Yup, that's right folks. The entire Anslo Garrick debacle in one chapter. My fingers are sore. I hope you like it!


Lizzie sat on the living room floor of her dad's opulent hotel room as the early morning light danced across her legs. It was day five of living with her dad – which is quite a novel experience itself. Whenever he visited as a kid, it was just that – a visit. But now she was living with him, moving from safe house to safe house with him. It was weird. A good sort of weird. It was…normal.

Red had left yesterday for a trip to Germany for "business" and she was finally going through the boxes of stuff they'd brought back from Nebraska after Pop's funeral. Lizzie shoved the box full of Sam's old t-shirts to the side and drew another one closer to inspect its contents. Opening it up, Lizzie smiled as she lifted several Polaroids out. Shuffling through pictures of Sam together with Lizzie and Dembe, Lizzie sniffled as a small smile crossed her face.

Setting the pictures aside, Lizzie let out a chuckle as she picked up her old stuffed rabbit. God, she used to carry that thing around everywhere – and it stayed on her bed for much longer than was probably healthy. She didn't pack the singed little rabbit away until she was off to college.

Running her fingers over the stuffed animal, Lizzie frowned as she saw some fraying at the neck where it appeared as the time and mildew – probably from Sam's basement – had eaten away at some of the stitching. Feeling around for more tears, Lizzie felt a lump in the center of the rabbit. As a kid, she remembered her dad telling her that it was the rabbit's heart then as a teen, it had sat at the end of her bed, mostly forgotten.

Lizzie picked at the stitching until a small incision which had apparently been expertly sewn back over was revealed. Reaching in, Lizzie felt around inside of the fuzz until she was able to pull out a little black box. Holding it in her hands, Lizzie's brow furrowed in confusion. Had it always been there?

/\/\/\/\

Red laughed as he sat at the end of a long table table in a beer hall somewhere in Munich. He'd just finished a toast when he happened to look up, his eyes widening marginally before he stood up quickly.

"Donald!" Red walked over to Ressler and gave him a big bear hug. "There you are. I told you I'd pick you up at the airport." He took Ressler by the arm and walked him over to the table. "The cab ride must have cost you a fortune. Guten tag, alles." Red looked over at his German associates and, upon noting their confusion, Red gestured towards Ressler "Oh, this is Donald. He's my man at the State Department. He's been extremely helpful in all our endeavors here. But the poor fellow has to walk a terrible tightrope every single day." Red laughed, and Ressler chuckled along with him, playing along. "I feel obliged to get him drunk once in a while, – so I invited him down to celebrate."

Once introductions were made, Red quickly excused them and pulled Ressler to the side, away from prying eyes and ears.

"Celebrate what, Red?" Ressler gave Red a little judgmental side eyed glance.

"Free trade, Donald. Free trade. Honestly, this damn chip. What the hell do you want?" Red questioned, rubbing the spot on his neck where he knew the DARPA tracking chip was located.

"Keen needs you."

"Then why isn't she here?"

"You mean why didn't she fly to Munich on 10 minutes' notice?"

Red gave him and annoyed glance. No one likes a sarcastic Captain America. "You made the trip." He deadpanned.

"She's been detained."

"By whom?" Red had always prided himself on his poker face. He would be dead if he didn't excel at withholding his inner turmoil. In that moment, he was quite confident that he didn't give away his panic as a million and one tortuous scenarios played out in his head.

"The situation's above my security clearance. I was just given the job of locating you."

"No, you said she's been detained. Is she in danger?"

"There's a jet on the tarmac at Munich International."

Yes, thank you for that non-answer you little shit. "My plane's faster." Red grumbled, heading towards the door without a second glance.

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie eventually placed the small box back into the bunny and closed it back inside the box, making a mental note to sew it back up.

Looking down at her phone at the sound of it vibrating across the floor, Lizzie groaned. It was Tom. Again. He'd been calling and texting her all week. She was avoiding him like a coward. In her defense, since apparently he was some sort of assassin-spy, it wasn't really a conversation she felt safe having alone with him. "Oh hey Tom, I don't believe that you're just a fourth grade teacher. I know Raymond Reddington hired you. Why? Oh because he's my dad. And I want a divorce." Yea, no thanks.

Once her phone went to voicemail, Lizzie picked it up and checked the time. Groaning as she stood, Lizzie headed into the bathroom to get ready for work.

/\/\/\/\/\

Red knew there was something fishy going on when they arrived at the post office and were surrounded by an escort of nameless agents. When they got off the elevator and Ressler immediately threw cuffs on Red, he knew he'd been duped. By Ressler. Dear God, he would never live this down. Looking to the right, Red shook his head at Dembe when he noticed he was beginning to fight off the agent trying to cuff him. He knew Luli wouldn't fight, it wasn't her style so he didn't even deign to look back at her.

"Donald, what the hell are you doing?"

"Taking you into protective custody."

"Where's Agent Keen?"

"I lied to you, Red. You must be slipping."

"I must be." Yep, never living this down. He was already going over in his head all of the things he could buy Luli and Dembe to make them pretend this never happened.

