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Elizabeth sat next to Red on her couch, holding one of his hands in both of hers. There was little else she could do for him in the way of sympathy. She had no children, and she couldn't possibly fathom how it must have felt to lose one. And now this...

"I apologize for the cradle robbing bit. That was said out of spite. It was hurtful, and I'm sorry."

Red laced one of his fingers through hers and squeezed.

"No, you're not, and besides... it didn't bother me."

"Nothing bothers you."

This time he laced all of his fingers through hers.

"That's not true. It bothers me tremendously that I sit two tables away from my own daughter almost every day and am not able to touch her. All I want is one hug..."

Elizabeth linked her arm through his and re-took his hand.

"In your file..."

She paused, not sure that she should continue on with the question.

"Go on, Lizzie. You can ask me anything."

She squeezed his arm tightly, trying to somehow comfort him while at the same time ripping open a wound that he had stitched shut long ago.

"I was under the impression that your wife and daughter were..."

"Dead?"

Elizabeth was disturbed by the flatness of his voice. It chilled her, and she leaned closer to him, desperate for warmth.

"I have read and re-read that file. There was nothing officially confirming death, but they are presumed dead. They just vanished off the face of the earth. You are the only person I know who could hide a person that well, so if it wasn't you, then who?"

Red pulled her closer and buried his face in her hair.

"I have asked myself that question every day for over twenty years, and I am no closer than you are to finding the answer. I do know one thing for sure... Hannah is dead. My wife is dead."

His sadness hung over them like a storm cloud. It was suffocating.

"Hannah was sweet and kind and so trusting. She did not deserve what happened to her. Any of it."

Hannah. What a pretty name. Elizabeth tried to envision her, Red's first love that she had only seen in a few poor quality photos. It was something that she usually steered clear of. After all, who wanted to compete with a dead wife? So many questions... Was she the domestic type? Did she cook and clean and excel at all of those basic womanly things that Elizabeth had somehow failed to master? Was she a good mother? A good lover? Did Red wake her in the middle of the night like he so often woke Elizabeth, desperate to be as close to her as possible? Elizabeth shook those thoughts away before unwarranted jealousy consumed her.

"What happened to her...to Hannah? How do you know for sure that she's gone?"

Red tensed and removed himself from her grasp. She feared that he was shutting down on her, that the conversation was proving to be too much, but instead of getting up and walking away, he reached into the lining of his jacket and into a hidden pocket and pulled out a small square piece of paper. A photo. He studied it for a moment before placing it into Elizabeth's fingers. The photo was obviously old, a Polaroid and rather faded around the edges. It showcased a beautiful, sleeping, blonde woman. No...not sleeping. Her eyes were open. Her eyes were blank. Lifeless. The woman was dead. Hannah. The photo dropped from Elizabeth's shaking hand, and Red caught it before it reached her lap.

"Morbid, isn't it? Memento Mori. I know you don't understand, but I couldn't bring myself to throw her away. For better or worse, it's the only reminder I have of my late wife, and she deserves to be remembered."

Memento Mori. The Stewmaker. Memories laced with guilt flooded Elizabeth's mind as she struggled to grasp the truth that was right in front of her. She had called him a monster...the man who had saved her life and asked for nothing in return. She had accused him of playing executioner to Stanley Cornish when the man was clearly mentally unstable and undeserving of such punishment. She had been afraid of him when he clearly meant her no harm. And all he had been trying to do was deliver some sort of retribution for his wife's death.

"I am so sorry."

The photo disappeared back into Red's jacket. He smiled at her, but it did not reach his eyes.

"Oh Lizzie... that was many years ago."

She slid her arms around his waist, settling into his side as he laid them back against the couch.

"Even so..."

Elizabeth wanted to know more about Red's wife. She wanted to know everything about Hannah. But Red's sadness was unbearable for Lizzie, so she decided to turn the conversation to something a little more...pleasant.

"You really believe this girl is your daughter?"

This time Red's smile reached all the way to his eyes. It was beautiful.

"I believe in a great many impossible things. I've seen too much not to believe in miracles, Lizzie. My daughter is alive. That girl is my Melanie. I can feel it in my gut. I can feel it in my heart. It's her."

Elizabeth wished she possessed his conviction. After Tom's betrayal, it was hard to be sure of anything, though she was growing more and more certain of Red. She believed in Red if she believed in nothing else.

"How did you find her? How did you even know she could be found?"

Red's fingers drummed her shoulder and his smile grew mischievous.

"Until five years ago I believed the worst. But during a fateful business trip to Brussels your partner gave me a gift. Right before he tried to kill me, of course."

Her partner? Ressler?

"Donald tried his best to convince me to turn myself in. And I do mean his very best. He cajoled, he bribed, he threatened, and then he went all the way to plan D...his last resort. He told me that Melanie was alive, hidden deep in the witness protection program. I called him a liar, but it stirred something within me. For the first time in years, I hoped. When I was finally able to get Harold Cooper alone, he confirmed it."

Elizabeth hung on every word, enthralled.

"Cooper knew?"

The tightening of his hand on her shoulder told her more than words ever could.

"He knew. I'll never forgive him for keeping that from me. I can also never thank him enough for telling me where to find her, so I guess that evens things out."

Elizabeth sincerely doubted that.

"So what's the plan?"

Red frowned.

"The plan?"

"Yes. The plan. What are we going to do?"

Red turned towards her, searching her face.

"We?"

Elizabeth had never been one to throw herself into the deep end in relationships, but she had learned that there was really no shallow end to the pool that was Raymond Reddington. It was time to take a plunge.

"I know this is important to you. That makes it important to me. Whatever the plan is, I'm in. I'm all in."

His stare held hers intently. He either had no idea what that did to her, or he had a very good idea and was torturing her intentionally. Slowly he broke into a sheepish grin.

"I don't have one."

Elizabeth blinked, dazed.

"One what?"

Red exaggerated a sigh then stretched himself along the length of the couch, resting his head on the arm and draping his legs over hers.

"Focus, Lizzie. I do believe you were inquiring about a plan, and I'm telling you I don't have one."

Raymond Reddington didn't have a plan? Elizabeth wondered if people could actually feel hell freezing over underneath their feet.

"What were you going to do? Sit there and stare at her until she notices you and mistakes you for a creepy stalker?"

Red nodded seriously.

"That was where this was headed, yes."

"That's pitiful. You do know that, right?"

And again, he nodded.

"I am aware. But for right now, it's the best I can do."

Elizabeth propped her elbows upon his legs.

"That's not good enough. How about we start at the beginning? We need proof, irrefutable DNA evidence that this girl is your Melanie."

Red's face was disbelieving but indulgent.

"And how do you propose we obtain this evidence?"

Elizabeth smirked playfully.

"We get creative."