"Alright, Popcorn or trail mix?" Ressler questioned as he walked into his living room. They'd been having these movie nights on a weekly basis for a little while now.
Lizzie looked up at Ressler from where she sat on his couch, her brow raised in question.
"Audrey must have left it." He murmured, shrugging his shoulders embarrassedly as his eyes flickered to the trail mix in his hands.
"Popcorn." Lizzie said softly, smiling sadly up at him.
With a nod of his head, Ressler went to put the popcorn in the microwave. Within minutes, he was back with a huge bowl of the deliciously salty and buttery puffs of heaven. Setting it between them, he sighed as he slouched on the couch next to Lizzie.
"Alright, so what did we decide on again for tonight?"
Lizzie snorted, rolling her eyes. "You decided that we were going to watch the Avengers." She smirked. "Guess you wanted to watch your hero, Captain America."
Ressler let out a bark of a laugh. "Very funny, Keen." He murmured before nibbling at the handful of popcorn he'd taken from the bowl as Lizzie started the movie.
They'd been watching quietly for a half hour when Ressler began to shift in his seat, throwing furtive glances over at Lizzie. She attempted to ignore it for a few moments until she realized that she was so preoccupied with him that she had no idea what was happening in the movie. Sighing, Lizzie paused the movie and looked over at him.
"Okay, what's up, Ress?"
Ressler coughed awkwardly before shifting to face her. "I was …I'm curious."
Lizzie's brow furrowed in confusion. "About what?"
"Tom."
Lizzie gazed at him for a moment, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, she combed her fingers through her hair and sat up. "Okay, you're gonna need to be more specific than that, Ressler."
"It's just that…When you told me you kicked him out, you said you didn't trust him. And then that day that I came over and he was on your stoop…" Ressler coughed once more, clearing his throat in a clear stalling tactic. "Liz, did he hurt you?"
Lizzie's eyes widened at the conclusion he'd jumped to, though, in truth, it was a much more plausible and…mundane reason than the truth. "No, no Ressler. He didn't."
"Then I don't get it, Liz. You're not the type to give up like that." Ressler shook his head. "You're…my best friend, Liz. But you've been so tight lipped about this whole thing with Tom. What's going on?"
"He wasn't innocent." She blurted out, wincing at her own stupidity before the answer even came out of her mouth. But god he'd called her his best friend and she just needed…someone. Someone who wasn't her dad or her brother. Someone she could talk to, maybe not about all of it, obviously. But she needed a sympathetic ear.
"What are you talking about?" He asked incredulously. "We cleared him."
Lizzie shook her head, her lips pinched. "No, Ress. He was just that good. He fooled everyone."
"Liz, are you telling me that those passports were his, that your husband was some sort of an assassin?" Ressler stood up from the couch in a burst and stood in front of the coffee table, his hands on his hips.
"Well, more like a spy-slash-assassin." She murmured, playing with the hem of her shirt.
"Liz." Ress barked. "Explain, now."
Lizzie glowered at Ress. She hated when he went all caveman on her. "He was hired by someone to watch me, to get close to me." She spat. It was easier to be annoyed with him than to relive the betrayal.
"What the hell? Why?" Realizing that he'd caused Lizzie to go on the defensive, Ressler took a deep breath and sat back down on the couch, his leg hiked up and his arm resting on the back of the couch so he could face her.
"I don't know." Lizzie shook her head.
"Sorry Liz, but I call bullshit."
Lizzie groaned, falling back against the arm rest. "I'm serious. I don't know for sure."
"Not knowing for sure is different from not knowing anything." He at least tried to make it sound less like a reprimand. "So tell me what you think is going on."
Lizzie bit her lip and began rubbing her scar, trying to figure out a way to tell him what happened without spilling everything. "Like I said, he was hired to watch me. I don't know by who but I think Reddington was the reason." Lizzie held her breath.
"Why?" Ressler asked gruffly.
Lizzie shrugged her shoulders. "I doubt even they know. My guess is that Reddington had kept an eye on me for some time – we all know that there is a reason he chose me to be his liaison. We just don't know why." Lizzie looked away, taking a breath. "But whatever reason, he probably didn't just show up the day I started working at the FBI. He had a vested interest. I think one of his enemies knew that." Lizzie looked hesitantly over at Ressler. "I think someone wanted to use me to get to Reddington."
Seriously, she deserved an Oscar. Her fathers had taught her well. The best lies always had a hint of truth.
Ressler stood up again and began pacing, running his fingers through his hair roughly. "Why didn't you tell Cooper any of this?"
Lizzie opened her mouth to respond but was saved by her ringtone. Grabbing her phone from where she'd set it on the armrest beside her, she answered.
"Hello?"
"Liz?"
"What the hell? How do you keep getting my number?"
She was getting really sick of having to change her number because of him. Stealing a glance at Ressler, his pursed lips and pinched eyes gave her no doubt that he knew exactly who was on the phone.
"Just listen to me. Reddington isn't who you think he is."
