Chapter Twenty-One

Some people are born into a life, some are forged by circumstances, and yet others create their own. Scottie had always created hers, but she supposed that it could be argued that it was her circumstances that had forced her to do so. She'd come from nothing, born to a couple in some Midwest town that she had done her best to forget, and she had somehow convinced them to send her out to the East Coast to live with her mother's aunt in Boston by the time she was thirteen. By fourteen she'd been promoted a grade above her age level and at sixteen she'd met Katy Wilkinson. Katherine, but her father never called her that. Only her mother and only when she was in trouble, and Katy was never careless enough to get caught.

The two girls had quickly become inseparable, finding that they worked well together and could keep each other on their toes. Neither had a great deal of money to lean on, but somehow that never seemed to stop them. Much to Katy's father's displeasure they were often the center of attention wherever they went and while the teachers couldn't quite find a way to pin all the wrongs of their school on them, they always managed to land close enough to whatever was happening to sit back and enjoy the show.

And then suddenly Katy was gone. No forwarding address, no warning. The house was empty without any sign of movers taking their things away. Neighbours all had a different story as to where they were going, though times being what they were a persistent rumour had taken hold: they'd returned home to Mother Russia.

Not that there was any indication that the Wilkinson family were sleeper agents, but that rarely mattered.

She didn't hear a peep out of her friend until just after her eighteenth birthday. She had been traveling through Europe just after graduating from high school. While she couldn't get into East Germany, she was able to make it into West, and she saw a familiar pair of blue eyes matched with red hair when an equally familiar figure took a seat across from her at a coffee shop. Funny. It never bothered her to find out that those rumours had actually been true or that there was more to the story than even that. She'd needed an out before she suffocated under the monotony that she would eventually have to go back to and Katy had what she needed.

Not that she'd been Katy then. That was a name she'd left behind, just like Scottie had left the name Mary Rowe behind to become Susan Scott. It wasn't like she'd ever been attached to it anyway.

Their paths had been intertwined from the moment they had met, even if neither of them had known it. Scottie had been Katarina's first recruit into the Cabal under Alan Fitch, and in turn she had been tasked with finding a way into the civilian contractor's side of the weapons game. Enter the young Polish immigrant Howard Hajduk - Hargrave, by the time she had met him - who had been absolutely infatuated with her. And she with him, even if she never would have admitted it to herself at the time. He'd been the perfect mark. Just the man the Cabal needed with both access and intelligence to bring their plans into fruition.

And it would have worked if it had only been Howard. For the life she'd chosen - for the life she excelled at - she could have lied to him. She could have lived both lives in parallel to each other, never quite letting them cross in a way that it would have jeopardized either one, but then Christopher had been born.

Her perfect baby boy.

She'd been helpless against him and he'd taught her why people sacrificed for one another with no promise of anything in return. She would have given her life to protect him. She had tried, even if she'd been young and foolish and utterly misguided. If she could go back with what she knew now, she could have protected him from all the pain he'd lived through, but there was no going back. There never was. One could only move forward, and maybe that was best. If given the choice Scottie knew she'd try all over again. She was selfish that way, and in that selfish desire to see him grow and mature into the man that he'd become, she would take away the circumstances that had forged him into the man he was. The man that loved his wife and daughter, even if he couldn't fully remember them. A good man. It was probably for the best that it wasn't her call to make.

Scottie found the suite that the Keen family had been given in the building empty. Agnes was at school, Elizabeth was on her way back from the Post Office, but Tom should have been there. His last session with Dr Orchard had left him sicker than usual. The migraines, the nausea, and everything else that came with the memory recovery sessions were escalating. Orchard had promised that this was expected and that she had everything under control, but Scottie had always been hesitant to simply rely on blind faith.

"Tom?" she called into the room, a tray of tea and empty mugs in her hands.

"Here," she heard him call out from deeper into the suite and she set the tray down to follow his voice. Scottie found him in the bathroom, leaned back against the wall next to the toilet and as pale as the porcelain. His dark blue eyes were squeezed shut and his jaw was tight as he tried to steady his breathing. Finally, he cracked an eye open. "Hi."

She offered him a small and what she hoped was an encouraging smile. "I brought some peppermint tea. When you were little it always helped."

