Liz wouldn't allow herself to breathe a sigh of relief until she was sitting on a bench in a park twelve blocks from the Post Office. She couldn't allow herself to relax at all though, far from it, no matter how much she wanted to. She was constantly on high alert, always looking over her shoulder, forever scrutinising every single person who passed her by. She realised now that she'd been doing this ever since Reddington had come into her life. Since that first day, the day Ressler and a team of Agents had confronted her on her doorstep, she'd had to keep one eye open at all times. It was exhausting. She couldn't let her guard down though, not for a second, not now, not with Tom – Justin – out there. For all she knew, and it wasn't entirely implausible, he could be watching her right now, hiding behind a bush or perched up a tree. It might not be 'Tom' at all, but someone watching with him, for him or even for someone else. Despite knowing this, Liz couldn't find it in her to move somewhere less public, somewhere with cover, somewhere that wouldn't be easy for her to be targeted, a sitting duck. She sat there on the wooden bench, slumped forward with her elbows on her knees, head in her hands, all manner of thoughts running through her mind.

Why, how, could her seemingly normal life turn into anything but? It was an utter clusterfuck. Her marriage – fake marriage – had turned out to be nothing but a sham, a string of lies and deceit. A textbook relationship: they met, they dated, they fell in love… well, at least she had. They rarely argued, rarely fought… at least they hadn't done until she started working at the Post Office. She always assumed it was because of her and her inability to disclose the classified aspects of her job but the realisation hitting her hard now as she sat there, was that it wasn't down to that at all. It wasn't Liz and her secrets creating the cracks in their marriage. No. it had been Tom and his. The cracks started showing once she was in a position where she could potentially find everything out. All these months feeling like a failure of a wife when it wasn't down to her at all.

Her parentage? Again a portion of her life that was all lies. She hadn't exactly been outright lied to her entire life about her biological parents, more like lied to indirectly. Truth be told, she'd never truly had that conversation with Sam. Never really felt like she'd had to. She'd always had the understanding, always accepted that her biological parents couldn't care for her, but Sam could. Sam had loved her, been the one to read her stories and kiss her hair at night. She hadn't needed anything more than that. Sam had never offered any more of an insight into her life before he'd taken her in, and she'd always assumed that he never knew anything more than what he had told her. Liz guessed that wasn't the truth. Sam had to have known the truth, how couldn't he of? She'd said as much to Ressler a few days previously and the more she thought about it now. The more she knew it to be true. She felt sick. It was too much.

Liz gasped for air. She hadn't realised she was crying until it was too hard to breathe. She choked back a sob, looking round her to see if anyone had noticed her breaking down. She was in luck – there was no one around her. She blinked back fresh tears, wiping the tracks away from her cheeks. How much shit, how much uncertainty can one person go through before they just can't do it anymore? With Reddington around… this shit would never be over. She needed… she needed out. Maybe not forever, but she needed a break. She needed to get away from everything, to cut tied for a while. It would be hard but… she was only so strong, only capable of dealing with so much before she couldn't deal with anything anymore. She'd felt like she was drowning once before, when she was seventeen and this time she knew she wouldn't be able to drag herself back to the surface again.

Liz stood suddenly, turning on her heel and walking briskly towards the park gates. She walked in the opposite direction to the Post Office, glancing over her shoulder every now and then. She needed to get as far away from there as she could. She walked for close to twenty minutes, randomly changing direction every other street. Some might call it paranoia, but given everything the last few months? Warranted. She pulled her phone from her pocket, scrolling down to the contact that had helped her once before. One of Reddingtons she may be, but she trusted her. Liz didn't know why but something about the woman stood out, and if there was anyone that could help her disappear for a while it was her.

Liz clicked to call and held the phone to her ear, waiting for it to connect. It barely rang twice before the woman's voice came floating through. Liz glanced once more over her shoulder.

"Hey," she said lowly, murmuring into the speaker. "I need to see you."

Ressler and Meera made it to the airport in record time, Ressler having broken every traffic law being a Special Agent for the FBI would allow. He's barely thrown the car into park before they were both jumping out the SUV and sprinting into the airport, flashing their badges to security. Aram had had the foresight to call ahead and brief officials on what was going on, so the two weren't delayed any more than they needed to be. They were pointed in the right direction and set off, a team of Agents following behind them. As they ran through the airport, Ressler panted through his comms to Aram.

"Please tell me you still have eyes on them."

It took barely any time for Aram to get back to him. "I do." Ressler heard the faint clicking of keys and Aram's hurried mutterings. "Terminal three, gate twelve departure lounge. They're seated on the fifth row of chairs from the window."

Ressler grunted in response, widening his stride, and picking up his pace, ignoring the burning sensation starting in his chest. Meera was hot on his heels, only a few paces behind. They neared the right gate, both flashing their badges as they sprinted past and unholstering their weapons. Airport police were already working on removing people from the immediate area, slower than Ressler would like but knowing that Aram would have briefed them enough on the situation to know they were working in a way to not spook their targets and still keep everyone safe. They slowed and stopped in a place where they were hidden but still had eyes on the two people they were there for. As soon as Ressler caught sight of Tom Keen, he saw red. He wanted nothing more than to take the man down for everything he'd put Liz through, but they needed him alive… preferably… but Ressler knew he wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in him if he had to.

Meera stepped closer to him, muttering in his ear. "Who do we make our priority, him or her?"

Until this moment, Ressler hadn't even considered himself going for anyone but him. He didn't show Meera the curtesy of looking at her when he growled out, "He's mine."

"Okay then," Meera said with an edge to her voice.