Lizzie let out a bark of laughter. Some spy Tom was. After three years, he still didn't know who Red was to her.
"I know you found the key under the lamp. Go to Bradford bank, Box 382. You'll see what I mean."
Tom hung up before she could say anything. Lizzie sighed, throwing her phone onto the couch, watching with disinterest as it bounced off and landed on the hardwood floor.
"You alright?" Ressler questioned gently.
"Yea." She groaned.
"What uh…what'd he want?"
"He wants what he's always wanted. He wants me to trust him so he can complete his mission." She knew her voice sounded flat, deadened. But she was just so damn tired. Closing her eyes, Lizzie began to rub the Bump in comfort. She didn't hide her small smile when Ressler reached over and squeezed the hand that laid across the back of the couch.
"It's gonna be fine, Liz. I'm here."
/\/\/\/\/\
Red walked into the opulent, glass indoor pool room, throwing up his hands enthusiastic as the man in the pool took notice.
"Niko! My goodness!" Red laughed.
"Red! Welcome! The house is yours until I return. My flight is in three hours." Niko said boisterously as he swam over to the side of the pool where Red stood.
Red shook his head, smiling. "Look at you. You're wasting away."
"Down 37 pounds." Niko stated proudly, patting his belly where he stood in the pool.
Red raised his brow in apparent shock. "All from swimming?"
"Yes swimming. And bread. I cut out bread entirely."
Red chuckled. "I was a lifeguard my junior year in high school. Had to give mouth–to–mouth to Mrs. Beerman. She belched up a lung full of corned beef and chlorine. I haven't been in a pool since."
"I'm sorry weren't you in the Navy?"
"Enough." Red said, his head cocked as he smiled placidly. "To business."
/\/\/\/\/\
Red and Niko sat at a small table to the side of the pool. Niko was now wrapped in a luxuriously fluffy black robe, wearing tinted glasses.
"What happened in Prague, losing Emil Dusek, is very concerning." Niko stated, referring to the Czech finance minister Red had in his pocket who had just been brought up on murder charges.
"What happened in Prague is unfortunate, but how it happened is of more concern. I believe it's a frame. Dusek was targeted." Red replied solemnly.
"Targeted by whom?"
"The Kingmaker."
Niko raised a single brow in disbelief. "You're saying he was retained to eliminate Dusek as a way of weakening our interests?"
"Yes. What I don't know is who retained him."
Niko shook his head, exasperated. "You do know. You may not have a name, but, Red, this was done by the same mysterious enemy who has been plaguing you for months. Prague is just one example. Someone has devoted a great deal of time and energy to depreciate your business."
"Watch your tone." Red's deep voice pitching into a dangerous valley.
"It's not my tone, Red." Niko shook his head sympathetically. "People are talking. Your friends are talking, whispering."
Red chuckled darkly. "I don't have any friends."
"Whoever this unseen enemy is, they don't think he's after us." Niko continued "They think he's after you. For now, they remain loyal, but they won't forever."
"These 'friends' you mention, the ones whispering in the shadows tell them from me 'Shut the hell up.'"
/\/\/\/\/\
Lizzie stared at the photos in her hands as she stood at one of the work stations in the war room. She'd come straight to work after visiting the bank and retrieving the manila envelope containing the photos. Photos of her father leaving a hospital.
"St. Adrian's Hospital?" Lizzie jumped, spinning around to face Aram who'd come up behind her to peer at the photos. "This is where your father died?"
Shit.
"Sam. It's the same building. I checked like four times."
"Where did you get this? Is that Reddington? Do you trust the source?" Aram spat out these questions in rapid succession.
"No." Lizzie said simply, silently pleading with him to not continue that line of questioning.
"Doesn't prove Reddington was there the day Sam died." Aram said softly.
"If Reddington did fly all the way to Nebraska just to talk to my dad before he died, there must have been something he wanted." Lizzie shrugged, trying to play it cool.
"Well, is it possible they were friends, he was just paying his respects?"
"Uh…yea, maybe." She murmured, grasping at the out he'd given her.
"You gonna ask him about it?"
Lizzie shook her head. "Not until I know whether the photo's real."
/\/\/\/\/\
Lizzie stood on the gravel driveway, looking up at the monstrous mansion-estate that was Red's safe house. She recorded a little note to herself in her head – if you want to find a criminal, look for the largest, most ostentatious house on the block. Gathering herself and shaking her head, Lizzie let herself in at the front door as Red had instructed her on the phone.
"Jamie, tell your people I'll have an answer by the end of the week, but whether or not we do business, I'm keeping all the samples." Red's voice immediately greeted her as she stepped into the foyer. "Lizzie." Red greeted. "Perfect timing. Say hello to Jamie." Red introduced the man while simultaneously hustling him out of the house.
"Hello." She murmurs just as them man exited. Turning back to her dad, Lizzie sighed. "Where's Tom?"
"What a delightful man – scrupulous mind for business, sharp as a tack." Red stated, shaking his head as he stared at the door.
