24 years old

Lizzie unlocked the door to her place and as she set her keys in their usual bowl on the hallway table, she noticed the lights were on. She hadn't turned the lights on. Spinning around, she let out a quiet gasp as she saw a figure sitting on the couch with their back to her. Taking a moment to breathe, she realized the person was wearing a fedora.

"Dad? What the hell are you doing here? You scared the hell out of me!"

Red stood up from the couch and turned to face her, grinning. Walking towards her, his arms open wide, he chuckled.

"Lizzie! It's so good to see you! Can't a father visit his daughter whenever he can?"

Red enfolded her in a strong hug before releasing her, guiding her to her own damn living room with a hand on the small of her back as if he owned the place. Well, okay, he owned part of it. Sort of. He was helping with the rent a bit. She and her boyfriend couldn't have afforded it on their own. And Red couldn't take no for an answer so she had finally caved and let him find her a cute little brownstone. She couldn't say that she regretted it. The place was amazing. Even if she had to fib to her boyfriend about the actual cost of the place. She was only glad that he wasn't there. She had strict no-meeting-the-boyfriend rules for Red to abide by.

"Not when it's midnight and she just got home from work and without giving fair warning. Wait – how do you have a key? I didn't give you a key."

Red waved her off, sitting back down on the couch and patting the cushion next to him in invitation.

"Bottom line, I've missed you Lizzie."

Just as Lizzie was about to give a retort, Dembe came out of her kitchen with the tub of ice cream she'd been saving for a dire situation.

"That's my Rocky Road!" She yelled, affronted. Dembe merely swallowed the rather large spoonful he'd taken and sat in the chair across from Red.

"You're such an ass." Lizzie mumbled, throwing herself onto her couch and causing it to bounce. She tried to hold back the giggle at the image of the great Raymond Reddington being thrown off balance by a bouncing couch cushion, really she did.

"Anyway, how was your day Lizzie?" Red ignored her giggling and resettled himself on the couch, bringing his knee up onto the cushion and turning so he faced her.

"Well, I talked down a suicide bomber and then my Dad showed up at my house unannounced so I'd say it's been pretty peachy." She was leaking with sarcasm.

Red's only answer for a few moments was to grind his teeth.

"And exactly how close were you to this suicide bomber when you 'talked them down?'"

Lizzie snorted indignantly. "Well, it's not like I could talk him down with a bull horn, Dad."

There goes his twitchy cheek. "Are you sure this is the career for you Lizzie? I'm sure we could get you set up with a nice… normal psychology practice. We'll get you a lovely office building—"

"Dad. No, stop. I'm fine."

"Yes, but what if one day, you're not."

Lizzie placed her hand on his where it sat on the back of the couch and squeezed in comfort.

"I'll be fine. I promise. Besides, I could say the same to you."

Red merely pursed his lips. They both turned to look at Dembe as they heard him laugh around a spoonful. The last spoonful.

"You finished it?"

"What the hell is so funny?"

They had both yelled at the same time, causing Dembe to laugh more.

He pointed the spoon at Lizzie. "Yes." He pointed at Red with the spoon. "She's got you there."

"You owe me a new one, jerk."

Dembe grinned and shook his head.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

25 years old

"Dad, listen, now's not a great time."

"Is that any way to answer the phone when your father calls? Honestly, Lizzie, it's like you—"

"It's really not a good time right now." She sounded anxious which caused Red to sit up in his seat in the back of the car of the week.

"What's wrong, Sweetheart?"

"Nothing."

"Are you in trouble? Is it something at work? Are you in the middle of catching one of my compatriots?"

"Ha. Very funny, Dad. And no. I'm not. And can you cool it with talking about that sort of thing over the phone?" Red could hear a door slam shut on the other end and waited patiently. "If you must know, I'm at the precinct."

"Ah I see. You're uncomfortable talking to your criminal father while surrounded by a bunch of police officers, am I right?" Red couldn't stop the pang of hurt that began to emanate from his chest though he knew that, logically, it truly was a bad place for them to chat.

