Hey Guys! Your reviews have been AMAZING! I'm so happy ya'll like it! I love you all!

Some of you said that it's like watching the show again but from a different perspective – with subtle differences. Which is awesome, because that's what I was hoping to do…but the differences are going to become less and less subtle and the time line on certain…events will be accelerating. A lot.


"You're going to have to play house, Lizzie."

Lizzie stared at her dad in growing horror as she realized the implications of what he was saying. "I can't. Please, don't ask me to do this."

Red sucked his teeth, looking away as the corners of his eyes pinched in guilt. "I'm sorry Lizzie, I must. Until we find out what his end game is –what his employer's end game is, we have to keep him close."

"Keep your friends close – "

"And your enemies closer, yes." Red finished the phrase for her.

Lizzie looked away, sitting back down on the couch and resting her head against the back of the couch, unwilling to look at her dad as she felt the familiar sting of her eyes filling with tears. "Dad –"

Red sighed as he sat down beside her. "You'll also have to hate me for a little while as well. Shouldn't be too difficult for you, just draw on your teenage years. Our relationship was rather angsty then. Should be no problem at all for you." Red cut over her, unable to bear the thought of exactly what he was asking her to do, asking her to continue her fake marriage.

"What? Why?"

"Because as far as the F.B.I. knows, I just attempted to frame your husband and turn you against him." Red took a sip of the terrible alcoholic concoction of Hemstead's, laying his arm across the back of the couch. "Now, me being me, my world view may be a bit eschewed, however I don't believe that most people would find that a very forgivable thing for one person to do to another."

Despite the tears slowly rolling down her face, Lizzie snorted softly in amusement.

Red smiled at her, proud that he was still able to put a smile on her face.

"If we're in the Post Office or either of us are near one of your little F.B.I. friends, we must assume we're being overheard."

/\/\/\/\/\

"What is this?"

Lizzie turned around from where she sat, her legs folded beneath her on a dining room chair. She had been gazing at paint samples and now held them up to show to Tom.

"Café au lait unless you like the dark nut better. But don't decide yet."

"I'm sorry. Let's start over. Why is our dining room no longer dine-able?" Tom chuckled, looking around at the dining room which had apparently been turned into the show room of a Home Depot.

"We're remodeling." Lizzie threw him a smile before looking back at the paint samples. If she was going to play house, she damn well better get a new one.

It also may help that Dembe aided her in stealing one of her father's pre-paid credit cards. She may have forgiven him but that doesn't mean he didn't owe her big time. Daddy dearest was going to foot the bill for this one.

"Clearly, and we're doing it at 7:00 a.m." Tom smirked at her, glancing down at his watch.

"Well, the guy at the hardware store said to hang the samples in the morning so that you can see what they look like throughout the day. What do you think?"

"I like this one." Tom pointed to one of the swatches she already had hanging on the wall.

"Grandma's Pumpkins?"

"Grandma's what?" He snorted.

"I know it's ridiculous." Lizzie laughed as she hugged him from behind before climbing on his back. Was she laying it on too thick? She hoped she wasn't laying it on too thick. "Oh, I'm just so sick of this room." She murmured, kissing his cheek and refraining from making a face at the scratchiness of his beard. She'd never really liked that feeling.

"Why? I like this room."

"It's not the room. It's just that someone invaded our lives, our house. They put that stupid box in the floor."

"It doesn't matter anymore." Tom wrapped his arms around her as she hopped off him and stood in front of him.

"They made me believe you were a monster." Lizzie wrapped her arms around his neck, moving closer to him. "I doubted you. I doubted us."

"Yeah, we're past it." Tom rested his head on her shoulder and she kissed his ear. "We're gonna be fine. And I don't think that we need to destroy the dining room. I think that we just need –"

" – to move?" Lizzie asked excitedly. Knowing her dad, the amount that was probably on that card could totally cover the cost of a mid-priced home in D.C.