"Dad, where is Tom?" Lizzie repeated her question. She had told him about Tom's phone call and the pictures he'd directed her to. Not that they meant much to either of them. Lizzie already knew he was at Sam's bedside. She knew that her Dad had put her Pop out of his misery. But it was always good to know what your enemy knows.
"He's in New York. Not to worry. My people are watching." He said, waving his hand in dismissal as he escorted her down the hall. "Please excuse the house. My host spends a tremendous amount of money on all the wrong things."
"What the hell is that?" Lizzie demanded as they walked into the kitchen to the tableau of dozens of jars of marijuana, all with labels of their specific brand or type, sitting on the kitchen table. She stared incredulously as a particularly mellow Dembe took another bite of mint chocolate chip ice cream.
"Cannabis." Red answered glibly. "Jamie's trying to form a huge consortium of farms and warehouses outside Denver and having a little trouble securing the financing, so I would be the bank. I'd offer you an edible, but we have work to do. The Kingmaker. I've never met the man, but I recently lost a great deal of time and money to his talents. He's single–handedly responsible for the rise and fall of some of the world's most pivotal politicians and statesmen."
Lizzie shook her head, laughing at her brother's current situation. She'd never seen Dembe high before and frankly, it was funny. Glancing over at Red's disapproving frown, Lizzie shook her head, forcing herself to catch up to what he'd said. "Right. He's, what, some kind of political strategist?"
"He's raised opposition research to an art form." Red pulled another chair over to the table and sat, directing Lizzie to sit down in the remaining chair. "He arranges scandals, exploits proclivities, assassinates when necessary. I don't know how he chooses his clients, but they say he grooms them from an early age the right universities, mentors, even spouses. And when they're ready to run, he does whatever it takes to assure their victory."
"He's causing trouble for some politician in your pocket, and now you want the FBI to arrest him?"
"Yes. Please. And thank you." At Lizzie's raised brow, Red sighed and plowed on. "Lizzie, this is extremely important. He recently had a politician that was in my pocket framed for murder." Red scrubbed his face, causing Lizzie to sit up straight and take notice. Her dad never showed such blatant worry unless it was for her. "I believe he was hired by our invisible adversary, the man who hired Tom. His attacks on my business have not gone unnoticed by my associates. I must find this man. I must find out who hired him."
"Whoever this person is, he's a threat to everything isn't he?" Lizzie asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes."
Lizzie blew out a breath, nodding her head. "Alright then."
Red nodded his head once. "My sources say he left Prague within the last 12 hours on a flight to the United States."
/\/\/\/\
"Reddington's intel had our suspect travel from Prague to the United States sometime in the past 12 hours. There were six flights during this time period." Meera stated, staring up at one of the screens in the war room where they'd posted the Kingmaker's apparent travel itinerary.
"We've pulled the passenger manifests and applied the profile you developed a foreign national, male, traveling alone in first class. That narrowed the list down to 47 passengers." Aram spoke up.
"Of those, 40 were on business. We were able to confirm their identities and itineraries with their respective corporations, which leaves seven potentials." Meera continued after Aram.
"Six of which checked in to the hotels they had listed on their immigration forms. One did not."
Sometimes, listening to Meera and Aram speak felt like a tennis match.
Meera clicked a button and nodded her head at the image on the screen. "You're looking at The Kingmaker."
"Paul Fredrick Smithson." Lizzie read the name on the passport which was currently magnified on the screen.
"Got to assume that's an alias." Ressler thought aloud.
Lizzie nodded in agreement. "Where did they land?"
"JFK, 4:52 PM. And get this we pulled the credit card that our suspect used to purchase his plane ticket into the United States. Forty-five minutes ago, that card was used to book a hotel room in Manhattan." Aram fired off, tapping furiously at his keyboard.
"What hotel?" Ressler questioned.
"The St. Rose in midtown."
/\/\/\/\
"Federal agents! Hands where I can see them." Lizzie yelled out as she and Ressler slammed open the hotel room door, guns raised. She knew she promised to step back form these situations and she'd tried to ignore Cooper's glare when she refused to be sidelined. It was a bit more difficult to ignore Ressler constantly shooting worried glances at her though. But she needed to be on this case. It was her turn to protect her dad.
They quickly walked down the hallway and rounded the corner into the main room where a couple were eating their room service dinner.
"What's going on?" The man questioned, clearly startled.
/\/\/\/\/\
"It's a case of stolen identity. He cloned his credit card and passport, and he's a salesman who travels frequently." Lizzie explained, frustration tingeing her voice as she spoke loud enough for the team back in the war room who was on speaker phone with her and Ressler.
"For all we know, this guy's not even in New York anymore. This could have just been his entry point." Ressler continued for her, eyeing her with concern.
/\/\/\/\
Red walked up to where Fitch was sitting at a table in his favorite club, about to enjoy an expensive looking meal. Sitting down, Red gave the man his signature placid smile and enjoyed watching his eyes widen in shock.
"Have you lost your mind?"
