Ressler stared at the immobile fan on the ceiling, its lights were cold, having been turned off hours ago. The room was barely illuminated by the gentle glow of the moon seeping through the blinds. He could hear nothing but the occasional cars driving by in the night and the almost inaudible hum of the heat coming from the vents.

As tired as he was from being shot at and having to walk several miles, he couldn't fall asleep. He had too much on his mind. Was he supposed to see this as a chance at getting his life back? Or was it just another sick joke that the universe was playing on him? He wanted to be hopeful; to have at least some shred of optimism, but after spending almost a year getting nowhere close to finding out what had happened to him and why it happened, it was just instinctual to accept his life as it was. It all felt like a dream. He shook his head.

No. This is real.

This was a way out of that life. A chance at something more than just hiding and being ashamed of what he was. It was a chance at the truth. A chance at redeeming his name. And it was in the hands of Raymond Reddington.

He laughed dryly to himself.

How ironic.

The criminal he'd hunted down and pursued so vehemently was now helping him. And the government he'd sworn his life to was now the same one labeling him a terrorist. In any situation he could imagine, however, there was no way he could fully trust him.

Liz, on the other hand...she was a different story. He didn't know how to look at it. He'd known her for about a day and already, he was standing in front of a firing squad for her. He tried not to dwell on it; tried not to let her see it, but the first moment he looked into those stone-blue eyes was like looking at something he'd lost. A familiar sight that greeted him cordially but faded right back into obscurity. It was so easy to trust her, no matter how much he expected his instincts to hold her at arm's length. He was an FBI agent. Trust was perhaps the most important and most dangerous thing he could have.

And yet, everything felt so natural with her. Everything they'd done since she brought him home - spending time on the couch, cleaning up after themselves, even helping each other with cuts and bruises - it's as if he'd done it hundreds of times before. It all felt normal. But the moment he gave it any thought, the moment he tried to grasp at the specifics, they faded away.

And god knows how or why she trusted him. He may have literally fought for it...well, maybe she did most of the swinging...but she trusted him. She willingly accepted staying by his side and helping him through this. He told himself it was because he'd saved her life, but it felt so wooden to believe that wholeheartedly. There had to be another reason...

He groaned, pulling a pillow over his face.

Just go to sleep, dumbass.

"We've got something, sir." Aram said as Cooper descended from his office.

"This morning, ATF raided a warehouse in Mount Rainier, Maryland, and found various shipments of small arms and explosives, no doubt belonging to Richardson." Meera began.

"On top of that, we also traced one of the shipments to a house in a nearby town, Morningside, belonging to a Howard Grayson, which after some digging," Aram says with a smile. "Turned out to be…" he pulls up a picture of Grayson and one of Richardson side by side. "Mr. Michael Richardson."

Cooper nodded. "And Agent Keen?"

"Well, we found a setup in Richardson's hideout. Turns out, he liked to keep his men on a short leash." Explained Aram. "All of the vehicles had tracking devices and there were a total of eight tracked vehicles. Four of which were parked in a garage by the warehouse in Mount Rainier. Three were on the side of the road where Agent Keen crashed. And one…" He showed them a red blip on a map near the outskirts of the city. "Is right outside of D.C."

"And we're sure that there were only twenty men sent to that cabin?" Cooper asked. "None of Richardson's men escaped with that car?"

"There was a roster found at the hideout confirming twenty names that were sent to the cabin." Meera explained. "We're working on identifying the bodies now, but with the deaths and the white eyes, it's safe to assume that Ressler took the car."

"Get there, now." Cooper said to Meera. He then turned to Aram as she left. "Where's Agent Navabi?"

"She's meeting with Mr. Reddington. See what he knows about Agent Keen."

Cooper nodded. "Notify Metro P.D. to be on the lookout for Ressler but don't tell the media yet. We don't want to scare him off, but if he is here in D.C., he might be planning another attack."

"Yes, sir."