"I was gonna say we need time, but, uh, it's good to know where your head's at." He chuckled, scratching at his beard.

Lizzie's phone began to ring. She quickly walked over to the kitchen counter and grabbed it.

"Keen."

"Turn on the TV." Ressler's voice came through the earpiece.

"Babe, can you turn the TV on?" Lizzie said to Tom who quickly nodded and grabbed the remote.

"Which channel?" Lizzie aimed the question at her phone.

"Any channel."

Tom clicked the TV on and a newscaster could immediately be heard:

"This is the scene at D.C.'s Red Line Station. Details are still sketchy, but rescue teams and emergency personnel are arriving on the –"

/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie stood in the war room with the rest of the team, trying to collate information on what had happened when she noticed a tech walking up to them and standing awkwardly, waiting to be addressed. She quickly nodded her head to him to let him know she was listening.

"Excuse me. We've got a caller into the tip line. The person claims they can I.D. our suspect."

Lizzie made a grabbing motion and the man quickly handed over the phone he'd been holding.

"This is Special Agent Keen."

"Agent Keen, I have a tip. You're a winter, not an autumn. Stop wearing olive."

Of course it was. Who could it be other than her father. "You know, I don't have time for this."

"You're not the one who had to listen to that God–awful hold music for 7 minutes, which wouldn't have been necessary if you'd take my calls." Red interrupted himself, clearly talking to someone he was with. "It's a little snug. Don't you think, Martin?"

Oh dear lord, her father was at his tailor's, getting fitted for another one of his glamorous suits.

"You know, as much as I love our little talks, you're holding up a line for people that might have actual information."

"This isn't a social call. I can identify the man you're looking for, Lizzie."

"Okay. Who is he?"

"Phones are so impersonal. Why don't we meet for show and tell in 30 minutes? Dembe will forward you a location. If you care to hear me out, wonderful. Otherwise, good luck with your case."

He was clearly enjoying pretending to be having a tiff with her a little too much.

/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie felt that the old run-down tailor's that she was currently in said a lot about her father – nothing she didn't know, of course, but it still spoke volumes. He was comfortable in any environment – whether it was a slum or a five-star hotel. He loved fancy suits but knew that quality didn't necessarily match the price tag. He'd rather get a delicious dumpling from Chinatown than an expensive five course meal that still left him hungry afterwards.

Lizzie stood next to her brother as they watched her dad pick out fabrics.

"The man you're looking for is named Frederick Barnes, a former defense research scientist out of ARPAX Systems in Annapolis." Red looked at the tailor, Martin, and pointed to a navy fabric with light grey pinstripes and nodded. "You may not be familiar with his name, but you're likely familiar with his work in biochemical agents such as cytochlorin, black phosphorus, paratoxin. Barnes headed the project team that developed all of them. But he was more than just a research scientist. He was gifted, a savant of government–sanctioned mass killing."

"What do you mean, 'was?'"

"Five years ago, the man quit his job, sold his house, and entered the free market. Started selling his creations to the highest bidder autocrats, terrorists, me."

"Betraying your country and auctioning off its secrets. Where have I heard that before?" Again, she forgave him, that didn't mean she forgot.

Red let out an unpleasant laugh that sent shivers down Lizzie's spine. "You want to compare him to me? Be my guest. I'm perfectly comfortable with what I am. But, please, make no mistake – Frederick Barnes is a very special animal, one with the tools and know-how to kill thousands and thousands of people all at once. What he's lacked until now has been the desire."

Lizzie swallowed, realizing she may have gone a bit far that time. She leaned closer to him, acting as if she was inspecting the fabrics, discretely placing her hand in his and squeezing, hoping he got the message. I'm sorry. "So, what's changed?"