Red's smile quickly disappeared as he got to business. "What I've lost is the luxury of time, Alan." He stated darkly. "I don't have a week to wait around for your minions to pass my request up the food chain."
Fitch looked around them, as if his associates were going to pop around the corner at any moment. "This is out–of–bounds, Ray."
"As much as I appreciate a good sports metaphor, what I've come to discuss requires a somewhat more dramatic analogy." Red paused for a moment, piercing Fitch with his gaze. "I'm under attack and have been for some time my interests, my allies. Someone has targeted my key infrastructure, and the truth is, I'm bleeding."
Fitch scoffed, shaking his head. "Why should I even consider involving myself in your mess?"
"Because my enemy is your enemy."
"We co–exist, Ray. Surely our last interaction proved that we're not friends. Don't overestimate the nature of our relationship."
Red shook his head. He could feel that damn tic in his cheek twitching. "By my estimation, we not only co–exist we depend on each other to survive. What I possess would lay waste to you and your Alliance."
"Yes, and should that information ever become public, there would be no reason for us not to kill you on the spot." Fitch countered, calmly cutting his food.
"I have no intention of making it public. But this enemy of mine, if he prevails and, in so doing, finds himself in possession of that information he may very well choose not to be so discreet. You're already involved in this mess, Alan, and if I lose control of the information, you may be exposed. And if I die, it triggers my own protocol for release."
Fitch placed his knife and fork down on his plate and looked sternly at Red. "I don't respond too well to threats."
Red chuckled darkly. "I'm not here to threaten you. I'm here to see if we can work together."
/\/\/\/\/\
"Once again, you are looking at cellphone footage taken by a pedestrian near the Causeway Bridge. Patrick Chandler, a state assemblyman, was involved in a collision that forced his car over the side rail a terrifying hit–and–run. The assemblyman and his family were taken to a nearby hospital, where doctors were unable to resuscitate Mrs. Chandler. This is a tragic loss for the New York state lawmaker. Keep it right here on this news channel for all the late–breaking –"
Red clicked the TV off and turned to look at Lizzie. They were currently standing in the living room of his safe house. Lizzie had agreed to come meet him for an update on the case.
"You think he did this?" Lizzie asked.
"Some freshman politician is suddenly thrust into the spotlight, his selfless heroism on full display. I suspect Assemblyman Patrick Chandler's poll numbers are about to go through the roof. It just reeks of The Kingmaker." Red answered, his hands in the pockets of his suit pants.
Liz shook her head. "I just watched a man give CPR to his dying wife, and you're telling me it was a media stunt?" She pointed at the TV as she spoke, incredulous.
"Yes. Go out to the bridge. Perhaps you can figure out why there aren't any tire marks."
/\/\/\/\/\
Lizzie met everyone back in the war room where they were all currently standing around one of the tables.
"It just doesn't make any sense. Chandler's a Boy Scout, president of the high school student council, chairman of the Young Entrepreneurs Society at Princeton." Meera listed off all of Chandler's apparent merits.
"He also did a term in the county legislature before becoming the youngest assemblyman in all of New York's 150 districts." Ressler continued.
Lizzie shook her head vehemently. "This guy's been groomed."
"He was just elected. His term is two years." Meera argued.
Lizzie did a double take, looking up from the files she had of Chandler. "Wait. So he's not even running for anything?"
"So, what are we saying he risked his child's life and murdered his wife for what?" Cooper's questioned his team.
"Well, he also risked his own life." Ressler spoke up, rather unhelpfully.
"Listen to this." Aram demanded. "'Allison is my everything, my moral center. She makes me a better man.'"
Lizzie barked out a short, bitter laugh. "Sorry. Husbands lie to their wives. I have no problem believing this guy is capable of just about anything." Lizzie stated, not looking up from the file and so missing the meaningful looks her colleagues passed around.
"All right, so," Cooper started, breaking up the silence. "Wind this up and get over to that accident site."
/\/\/\/\/\
Lizzie and Ressler walked onto the bridge where the accident took place. Lizzie immediately began looking around, trying to form a picture in her head of what happened. Ressler simply stood on the sidewalk and stared at her.
"Okay, so, what's the deal?"
"Chandler drove up from the south." Lizzie began to try and walk through what happened.
"No. No, not with the case." Ressler shook his head, walking over to where Lizzie stood. "Something's wrong, and it's not just the stuff with Tom. You're handling that…frighteningly well, actually. This is something else. What's up?"
Lizzie bit her lip and settled a hand on her belly. "This Kingmaker, he framed an associate of Reddington's. That's why he has us chasing this guy. Whoever hired the Kingmaker… he's worried."
"Why?"
"He thinks it's the same person who hired Tom."
Lizzie knew she needed to scale it back. She was giving away too much information. But he was her best friend, the only person she had in the world who wasn't from her crazy, messed up family.
"Is he worried this person is going to send someone else after you?" Ressler questioned gruffly, his face shuttered with concern.
Lizzie's only response was a helpless shrug.
Ressler pursed his lips for a moment before deciding against continuing this line of questioning. "So why from the south?"