"Keep me posted on Reddington." Cooper said as he strode away into his office. "I might have to have a word with DHS."

Liz closed her eyes as she let the warm water glide over her hair. The water felt amazing, as if it washed away the soreness and fatigue that had been clinging to her since her accident. She fell asleep as soon as she hit the bed last night, but it was a restless sleep and she woke up feeling worn and exhausted. She looked over the scabs and bruises that had formed over her arms and legs. She scolded herself for being careless, though they weren't particularly painful or bothersome.

She thought about Reddington, and how true Ressler's words were. She wasn't blind to the fact that the more Blacklisters they put away, the easier it was for Reddington to operate. He basically has the FBI at his disposal. What was he gaining from helping Ressler? There was no way helping a fugitive at the top of the most wanted list was a responsibility he'd want to take. Then she scoffed at herself.

Of course he has something to gain...A living weapon that could essentially take down an entire nation.

Her teeth grit at the thought. Using someone's curse for their own gain was heinous. She felt that Reddington doing so was questionable, but she didn't know him that well. Only what he allows her to know. Then she realized it.

Using Ressler as a weapon means nothing if we're not together. He'd be uncontrollable. We're a package deal now. And if that's the case, Reddington would be putting me in danger if he were to send us out as his own personal nuke.

The one thing she was sure about Reddington was that he was out to protect her.

Sighing in relief, she closed her eyes and let the warmth of the water envelop her body. Then her mind drifted to Ressler.

No matter how much she thought about it, she could see no reason as to why they're connected, or how they could be connected. How was it that she could be so crucial to someone she'd never met? Someone who could literally take him away from a life full of death. As much as she drove herself restless trying to figure it out, she could dig up no memories about him.

What astounded her was that she knew there was something. There had to be. Because as little as she knew about him; as empty as her mind was when she looked for anything about him, something told her that she knew him. A feeling in her gut that told her that those looks had been shared before. That those touches had been there before. That that voice had been played for her ears before. And she was ashamed of it, but damn it, she had the feeling that the smell of his clothes had her breathing deeply before.

Liz smacked her forehead on the wet tiles and leaned against it.

Ugh just get out before you get pruny, idiot

"Agent Navabi! To what do I owe the pleasure?" Reddington greeted cheerfully as she walked into the hotel room.

"Liz has been taken." She said gravely.

"Haven't we established that?"

"Yes, but not by Richardson."

Reddington immediately lost his air of humor and lightheartedness. "By whom?"

"Donald Ressler." She replied.

Samar watched as he seemed to consider the situation, his jaw clenching.

"Is she alright?" He finally asked.

"We're not sure...he's not really known for keeping people alive."

"What do you know so far?"

"Nothing to work with. He was in the FBI so he knows how to avoid us. We know he's dangerous, and we know he killed Richardson's men. That's it."

He nodded. "I'll see what I can do. Keep me updated on anything more you find about him."

"That's it?" She asked, almost angry.

"He's not exactly easy to keep track of, Agent Navabi. He knows what he's doing."

"Which is exactly why we need more than just, 'I'll see what I can do'."

Red surprised her by giving her a short laugh. "Rest assured, Agent Navabi, she will be found. And Donald Ressler will be...apprehended."

"If we do find them, he's going into custody." Samar said sternly. "You're not killing him."

"When we find them. And who said anything about killing him?"

"You're not saying it, but I've seen what happens to people who put Liz in danger."

Red smiled at her. "I would think you'd be the last person to want a fair trial for him, Agent Navabi. Given your history with terrorists."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Just help us find them." She turned around and walked out of the door.

After stepping out of the shower and getting dressed in pajamas and a thin sweater, Liz exited the bathroom, drying her hair as she descended the stairs. Immediately, she was hit with the enticing smell of bacon, along with a sporadic beeping sound.

She entered the kitchen to see Ressler wearing a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, his back to her. He was trying - and failing - to work the coffee maker. She spotted a plateful of bacon and eggs and she couldn't help but smile that he had made breakfast.