They fell into silence, standing behind the pillar they'd used to take cover. Ressler assessed their situation, trying to decided when would be the perfect time to make their presence known. Do they stand there doing nothing and wait until the two of them are ready to part ways, or do they jump on them now and catch them completely unawares? Whichever way they did it posed risks. Ressler highly doubted they had anything to worry about in regards to Maria Lopez; everything they had about her on paper told them she was harmless, but it never hurt to head with caution. It was Tom Keen they had to worry about, he was the one that would cause most of the problems. He was violent, dangerous, and unpredictable, three things you never wanted to attack without a plan.

So not to startle either of them into doing something stupid, Ressler decided to move in once the two were done with their conversation – there were still too many civilians littering the area for his liking. Ambushing them now could lead the two to scatter and get lost amongst the crowd, something they really did not want. If push came to shove, Ressler had to ask himself if he was willing to leave Lopez with the possibility of escaping if it meant detaining the bastard that was Tom Keen. He was only partially conflicted over the answer. He muttered his plan of action to Meera, garnering her agreement before doing the same to the team through comms. Ressler had no idea what happened, but all of a sudden Tom Keen was standing and staring directly at him, a sneer on his face. Exactly three seconds passed before he turned and bolted.

"Shit." Ressler instantly made after him, barking over his shoulder, "DETAIN HER!"

Ressler followed hot on Keen's heels as he simultaneously weaved in and out of the crowd still trailing through the terminal and blending in. Ressler blinked and almost missed Keen disappearing through a door marked for personnel, following after running passed a group of tourists who had stopped to stare at him. Ressler hoped there was a dead end beyond the door, because he was fast growing tired of this game of cat and mouse. Behind the door led him to an abandoned hall and he could hear the echoing of Keens shoes against the tile until Ressler couldn't hear it anymore. He scoured the immediate area, keeping the door he'd entered through in sight but found there was no other was out unless Keen backtracked on himself. Ressler had his weapon drawn and trained in front of him. He allowed himself a half smile.

"Make this easier on yourself, Warren."

"So you've figured out my name?"

Tom Keen shifted into view, standing tall but defensive with a sneer on his face once more. He was unarmed, so easy for Ressler to just put a bullet in him and claim it was in defence… but that's not the way he worked. If they didn't need him for answers, Ressler was sure he'd end up shooting him regardless – the man in front of him was not the type to go down without a fight. He was shifting, as though to get them to circle each other with the hopes of getting to the door. Ressler wasn't about to let that happen. He kept his gun trained on the man in front of him, glaring.

"Liz always did say you were good at your job," Keen sneered. Ressler tried to ignore the little fluttering of his heart at the words of his partners praise, needing to keep his full focus on the matter at hand. Keen shifted, feigning stepping forward in hopes of catching him off guard. Ressler wasn't distracted enough for that though. Keen bared his teeth, snarling. "Or was it little Miss CIA out there that did it for you?"

"I can't wait to take you in." Ressler trained his gun higher, staring straight at the man in front of him. He thought of Liz and what she'd been dealing with since meeting her – and before. He thought about what she was dealing with now, what she'd learnt about her life and the part her 'husband' and to play in it and his heart clenched at the pain she felt. "I'm gonna make your life a living hell for what you've put her through."

"Is that what you promised my wife when she turned up on your doorstep?" Tom sneered, baring his teeth, taunting. "Enjoying my leftovers?"

Ressler saw red, and intense anger seeping through his blood. "She's not your wife," he spat through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowing to slits. "You son of a bitch."

"And you didn't deny it."

"You're a liar and a fraud; your marriage is nothing but fake."

That last little jab seemed to spur the man into action. Keen moved faster than he had been before, and Ressler had no time to register him closing the distance between them or the fist flying at his face. His head snapped to the side at the force of the punch, throwing him off balance. Keen managed to get a few sharp jabs at his ribs as he was going down. He landed hard on his side, losing the grip on his gun and his vision blurring. He tried blinking the feeling away, but it only seemed to make it worse. He felt rather than saw Keen coming towards him, crouching down beside him. "Give Liz my best."

Something came down on the back of his head and everything went dark.

He was… floating.

He felt as though he was floating on water, but his body felt heavy at the same time – it was confusing. Ressler could hear muffled sounds, possibly someone shouting and was that someone tapping his hand?

"Ressler?"

He groaned, his skull feeling like it was being split in two by the intense pounding of drums. Awareness came back to him in waves; a woman periodically calling his name, the warm sensation of something coating the back of his neck, tickling the skin, the cold of the concrete beneath him, pressing against his cheek.

"Ressler?"

Ressler blinked slowly, Meera's face coming into focus above him. He felt the pressure of her hand on his arm, grounding him and helping his consciousness fight to the surface. It took a good minute or two for Ressler to become completely aware of his surroundings. He groaned as he moved, pulling himself up until he was sitting. Meera tried to keep him down but he shrugged her off, starting to feel the damage to his pride along with his physical injuries. He raised his hand to the back of his head, feeling the tender skin and the cut along his hairline, his fingers coming away streaked with red. It took him a moment to remember what happened, realising too slowly that Meera had found him alone.

"Where -."

"He's gone," she said with a bite to her voice. She refused to allow him to shrug her off again as she helped him to his feet. "He disappeared before I found you."

"Damn it," Ressler groaned, not just because of the headache fast growing, or the uncomfortable sensation of having bruised ribs. "Where's Lopez."

"She's being taken back to the Post Office," Meera said, still holding on to Resslers arm to stop him from swaying where he stood. She gave him a pointed look, though he chose to ignore her. "She didn't even put up a fight; looked almost relieved."

Ressler nodded along with her, trying to focus on her voice rather than the stiffness of his body or the drying blood sticking to his skin and the back of his shirt collar. From what he could tell, it was only a small wound, and it had already ceased bleeding. He just needed to get cleaned up, change his shirt and he'd be good to go. He'd worry about everything else later, there were more pressing things at hand now. He made towards the exit but Meera pulled him back.