Red squeezed back. Apology accepted. Neither let go of the other's hand. "Well, that's the question. Barnes has always operated with a certain level of detachment – always the designer, the seller, never the delivery agent of his own weapons. But if Barnes is now willing to use his work to kill indiscriminately, then he is, quite literally, the most dangerous man in the world."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie and Ressler had just gotten back to the post office after speaking with Dr. Buckner – the doctor in charge of investigating the attacks and the outbreaks of Kurz. She had told them that Barnes was using Stronium 90 – a radioactive isotope – to deliver the pathogen.

Lizzie, Ressler, and Meera all stood, crowded into Cooper's office while Cooper sat behind his desk and Red sat in front of it, his legs crossed with his fedora resting jauntily on his knee.

"Strontium 90 isn't something you can just pick up at your local piggly wiggly. It's a waste by–product of nuclear reactors: toxic, highly regulated. There's only a handful of people in the world who can procure it in sizable quantities."

"Let me guess you happen to know one of them." Ressler asked, as usual, unable to - or maybe just unwilling to mask his utter disdain as he spoke to Red.

"Actually, I happen to know three of them the first of whom was apprehended by Russian authorities last month, the second, vaporized by a drone in Quetta, courtesy of your colleagues in the five–sided foxhole." Red looked passively at Ressler as he spoke.

"And the third?" Meera questioned.

"Is likely Barnes' supplier."

"Cut to it – I want a name."

Red rolled his eyes at Cooper's misplaced expectation that he could order him around. "I'm afraid it wouldn't do you any good. The FBI has no jurisdiction where he operates. In any case, I've already set a meeting with him for this afternoon."

"And what makes you think he knows how to find Barnes?" Lizzie asked quickly, recognizing the warning signs of Cooper about to blow his top off.

"He knows how to get paid by him. That should be sufficient."

"And he's just gonna willingly hand over this information?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there, Donald. Look, we're wasting precious time. You want to catch a mass murderer before he strikes again, and for that to happen, I need to catch a plane." Red stood up as he spoke and left the office, Lizzie quickly following after him as he headed towards the elevator.

Red slowed his gait to let her catch up to him and gave her a small nod. That's my que.

"You should come, Lizzie. We could have a therapy session on the way, talk out our problems. Have you ever been to Cuba?"

"I'm sorry. All my tropical wear's in the wash." Lizzie murmured sarcastically as they stood waiting for the elevator to arrive.

"You'd look positively radiant in a Guayabera dress. I know a little shop in Reston. We could stop before our flight."

"There is no 'our flight.'" She muttered angrily as she walked into the elevator, jamming her finger at the correct button.

"You have something more pressing than finding your suspect?"

"Actually, I was able to track down Barnes' old research partner, so I'm hoping she can fill in some of the missing pieces."

"So, I guess you're on your own." Red nodded his head and an awkward moment of silence invaded the elevator. "I'm sorry you're upset with me."

God he was good. He was a master at lying as close to the truth as possible. They'd been over this, they had to act as if he had tried to frame Tom. That didn't mean he wasn't genuinely sorry about something else – mainly hiring Tom in the first place.

"That would imply I care enough to be angry." She was going to have to apologize later for that one. Maybe she'll stop at that millinery shop he loved so much and buy him a new fedora – something to match the new suit.

"I might do the same in your position. It's easier to blame me for framing your husband than face the truth of what he is."

Well, she'd already been there and done that hadn't she? It's easier to believe your father than your husband. Especially when you find a box full of passports with said husband's face on them.

"Tom teaches 4th grade. He's overworked and underpaid and still wakes up every morning with a smile on his face. You know why? Because he knows nothing of the terrible world you and I live in. End of story."

"Oh, that's not the end of the story. I'm confident you'll come to see that. But in the meantime, we need to find a way to move past this. Because for me, there's just no fun in it unless you're there. And if there's no fun to be had, I'm not interested."

Lizzie rolled her eyes at her father's back as he exited the elevator before her. They walk down the fire escape exit of the Post Office and Dembe is waiting for them at the bottom, their car idling in the alley.