"How the hell.." he muttered as he continued to press a bunch of buttons on the machine.

As soon as he said those words to himself, Liz could feel her mind wandering and suddenly she was in the kitchen of a small apartment. Her apartment. From when she was still living alone and attending the academy.

She looked at the same man struggling with the contraption, its buttons beeping as he failed to get it to work. All happening in her old apartment.

Liz came to when Ressler turned around and greeted her.

"Hey. Mornin'. How the hell do you work this damn thing?" He gestured to the coffee maker.

She shook her head and smirked at him, walking over to the machine and pressing a single button. It immediately started gurgling and dripping hot coffee into the pot.

"Oh." He said, a little embarrassed. "Why's there gotta be so many damn buttons?"

She chuckled. "I honestly don't know what they do. Tom bought it. He's a bit of a coffee snob."

She then moved towards the cupboards, pulling out a few plates and mugs. Her mind went back to what she'd just experienced.

Was that a memory? A flashback?

She turned to him as she set the plates and the mugs on the counter. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

He looked at her, surprised by the question. "Sure. What's up?"

For some reason, she hesitated. His brow arched at her as she felt herself holding back. It wasn't much of a memory. And the thought of him doing something so domestic in her past was somewhat unnerving.

..It's probably nothing..

She cleared her throat. "What do you know about this...thing? Other than the fact that it kills people?"

He looked down at the food he was spooning onto his plate, considering the question.

"Not much. It kills instantly with no warning; anything with a pulse. People could be talking or moving and then they'd just drop dead if they get too close. Birds just fall out of the sky, animals go limp." He said somberly. "I measured the range to be about fifty feet. And it's only ever stopped when I met you."

She nodded in understanding. "So, do I just have to be within fifty feet of you? Or do I have my own...range?"

"I think you just have to be inside mine. That's what it felt like back at the cabin."

She nodded in understanding as she filled her own plate.

"Who were those guys, anyway?" He asked.

"We've been looking for one of those high-value targets I told you about. Michael Richardson. He had his own criminal empire...that is, until you killed him."

His lips pursed as he drew his attention back to the food.

"Thanks for cooking breakfast, by the way."

He looked up and his frown turned into a grin. "No problem. I figured I should say thanks."

"Ressler, you really don't have to keep thanking me. You saved my life." She said as she nibbled on a strip of bacon. "All I've done is give you a place to stay."

He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something but decided against it and nodded.

"Alright, you can cook next time." He smiled.

"Oh no, you don't want me anywhere near the stove." She laughed. "From now on, you're in charge of the food."

After breakfast, they changed out of their sleepwear and sat on the couch, sipping coffee as Liz absentmindedly scrolled through Netflix.

"So what's the move now?" Ressler asked.

"We wait." Liz sighed. "At least until Reddington's found us a place to stay."

Ressler grit his teeth. He hated sitting around doing nothing. Now that he could go out and find answers, he felt impatient and anxious. It dawned on him that he had lived alone in the woods for ten months peacefully, but now that he was in civilization, he couldn't help but feel he had to do something.

"You're antsy aren't you? Don't wanna wait to get back out there?" She asked with a knowing smile.

"That obvious, huh?"

"You don't seem like the type who likes to sit and wait when you can do something. And I can hear you grinding your teeth."

"It's been almost a year and I'm nowhere close to finding answers." He sighed. "I just...need something - anything - that can help me figure this out."

"What do you wanna do?" She asked earnestly.

He pondered for a bit then spoke. "Maybe I should go to a doctor and get some tests done? A scan or something?" He said, almost unsure. "I mean, is it even safe for you to be around me right now? I could be radioactive for all we know. Or I could be slowly dying and I don't know it."

"Well, we know none of the bodies died from the radiation, so I doubt it's that." She said. "We could tell the doctor you got hit in the head and we could pretend that you've been having trouble remembering. They'll probably give you a CT scan." She pointed to the wound she gave him on his head.