"Everybody, out." Cooper ordered as he walked into the war room. He and Red had a bit of a stare down as all the personnel left and their escort left as well – taking Dembe and Luli with them.

Waiting until it was only Cooper, Ressler, Meera, and himself, Red finally spoke. "Why am I in handcuffs, Harold? You're violating our arrangement."

"There's an imminent threat to your life." Ressler answered.

Red threw his head back and laughed. "That condition is a constant."

"We have credible intelligence that you're being targeted for assassination. My contacts at the CIA were sitting on an Egyptian sleeper cell. They intercepted communication between them and an informant called Wells." Meera replied. Honestly, he was speaking to Cooper. Why did he continually let his agents speak for him?

"Hilton Wells?"

"You obviously know him." Meera appeared shocked that Red would know of a CIA informant.

"You obviously don't. Hilton Wells doesn't speak with the Egyptians. He hasn't since he aligned himself with Mubarak during the Arab Spring."

"I can show you the transcripts." It was cute when the devoted agent got her panties in a twist.

"With all due respect, if the intel were worth having, then I would have it."

"There's a price on your head."

Red laughed, shaking his head in disdain. "There's a running price on my head, Agent Ressler."

"Anslo Garrick?"

That got Red's attention. He stared at Ressler as the possible scenarios flashed through his head and began to make plans and contingency plans and plans for his contingency plans. "Listen to me. If this intel was disseminated, it was done so directly to you. It's canned, which means Anslo Garrick intends to attack this facility."

"Oh, you think he wanted us to bring you here?" What he wouldn't give to smack the arrogant little Captain America smirk right off his face sometimes. There was a time and a place for sarcasm. When you're about to have your ass handed to you by a criminal para military group was not the time.

"What do I think? I think we have a songbird in our midst, and until I find out who's singing, I don't trust anyone because someone helped to bring him here."

"To a black site. Why?"

"Because I'm asymmetrical." Red's frustration leaked out of his vocal chords. "I don't need visas, passports, travel documents. Give me a bug-out bag and 30 seconds, and I'm on my way to anywhere in the world. Garrick knows this. He needs me contained, landlocked. So he fed you phony intel to trigger your security protocol and now you've done exactly as he wished. He got you to bring me here so that he could attack this facility."

Ressler, Cooper, and Meera all looked back and forth at each other, worry finally beginning to appear on their face. "He doesn't even know this place exists." Ressler said, his voice slightly unsure.

Red snorted in derision. "All he does is extract people from places that don't exist, places exactly like this. Garrick exfils high-level detainees always by considerable force. He liberated Mahmoud Al Azok from an Alcatraz–like CIA black site in the Bering Sea."

"That was Shining Path, a splinter cell. Azok has ties to a Caribbean money launderer." Meera spoke up.

"No." Red shook his head. "That was Garrick, paid by that same Peruvian money launderer to make it appear as though Shining Path broke him out. It was Garrick. He almost exclusively works with a group of heavily armed, highly skilled mercenaries who call themselves The Wild Bunch – former flag wavers made over in Frankenstein–like fashion into bloodless, country-less killers. Garrick is not a precision instrument. He's a blunt-force object and seemingly immune to bullets. I can attest to this first-hand having put one in his head years ago at point-blank range. Harold, this building is about to be breached."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie got into the black site and smiled, making small talk with the security guard as he checked out her credentials even though he saw her everyday. She nodded her head goodbye and got into the elevator. Lizzie sighed, pushing the button and leaning against the wall, already looking forward to the long soak she was going to have in the Jacuzzi back at the hotel that evening. There were definite perks to having the Concierge of Crime as a father.

A small smile graced her face seconds before the elevator stopped.

/\/\/\/\

Red looked around as the lights went out and they were plunged into darkness.

"They're in."

/\/\/\/\

"Hello?" Lizzie shouted into the intercom, holding down the button.

/\/\/\/\

"Initiate full facility lockdown." Cooper yelled to anyone who was listening as the war room buzzed with activity and agents once more.

"Telecom is dead. I have no signal." One of the techies answered.

Cooper's lips thinned before he gave a small nod to Ressler.

"Get me out of these damn cuffs." Red's voice deepened, warning of dire consequences if they didn't do as asked.

"You're going into the box until the threat is neutralized." Ressler stated as he grabbed Red by the arm and began to hustle him away.

"Neutralized? Harold, do not make a stand. Get your people the hell out of here." Red yelled behind him.

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie tried the intercom again. "Hello? Hello?!"

Getting no response, Lizzie sighed then froze at the distant sound of gunfire. After a moment, she jumped into action, looking up at the ceiling of the elevator. If she was going to get out, that was how.

Removing her boot, Lizzie reached up and hit a flimsy light panel until it popped out of its place. Using the toe of her boot, she slid it out of the way, hearing it skitter across the top of the elevator. Removing her other boot, Lizzie took several jumps until finally, she was able to grasp onto the top of the elevator. Using her feet to help gain purchase, Lizzie climbed out.

/\/\/\/\

"I don't think you appreciate the sheer firepower that has entered this building."