Lizzie shook her head, gazing along the length of the bridge. "Why was Chandler even on this bridge at all? His house and his office are both in Werther County, which is the opposite direction."
Ressler sighed, placing his hands on his hips. "He planned to be here."
"And Red was right. The accident–investigation squad didn't find any skid marks leading up to the drop-off point. Chandler didn't even try to stop."
"Eh, he'll say he didn't have time." Ressler said, having been in an interrogation room enough times to know what sort of answers people came up with.
"Or maybe the plan was to go over the side."
"What about the other vehicle that hit him? The driver loses control and never slams on the brakes? Nah, he needed speed enough to drive Chandler's car through that railing."
Lizzie sighed, combing her fingers through her hair. "As crazy as it seems, it did work. I mean, this Chandler guy is everywhere every news show, talk show."
Ressler shook his head in disgust. "Let's go pay New York's newest hero a visit."
/\/\/\/\/\
A fit man in his mid thirties with a full head of brunette hair stood in his driveway, waving off the police officers as they backed out. Ressler and Lizzie walked towards him and when he saw them, he huffed in frustration.
"Look, I need to get back to the hospital. My daughter's still there. I've already spoken with the patrol guys."
"We know you spoke to patrol, but we're not with the NYPD. We're with the FBI." Lizzie stated, flashing her badge.
"The FBI? I–I don't understand." Chandler appeared to become slightly flustered.
"Well, actually, we were hoping you could help us understand a few things." Lizzie said leadingly.
"Like why you and your family were crossing the Causeway Bridge from the south. You don't live in that direction. Where were you headed?" Ressler questioned.
"Nowhere. Um, we just stopped to get some ice cream, then decided to take a drive."
Ressler nodded thoughtfully. "It was your idea?"
"Yes. Uh, actually, no. Uh look, I'm not sure. it might have been my daughter's."
Just like a politician, always flip-flopping on the things that matter.
"It must be difficult to see her so traumatized." Lizzie said with false sympathy.
Chandler nodded. "She's heartbroken. Her mother was everything to her. She was everything to us both."
"I'm sorry for your family's loss." Lizzie murmured.
"We understand your wife suffered a concussion. Is that how she drowned?" Ressler questioned, playing along with the small game of good cop-bad cop.
Chandler shook his head backing away from the slightly. "I'm not sure, I'm really ready to talk about all this."
"We're just looking for the facts." Lizzie placated.
"I understand that, but we're gonna have to do this some other time. Right now I need to be with my daughter." With that, Chandler took out his car keys and walked away.
The hesitated a moment, wondering if they should follow after him. It was decided for them when Ressler's phone began to ring.
"Hey, hold on." Ressler quickly answered. "Hey. Text me the address." Ressler hung up and looked over at Lizzie. "We got something. The 911 calls all give the same ID for the vehicle that hit Chandler."
Lizzie folded her arms in front of her chest. "Let me guess a van."
Ressler nodded. "A utility van with signage for a destination plumbing. It's a one–man shop owned by an Arturo Ruiz."
/\/\/\/\
"Hello? Mr. Ruiz?" Ressler called out as he entered Ruiz's shop. Ressler slowly rounded the corner into Ruiz's office, his gun drawn. "Arturo Ruiz. Federal agent!" Coming around the giant metal desk, he sighed, putting his gun down as he gazed at the body of Mr. Ruiz.
/\/\/\/\
"The Kingmaker killed Ruiz to tie up loose ends. Problem is, we'll never be able to prove it. ME report says it could be suicide, but it's not conclusive." Meera stated, as they all once more stood in the war room.
"There's only trace amounts of gunshot residue on the right hand. The stippling's inconsistent with a contact wound." Ressler spoke up, gazing down at the ME report.
Lizzie shrugged. "On the other hand, suicide is consistent with someone who just ran an entire family off a bridge."
"I also pulled his phone records. It primarily shows service calls on his business line."
Ressler looked over at Meera quizzically. "Primarily?"
Meera nodded her head. "Three days ago, Ruiz received a call from a phone booth off 11th and Lincoln."
/\/\/\/\
Lizzie groaned as she walked down the street with Red, her hands deep in the pocket of her coat as the wind blustered around them. "I told you there's nothing here."
Red shook his head, exasperated. "If The Kingmaker chose that pay phone of all the phones in the city, there's a reason." He stated, pointing to the phone in question.
"Which is?"
Red turned on the balls of his feet and pointed to the muggy windows of a beat up old store front. "Le Claire's pawn shop."
Lizzie stared doubtfully but followed her dad into the shop only to come up short at the sight of a well dressed, burly, young man standing at the counter.
"Mr. Gibbons." Red announced himself, obviously giving an alias.
"Oh, of course, . Right this way." The young man quickly lifted the hatched counter and opened a door behind himself, allowing them through.
"Thank you." Red murmured and Lizzie followed obediently after him.
"Mr. Gibbons. Welcome back. Would you like to check your coat?"
"No, thank you."