"She can wait, let's go get you looked at."

"No," Ressler said, his tone leaving no room for discussion or negotiation. They'd already wasted too much time, especially with him being knocked on his ass (his pride would forever be wounded at that). Keen was once again in the wind, and Ressler felt responsible, though he knew no one (Liz mostly, when he told her) would hold him accountable. He was so close and a very small part of him regretted not just pulling the trigger whilst he had the chance. Who knew now how long it would take to track him down again, considering he'd only been found while they were tracking Lopez. The best thing they could do now was leave a team behind to canvas the airport and hope someone had seen which way Keen had gone, and head back to the Blacksite themselves to deal with Lopez. The sooner they did, the sooner they could figure out what the fuck was going on and he could go home and throw back a couple of Advil and shower – plus he wanted to check in on Liz and make sure she was doing okay. He levelled Meera with a look. "Lopez first, then I'm going home."

"Liz?" Meera questioned with a raised eyebrow and a small smirk playing on her lips. He expected no less from her. He'd been on the receiving end of her sly comments about Liz for weeks, and they'd only intensified the last couple of days. No matter how many times he told the woman that the feelings he had for his partner were everything but romantic, his denial did nothing to stop her, only spur her on. The fact that he had no doubt she knew Liz had been staying with him did not help matters. He narrowed his eyes at her, giving nothing away. He watched as her eyes softened, and she opened her mouth to respond but he cut her off.

"Don't," he said sharply, hoping his tone would out an end to it. By the look on her face and the purse on her lips he knew it had worked. He felt a little guilty for snapping at her, knowing that she was only trying to help. He sighed and school his head. "I promised to keep her updated, and I fully intend on doing that."

"Then call her on the way to the hospital."

"Fat lip and a headache, that's all," Ressler said, scowling at her. "We're leaving."

"Split lip, a possible concussion and a head wound that requires stitches," Meera said, listing off each injury on her fingers.

"I've had a concussion before," he pointed out. He wasn't lying; he'd had his fair share of concussions, and though his head hurt like a bitch, he didn't think he had one now. "I'm good."

"Tell me, how many fingers am I holding up?" He scowled at her again, and she narrowed her eyes at him in response. "Ressler…"

"Don't. Let's go."

"Fine," Meera said, defeated. She reached towards him, snaking her hand into the pocket of his jacket to retrieve the cars to their car and holding them up to him. "But I'm driving."

Ressler said nothing as he nodded and led them back through the airport to where he'd haphazardly parked the car earlier. Neither of them spoke when they got in the car, not until Meera switched on the engine and asked him again if he was sure he didn't want to see a medic first.

"No, I fucking well don't and if you're not gonna move this damn car you get the hell out and I'll drive myself."

After an age spent battling through DC traffic, Ressler and Meera stepped off the elevator into the Blacksite. Most of their drive was spent in silence after Ressler had snapped at her and her repeated comments on his refusal to seek out a medic. He was fine, granted he had a blossoming headache, but he honestly couldn't tell whether that was from being knocked out or her constant nagging. She meant well, he knew she did, but his ego was bruised along with his ribs and he was embarrassed from being knocked on his ass. His lip throbbed but it had stopped bleeding… not before a few droplets had gotten on his shirt and he knew he no longer had a spare in his locker at the moment, having changed into it after he'd held Liz whilst she cried.

Liz.

How was he going to tell her Tom had gotten away after he'd been so close to catching him? He knew she wouldn't blame him for the man slipping away, but it didn't stop him feeling like he'd failed. He stifled a groan as his ribs protested to him moving, ignoring the side-eye he was getting from Meera and all but stomped over the Aram's desk.

"Where's Lopez?" he demanded, startling his fellow agent.

"They – they took her into interrogation three." Ressler rolled his eyes at the look Aram was giving him. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Ressler muttered, holding his hand out for the casefile he'd called ahead and asked Aram to prepare.

"He ran into Keen's fist."

Ressler, who had started to thumb through the file, slammed it shut and glared at Meera. She shrugged at him and began filling Aram in on what had happened at the airport. His headache was getting worse and he just wanted to be done with the day and go home. He stood there, fast losing patience with Meera and her second by second recap of the previous hour. He suspected she was doing it to purposely piss him off, payback no doubt for him snapping at her in the car. He rolled his eyes, moving to head towards the interrogation rooms. He called over his shoulder as he walked.

"Are you coming or am I don't this alone?"

He could feel her eye roll behind his back and heard her mutter bye to Aram before she hurried to fall into step beside him. "Yes, I'm coming."

Together, they made their way to the interrogation room Maria Lopez was being held in. Ressler, still holding the file, thumbed through until he found the blown up image of Tom Keen and slammed it down on the table in front of the woman. She flinched violently.

"You recognise him?" When she didn't answer, Ressler thrust the image at her, jabbing it with his finger. "Well?"

"You know I do," Maria said quietly, watching Meera closely as she sat opposite her.

Ressler stepped away from the table at her admission, silently letting Meera take the lead. Normally he wouldn't, considering he was the Senior Agent working the case and she was still technically on loan from the CIA and he hated relinquishing charge, but his head was pounding, and he needed a minute to wrap his head around the happenings of the day. He stalked to the corner of the small room, turning to lean against the wall. He watched Maria closely, looking for any indication that she was lying.

"By what name?" Meera asked, keeping her voice even and Ressler knew he wouldn't be able to do the same.

Maria nodded as she spoke, as though she was psyching herself up. "Tom Keen," she said uneasily, her eyes darting rapidly between the two of them. She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I – I don't know his real name."