Tom nodded slowly, his expression still strained, but he didn't look ready to move yet.

"Why don't I bring it in here?"

She didn't wait for him to answer as she turned to retrieve it off the table by the door, bringing two steaming mugs back into the large bathroom. He reached out, hand trembling a little, but took a firm enough hold on the mug that she was willing to let go of it. Scottie set her own down on the marble tile before slipping her heels off to take a careful seat, long legs folded under her.

"It's weird," Tom breathed after a second and took a tentative sip from his tea.

"What is?"

"I have these clips now of…. meeting you. You offered me a job."

"I did. I didn't know who you were then."

"Yeah. Liz told me someone took me as a kid. She didn't know who. She said I didn't either." His dark blue gaze flickered up and over the lip of the mug, focused in on her. "I remember meeting you, I remember you offering me a job, and I remember working for you, but I don't remember being a kid. I don't remember knowing you then."

Scottie lifted her own tea to her lips, using the sip to buy herself a moment as she sorted through the multitude of responses she could give to that. The situation was delicate - dangerous, even - and even though Elizabeth seemed to have settled back into trusting her, Tom's faith in anyone other than his wife remained on shaky ground. Scottie couldn't find it in herself to blame him for that. For every memory he regained through his sessions it became terrifyingly clear just how many more he was missing. The fractured answers and the uncertainty were making him nervous. She could see it in his guarded expression. The wrong answer given could send him scurrying back behind those walls of his.

"What's your question?" she prompted after a long moment.

Tom swallowed hard, grimacing as he did. "Orchard thinks someone screwed with my memories before all of…. this." He gestured vaguely. "Did I remember you before, or is that it? Did someone make me forget you?"

There was a long moment of silence between them as Scottie searched for the right truth. "We didn't have much time to talk when you came to work for me. You were undercover."

"I think I remember that."

She made a small sound of acknowledgement, the pang of hurt she felt in her chest a reminder of the overwhelming betrayal she'd felt then. Not just from him. It hadn't been his fault. Howard had turned him against her. "But when you were testifying against your father, while I was still in prison and waiting for that testimony to free me, you would visit me. Do you remember?" He shook his head slowly and Scottie offered a thin smile. "You told me that every foster parent you went through said the same thing: that I'd abandoned you. That I didn't want you."

"Bud said that too," Tom breathed.

Scottie reached out on impulse, her hand covering his and he didn't pull away. "You believed that because you didn't remember me, but I would never abandon you. You were and you will always be the best thing that has ever happened to me."

She could see her little boy in the man he'd become as they sat on the bathroom floor together, Tom finally looking a little steadier than he had when she walked in. He nodded, accepting the words, and she felt him give her hand a small squeeze. "What time are Rostova and Reddington supposed to be here?"

"A couple of hours. You have time."

"I saw him the other day - Reddington - but I don't remember anything about working for him."

"It'll come," Scottie promised softly, "but I'll give you one piece of advice if you'll take it. Raymond is a snake. A useful snake, but if you forget what he is, he will bite you."

"And Rostova? Do you know anything about her?"

Dangerous, dangerous territory. Scottie sighed. "I know she wants to protect her daughter, just like I want to protect my son."

Tom didn't answer, but instead shifted and stood slowly. Once he was on his feet and steady he reached an offered hand down to Scottie and helped her to her feet as well. "Thank you," she murmured.

"That's actually what I was gonna say."

She blinked at him, trying to piece through the statement. "For what?"

"Everything. Letting us use this place to help me get my memories back, for a safe location to meet with Reddington and Rostova, and… for being honest. Thank you."

Scottie reached forward, her palm pressed against his cheek. "I'm on your side. Always."

He gave a small nod. "I'm going to hop through the shower before they get here."

It was a dismissal, but before Scottie made her exit she leaned forward to press a quick kiss against his forehead on impulse. She didn't say anything further, just picked the mugs up and let him have his space. They had time. Soon this would all be over, and they would have time.


He didn't like it, he didn't trust it, and he hated that he understood it. There had been a time when the lines drawn between what was right and what was wrong had seemed a little clearer - a little deeper cut - at least in theory, but as Donald Ressler approached the supposedly neutral meeting place with Cooper, he knew there was a day he wouldn't have made a deal with this particular devil to get the job done.

