It took them the rest of the day to get to the safehouse. With traffic and the precaution of switching between several vehicles, the trip lasted until the late evening, during which they didn't speak much. Liz was too preoccupied with the situation she had with Tom, and Ressler felt it intrusive to ask her anything.

Reddington had sent them to an apartment in New York. Liz was thankful it wasn't as fancy or ritzy as she expected. It was a cozy apartment with two bedrooms and an open floor kitchen, fully furnished, and to their delight, the fridge and the pantry were fully stocked. The apartment was thankfully big enough to be spacious, but small enough so that they didn't have to worry about Ressler's range. Reddington had clearly thought of everything.

"You hungry?" Ressler asked from the fridge as Liz sat at the breakfast bar. "I can maybe whip something up."

"Starving, actually." She said as she watched him pull a few things out of the fridge.

He then looked in the pantry and pulled a couple more ingredients out.

"Spaghetti okay?" He asked.

"Spaghetti sounds amazing right now." She said with a tiny smile.

As she watched him move efficiently in the kitchen, she started having another flashback.

Instead of the quiet apartment they were in, they were in a brighter, smaller one; different from her old apartment. The sounds of a hockey game barely emanated from the living room while classic rock played softly, almost inaudibly in the kitchen. He had his back to her, keeping his attention on the sauce while she plucked a few cooked noodles from the colander and slurped them up.

"I'm not letting you profile me, Liz."

"Come on! It'll help with my class." She whined.

He scoffed. "You already know me, it won't help at all."

"Okay," she sighed dramatically. "It's fine...I'll just fail and end up homeless. Your couch is pretty comfy, so I guess I wouldn't mind that too much."

"Alright, alright," He chuckled. "Shut up and put this in your mouth." He held up a spoonful of sauce.

"You say that to all the girls?" She teased, opening her mouth and letting him slip some sauce between her lips.

"Keen?" Ressler asked, his hand still under a spoonful of sauce to keep it from dripping, eyeing her expectantly.

"Huh?" She was looking back at him as he stood in the larger kitchen with only the sound of the sauce simmering softly on the stove.

"You want a taste?" He asked, puzzled by her lack of attention.

She merely nodded and complied. As soon as the sauce touched her tongue, the familiar mouthwatering taste widened her eyes.

"Okay, we need to talk."

"That bad?" He asked with a wince.

"No, I've tasted this before."

"You have?" His brows raised.

"Just now, I remembered something." She explained, squeezing her eyes shut in a vain attempt to clear up her memory. "You were cooking the same thing."

"Do you know where?" He asked curiously.

"It was in an apartment. Not mine, though. Maybe yours?"

"Okay...what else?" He asked, shutting off the stove and pouring the cooked noodles out of the colander and into the sauce.

"I think…" she began. "I was still at Quantico. In the academy."

He nodded thoughtfully. "What else have you remembered? You know, before tonight."

She tried to think about all of her recent recollections as he pulled two plates out and put spaghetti onto them.

"Just like...little stuff. I remember you trying to work the coffee maker in my old apartment, and then we were on the bus at night and you suggested getting something to eat. And just now, you were cooking and I was asking to profile you for a class."

"I remembered you showing me something on your phone. And watching the bus drive away." He said as he held the plates and placed them on the nearby table.

Liz sat down across from him and dug into the food. She smiled as the familiar taste filled her mouth.

"Doesn't sound like much, but it's all we have." She said.

"So, what, we knew each other when you were at Quantico?" He asked as he spooled the spaghetti around his fork.

"I guess." She shrugged. "But every time I remember, it seems like we do something similar to trigger it."

He nodded in understanding as he ate. "You know what, I remember being in this mentorship program before I started hunting down Reddington. I bet that's how we know each other."

"I don't know.." Liz pondered. "Everything I've remembered so far...it didn't seem...professional."

"Oh?" He gave her a loaded look.

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. "I mean it seems like we were good friends. And honestly, from what I've seen since the cabin, I wouldn't be surprised if we were."

"I wouldn't either." He said with a grin.

They ate in companionable silence until Liz's phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Lizzie, turn on the news." Reddington's voice rang through.

Liz looked up at Ressler, who eyed her curiously. She then stood and walked to the living room to turn on the news.