Ressler stiffened, as did Meera and the air in the small room became tense. Maria kept her eyes downcast, refusing to look at either of them. Ressler caught Meera's eye and gave her a small nod, letting her know she should continue.

"So you know his name's fake?" Meera asked, continuing to keep her voice even as she leaned forward with her forearms on the table.

Maria's gaze flicked up at them and Ressler could see the guilt behind her eyes. She dropped her gaze again to her cuffed hands in front of her and when she spoke, her voice came out in barely a whisper. "Yes."

"When did you find out," Ressler demanded, striding the three steps back to the table with purpose and jabbing at the image of Tom again. "Before or during your affair with him?"

"Maria's head shot up and her eyes widened in shock. Ressler could already tell this was the first time she was hearing about her having an affair with the man, and he couldn't help but wonder if that were because she didn't think they would be found out or if they hadn't been having one in the first place.

"We never had an affair?"

The fact that she'd posed the statement as a question indicated to Ressler that she was telling the truth. "No?" he asked, and she shook her head in response. He stood back from the table, ignoring the ache in his ribs form being hunched over. He fought to keep his voice neutral. "Then why did you meet secretly with him for over a year, sneaking around behind his wife's back."

Meera shot him a warning look, as if she were worried he'd go too far and overstep his boundaries and his personal feeling would come into play. He knew what he was doing, and he needed her to trust him to do his job without a conflict of interest, which he was perfectly capable of achieving.

Maria shook her head frantically, her eyes wide with panic. "I can't.. I can't tell you."

Ressler opened his mouth to respond but was unable to Meera had slammed her hand down onto the table, the resounding 'slap' echoing throughout the room and making Maria jump. "You were passing information on Raymond Reddington back and forth between him and Uncle Ricardo wasn't you?"

Maria looked frantically between the two of them again, tears streaming down her cheeks as she shook her head. "He'll kill my son!" Maria all but screamed at them before breaking down into a sobbing mess with her head pressed against the table.

"Son?" Ressler and Meera questioned in unison, glancing at each other briefly before turning their attention back to the distraught woman curling into herself in front of them.

Ressler thumbed through the file they had on her, the one that an agent had thoughtfully left on the table for them before they'd arrived. He flipped to the page where all members of her family – that they knew of – were listed and showed it to Meera, who nodded to say the information they had was, as far as they knew, correct. Ressler skimmed through the information once more, just to double check, before he pulled the relevant page out and placed it on the table in front of her, tapping his knuckles against the metal top to gain her attention.

"There's no record anywhere of you ever having a son," he said sharply, narrowing his eyes at her.

It took a good two minutes for Maria to calm down enough to string a sentence together. She lifted her head and flicked her eyes between the blown up image of Tom Keen, and the piece of paper with her personal information printed for the world to see. "Fifteen months ago, I found out I was pregnant after a one night stand with an ex of mine," she said, speaking lowly, but with a firm desperation for them to understand. "I hadn't seen Ricardo in years, not since I was a little girl, but he got in contact with me because Tom was due to start working at the same school as I do. He knew I was pregnant – I don't know how but he did. He threat-threatened to kill my baby before he was even born if I didn't agree to pass along a package every month, sometimes it could be more than that."

Ressler took a moment to really look at the still trembling woman. He was no profiler, and he usually left that to Liz, but that didn't mean he wasn't able to judge a person when needed. Maria Lopez was terrified, and her fear was genuine. Ressler had no idea why there was no records of her son, and he would come back to that line of questioning later, but right now he needed to get all the information on Tom as he could. He moved back to the corner.

"What was in the packages?"

"I don't know."

"Bullshit."

Maria flinched at Resslers raised voice. He knew it hadn't been necessary, but it did give him a genuine reaction from her. She began frantically shaking her head again, so much so he was surprised she wasn't complaining of feeling dizzy.

"I swear I don't know," she pleaded, tears building in her eyes once more. "They were never bigger than a small padded envelope – the kind you could fit a thumb drive in.

Ressler thought it most likely was a thumb drive being passed between the two, though what was actually on it was anyone's guess. The only thing Ressler felt he knew for certain was that it had to do with Reddington. He was pulled away from his thoughts by Meera asking the question he should have.

"What changed?"

"What -," Maria started but the words got caught in her throat. She flicked her gaze between the two of them again. "What do you mean?"

"There's no record of the son you claim to have. There's no record of you ever being pregnant – no record of there ever being a baby," Meera said calmly, keeping her face as neutral as she could. "What happened?"

"We can help you," Ressler said, moving to rest next to Meera, who remained seated. "But you have to be honest; we can't help you unless you help us."

Maria seemed to be considering his words. All was silent between the three of them for a few minutes, but Ressler knew they needed to give her time, regardless of how much he wanted to move the interrogation along. She finally seemed to come to a conclusion because she started to nod her head before taking a deep breath.

"About ten months ago, Tom missed an arranged meeting with me." She paused to give herself a moment to get her facts straight, before continuing. "They said at work that he'd been in some sort of attack – a home invasion gone wrong? When Ricardo heard. He wasn't happy, thought it was personal and he demanded I get the latest package to Tom no matter what. Tome was always with someone; his wife or a friend that came to take him to appointments while she was at work, but he was never alone. I managed to get it to him, but neither of them were happy. Ricardo decided to increase the amount of meetings; the stress attributed to my high blood pressure and I ended up being induced six weeks early."

Ressler felt for the woman, he truly did he briefly thought back to the anguish he himself had felt only a few weeks ago after learning Audrey had been carrying his child when she died. If he could feel like that having one; not known beforehand and two; not being the one to be physically carrying the threatened child, then he could only imagine what Maria had been feeling when the life of her unborn baby in jeopardy. It in no way excused what she had participated in, but he could start to understand why she had. He couldn't gage what Meera's thoughts were, but he was feeling sympathetic towards Maria Lopez. Ressler sighed and forced himself to keep his voice even.

