie was a much bigger pill to swallow. He decided to sleep on the matter; and talk to her in the morning.

The shadows grew long as the sun set into the trees. Night was falling.