"—spotted this afternoon in Washington D.C. and were seen together at a bus stop. Police warns that both Keen and Ressler were trained FBI agents and are considered armed and dangerous. The city is currently on high alert as law enforcement officers search for the terrorist and his accomplice…"

Liz watched in shock as pictures of both her and Ressler were shown on the screen, as well as a clip of them hugging by the bus. She still held the phone up to her ear, though she could find no words. She felt Ressler walking up behind her, equally quiet.

"I hope whatever you two did out there was worth it." Reddington said. "Perhaps you'll follow my advice this time and stay out of sight."

He hung up, leaving Liz with nothing but stunned silence. She looked back at Ressler, who watched the screen with a cold expression.

"I think I'm gonna turn in." Liz said tiredly.

"What about dinner?"

"I don't feel like eating right now." She apologized. "Thank you for cooking, though. I'll go clean up."

She turned away towards the kitchen, but was stopped by his hand on her shoulder.

"Let me take care of it." He said.

"No, you've already—"

"Keen." He interjected. "It's alright. Get some rest." He looked her in the eyes gave her a gentle nod.

She gave him a ghost of a smile and walked towards her room.

"I told you, I don't know anything." Tom said, exasperated. "She told me he was a friend from college and that he needed a place to stay. That's it. I didn't know he was a terrorist!"

He had passed a polygraph and several prior rounds of questioning in an interrogation room across from both Meera and Samar. And they were getting nowhere.

"Did they say anything about where they were going? Maybe you overheard them?" Samar asked.

He sighed. "All she said was that she had a case to work and she left."

"How has she been at home?" Meera asked after a moment of tense silence. "Anything strange?"

Tom scoffed and leaned back. "You tell me. You've probably spent more time with her than I have this month."

The women shared a look, both suspicious of the man before them and apprehensive of learning something so personal about the colleague they'd worked with for years.

Behind the glass, Aram and Cooper watched as the two agents questioned Liz's husband. Aram watched anxiously, both hoping that Tom would give good information and hold out on them. He didn't want to accept the fact that Liz could harbor a dangerous terrorist who had killed more than a hundred people; couldn't believe that she was capable, but he also didn't want to be naïve.

"I share your concerns, Agent Mojtabai." Cooper broached.

The younger agent turned and looked at him with surprise. "Sir?"

"You believe Agent Keen to be innocent; that she's gotten caught up in something she didn't want to be involved in."

"I...I really doubt that Agent Keen would help a terrorist who killed more than a hundred people, sir…umm...allegedly killed."

Cooper eyed him seriously, taking his choice of words into consideration. "I'm sure everyone in the taskforce does. But there are still a lot of questions, and it's our job to find her and the answers to those questions. Can I count on you to do your job without letting your preconceptions cloud your judgment?"

"I…" he looked back into the interrogation room then he nodded and stared back at Cooper earnestly. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Whether or not Agent Keen was willing in aiding Ressler remains to be seen. There isn't anything concrete from what we have." Cooper said. "And don't worry. I'm prepared to give her the benefit of every doubt. She's earned as much."

Liz tossed and turned in her unfamiliar bed. It wasn't necessarily uncomfortable, she just couldn't sleep. Too much was on her mind. The news report had shaken her. She knew it would happen eventually, but it was still a shock.

She thought about Tom. What he was going through because of her, and what he thought about her. The last thing their marriage needed was to be separated by her life on the run. Top that off with her breaking her promise and possibly landing him in jail and she wasn't sure things could ever be the same with him. But how could they go back to that? Was there even anything to say? 'Hey Tom, I'm back from my fugitive life with a suspected terrorist who might mean a lot more to me than I think! Wanna have a baby with me?' She groaned into her pillow.

At this point, the only thing she could even try to do was figure out her past, along with Ressler. And she had no idea how to start doing that.

It was then that she heard a shout and a muffled thud. She quickly grabbed her gun from the nightstand and rushed to the other bedroom. The door was cracked open with nothing but thin ribbons of moonlight streaming through the blinds to brighten the dim room. When she slowly pushed it open, she was relieved to see nothing but Ressler sitting up in his bed with his head in his hands. A lamp laid on the floor, thankfully unbroken.

"Hey." She said quietly, causing him to look up at her. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just...a bad dream." He sighed, pulling his legs over to the side of the bed and picking up the fallen lamp. "I'm sorry I woke you."

She shook her head. "I couldn't sleep, anyway."

Liz stayed standing, by the door. Her hand was still on the doorknob when he looked up at her in the darkness.

"Did you...wanna come in?" He asked, not sure what to do.

She stood still for a moment, feeling intrusive, but also not wanting to go back to her restlessness.