Lizzie quickly waved goodbye to Dembe as she crossed the street to one of the fleet SUV's. Because what's less conspicuous than several black SUV's parked outside of a supposedly empty warehouse?

/\/\/\

"We should probably get going if you want to make Havana by noon." Dembe murmured to Red as he stood there, watching Lizzie leave as he ground his teeth slightly.

After a moment, Red finally nodded his head before sliding into the car. Dembe quickly closed the door behind him before climbing into the driver's seat.

Red slouched down and laid his head on Luli's shoulder where she sat next to him in the backseat. "Quick, say something nice to me. It's been a dreadful morning."

She gave one of her small smiles. "Would good news suffice? You wanted to know if it ever went on the market?"

Red Sat up, immediately knowing what she was referring to and took the leather portfolio she held, looking over the paperwork. "Is it really for sale – ?"

"I take that to mean you'd like me to move forward with the purchase?"

"Hmm. Perhaps this day can be salvaged after all." Red murmured before nodding decisively.

/\/\/\/\/\

Liz and Ressler left Mr and Mrs Forresters' home having found out that their son, Ethan, has Kurz and is actually Frederick Barnes' son.

"That's why Barnes is killing. He wants to infect enough people with Kurz disease that it gets on the public's radar." Lizzie said as they walked to their car.

"Why?"

"Because then it can't be ignored anymore. The more people that die, the more attention the disease gets." She said earnestly, trying to make Ressler understand.

"And the more profitable it will be to invest research dollars. Putting aside how insane this sounds, if you're right, Barnes is just getting started."

/\/\/\/\/\

Dembe sat in the car outside Manny Soto's base of operations in Cuba while Red spoke to the man about his recent sell of Stronium 90. He typed away at the laptop sitting next to him in the bucket seat of the old car, prepping the tracer for when Red was ready.

"Bueno." Dembe quietly answers his phone.

"I've secured the funds on the purchase. I'm ready to proceed on Red's word." Luli's voice came over the line.

Dembe smiled softly, knowing how badly Raymond needed this. "Good. I'll let him know once he's done with Soto."

/\/\/\/\

A little while later, Red slid into the backseat of the car.

"Did he take the bait?" Dembe questioned, looking at Red through the rear view mirror.

"Like a trout to a butterworm. He should be calling Barnes any minute."

Barely a moment later, a phone number begins scrawling across the laptop screen set next to Dembe.

"Call's going through now." Dembe's voice softly rumbled.

"Good, run the trace."

/\/\/\/\/\

"What do you need?" Lizzie balanced her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she rummaged through some files on her desk.

"A bottle of beer and a pork sandwich. How about you? What do you need? How about Barnes' location?" Red asked as he lounged back in the supple leather seats of their current car as he and Dembe headed back to the airport.

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie chased after Barnes, trying to push her way through the crowd of people rushing towards the doors to get out of the courthouse, yelling with futility for the people around her to move out of the way, for Barnes to stop. Just as she gets close to him, Barnes wrestles a gun out of a security guard's holster and holds it to the poor man's head, backing out of the entrance to the courthouse and into the bright sunshine.

"I'm only gonna say this once: drop the gun." Lizzie hoped her voice didn't tremble as much as her hands were as she attempted to aim her gun at Barnes.

/\/\/\/\

"Either you accidentally dialed the wrong number. Or you're calling because you've hit a dead end. So, which is it?" Red answered his phone as he sipped a beer, looking out the window of his jet.

"Barnes got away, and the trail's dried up." Lizzie murmured, sitting on the steps in one of the numerous hallways of the Post Office she had sought out in hopes of some modicum of privacy.

Red chuckled with disdain. "You g-men are top shelf. Let me guess. Ressler slipped on a banana peel?"

"Do you know how to find him?"

"I'm not a gumball machine, Lizzie. You don't get to just twist the handle whenever you want a treat. We can't keep doing this little waltz."