"What did Ricardo do to your son, Maria?"

She turned to face him with wide eyes. "Noth- nothing."

Ressler frowned; she seemed to be telling the truth as far as he could tell. A quick glance at Meera told him she'd come to the same conclusion.

"But –," Meera started, but she was cut off by Maria.

"Raymond Reddington."

"Reddington?"

Ressler and Meera were stunned into silence by the unexpected revelation. Ressler abandoned his post in the corner of the room to take a seat next to Meera. He ran a hand through his hair and stared at the woman.

"Explain."

"He came to the hospital the day Carlos was born; turned up barely an hour after they'd finished doing all their checks. He was charming and sincere; turned up with flowers for me and a stuffed elephant for my son." She spoke lowly, but with far more confidence than she had been previously. "He said he could protect us both from Ricardo, but that I had to continue doing what I had been until I was no longer any use to my uncle, the only change being I had to report to him first. Today was the last time I was supposed to meet Tom, then we'd be able to leave with out new identities and enough money to start a new life comfortably away from here."

"Sounds like something he'd do," Ressler muttered to Meera, getting a nod in response. He turned his attention back to Maria. "He was the one to alter your records?

Maria nodded. "He said he would have all knowledge of my son removed and my medical records amended so there would be nothing to say I'd ever been pregnant. As far as I know, Ricardo still believes he can get to my son but if he went looking for him, he wouldn't be able to find a trace of him."

Ressler nodded while Meera made notes in Maria's file. "Where is your son?"

"Officially, he lives next door; under a different name and with one of Reddingtons people looking after him during the day. When I get home from work, I go to my apartment and through a door that was created in the hall closet." Maria twisted her hands in front of her, biting her lip and sniffing. "All my friends and family think I gave him up for adoption at birth."

Ressler had whipped his phone out the moment she'd mentioned where her son had been living, dialling Aram's number. "Aram, have agents dispatched to th3e apartment next to Maria Lopez's, have them brought in – their sons hers." Not giving Aram a chance to ask any questions, he ended the call and put his phone away again. "Was it another envelope you were supposed to hand over?"

Maria shook her head. "No, Tom was supposed to give me something, but he was late; he only showed up ten minutes before you did. Usually we stay together for around thirty minutes for the hand over and then we part ways."

"Damn."

"How do you communicate with Ricardo?" Meera asked, throwing her pen down and leaning forward, and resting her forearms on the table.

"I don't directly," Maria said, sniffing and swiping under her eyes with the back of her hands. She bit her lip and looked between Ressler and Meera. "The packages are always left with a note in my mailbox and I leave the one from Tom the same way exactly twenty-four hours later."

Ressler shared a glance with Meera, knowing that if they could find any evidence or trace of either Tom or the other Lopez, it was the step in the right direction for the investigation. It would mean they had something. They were broken from their silent conversation by a hesitant Maria.

"What's going to happen now?"

Ressler shook his head, pushing away from the table and standing up, the legs of the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "You deal with this; I need to speak to Aram."

Liz walked up to the café Mr Kaplan had suggested they meet. They'd agreed to meet an hour after Liz had called, the older woman refraining from asking many questions over the phone, but seemingly knowing exactly what Liz wanted. It was almost unnerving, but she was one of Reddingtons, so Liz decided to ignore it, knowing that she would have to if she wanted the help the woman could give. The journey to the café would've taken no longer than ten minutes, fifteen with traffic, had she have gone by car but instead took her close to fifty-five minutes on foot. The walk though, had given Liz the opportunity to think a lot more on her current situation. She battled with herself over whether disappearing for a while would be the best, or right, thing to do. One minute she was convincing herself that it was, that she needed to, and the next she was trying to talk herself out of it. No matter how many times she rerun the pros and cons in her head, calculated the risks and benefits, she always came back to the same conclusion – she had to leave.

Liz turned into the right street, crossing the road, and checking the numbers on the front of the buildings, coming to s stop halfway down the street. There were no lights on and no sign outside. Liz peered through the darkened windows before stepping back and checking the name and address. Confirming with the message Mr Kaplan had sent her that she had indeed gotten the right place, Liz peered through the window again, but there was no sign of life behind the glass and upon trying her luck with the door, she found it to be locked. She stepped back, contemplating calling the woman once more when there was sudden movement in the shadows of the café before there was a 'click' and the door suddenly swung open, though the doorway itself remained empty. Liz didn't draw her weapon, choosing to keep it holstered, but she did enter the building with caution, eyes darting in all directions and immediately scrutinising her surroundings for anything out of the ordinary. She moved slowly towards the back of the café, noticing the chairs upturned atop the tables and many of them carried layers upon layers of dust, as though they hadn't been used in years. It was strange.

A squat little woman with heavily lidden eyes and dark brown, almost black, hair littered with grey appeared behind her and Liz quickly deducted that she had been the one to let her in. Liz quickly glanced over her shoulder and found the door had once again been closed, no doubt locked, but somehow that didn't make her feel trapped. The squat woman side-stepped around her, gesturing her to follow. Liz gave a slight nod, but the woman had already turned away, leading her through an archway that led to the kitchen and to a door that she soon learned led to the basement. Liz peered down the stairs, noting the space below was illuminated by light. The woman nudged her forward, almost forcing her, pointing for her to go down the stairs. Liz descended with caution, glancing over her shoulder to the woman, who just nodded and backed away. Liz continued until she reached flat ground, eyes darting instantly around the space. She released a breath she hadn't realised she was holding at the sight of Mr Kaplan seated at a properly dressed table set for two, complete with a frilly cloth, platter of mini sandwiches and a teapot with steam coming from the spout.