Lizzie looked around, her eyes wide in awe. She walked out of a pawn shop and into a five-star restaurant and bar. As they followed the waiter, Lizzie looked around and soaked in the sudden major shift in ambiance.
"Ah." Red took a large sniff. "Smells like decadence and vice." Red exclaimed as they slid into the booth the host had directed them to. "The Ohlbaum Philly, please. Make it two." He ordered before the host trotted off.
"What is – Who are these people?" Lizzie asked, still taking in the sights though she tried to be a bit more discrete this time.
"Exactly. The Kingmaker was here." Red smiled at a passing stranger. "That guy over there," Red pointed to a table across the way. "– Don't look!"
Lizzie's tried not to giggle at her dad's antics. "Okaaay."
"Okay look." He murmured. "With the hair."
Lizzie took a quick surreptitious look over her shoulder before looking at her dad. "Is he why we're here?"
"No. He won the gold medal for the clean and jerk for Belarus. Magnificent drinker, smokes like a chimney." As if this were some sort of segue, Red took two cigars from his pocket. He quickly trimmed one before putting it in his mouth and lighting it.
"Mm–mm." Lizzie shook her head in refusal as he tried to hand it off to her.
Red rolled her eyes. "Well, hold it, at least. Wave it around. At least look like someone who wants to be here. The owner will make his rounds soon enough."
Lizzie sighed, trying not to scrunch her nose at the odor as she took the cigar between her index and middle finger, causing her dad to smile brightly. The things that made her dad happy sometimes creeped her out. "You do remember that Pop died of lung cancer, right?"
Red hastily removed his own cigar from his mouth and looked contrite. "Mm. Forgive me, Lizzie. Should we go?"
Lizzie shook her head, smiling in fond exasperation. "No." She said, snuffing out her cigar. "However, I am pregnant so if anyone here questions why I'm not waving a cigar around, don't worry. I have a ready-made excuse."
"You sure you don't wish to leave?" Red questioned, not bothering to hide his concern.
Lizzie's smile warmed further at her dad's obvious over-protective reaction and shook her head. "Let's wait for the owner."
Red simply nodded as his gaze wandered. When his eyes lit upon the snuffed out cigar, he couldn't stop a small chuckle from emerging.
"What?" Lizzie asked.
"Do you remember that time Sam caught you smoking?" Red asked her, still chuckling.
Lizzie thought for a moment before joining in with a laugh. "Oh my god, Billy Miles! Dad was on a job and Dembe was supposed to be watching me but he had a rugby match!"
Red nodded, his face alight. "Yes, he came home early and caught you smoking on the porch with that boy."
"Billy ran off so fast, he threw down his cigarette, nearly burned down the porch when it landed on his homework that he left behind." Lizzie giggled.
"Sam called me absolutely furious! I was in the middle of a negotiation with the Chinese ambassador, Sam calls up and immediately starts yelling about tanning both you and Dembe's hide. I ended up rescheduling that meeting to get home and stop him from murdering you too!" They both chortled at the shared memory.
Lizzie smiled warmly at her dad, reaching out and squeezing his hand. "Thank you."
"For what, Sweetheart?" He questioned, squeezing her hand back.
"I needed that. I need to laugh and I needed to remember him. We need to do that more."
Red's smile turned sad. "We will, Sweetheart. I'm sorry. I feel that we've been – "Red cut himself off as he noticed someone approaching.
"Charles! Good to see you again, my friend." Red cried out, standing up to greet the man heading towards them. "Ah, bless you, Charles. You are my friend. Natalie here is under the impression I don't have any." Red motioned towards Lizzie, laughing at his own joke as Charles nodded towards her in greeting. "Listen, Charles, I need to know whether this gentleman has been in recently." Red held up a picture of the Kingmaker, taken from the airport security feeds.
"Oh, I'm not in the business of revealing my clientele, but considering Mali" Charles barely finished his sentence before he began to laugh.
"Oh, my God! Mali! The tiniest lady on Earth." Red shook his head as if caught in another fond memory. "What a marvel. The things she could do."
"On her head." Charles giggled
Red laughed, pointing at Charles. "That's right on her head!" Red looked over at Lizzie. "I wish you could have met her."
Lizzie merely raised her brow in response.
"Anyway, about your inquiry, he was here for dinner a few evenings ago. Mr. King."
Red barked out a laugh. "How perfectly on the nose. Did he happen to leave a telephone number when he made his reservation?"
"No, but he was complaining about the heat register at the Brixton."
/\/\/\/\/\
The tires of their SUV screeched as they pulled up in front of Senator Mitchell's home. They'd found schematics and photos of the man's home in the Kingmaker's hotel room, leading them to the conclusion that this man was the next target.
As Lizzie and Ressler climbed out of the vehicle, they saw heard a gun go off and saw the flash.
"Liz—"
"Don't even say it, Ress. I'm going in."
Ressler's lips pursed before he nodded. "I'll go around the back."
Lizzie entered from the front and slowly cleared each room as she went. Ressler met her in the center of the house and they nodded to each other in affirmation that it was clear.