Lizzie stared at her phone, wracking her brain to remember the last time that he had hung up on her. Never. He had never hung up on her. God, he really knew how to sell a story.

She called him back.

"Don't hang up." Some of her anguish apparently leaked out as there was a small pause before Red spoke again.

"I'm listening."

"The reason Barnes is still out there is because I let him slip away. I couldn't take the shot and I…I couldn't take the shot. It's only a matter of time before he kills again and when he does, that will be on me. So, please, I need your help."

There was another moment of silence before she heard him sigh tiredly in her ear. "I saw in the coverage there was a survivor from the Arlington attack. You should assume Barnes knows that, as well."

"Which means what?"

"Has he been to see her yet?"

"Uh, no." It was said as more of a question as Lizzie couldn't figure out where he was going with this.

"Are you sure?"

"Why would he?"

"Barnes may be a scientist, but he's also a killer. And in that line of work, a survivor is considered unfinished business."

/\/\/\/\/\

Red is leaning against a black Mercedes as Lizzie walks out of Mr. and Mrs. Forrester's home which was now currently a crime scene – as can be attested to by the many FBI SUV's, cop cars, and ambulance.

"What are you doing here?" Lizzie asked as she walked over to him.

"I brought you a souvenir. What's your feeling about guava?" Red asked, holding out a paper bag.

"Anxiety." She deadpanned.

Red chortled merrily as he handed her the bag. "Oh, you're in for a treat. I take it from the coroner's van that Barnes is no longer with us. Pity."

Lizzie looked up at her father, disbelieving. "Tell that to the families of the people he murdered."

"Every cause has more than one effect, Lizzie. Say what you will about Frederick, but someone who's willing to burn the world down to protect the one person they care about – That's a man I understand."

Lizzie stared at her father in equal parts horror and wonder. To know that he loved her so much was both frightening and…powerful. No wonder she had such a shit track record with men. Who the hell could compare to that? Man, did she need to see a shrink.

As Red kept glancing from her to the fleet of cars parked on the Forresters' lawn, Lizzie assumed she'd been quiet for a bit too long. Oh, right…they had to play their parts.

"Is that supposed to be directed at me?" Lizzie was rather proud of how quickly she'd been able to flip the switch in her head to spew her words venomously. If all else failed, she could probably do well in Hollywood.

Red let out a bark of a laugh. "Aren't you presumptuous?"

"Is that how you somehow justify your actions, by some misguided notion of protecting me? From whom? My husband, I suppose. I don't need your protection."

Red bit the inside of his cheek. "Maybe not."

Lizzie sighed, glancing away into the near distance before looking back at Red. "But I do need you to do this job. I've accepted that. And believe it or not, I appreciate what you do for the bureau. And at work, you and I are partners. But that's where this relationship needs to end at work. I don't want you in my personal life. I don't know how to make that clear."

"You know the problem with drawing lines in the sand?" Red smirked and waved his hand in the air gently. "With a breath of air, they disappear. You may not like me. You may not understand how or why I do what I do. But I'm here because you want answers to questions you haven't even thought of yet. Now, if that doesn't matter to you, the solution is simple I get in this car and I disappear."

"You have a deal with the government. You have a tracking device in your neck."

"You don't believe Raymond Reddington could cease to exist in 60 seconds? I offer that particular package to clients."

"You're offering to walk away?" True panic began to leak into her voice. He wouldn't actually end this for the sake of keeping "in- character" would he?

"I'm not going to beg you to allow me the privilege of helping you. So, say the word, and I'm gone. Tell me to go, Lizzie…" Lizzie opened and closed her mouth, frozen, unable to speak. "Then I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

Well, she guessed, it seemed as though they were no longer fighting.

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie was able to go home at a surprisingly decent hour that night – Cooper having let them leave the paperwork until tomorrow. As she hung up her coat and threw her keys on the table, she walked down the hallway only to stop when she noticed Tom, sitting on the floor of the dining room with nothing but a lamp sitting next to him as he ate Chinese food.