"You're not gonna go back to sleep?" Liz asked.

He looked at the clock that glared a bright red 2:52AM and shook his head. "I doubt I can."

She looked back out into the dark hallway then shrugged, walking towards him and sitting on the edge of the bed. She placed her gun on a dresser nearby.

"What's on your mind?" he asked.

She chuckled. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? I'm not the one knocking over lamps."

He gave her a half grin. "Fair enough."

"What was the dream about?"

"I, uhh…" He looked at her for a moment, searching her eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness. "My fiancée." He finally said with a sigh. "This all started when I woke up to her dead next to me. Just...white eyes and cold hands."

Her eyes grew and her hand flew to her mouth.

"God, Ressler, I'm so sorry. That must've been awful."

"It was. Now every time I get close to getting some sleep, I just have this dream...and I'm turning her over again...and I see those dead eyes."

"I can't imagine what that must be like." She said, placing a gentle hand on his bare arm.

"So...what's keeping you up?" He asked, wanting to get away from the topic.

"What isn't?" She said. "We're being hunted down by law enforcement, my husband was probably interrogated for hours because of me, we still have no clue what happened to us, and..." She took a deep breath. "I just don't know where we're supposed to go from here."

Just then, her stomach growled and she regretted not eating dinner.

"How bout the kitchen?" He chuckled. Ressler got up off the bed and pulled a t-shirt out of a dresser, slipping it on. "Come on, I could have a bite, too." He motioned for her to follow as he walked out of the room.

Liz smirked and padded behind him. He walked into the dark kitchen, pulled out the spaghetti from earlier and stuck it in the microwave. Meanwhile, Liz sat on the couch and flipped on the TV. After a few cycles in the microwave, Ressler deemed the pasta warm enough and brought some plates to the living room, along with some glasses of wine.

"Found this in the pantry." He said as he handed her a glass.

"Wine at three in the morning?" She asked amused.

"It's good with the spaghetti." He said as he raised his glass. "And we have more than enough reasons to drink."

Liz smiled and clinked her glass against his, then took a sip. She sat back and ate, glancing at Ressler, who drank his wine and seemed lost in thought.

"Can I ask you something?" He finally spoke.

Liz looked up at him expectantly, putting her plate down and sipping at her wine.

"What is it with you and Reddington? I mean, I get that he's a C.I., but...he brings you dinner, finds you safehouses...I've never had a C.I. like that."

"Oh..right." She said, sinking back against the couch with a sigh. "You remember when I said he turned himself in?"

He nodded.

"Well, he did it on my first day at the bureau. Said, 'From here on out, I speak only with Elizabeth Keen.'"

"You're kidding." Ressler shook his head and chuckled dryly. "I hunted him for more than five years, and you catch him on your first day."

"I'm that good." She joked. "Don't be too hard on yourself."

"No, no, I feel like I owe you a beer." He said with a grin.

"The wine will do."

After that, she decided to tell him everything she knew about Raymond Reddington; how she spent her whole career at the bureau figuring out why he came into her life. The death of her foster father, Reddington's protectiveness and knowledge of her past, and the way he'd come to the rescue when anyone from the taskforce was endangered by a blacklister. She could tell that Ressler wasn't comfortable with getting help from Reddington, so she tried to put him more at ease by telling him about the good they've done, classified details be damned.

They also tried to tell each other about themselves, in the hopes of triggering a memory. They learned a bit more about each other. He learned that she hated pancakes but loved waffles, not that he knew any real difference. Liz discovered that he preferred hiking and camping than going to the beach, and laughed when he claimed that five minutes in the sun made him crispy. Unfortunately, none of the things they recounted sparked a recollection, but it was nice for them to get to know each other. Eventually, they resigned to watching some old movies and finishing their food along with the wine.

"This is nothing I could've imagined, Raymond." The petite woman said as she eyed the scans closely. "You're sure these are his?"

"The doctor assured me. What is it, Kate?" He asked.

She showed him the scans, pointing to several blobs around certain parts of Ressler's brain. "You see these? They're tumors."

"My god…" Reddington said, astounded by the amount that littered the man's brain.

"He shouldn't even be able to see, much less speak or walk." Mr. Kaplan said, equally surprised.

Reddington stared at the scans, completely dumbfounded by the revelation.

"I suggest we scan him again. A full-body scan. We need to make sure there's nothing else. I'd also like Elizabeth to be looked over as well."

Reddington sighed. He looked over to Dembe and gave him a nod.