"Think it'll work?" He asked, sipping from his mug.

"It's worth a shot."

"What about Reddington?"

"He doesn't expect us to stay here and wait for him. He probably has people watching us." She said nonchalantly as she put her mug on the coffee table.

Ressler turned and looked at the window, though the curtains were drawn over it. Reddington had known where he was even when the FBI couldn't find him, so that seemed likely.

"If we're going to go out, you need a disguise." She said.

"A disguise?" He said, visibly cringing.

"Yeah. It's only been 10 months, people might recognize you as a terrorist." She replied. "Wait here." Liz got up and quickly walked upstairs.

She returned and sat next to him on the couch. She had a pair of thick-framed black glasses and a navy blue beanie in her hands.

"Oh, come on, isn't the beard enough?" He asked exasperatedly as he stroked his scruffy jaw.

"The beard's a good start, but we need to be safe." She glared at him, though he could swear he saw her mouth twitch into a stealthy smile.

He sighed taking the glasses and inspecting it. "These aren't prescription, are they? They're pretty thick."

"Nope. They're fake."

"And you have fake glasses because…?"

"Tom bought em for me. We like to ro—" She quickly stopped herself and looked at the floor. "Uhh..they were just...lying around.."

Is she blushing?

Ressler narrowed his eyes and felt himself getting flushed when he realized the reason behind the glasses. "Oh."

She cleared her throat. "Put em on."

He complied, slipping the glasses on and staring at her with a blank face.

"How's it look?" He asked.

"Great." She smirked, seemingly satisfied. "Very Clark Kent. But put this on just to be safe."

She pulled the beanie over his head, adjusting it and pulling it back to show a bit of his hair in the front. She then leaned back and broke out into a smile.

"Be right back." She said suddenly with a chuckle.

Ressler sighed and almost rolled his eyes as she went up the stairs and came back down for a second time. As she sat back down on the couch, she took a picture of him with a smartphone.

"You have another phone?" He asked, surprised.

"You know how many times I've lost my phone on a mission?" She muttered as she looked at the screen.

She then held it up to show him. He grimaced at the sight of himself, eyes wide behind a thick pair of glasses, clearly surprised that she'd taken a picture of him.

The sight of Liz holding up a phone in front of him suddenly made him feel nostalgic. It was as if he was brought somewhere else; a comfy couch in a small apartment with dim lighting. The smell of takeout lingering in the air. Liz sat excitedly in front of him with a beaming smile, her phone held up to his face. Try as he might, he couldn't make out anything on the screen. Then as quickly as it happened, he was back, looking at the picture of himself in a bright, sunlit room.

"Ressler?" Liz said, waving the phone in his face. "You okay?"

Ressler focused his eyes on hers, snapping out of whatever he had just experienced.

"Uhh, yeah. Fine."

What the hell was that?

Liz looked at him, clearly noticing something had happened but seemed to let it go.

"I asked what you think." She gestured to the picture.

He looked closely at the picture. "Jesus, I look like a hipster."

"It's not my fault you wear so much flannel." She laughed. "It's better than looking like a terrorist."

"Is it?" He stood up and took their empty mugs to the sink. "You realize I gotta take all this crap off at the doctor's right?"

"Well, you'll rock the look on the way there." She grinned.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, but couldn't fight the smile that broke out.

"Anything from the vehicle?" Aram asked Meera on the phone as Cooper stood sternly beside him.

"Nothing. Not even prints." She sighed. "It seems a little too obvious, but it looks like all we've got is that it's close to the city."

"Obvious as in, he could be trying to throw us off?" Aram asked.

"Exactly."

"But if he did head into D.C., he could be planning another attack." Cooper surmised.

The three of them shared a moment of silence. With nothing much to go on and the possibility of a huge threat to such a big city, this was bad.

Samar then walked into the war room, her face showing the same disappointment the others were feeling.

"Anything from Reddington?" Asked Cooper.