"What is this?" Lizzie asked, looking around.

"We're remodeling." Tom stated as if it was obvious which…okay, it was.

"Clearly." She snorted as she sat down next to him on the floor and grabbed one of the containers of food.

"Long day?"

"You have no idea." Lizzie groaned, resting her head on his shoulder. It was getting more exhausting by the second. She was so tired of pretending.

"It's killing you, isn't it?" Tom huffed good naturedly.

"Did you really get rid of all our stuff?" Lizzie asked, lifting her head to look at their now barren dining room.

"Do you seriously not remember?"

"What?" God, not this again. Not the 'does-Lizzie-remember-some-obscure-date-or-moment' game. He was such a girl sometimes.

"Wow, okay. It was Friday night. We'd just driven in from Rochester and picked up the keys to this place, but our furniture wasn't coming until Sunday. So, we drove to the store, and we got Ike."

"Oh, yeah, the lamp." Lizzie laughed, feebly pointing at the lamp that sat next to Tom. Ok, yes, it was a rather good memory.

"Remember, that 'a' was scratched off the finish? Poor guy was in the clearance bin."

"And on the way back, we stopped at that little Chinese place and got takeout. That was our first night in this place."

"Yeah. That's all we had." She said, smiling over at him.

"It's all we ever needed. Just you, me, and Ike."

And then he was staring at her with those damn eyes and he was her husband and she had to play house.

Tom leaned forward and kissed her softly.

As the kiss became more heated and Lizzie swung her leg over to sit on his lap, her stomach roiled.

/\/\/\/\

Later that night, Lizzie flushed the toilet in their en suite bathroom and wiped her mouth with a towel, not bothering to wipe the tear tracks. They were a lost cause as her eyes just wouldn't stop leaking. Opening the door to the bathroom, Lizzie quickly tiptoed into their bedroom. Making a bee line for her bed side table, Lizzie grabbed her cell phone and went downstairs.

In the kitchen, Lizzie leaned against the counter and dialed. Unable to hold herself up any longer as her strength left her, she slid to the floor.

As soon as she heard Dembe's voice, she choked on a sob.

"Elizabeth?"

She couldn't breathe.

"Elizabeth? What is wrong?"

Lizzie tried to speak, really she did. But all that came out was another sob before she began to cough, choking on the sudden over abundance of saliva and snot.

"Elizabeth? Hold on, I will get Raymond. We will be there s—"

"No!" She cried out, finally finding her voice at the idea of her dad coming to the rescue on this one. "No. Just…I really need my big brother." Lizzie choked out.

There was a minute of silence where Lizzie began to wonder if he was going to refuse.

"Okay, alright Elizabeth. Meet me at the park on 25th and Broad Street. Can you do that?"

"Yea.." Lizzie cleared her throat, standing up. "Yes."

They hung up soon after and Lizzie wiped her face. She could do this. She could hold it together for the next 10 minutes.

Hurrying up the stairs, Lizzie walked into the bedroom she shared with Tom.

"Babe? Everything alright?"

Pausing mid stride, Lizzie winced at the sound of Tom's sleepy mumble, she nodded her head even though he probably couldn't see it without his glasses and well, because it was dark.

"Yea, I just got called back in. Go to sleep."

Lizzie whispered, hoping he didn't notice that she had just grabbed jeans and one of her oversized sweaters out of her dresser before hurrying out of their room. She could get changed in the living room.

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie pulled into the small parking lot for the park and sighed at the sight of Dembe's car. As she parked and turned off her lights, she saw Dembe climb out and head towards a bench. She soon followed after him, shoving her keys into her purse as she choked, her sobs renewing with vigor. She was proud of herself. She'd made it a whole 15 minutes.

Lizzie walked quickly over to Dembe where he had stood once more from the bench once he noticed how distraught she still was.