"Hey," Liz said as Mr Kaplan gestured for her to sit and Liz did, removing her jacket and draping it over the back of the chair. "Thank you for meeting me."

"It's not a problem, Dearie," Mr Kaplan said, reaching over and tapping Liz lightly on the hand before pouring them both a drink and placing a few of the sandwiches on a plate and sliding them over to her. Liz thanked her but made no move to eat or drink. Mr Kaplan stared at her with sharp eyes and pursed lips. "What's Raymond done this time?"

Liz sighed and slumped back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. She had an inkling that the woman knew already exactly what was going on. "You already know." She felt as though she had no fight left in her, not right now. Liz rolled her eyes when the woman said nothing. "I know you do, so please don't insult my intelligence by pretending otherwise. I'm really not in the mood for it today."

Mr Kaplan finally, after what felt like hour to Liz, sighed and leaned back, shaking her head. "Raymond has only ever done what he believes is best for you."

Liz huffed, covering her face with her hands. "How is any of this what's best for me?" Liz shook her head. "This isn't what's best for me."

"No," Mr Kaplan agreed. "It isn't."

Liz looked up quickly, her eyes narrowing slightly at the woman before hers admission. She hadn't really expected her to be so open and against Reddington's decision to keep her in the dark about events of her life. Honestly… Liz wasn't entirely sure what she had been expecting.

"You don't agree with him?" Liz said slowly, wanting to clarify.

"No," Mr Kaplan said stiffly. "I do not."

"Then help me," Liz said almost desperately, just short of pleading to the woman. She leaned forward and braced her hands against the table. She knew Mr Kaplan had the capability to help her get away safely more than anyone else she knew. She also knew that Reddington would never expect one of his own to help her.

"You want to disappear."

It wasn't a question, but it was said so matter-of-factly that Liz knew the woman somewhat understood how she was feeling.

Liz nodded. "Am I that obvious?" she muttered, resigned slightly now that the idea had been said out loud. She looked Mr Kaplan directly in the eye, trying to convey everything she couldn't seem to in words.

Mr Kaplan said nothing, choosing instead to take a sip from her drink. Liz knew that the next words from Mr Kaplan spoke would solidify whether she would be helping her or not. They seemed to sit in silence for an age, Liz biting down so hard on her bottom lip in anticipation the skin split and she was left with the taste of copper in her mouth. Finally, the woman sighed, tapping her fingers against the table.

"It's what I would want to do."

The words were said so quietly Liz almost missed them. Her eyes widened slightly, and her mouth dropped open. She took the admission to mean Mr Kaplan would indeed help her. The feeling of an intense weight was lifted from her shoulders instantaneously. She had real and true options now on how to move forward. That was something she had not yet thought about. She hadn't allowed herself more than a brief, not well thought out, plan on how to go about it, having not truly expected the woman to agree so easily. She bit her lip again, wincing slightly when her teeth grazed the sensitive area.

"I need time to adjust, to get over everything. I need to be able to process everything I've learned in the last couple of days… everything I've been lied to about my whole life." Liz could feel tears start to pool but she willed them away. All she seemed to do recently is cry and she didn't want to anymore. She shook her head, giving the woman a humourless laugh. "I can't doing that with Reddington knowing where I am every damn second of the day. Knowing he's keeping tabs on me makes my skin crawl."

Mr Kaplan pursed her lips. "Are you truly prepared to leave everyone you know and love behind?"

Resslers face instantly popped up in her head. she got on well with her colleagues, would even go as far as call them friends, had a few people she kept in contact with from her time at Quantico and the New York field office. She mostly kept in contact with them through email or Facebook, very rarely meeting with them for dinner or drinks. Most of the people in her personal life she met through Tom, and she no longer knew if she could trust them to be real or just impersonators like him. Ressler was the one true constant in her life. Sure, they'd only known each other for less than a year, and only struck up a true rhythm of partners in the last couple of months but she honestly didn't know where she would be without him. She trusted him with her life, and she'd like to think he did the same. Maybe she would've somehow found out the truth and gotten answer for herself at some point but who knows how far down the line that would have been. He'd been in-tune to what she needed to know and gotten her those answers without her even having to ask. He'd been straight with her, told her everything he knew as soon as the information came through, he didn't sugar coat it, didn't lie to her, kept her in the loop because it was her life and she had the right to know. That was the kind of support she needed, wanted… he was the only one she was worried about leaving. She'd miss everyone at the Blacksite, but she knew they could easily go back to life without her. Ressler was different. The thought of leaving Ressler pained her, made her chest ache but… There was a part of her, a big part, that worried if she stayed too close to him, he would end up getting hurt and she didn't want that. Getting away would be better for her and better for him… she just had to keep convincing herself that was true.

"It's better for everyone."

Mr Kaplan regarded her closely, looking her directly in the eye. "You didn't answer my question."

Liz had to advert her eyes and look away. Mr Kaplan and her scrutinising look could see right through her. "Can you help me or not?"

"I can and I will," Mr Kaplan confirmed. Liz could tell the woman wasn't happy with her response, but she didn't push the matter and Liz didn't want to add that to the stress she was already under. Mr Kaplan sighed, drawing Liz's attention back to her. "Only because you'll never be safe if Raymond continues the way he does."

Liz nodded. "Thank you," she said softly, relieved the woman was still going to help her.

"Give me a week to set everything up, and if you still decide wholeheartedly that this is something you want to do then we'll move forward."

Liz agreed and thanked the woman once more, standing up and grabbing her jacket and moving to leave. As she flicked her hair from beneath her collar, Mr Kaplan caught her hand, gripping on to it tightly.

