Tom stared at his computer screen, watching the dot that represented Liz move towards their house. She'd spent an hour at an address that he now knew housed a block of storage units. Liz was almost certainly running her investigation from one of them.

He imagined her standing in front of a white board, staring at photographs, and asking herself a million questions that she didn't have the answers to. Liz wouldn't be alone. Reddington would be there with her, holding her hand, telling her lies, and teaching her to distrust any linger feelings she might have for him.

A whining noise came from Tom's feet. He looked down and watched as Hudson rubbed up against his leg. Tom smiled in spite of himself. As dogs went, Hudson was pretty independent, content to putter around by himself for hours on end, appearing when he needed to be walked or fed. Liz had teased that he was more cat than dog in the respect. He was also completely useless as a guard dog, his first instinct being to hide, not fight. Still, if there was one thing Hudson was good at, it was sensing when he was needed.

"Come on, boy," Hudson followed Tom out into their enclosed backyard. Tom sat in one of the two chairs that had been set up so he and Liz could enjoy the warm weather. Spring had been dragging its feet this year, but things finally seem to be changing to the better. It was a shame he wouldn't have much longer to appreciate it. Tom set his laptop down on the small table next to him and tracked Liz's progress through the streets of D.C.

Hudson wandered over and sat beside him, patiently waiting to be petted. Tom obliged. Stroking Hudson's fur was soothing; it help him to detangle the mess of thoughts that cluttered his brain. He'd reported Craig's death to his handler and told her that Reddington had been acting alone and that "Mockingbird" was still in the dark. A team had been dispatched to contain the situation. No news outlets would run the story, police reports would be falsified, and everything related to "Craig" would be removed from the hotel's records. A fair chunk of time and money would be spent on the cover-up, all to prevent Liz from learning something she almost certainly knew.

Liz was working with Reddington. The longer he'd thought about Craig's death, the more certain he was that she was involved somehow. Liz was investigating him and she hadn't turn to the FBI for help, so it only made sense she would go to someone else. Reddington had resources and Tom imagined he was only too willing to swept in and play the hero for her. The thought made Tom sick to his stomach.

He'd made a mistake, waiting to tell Liz the truth. He should have told her one year ago, after he'd had their fake passports made. Reddington hadn't been whispering in her ear then, and she might have believed him. Even if she hadn't been able to forgive him, she might have at least listened to him. He could have warned about Berlin and about Reddington. He should have told her then, but he hadn't.

He'd told himself that he had time that he could wait until their baby arrived. He'd told himself that if they shared a child, she be more likely to listen to him. He'd been lying to himself. The truth of it was that he'd thought having a family with her would mean that he'd get to stay. He and Liz would have been irrevocably connected through that tiny innocent being. He could have argued that she needed him, to protect their infant. What mother would refuse protection for her child? It had been stupid and selfish and now he was paying the price.

Tom glanced at his screen and saw that Liz had arrived at the house. He closed the program and shut his laptop. He looked down at Hudson.

"Stay." Tom slipped into the house and dropped his computer off on his desk. He could hear movement in the dining room. What was she up to? He moved silently towards the noise until he was standing in the living room, watching Liz re-assemble Ike's base. She'd found the key. Tom moved to where he'd be hidden from view if she glanced backward. About ten second later Liz moved back into view, her back to him as she returned what he assumed were her tools into her bag. He started walking toward her.

"Hey." To her credit, she didn't jump, although her mannequin-like smile was less than convincing.

"Hey babe. You know I was thinking, it was so good to see your brother again…so I left him a message. I thought we could have dinner before he left and I never heard back." Craig had plunged to his death hours ago and she was going to stand here and bullshit with him about it? Tom had to hand it to her, her poker face may have sucked, but she unquestionably had balls.

"Oh, you know what, he called, said he had to catch the red-eye back. I think, work, I guess." Liz seemed almost surprised by his answer. Had she expected him to say? That Craig won't be available for dinner because he dived head first out of a sixth story window?

"He just left? Never even said goodbye?" Well she would know better than he would.

"Yeah. Classic Craig, right?" Liz managed to summon an expression of amusement.

"Honestly, could the two of you be less alike?" She smiled and moved to walk past him, clearly eager to escape his presence. He caught her wrist.

"Stop." The game needed to end. He needed to break through the ice somehow, get her to confront him. He needed to push her to her breaking point, "We're newly-weds." He gently put his hand on her shoulder and waited. She didn't turn, but he could feeling the muscles in her shoulder tighten. His touch had done that. How had he let it get this far, that she couldn't bare his touch?

Liz turned slowly to face him. For once he couldn't read her expression. Tom looked into her eyes and willed her to admit that she knew. Instead Liz removed her jacket. She was really going to do this? He reached out and stroked her check, watched her fight to keep the smile on her face. He kissed her and it was just as it has been when they renewed their vows. Physically nothing had changed, but the experience couldn't have been more different from every other kiss they'd ever shared.

He guided her slowly toward the bedroom, waiting for the resistance, waiting for her to slap him, to shove him away. Praying it would happened. Praying he won't have to go through with this. He couldn't imagine what this felt like to her. No, he didn't WANT to imagine it. Even before he'd loved Liz, sex with her had never felt…unclean. There'd been guilt afterwards, but during had always been about making her happy. This…this felt uncomfortably close to rape. It didn't matter that she wasn't saying no, it didn't matter that she was kissing him back. She didn't want him. She didn't want to do this.

He could stop. But if he did, then what? Liz had chosen this, chosen to sleep with someone she hated, rather than admit to what she knew. She didn't trust him enough to confront him. No matter what he said, it wouldn't make difference. She belonged to Reddington now.

If he pulled back now, he'd need to leave, immediately, and he couldn't do that, not yet. He needed time to figure out a way to separate her from Reddington. He needed to expose the monster before he consumed Liz and everything that she was. Yet again Tom needed to do something bad to spare his wife from something far worse. He wondered if Liz could see into his heart at this moment, if she would forgive him for what he was about to do. One thing was certain, he'd never forgive himself.