"Elizabeth?"

Lizzie nearly head butted his chest, unwilling to slow down as she dived into him, wrapping her arms around his abdomen and holding on with all her strength, her tears flowing freely as she cried into his shoulder. Her strength seemed to fail her as the weight of what had just happened seemed to slam into her.

Dembe held onto her as he felt her going slack, quickly guiding her to sit down on the bench.

"Please Elizabeth, what is wrong?"

Lizzie shook her head, unable to answer through her tears.

"Elizabeth, what has happened? Is it Tom? Did he do something?"

She could only nod.

"Has he hurt you?"

Lizzie froze, unsure how to respond. Did he hurt her? Had she done this to herself? She didn't know, everything was just so jumbled.

"I will kill him." Dembe spat vehemently, having taken her silence as answer enough.

Shocked into action by the anger in Dembe's usually placid voice, Lizzie shook her head.

"No, Dembe. It…I don't know."

"You must explain to me Elizabeth. What happened." It was no longer a question.

"I had to play house." Her voice was pathetic, even to her ears. "I got home and he had gotten Chinese and removed all of the furniture… tried to recreate our first night at our house." Lizzie gulped air. "And then he…we…" Lizzie leaned over to the other side of the bench and vomited, sobbing as the acidic taste invaded her mouth once more.

"I can't do this, Dembe. I can't!"

"Shh, calm Elizabeth. Do not fret." He murmured as he held her hair back for her, just in case. "You will come stay with us tonight. You cannot go back there."

Lizzie nodded pathetically, allowing him to pull her to a standing position once it was clear she wasn't at risk of throwing up again.

"But what about Dad?" She questioned as he led her to his car, one hand around her shoulders and the other holding onto her hand.

"We will talk to him. Do not worry. Everything will be alright."

"It doesn't feel like it." She murmured as he helped her into the passenger seat of his car.

"Have Raymond and I ever failed at making it better?"

Lizzie looked over at him and smiled bitterly. "Well, there was that one time you hired a spy to watch me and then he betrayed you and married me, literally causing me to sleep with the enemy."

Dembe winced, realizing he really rather put his foot in it on that one.

/\/\/\/\/\

"Lizzie?"

She looked up at the sound of her Dad's concern as she and Dembe walked into their hotel room. Of course he was up, the man never slept. She had been hoping he'd be asleep and this could wait until morning. But apparently she looked as good as she felt and he walked towards her, his arms outstretched.

Lizzie's bottom lip trembled and she offered no resistance as her dad pulled her into a tight hug.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

Lizzie shook her head against Red's shoulder.

"Darling, if I don't know, I can't make it better."

A sob escaped her as he led her over to the couch.

"Please, Lizzie. You're frightening me." Red sighed, running his fingers through her hair as she cuddled into his side. Realizing he would get no answers from Lizzie, Red looked up at Dembe.

"She went home to her husband, Raymond."

"So? That's perfectly nor—oh Christ." Red brought both arms around Lizzie and squeezed her to him. "I'm so sorry, Lizzie. I didn't…you don't have to go back there. You'll stay with us. Don't worry, Sweetheart." He murmured, kissing the top of Lizzie's head as her sobs gathered in strength.

"You will never have to do that again, Darling. I promise."

Red began to rock her, humming the Anniversary Waltz lowly.

Lizzie felt a slight dip in the couch as Dembe sat down on her other side, grabbing her hand in comfort.

In that moment, she didn't think she'd ever loved them more.

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie woke to sunlight streaming in the room and sleep crusties in her eyes which she quickly rubbed out with her palm. Stretching luxuriously in the cloud that the hotel called a bed, which Dembe had graciously given up in favor of the couch for her, Lizzie smiled at the warmth of the sunshine as it streaked across her bed.

Lizzie lay there at peace until the events of last night caught up with her. Groaning, she ducked her head under the blankets and curled into a ball, not wanting to face the day.