"Don't make this decision lightly, Elizabeth," Mr Kaplan said sharply, with more emotion in her voice than Liz had ever heard from the woman before. "You may live to regret it."

Liz swallowed thickly, saying nothing more as she nodded and made a swift exit. She climbed the stairs as quickly as she could and just short of bolted for the door. The squat woman who showed her in was waiting at the door to show her out. She ushered her out with words Liz thought may be German and all but slammed the door the moment she was over the threshold.

Liz glared at the door for no reason other than to make herself feel better. It didn't. She buttoned her jacket and dug her hands deep in her pockets. She hated that the last part of the talk with Mr Kaplan had given her more to think about. Deep own, Liz knew she'd have to think about the repercussions for everyone with her decision… she just hoped she'd have more time. She couldn't get the image of Resslers face out her head. He'd done, and was doing, so much for her. He's welcomed her into his apartment with open arms. He'd listened to her drawl through everything. He was working his ass off to get to the bottom of everything, doing his job and she was just going to up and leave? There was the possibility of telling him, of letting him in even more but… knowing Ressler as well as she did, she knew he would try to stop her. He'd use logic and tell her the Liz he knew wasn't a coward, that the Liz he knew would stand tall and fight. With all the lies… she didn't feel like that Liz anymore. She hoped the overwhelming sense of guilt she was feeling would dissipate.

She walked a few blocks from the café before hailing a cab and rattling off Resslers address to the driver. It rolled off her tongue like it was the most natural thing in the world, the familiarity making her doubt herself once more. She was unable to think about anything else and spent the entire journey agonising over it. Paying the man and making her way into the building, Liz decided she had to push it out of her mind and focus on something else or she was likely to drive herself crazy. She let herself into the apartment and allowed herself a small smile.

"Ress, you home?"

No answer. She didn't really expect him to be, given the time. She sighed and shook her head; she couldn't allow herself to think like that. no matter how safe she felt there, it wasn't hers. She hung up her jacket and kicked off her shoes, going to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. She pulled her phone from her pants pocket. She wasn't sure where to be disappointed or not that she had no missed calls her messages. She drank her beer slowly, standing right there in the kitchen leaning against the counter.

Given any normal day, she guessed Ressler wouldn't be back for a good couple of hours, which would give her time to wind down and relax. She grabbed herself another beer and moved to the sofa. She flicked the TV to a random movie channel and laid down, curled into the cushions. Liz closed her eyes, not expecting to actually fall asleep. She stayed curled in the fetal position until the buzzing of her phone woke her. Blinking to clear the sleep from her eyes, she checked the message only to notice a couple of hours had passed and Ressler would be home in thirty. She sent a reply and decided to jump in the shower quickly before he got there. She grabbed the sweats and sweater Ressler had been letting her sleep in from the bedroom, grabbed a towel and stripped out of that days clothes, adding them to her bag of dirty laundry. She threw her hair in a bun, not wanting to wash it tonight and retreated to the bathroom. Liz turned the shower to the highest heat, not letting the water completely heat before stepping in. she let the water loosen her stiff neck from napping on the couch. After scrubbing the day away, she shut off the water and jumped out, towelling off and changing into the sweats she'd laid on top of the toilet. She wiped the steam build up away from the mirror and stared at her reflection. She didn't like what she saw. She saw a shell of the woman she thought she was, a shell of the woman that had a steady job, a house, a husband… now she was standing in her friend's apartment wearing his clothes and her life in shreds around her. She sighed, bracing herself against the sink.

"Liz?"

Liz snapped her head up; Ressler was home.

"Bathroom," she called out.

She hung the towel she had used on the back door and headed towards the smell of food wafting through the door apartment. Her stomach rumbled – she didn't realise she was hungry until that moment. Ressler was in the kitchen, dishing take-out on to plates. As if sensing her behind him he nudged a plate across the counter.

"I have dinner."

"Great, I'm starv-." Liz cut herself off, having looked up and caught sight of Resslers face. "What the hell happened?"

"I'm fine," Ressler said quickly, turning back around but not before Liz saw hi wince.

"Fine my ass," Liz muttered, forcing Ressler to turn back and face her by tugging gently on his arm. "Did you even get herself checked out?"

She reached up and touched his cheek lightly, getting him to turn his head slightly so she could get better look at the bruising along his jaw. She trailed her thumb lightly, following the discolouration and tutting at him with a shake of her head. He turned his face back to her and noted the hastily applied butterfly stitch closing the cut on his lip. She knew the first aid kit in the car was stocked full of them, and knowing Ressler, he would have applied it himself. Liz gestured at his torso and he rolled his eyes, untucking his shirt and lifting it. Liz winced at the dark shadows along his ribcage, fist prints clearly showing. The tips of her fingers barely grazed his skin when he hissed and dropped the hem of his shirt. She raised an eyebrow and gave him a pointed look. He rolled his eyes at her.

"Don't start on me, Keen, I've already had it from Meera. What is it with you two trying to cart me off to the Docs? I've seen enough of them to know when I'm fine."

Liz snorted, just like him to play it off as nothing. "We do it because we love you." The air around them stilled slightly, Liz unable to look him in the eye. She bit her lip, waiting until one of them had to break the silence. A few seconds later Ressler chuckled softly to break the awkwardness settling between them. Liz sighed, waving a hand at him.

"Did you at least ice it?"

Ressler rolled his eyes at her again and gave her a pointed look. "Of course I did, I'm not a complete idiot."

Liz raised an eyebrow at him, smirking slightly. So you admit you're an idiot?"

"Shut it, Keen."