"He says he doesn't know where Ressler is, but I don't buy it." Samar said. "He knows something and he's keeping it from us."

"Something about Ressler?" Aram asked. "Maybe how he's killing people?"

"I'm not sure. But he seemed like he wanted Ressler for himself."

"Who wouldn't want a weapon that can kill without much of a trace?" Meera added through the phone.

"Or he wants to kill him." Aram said anxiously. "For taking Agent Keen."

"Whatever it is, we need to find them before Reddington does. I'm not sure I wanna know what he'll do if he gets his hands on Ressler." Samar said.

"Tom has my car, so I think we should take the bus." Liz said as she wrapped a scarf around her neck.

"What? Why not a cab?" Ressler asked as he shrugged on his coat, "Shouldn't we avoid being around lots of people?"

"It'll be easier to blend in. Instead of having a cab driver focusing on us, we'll be surrounded by other people who are mostly busy with themselves." She stated.

"Alright. If you think that's best." He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

The two headed outside, fully intending to start figuring out the situation they're in. The bus ride to the hospital was fairly uneventful, though Liz could see how paranoid Ressler was even with a pretty good disguise. Every time someone walked past their seats, he would turn away and look down. She felt sympathetic. He was clearly someone who was strong and confident, but he couldn't act like himself in public. Seeing this made her want to help him more. Not only was it an effort to learn more about her own past, it was an effort to help someone who was dealt a bad hand.

When they arrived, he seemed just as nervous in the waiting area. She saw him bouncing his leg, eagerly looking up every time a nurse opened the door and called out a name.

The atmosphere of the place didn't make things any better. The room, brightened by obnoxious fluorescent lights, was fairly busy. Several people were seated, awaiting their appointments, each engrossed in their own thoughts. Only inaudible conversations and the occasional cough and clearing of throats broke their contemplation.

"Hartwell?" A nurse called out as she opened the door. "Liam Hartwell?"

Liz almost didn't react at his alias being called, but he quickly stood and waited for her. The nurse greeted him warmly, but seemed a little confused that she was accompanying him. They were grateful that the nurse said nothing as she led them to a private room. Soon after, the doctor came with a knock and a friendly smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Hartwell." He said. "I understand you hit your head and you've been having memory problems?"

"Yeah. Got caught up in a bar scrap yesterday and I took a beer bottle to the head."

He wouldn't let the doctor see it, but Liz knew he was hiding a smirk as he flashed his eyes to her. She still felt bad about that one.

"Yikes." The doctor said as he examined the cut on his head and the side of his face. "Looks like you've got a bit of bruising here too. I don't mean to be rude, but...you don't look like the bar scrapping type." He tapped the side of his own glasses to indicate Ressler's.

"It was a uhh...misunderstanding." Ressler replied.

The doctor nodded. "Have you been having any nausea?"

Ressler shook his head.

"Any problems with your senses; your vision, smelling, hearing?"

Again he shook his head.

"That's good," He said as he scribbled on a chart. "Okay, well, since you're having memory problems, we can have a CT scan ready for you and we'll see if there's anything serious. Someone from Radiology will come get you in a bit."

"Thank you, doctor." Ressler said as the man walked out of the room.

He glanced at Liz, who looked back at him from a chair.

"You okay?" She asked.

He nodded and looked at the medical diagrams and posters on the wall. Clearly, he had a lot on his mind, but she figured now wasn't the time to talk about it. After a few minutes of waiting in silence, a technician entered the room and they were instructed to follow her to Radiology. There, they entered a room with a CT scanner.

"Go ahead and take off your glasses and your hat, please." She instructed as she looked over a clipboard.

Ressler gave Liz a look taut with anxiety and complied. Liz looked at the other woman nervously, praying she wouldn't recognize him.

"Okay everything's all set to go, so ma'am, if you could just step outside." The technician instructed, apparently not having recognized the man on the most wanted list.