"I'll call it in. I'm up." Ressler murmured before heading up the stairs.
Lizzie turned down the hallway and walked into what appeared to be a den. Rounding one of the large wingback chairs, Lizzie stopped short at the sight of Senator Mitchell laying prone on the floor. Just as she turned to find Ressler, someone came up from behind Lizzie, knocking her to the ground. She was only just able to put her hands out to stop her fall when the person straddled her thighs, wrapping their arms around her neck. Rolling onto one hip, to keep from crushing her stomach into the floor, Lizzie grasped and hit the arms around her neck as she choked for breath. Her fingers dug into her attacker's coat as she tried to loosen their hold to no effect. As her vision began to dim, she heard the bang of a gun shot and the weight above her fell to the side.
Lizzie flopped onto her back as she coughed, gasping for breath.
"I swear to God, Keen. If you don't stop coming out into the field, I'm going to strap you to a chair." Ressler muttered worriedly as he fell to his knees beside her, pushing her into a sitting position. He quickly pivoted to sit behind her so that she could sit with her back against his chest. "That's it, just breathe. An EMT is coming with the back up. You're fine." He soothed, wrapping one arm around her as the other ran through her hair as Lizzie continued to gasp.
"There's no way to convince you not to tell Cooper, right?" Lizzie wheezed.
Ressler snorted. "Not a chance."
/\/\/\/\/\
Red sat in the uncomfortable red leather wingback and glanced at his watch for the umpteenth time. At the sound of footsteps, he looked up.
"I've been sitting here for almost 20 minutes." He said, clearly agitated.
"Yeah." Fitch sighed as he sat down across from Red.
"I can't remember the last time –"
Fitch held up a hand. "Ray, before you say what you're about to say, I was told not to come here at all. You're feeling disrespected, but the fact that I even walked in here is proof that the opposite is true."
Red frowned. "I take it you spoke with your colleagues."
"We're out, Ray."
Red stared coldly at Fitch. "That's a mistake." He said gravely.
Fitch sighed. "Yeah, so you said."
"And if the evidence in my possession is compromised?"
"We're big boys. We can do our own risk assessment." Fitch asserted. "Look, for what it's worth, I voted to step in, but others were not as forward–thinking. The Chinese delegation. There are some among us who think we should have killed you outright, called your bluff about whether or not you actually have this alleged evidence."
"And that would be another mistake. You know me considerably better than either of us would like to admit. I will win this war. This enemy of mine will lose. Even with you and your shortsighted brethren watching safely from a distant hill. Why? Because as bad as you may think I am, as far as you think I'm willing to go to protect that which I hold most dear, you can't possibly fathom how deep that well of mine truly goes. You think you've come here simply to say that you can't help me, but all you've done is ensure that when this is all over, I won't be able to help you. When the day inevitably comes that I settle up with your little Alliance, it will be you, Alan, alone in the dark."
Fitch stared at Red for a moment, attempting to read him. Whether he found what he was looking for or not, Fitch eventually shook his head and stood, walking away.
Before he could get up to leave, Dembe walked over and handed him the phone. "It's Elizabeth." He murmured.
Red quickly took the phone. "What have you got, Lizzie?"
"The Kingmaker." Lizzie said hoarsely, her throat still raw.
"You have him? He was targeting Senator Mitchell so that Chandler could take his seat. Lizzie, listen to me very closely. I need you to hold him for me. That's all I need." Red said, a slight tone of desperation entering his voice.
"That's not going to be possible." She croaked.
"It's the entire reason I brought you this case."
"The Kingmaker is dead."
Red was about to make a scornful remark about the effectiveness of the FBI when he heard another voice on the phone. "Ma'am, you shouldn't be trying to speak. You should really be resting."
"No, it's okay, it's fine. I'm okay." He heard Lizzie murmur, her voice sounding distant as if she were holding the phone away from her.
"Lizzie? Lizzie!" He said, worry tinging his voice as he stood up, motioning to Dembe that it was time to go. He didn't pay attention as Dembe quickly trotted out to get the car. "Lizzie? Do you hear me?" He shouted into the phone, uncaring that he was making a bit of a spectacle in the middle of the members-only club.
"Yea, sorry Dad. I'm here."
"Elizabeth, what the hell happened? Where are you?"
"I'm okay, really."
"Tell me where you are." He demanded as he climbed into the back seat of the car.
"I'm at Mercy." She whispered hoarsely, resigned to the fact that her dad was about to swoop in.
"We'll be there in 10 minutes." Red quickly hung up. "Dembe, to Mercy Hospital."
/\/\/\/\
Red and Dembe strode quickly into Lizzie's hospital room, both rounding her bed to take their own side.
"Lizzie? Sweetheart, what happened?"
Lizzie rolled her eyes in find exasperation. "I'm okay, Dad. Really. Besides a scratchy voice, I'm fine." She croaked.
"That's lovely, Dear. That does not, however, answer my question." Red questioned as he took her hand in both of his.