Liz laughed and grabbed their plates, taking them to the breakfast bar while Ressler grabbed them both drinks before joining her. Liz wanted to know what happened and knew Ressler would eventually tell her, so she decided to wait until after they had eaten to push the subject. They sat in comfortable silence, both enjoying the other's company, though Liz could tell Ressler was actively avoiding catching her eye every time he shifted in his seat to get comfortable. She finished eating and sat there watching him slowly make his way through the last of the food left on his plate. She raised an eyebrow at him when he finally caught her eye. He snorted and shook his head.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

It was said in jest, but Liz pulled her phone from the pocket of the sweats she was wearing and snapped a photo, catching him off guard with a smile tugging at his lips. She saved it and pocketed her phone with a laugh. He turned and smiled fully at her, only for it to fall and turn into a frown a moment later. He cleared his throat and pushed his empty plate away, clasping his hands in front of him, resting his chin on his fists.

"I had a run in with Tom."

Liz felt as though all the air had been sucked from her lungs, like she'd been sucker-punched in the gut. Whatever she expected him to say, this was not it. "Tom?" Ressler nodded. "You found him?"

"Not on purpose." Ressler sighed, shifting his whole body to face her. "We got a lead on Maria Lopez; Aram traced her to the airport and then he called when we were en-route to say Tom was there."

Liz stood abruptly, choosing to pace back and forth in front of him rather than sit still and listen. Ressler let her tread a pattern into his carpet, keeping silent. After a minute or two she rounded on him. "What happened?"

"He made us and took off. I followed and Meera detained Lopez. I don't know how, but he got to an unused hallway. We fought and he landed a good few punches." Liz noted the bitterness in his voice. She sighed, lightly gripping on to his shoulder before retaking her seat across from him. "I went down, and he got away. Aram couldn't find trace of him leaving. I'm sorry, Liz."

Liz shook her head. "It's not your fault." Liz gave a humourless laugh. "I'm sorry you got hurt because of-."

"If you finish that sentence, I'm gonna smack you."

Liz let out a surprised bark of laughter, her mood instantly lightening. She had not been expecting that from him. Ressler Grinned at her, apparently pleased with himself from momentarily distracting her enough to calm down and relax slightly. She appreciated it, loved that he was joking around to put her at ease. She still felt as though she should be responsible, and opened her mouth to say as such, only to stop when he challenged her with a look, a glint in his eye. She conceded with a good-natured roll of her eyes and shook her head at him. They sat there, just staring at each other, the air around them shifting slightly, not by much, but enough for them both to notice. Liz sighed, breaking the tension by tearing her eyes away from his.

"Tell me about Lopez; what did she have to say?"

Ressler nodded, shifting in his seat, and dove straight in with telling her about everything they'd discovered when interrogating Maria Lopez. He told her about the son no one knew she had. Liz raised an eyebrow at that, though she'd wait until after he'd finished before asking for clarification. Liz listened intently as he revealed that Lopez and Tom had not been having an affair like they'd initially believed but that she was, in fact, a runner between Tom and Uncle Ricardo. She had been mildly surprised at that (given they were related; it wasn't implausible that she was involved). What had shocked her though, was the revelation of Reddington's involvement. Liz swore through gritted teeth, making to stand and start pacing again but halted when Ressler laced his fingers through hers, she looked down at their intwined hands, trying to ignore the warmth spreading throughout her.

"So," she muttered, refusing to look up. "She's just another pawn in his giant chess game, one that's never gonna end."

Still feeling emotional from earlier in the day. Liz couldn't stop tears falling. She kept her head low, hoping Ressler wouldn't notice but, of course, he did. He barely muttered a quick 'come here' before he was standing and pulling her up with him. He cradled her to his chest, hissing when she pressed against his bruised ribs but refused to let her pull away. She melted into his touch, relishing in the comfort he offered. She didn't realise how much she needed it until she had it. It was going to make leaving so much harder.

She let the tears cascade down her cheeks as she thought over everything Ressler had just told her. Maria Lopez had been terrified for her unborn son's life, had wanted to keep him safe and helped her Uncle believing it to be the only way to do that. Maybe it was. She had no one to help her. Liz couldn't believe Reddington was involved was involved with her. With everything going on, she hadn't thought it possible for the puzzle to get any bigger, to become more complicated… as if it weren't already. She wondered briefly if it were Mr Kaplan that would have created Maria Lopez a new identity and give her the means to disappear… just like she was going to do for her. Liz swallowed down the guilt she was once again feeling.

"At least the boys safe," she murmured, her voice hoarse. She felt Ressler stiffen and pulled away to look at him. "What?"

"He wasn't there." Ressler let go of her – it was his turn to start pacing. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. "The team I had Aram dispatch to the apartment found everyone gone and the place cleared out – no sign it had ever been lived in."

Liz stood frozen; something wasn't right. It was too much of a coincidence that the day the FBI picks her up, the son there's no record of her ever having suddenly goes missing and the place he lived in returned to its pre-rented state. It must have been packed up and the boy moved the moment she was arrested. When Reddington's involved – everyone's monitored. She had a theory on who was behind the move, knowing the man, but she needed to know one thing first.

"What about Lopez?"

Liz's heart sank when Ressler gave a small shake of his head. "The truck we were transporting her out the Post Office in was ambushed – she's gone."

Liz swore, throwing herself into the chair she'd sat at to eat. She bit her lip, tilting her head. "Reddington?"

"It could have been," Ressler said with a shrug. "It seemed a little messy; he's definitely pulled off cleaner ones. He Uncle may have gotten to her, but we've got nothing to prove or disprove those theories. I'm almost certain Reddington had the boy moved though."

Liz nodded her agreement. "I guess that's just another thing to add to the list of things I want to ask him tomorrow."