"No, no she's gotta stay here with me." Ressler said worriedly.

"Sir, the scan is only gonna take a few minutes." She turned back to Liz. "If you could just step outside."

"I can't be in here alone." He said.

"Yeah, he gets claustrophobic sometimes." Liz said, rubbing his back with her right hand and taking his own in her left.

Liz was getting irritated with this woman.

We're trying to keep you alive, you idiot...

"Okay, well, we have some medication we can give you for that."

"No, you don't understand, please. I—" Ressler pleaded.

"I'm sorry, you can't have anybody else in the room." The technician said sternly.

"Can I just go in the booth with you?" Liz asked the technician. "I mean, at the very least, he'll be able to see me."

The technician sighed and looked at Liz, then back at Ressler.

"Please." He said imploringly.

The technician's eyes seemed to soften at that and nodded. She then led Liz into the booth, where she began the scan. After a few keystrokes, she spoke to Ressler through an intercom.

"Okay, we're all set to go here, so just remember to stay still and we'll be done in no time at all." She said reassuringly.

The machine then began to hum and Liz watched as Ressler was moved further into the machine. She turned to look at the screen, watching the image swirl into what she recognized to be an x-ray of his skull. She also kept an eye on the technician, who seemed to run the scan as if it were an everyday procedure.

Afterwards, they waited several more minutes in the waiting area until they were called back in by the doctor.

"Good news, Mr. Hartwell, you're in perfect condition." He said with a smile.

Liz looked at Ressler as his brows creased in confusion.

"What? That's impossible.." he said.

"I assure you, Mr. Hartwell, the scan showed nothing unusual. Physically, you're in perfect health." The doctor explained. "As for the memory problems, I'm certain it's more of a mental issue. I suggest you see a psychologist and go from there."

Liz could see Ressler getting angry. His jaw was clenched and the look he was giving the doctor was fatal. Before he could open his mouth, Liz stood, placing a gentle hand on his chest.

"Thank you, doctor. We'll make sure to do that." She said with a smile, pulling Ressler onto his feet and heading towards the door.

The doctor nodded and gave them his own friendly grin. "Have a good one." He held the door open for the two of them.

They both walked out towards the waiting room and headed out of the hospital. The whole time, Liz could feel the frustration seeping out of him. She had her arm hooked through his and she could feel his arm tense through the wool of his coat.

Thankfully, they didn't have to wait long for the bus and they easily found two seats. As they settled for the ride home, Ressler had his hand squeezing the bridge of his nose with his eyes shut, his glasses lifted from his face.

"What a waste of time." He grumbled.

"I'm sorry." She placated, placing a hand on his. "I wish we could've gotten more from that."

"It's not your fault." He sighed. "Thanks for coming with me. I know you didn't really have much of a choice, but..thanks."

She smiled at him. She was irritated herself. They were back to square one and they both knew it. There wasn't really an obvious move to make outside of waiting for Reddington to find them a place to stay. And after that, what then?

To add more to their frustration, the bus was quickly getting filled with passengers. All of the seats were occupied, with several people standing in the middle of the bus, desperate to get to their destinations. She watched as Ressler tucked his head down between the two of them, paranoid that someone would recognize him. Thankfully, they'd made it to their stop without an incident.

"Come on," he said gruffly as he stood. "Let's get something to eat."

It was at that moment that Liz felt the familiar feeling from that morning. Her mind stopped and was taken to a different time - a different moment. She was sitting in an empty bus, the lights flickering overhead, keeping away the darkness of the cold night. Her eyes were glancing up at Ressler, who stood holding one of the bars. He was regarding her with a warm smile, his face cleanly shaven. When the bus hissed to a stop and the door swung open, Ressler jerked his head towards the exit.

"Come on, let's get something to eat."

Liz snapped out of her trance when the door squeaked as it closed. Several more people piled in, blocking the exit but her stomach only dropped when she looked through the window and saw the navy blue of Ressler's beanie outside. Then the bus began to move.