"Rise and shine, sleepy head!"

Lizzie groaned at the sound of her father's voice muffled through the door. A quick knock was all the warning she received before he walked in.

"C'mon Lizzie, I know you're awake Sweetheart."

After a moment, the smell of coffee enticed her to fold the blanket away from her head.

"There you are, good morning Lizzie."

Red smiled down at her softly. Lizzie sat up groggily and allowed him to set the breakfast tray he'd brought in down over her lap.

"Mmm coffee." She murmured, taking a large gulp. Of course it was exactly as she liked it – coffee with her creamer and more sugar than was healthy.

"Thank you." She whispered around the lip of the mug before taking another sip.

Red patted her hand comfortingly as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"If you're willing, Lizzie, there is something I'd very much like to show you.

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie's brow furrowed as they drove up to the slightly run-down yet seemingly innocuous home with a realtor's sign in the front yard. Throwing a glance at Dembe, he shook his head discreetly in the rearview mirror. Right, don't talk. Let Dad speak first. She read the message loud and clear.

Once she agreed to come with him today, her Dad's mood had quieted and he seemed to grow anxious. She had decided to remain quiet, a decision which apparently had to be put into effect for a little while longer. Clearly her dad had something he needed to show her, needed to tell her. She just had to be patient.

Walking into the house, Lizzie looked around with her dad, not noticing as Dembe went to work, walking into the basement with a hardware bag.

"Strange. I remember it being bigger." Red murmured.

"I don't understand. What's so special about this place, Dad?" Lizzie finally questioned.

Red paused, running his hands along the bannister that led up to the second floor before looking back at her, his eyes sorrowful. "This was my house, Lizzie. This was the house I shared with my wife and…and your big sister."

Lizzie stared at her dad in shock. Her mind was racing with the emotional can of worms he had just opened. She had always wondered what her sister would have been like, would they have ever met or would Red have kept her hidden from his little family. But here they were, standing in his family home. He had asked her here. He needed her here. Lizzie tamped down on what this meant to her and took her dad's hand and let him lead her around the house.

In the kitchen, he paused, staring at a wall before releasing his vice-like grip on her hand and walking over to the paneled walls. Looking it up and down for a moment, as if sizing it up, Red grasped some of the paneling and ripped it off with a small crack. He stared at the small bit of wall that now appeared for so long that Lizzie walked over hesitantly to see what he was staring at.

Tears began to fall down her face at the sight of the height marks, paired with various ages. It stopped at 8 ½ years old. It finally hit her. Her sister had died in this house.

"Oh dad. I'm so sorry."

She didn't think she'd ever said that. His other family – her sister, had always been a distant thing for her, more like a story than any sort of reality.

Red simply nodded. That's all he could do, not trusting himself to speak as he walked into the living room. Standing at the bay window, he remembered his eldest daughter, his little Jenny, playing with bubbles in the front yard, her curly blond hair cascading messily down her back.

Lizzie took his hand in hers once more as she stood next to him, watching as a bittersweet, heartbroken expression stretched across his face.

"It's lovely." She murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.

"No, it's not, but it used to be."

"Time to go." Lizzie startled and whirled around to where Dembe stood.

"Did you prepare everything the way I asked?" Red hadn't turned, staring fixedly out the window.

"Yes Raymond." Dembe murmured, leaving the room. Red and Lizzie followed soon after.

As they got to the car, Red and Lizzie turned to look at it once more before sliding into the car.

"This place must hold a lot of memories for you." She murmured as they pulled away from the curb.

"I spend every day trying to forget what happened here. This should help." He murmured, leaning his head against the back of the seat, his hand still holding tightly to hers.

Lizzie looked to him, a question furrowing her brow before a deep concussive boom caused her to whip her head back to gaze behind them, out the rear window, to see the house they'd just exited engulfed in flames.

"Holy shit, Dad."