Children's laughter from the playground just up ahead cut sharply against Ressler's mood as they trudged down the path through Central Park. Scottie Hargrave - or, rather, her assistant Kat Carlson - had provided nonnegotiable instructions. Cooper was required, but if he felt the need to bring someone with him Ressler or Liz were the only approved options. They would leave their weapons behind as well as their suit jackets to prove they were unarmed. Just shy of the playground there would be a large tree. They should approach and wait there.

"You sure you trust them?" Ressler asked before they hit the point of no return.

"I trust Scottie not to allow her company to be visibly responsible for the death of two federal agents," Cooper answered after a beat.

"And you think he's still part of that company?"

Copper's dark gaze slid to look at him out of the corner of his eye. "I understand your hesitation —"

"I get it," Ressler ground out. "Enemy of my enemy and all that. I just don't trust him."

"Neither do I."

Well, it was good to hear him vocalize it if nothing else.

"Special Agents Cooper and Ressler," a voice chirped from behind, drawing both men's attention around to a face Ressler had hoped never to see again. He could still see him laid out on the ground, amused over the fact that the Cabal would make sure that the charges never stuck. He'd been willing to kill Liz, shot up the cabin Ressler and Tom had been in, and later attacked the Keens' attempted wedding and had nearly killed both Liz and Agnes. But there he stood, free and clear with them looking to him for intel. No wonder Matias Solomon was smug. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Was it the bank job? What a fun day."

"A little girl was shot and hospitalised," Cooper growled and Solomon shrugged.

"Children are amazingly resilient. I hear she got through it just fine and a sizable - albeit anonymous, so you certainly didn't hear it from me - donation allowed dear old dad to catch up on his mortgage and, wouldn't you know it, they're doing better than before." Those dark brown eyes studied them both carefully, looking for any sign that he'd gotten under their skin. It was all Ressler could do to stop himself from throwing the punch.

"Scottie said you have what we asked for," Cooper redirected firmly and the mirth washed out of Solomon's expression.

He pulled in a deep breath and glanced around. "Emilia Schmitz." The name left him on a barely audible breath. "You do know how to pick them."

"Did you know her when you worked for the Cabal?" Ressler prompted.

"I did. Took quite a few orders from her back in the day. Not a woman to cross lightly."

"We'll keep that in mind," Cooper said sharply. "Who does she answer to?"

Solomon didn't look particularly comfortable with that question. "I suspect the man that took over as the head of the organization."

"After Hitchin?" Ressler prompted, the woman's name tasting bitter on his tongue.

Solomon snorted. "You feds. It's precious how limited your thinking is. Despite what you may think, the United States is not the center for every global affair. The faction here had power, once, but it started slipping the day Alan Fitch lost his head." The statement was accompanied by long fingers mimicking an explosion. "I was sent - by Emilia - to handle care of the Peter issue."

"You were part of the faction in Bonn?" Cooper asked, surprise lining his voice.

Solomon shrugged a little, his movements casual. He'd been offered immunity for anything he told them that afternoon, so it wasn't them that he was being careful of. He was looking for something around them, but if he was finding it was anybody's best guess.

"Schmitz obviously didn't hold you in very high esteem if she was willing to put a hit on you," Ressler murmured.

"Oh, that was all Laurel. She did have a habit of taking on far more than she had a right to. I guarantee she saw the power shift and was grasping." He tilted his head. "Even so, Emilia let it happen. Her funeral."

"The name," Cooper pressed and Solomon's gaze slid over to him.

"I knew him as Jonas Bauer, but he wasn't German. Russian, perhaps."

"And that's all you've got?" Ressler growled.

"More than you arrived with," Solomon countered. "My guess is that Emilia already knows you're looking into her. Your badges that you're oh so proud of won't stop her from sending a fixer over to make sure this doesn't reach Bauer, but feel free to keep chasing this down the line. I have no attachment to you." He turned as if he were ready to leave, but stopped. "What did you possibly give Scottie to force her to stick a hand in all of this?"

"I asked nicely," Cooper answered sharply and started past Ressler towards the park exit.

Ressler stood there a half a beat longer, working to file every inch of the conversation away. In truth the name could be a lot, but so was the visible fear that Solomon was so desperate to hide while speaking the name. That was even more to go on.