"The Kingmaker came up behind me. He uh… pushed me down and was trying to strangle me. That's why he's dead, Dad. I'm sorry." She murmured. "Ressler shot him to save me."
Red shut his eyes tight, guilt flooding him as he remembered how angry he'd been when she'd told him the Kingmaker was dead.
Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead. "Lizzie, there is absolutely nothing to apologize for. Ressler did exactly what he should have done. It's me who should be sorry, Lizzie. I didn't know… I shouldn't have gotten upset." Now it was Red's voice that had gone hoarse as he choked back his emotions. "Now, what have the doctors said? Did you get an ultrasound? Is the baby okay? I can have Kate–"
Lizzie's chuckle was aborted with a coughing fit. Once she'd gotten it under control, she shook her head. "No dad, I swear, a hoarse voice is all I've got. They just wanted to keep me for a couple hours for observation, because of the baby."
Red's head shot up in alarm, his eyes shooting to her stomach. Lizzie smiled reassuringly before smiling over at Dembe who'd silently taken her other hand at the news, his silent, mellow presence always reassuring.
"No, guys, I promise. Everything is fine. It's just a precaution. They're drawing up my release forms now."
Red sighed heavily, resting his forehead against their joined hands. "Lizzie, Sweetheart. My heart can't take much more of this." He kissed the back of her hand before looking over at her. "I implore you, Sweetheart, please take more precautions. You should not have been there tonight."
Lizzie bit her lip, knowing he was right and fighting down the guilt she felt for putting herself, her baby, in such a situation again. He was right, she knew he was. But she couldn't stand the idea of bringing her baby into this world without making sure she made it as safe for them as possible.
/\/\/\/\/\
A few days later, after her throat had healed and after they'd arrested Patrick Chandler in a wonderfully public display in front of journalists, Lizzie was heading towards the elevator at the post office, ready to go home for the evening.
"Hey. Uh, Agent Keen!" Aram called out from his desk. When Lizzie glanced back to look at him, he waved her over. Holding back a sigh, she walked over to him.
"What's up Aram?"
"Well, there was something bugging me about those photos you showed me, of Mr. Reddington leaving the hospital that your father was in."
"Um…okay. I'm tired Aram, if you could just–"
"Ah right, sorry. So I tapped into the security feeds of the hospital." Aram stated abruptly. "Just to confirm that those pictures were genuine and, I'm sorry Liz, but they are." Aram looked up at her from his desk chair, a sympathetic look marring his features.
"Oh…ok, wow." Lizzie was having a hard time mustering any fake shock. She was tired dammit.
"That's not all. I um… I looked at the ME reports in your father's files. They um…they estimate the time of death was around 4:30 – 5pm. Mr. Reddington left your father's room around 4:42." Aram stated gravely.
Lizzie swallowed, panic rising like bile in her throat, choking her. "Uh…I um… I have to go." She said, backing away slowly.
"Liz? Are you alright?"
Lizzie nodded her head shakily. "Yea, I'm fine. I just… Aram, can you do me a favor?"
"Yes, of course. What is it?"
"Keep this between us, okay?"
Aram's brow furrowed and his mouth formed a little O. "Are…are you sure Agent Keen?"
"Yea, um, I have to go now though. Thanks Aram." Lizzie muttered and quickly made a hasty retreat.
/\/\/\/\
Lizzie waited impatiently for Dembe to let her into Red's safe house. The moment he opened the door, she was walking down the hallway and into the living room that she knew Red found the least distasteful.
"Ah! Lizzie! How are you?"
"Aram knows you were in the room with Pop when he died." Lizzie stated abruptly.
"I see." He murmured.
"How can you be so calm? Aram knows! It's only a matter of time before he tells someone."
"Lizzie, why has this got you so upset? We can easily cover this under the umbrella 'well-I'm-an-international-criminal-what-do-you-expect excuse."
"Because Ressler also knows that Tom was hired to watch me by someone who is out to get you."
"Ah"
"And put that together with Aram now knows, and they're going to start asking questions, Dad." Lizzie was pacing in front of his chair.
Red stood up and grasped her by her upper arms. "Lizzie. Calm down, Sweetheart. You've been under a lot of stress this week. I promise you, everything will be fine. Come, sit down." Red guided her over to the couch and sat down beside her.
/\/\/\/\
Lizzie had spent the last hour with her dad, allowing him to calm her down and talk reason into her. He assured her that he had contingency plans, though, of course, he refused to divulge them, only stating that he was sure it wouldn't come down to that.
After saying goodbye, she made her way to the door, passing Dembe in the hall. Stopping in front of him, she sighed.
"Elizabeth?"
"I need you to do me a favor." She whispered, worried about the large house carrying her voice to where her father sat.
"What is it?" His rich voice questioned.
"Get me a copy of Dad's immunity deal."
"Elizabeth–"
"Just… please Dembe. And don't tell him." Lizzie gazed up at her brother, holding his gaze with her own until he finally agreed with a nod of his head, though his lips were turned in a grim frown.