"I mean… yea, Dad." Lizzie sighed before continuing in a whisper. "Your face hangs on the wall here. It's… I have to compartmentalize, Dad. I have to keep you totally separate from my job and I have to keep you separate from what you do." There was a pause and Red could easily imagine her putting to good use her nervous ticks – the way she rubs her scar and worries her bottom lip. "Please understand, Dad. I love you. But I hate what you do."

Red crossed his legs, then uncrossed them, fidgeted in his seat, and then cleared his throat.

"I do, Lizzie. Trust me, Sweetheart, I do." After all, he hated himself most days. "Text me when you get home so I know it's safe to call, okay?"

"Yea, sure. Oh! I have something to tell you!"

"Oh?"

"Yea, but it can wait until later. I shouldn't get home too late tonight. Not that it matters to you – not sure what time zone you're in but I doubt you'll be sleeping. You never are."

They quickly said their goodbyes and hung up.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Not even a full second passed from the time she sent the text off to him to when her phone was ringing. Rolling her eyes, she clicked 'answer.'

"Hey Da—" She cut herself off with a yawn, making him laugh on the other end.

"Sorry, long day."

"It's okay Lizzie. Was it a bad one?"

"It could have been. But we ended it peacefully."

"Good. You know, I'm so proud of you. It seems anytime Sam and I talk, it's just to boast back and forth about your accomplishments."

Lizzie blushed as she toed her shoes off and flopped onto her couch.

"Thanks, Dad." She mumbled.

"Anyway, you mentioned having something to tell me…"

"Oh uh yea." Lizzie looked down at her left hand. "I'm engaged." She stated simply, turning the ring around on her finger.

She was met with silence.

"Dad?" Lizzie heard him exhale deeply then the faint clink as he set – what she assumed to be – his glass of scotch down on a table.

"Do I finally get to know his name, since he's apparently going to be my—" Red interrupted himself with a groan. "Oh dear god – my son-in-law?"

Lizzie giggled at her father's apparent alarm.

Red had gone out of his way to abide by Lizzie's boyfriend rules, even telling Dembe to omit their name and picture from any of the surveillance reports given to them by her watcher. So Dembe dutifully edited the reports before handing them off to Red and faithfully never told him the man's name.

"Yea, I guess you've earned some details. His name is Nick and uh… he's a surgical resident."

"Well Lizzie, you do pretty well for yourself."

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks Dad."

"No but really, Sweetheart. I'm happy for you. I will pay for everything, of course."

"Dad —"

"Lizzie, I insist."

"Dad, you can't. I uh, I told him I want to elope. We're just saving up for the honeymoon."

"Why would you do that, Lizzie? That's nonsense! You deserve—"

"You couldn't come, Dad. My friends from work would be there… it'd be too risky. I don't want a big huge wedding if I can't have you there to walk me down the aisle." Lizzie had tried to keep the tears at bay as she spoke but could feel them sliding down her cheeks. Her body was quick to betray her with a small sniffle too.

"Oh Lizzie." His heartbroken voice made her choke on a sob.

"It's okay, Dad. Really."

"No, Sweetheart. It's not okay." His voice sounded suspiciously watery. "It's not okay at all. I want to give you everything you ever wanted. I'm so sorry I'm the reason you can't have this."

"Dad, I came to terms with it a long time ago. Having you for a Dad has put a lot of limits on things for me that other people take for granted. Like talking to their dad openly at work, going on family vacations, or having him walk me down the aisle. It is okay, Dad." Lizzie laid back on the couch, covering herself with the fuzzy throw. "Because I could never ask for a better Dad."

There was a definite wetness to his laugh and she could hear a slight sniffle over the phone.

"Not even Sam?"

"He's my Pop. That's completely different. You're both completely irreplaceable."

"I love you, Lizzie."

"I love you too, Dad."

"At least let me pay for your honeymoon?"

Lizzie snorted. "We can discuss it later." The man just could not let some things go.