"I think Scottie knows your mom."

Liz startled a little at Tom's sudden voice when she entered the suite. For it not having been a full day yet, it had been a long one full of questions with few answers. Another possible lead had dried up again in the search for information on Emilia Schmitz and while she was grateful that Cooper had been so understanding about her need to leave early for this meeting, she also knew that The Collector was still top priority. Sure, it could be that he thought Reddington and Katarina would deliver some sort of intel on it, but Liz couldn't shake the feeling there was something more to it. Some reason that her boss didn't want her around the Post Office that afternoon. It paid to be paranoid in her life, though, and it sounded like Tom hadn't lost any of his own paranoia.

"What makes you say that?" she asked as she tossed her purse down into a chair, crossing the room to where he was sitting half curled into an oversized chair next to the window, likely watching the street below for Reddington and Katarina's impending arrival.

He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Something she said...and didn't say."

"Care to expand on that?" Liz asked, only a little irritation creeping into the edges of her otherwise light tone. She took a seat on the arm of the chair and he looked up at her.

"Scottie was telling me not to trust Reddington -"

"Fair warning."

"- and I asked her about Rostova."

"And?"

"She said that your mom wants to protect you as much as she wants to protect me."

Liz pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I'm not saying you're wrong," she started and watched his jaw set a little, a small tell of agitation, "but maybe that's one mother projecting what she wants on another mother. Like when you said I was judging Scottie because of Katarina."

Tom pushed a long breath out through his nose. "I can't shake it."

"And maybe you shouldn't. She and Howard knew Reddington. Maybe they knew Katarina too."

"You don't know how Reddington met your mother?"

"Pieces. Sort of. There's been so much misdirection over the years that sometimes it's hard to know what's real and what's a lie."

She felt his hand nudge her leg and Liz's lips tilted up a little as she took it. Tom's eyes were on her. "If they know each other, it'll come out."

"One of the reasons you wanted to do this?"

"Maybe," he admitted with that sly little smile of his and she laughed, leaning down to press a kiss against his lips. He pulled at her gently, sliding her into his lap to deepen the kiss. She tumbled willingly, one hand sliding to the back of his neck to hold him close even as she had to break for air.

"Just as long as you don't play me like you play them we'll be fine," she murmured.

Tom pulled back, surprise etched into his expression. "I won't. Why would I?"

Liz felt a small tug of guilt. It was easy to forget that he was still working with very limited pieces of the puzzle. She needed to be honest, though. If she wanted him to return it, she had to choose to be an open book with him. "You've had a history of wanting to protect me, even if it means going at it alone," she answered softly, her free hand sliding down to his left side. Her fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt just over the scars that Garvey had left on him. "We're doing this together. I won't lose you again."

He was watching her, studying her, and he gave a slow nod. "Together."

"Good." She tilted her head towards the window where a town car could be seen pulling in. "Showtime."

"Let's see how much they know."

Liz's smile returned and she kissed him again before standing, Tom following immediately after. And then, without warning, the colour drained from his face and she saw him stagger. Liz reached out, unable to stop his knees from buckling, but at least she could ease the descent to the floor. "Tom? Babe, look at me," she said firmly, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

He blinked slowly, sluggishly, and she found him trying to focus up at her from where she was now sitting with his head in her lap on the floor. "Liz?" he breathed out, his voice hoarse and a little confused, even as his eyes started to slip closed.

"No no no," she whispered. "Tom. Open your eyes. Babe. Look at me. Tom, please look at me!" She lost her battle with the panic as her husband went limp in her arms.


TBC

Notes: It's such a good thing that I was writing so far ahead on this story because between work and the move, I haven't had a lot of time/energy to write. I'm hoping that means I won't have to take a week off from posting. Fingers crossed.

I really enjoyed both writing and editing down this chapter. I'm pretty firm on the idea that Scottie comes from a background in espionage and that she married Howard as a job, but her allegiances are the vague area in my theorizing, so I always try to come up with some fun twist for each new story with her. For this, I loved adding in teenage Scottie and Katarina before they ever took those names and how they met and became the women they did.

Next Time: Consequences rear their head on multiple fronts and decisions are made.