"Shut up." Ressler hustled Red down another hallway as they both looked around them, the echo of gunfire dancing across the walls.

"He means to take me, Agent Ressler, and kill anyone in his way or in his wake. This isn't about digging in. This is about escape."

Ressler stopped, pulling at Red as he held his arm, craning his neck as if to help himself hear better. "Wait."

"Why not let them have me, Donald? I'll likely be tortured for weeks and left to rot until they finally deign to put a bullet in my skull. Wouldn't that please you?" Red questioned, surreptitiously looking around them.

Ressler stood still a few moments longer until he felt it was safe to continue towards the box. "You're an adjunct informant for the FBI, Reddington. That means you're my responsibility. That means I fight for your life regardless of how badly I want to take it."

One of Garrick's men came around the corner a few feet in front of them. Red and Ressler both propped themselves against the wall, as flat as possible as Ressler shot back.

Screaming in pain, Ressler fell to the ground, clutching at his left upper thigh which now resembled pureed beets. Firing off a few rounds as he clenched his jaw in pain, Ressler got off a lucky shot, killing the nameless man.

Ignoring Ressler as he writhed on the floor in pain, Red awkwardly crawled over to him, stealing the handcuff keys from his belt. Unlocking the cuffs with ease, Red stole Ressler's gun, stood up and walked over to the dead man.

"Don't, Reddington. Don't leave me unarmed."

Before he could come up with a witty come back, more of Garrick's men appeared at the top of the staircase down the hall. Red crouched down and took the dead man's ammo vest and shotgun as he traded fire with the men on the staircase. Grabbing a flash grenade from the pocket of the vest, Red threw it into the stairwell and sprayed the area with shotgun rounds for good measure.

"Donald, you and I aren't done just yet."

"Aaaah! Aaah!" Ressler screeched in agony as Red grabbed him by the collar of his Kevlar vest.

Thankfully they were close to the detainment room which contained the box. Ressler was a heavy little bugger. Red dragged him over to the security keypad unit on the wall and lifted him up to enter the keycode and place his hand on the fingerprint scanner.

Shooting out the glass of the evac box, Red took out all of the medical supplies he could carry. As Ressler stumbled to the Box, the sirens blaring as it slowly closed back up, Red walked backwards, his face like stone as he covered Ressler and his escape into their glass fortress, Garrick's men walking forward, firing at them until the door shuts with a clang.

Red smiled placidly, as a man in a ski mask stood in front of the box. The man dramatically took off the mask, revealing his horribly disfigured face and milky blind eye.

"Hello, Red." The man's British accent was played down by the way that one half of his face was frozen in a grimace, spittle constantly streaming out its side.

Grasping Ressler under his arms, Red hefted him up, causing him to cry out.

"We're going up."

With a grunt, Red gets Donald onto the metal camp bed. He folds his own jacket and puts it under Ressler's head, then turns to look at Garrick.

"Red Red, did you really think there was a distance you could cover or a hole deep enough that you could hide in? There is nowhere in this world that I cannot reach you, Red. Fortification be damned. I heard you made yourself some sweet little immunity deal, Red. I heard that you fitted the FBI with strings, and now they hang upon your hip like a hatchet. Not bad. Prudent. But they can't keep you safe from someone like me, Red, someone who sat in blackness for five years. Five years thinking about the pain I was going to inflict on you while slowly breaking your will, your body, and finally your mind. That day is here, my friend. And it will end with your screams, as God is my witness."

This was turning out to be a rather terrible day. The only consolation was the fact that Lizzie hadn't made it to the office yet before the incursion.

/\/\/\/\

Dropping down into the armory from where she'd been climbing in the ceiling, Lizzie landed in a crouch. Looking around her to check the coast was clear, she walked over to a cabinet and retrieved a bandage, hissing at the sting, Lizzie wrapped her bleeding hand where she'd cut it against a sharp corner in the air ducts.

Finding a radio in the room, Lizzie quickly turns it on and Cooper's voice fills the room.

"Closed comms. Closed comms. Go to EMR-designation channel. 'Hatchling.' Codify, 'Hatchling.'"

"Hatchling–5591–abstract."

"Keen?"

"I'm here, sir." Lizzie sighed. She never thought she'd be so happy to hear her boss's voice.

"Do not attempt any form of ingress. Hostiles have the high ground."

"I'm already inside."

"Have you been captured? Are you injured?"

Lizzie was touched by his genuine concern. "Neither. Where are you?"

"Barricaded inside the armory. Ressler and Reddington are unaccounted for, presumed down."

No. no no no no no no. No.

/\/\/\/\

"What are you feeling in your extremities? – What do you feel?" Red sat in a metal chair next to Ressler's …bed, for lack of a better word. Tearing open the package of a gauze pad, Red placed it over Ressler's wound.

"Not much. My fingers are numb. My face is getting cold."

"Shock is setting in." Red mumbled as he tore open another gauze pad and placed it over Ressler's wound as well.

"How much blood have I lost?"

"More than a thimbleful." Red began tightly yet messily wrapping medical tape around Ressler's leg in order to keep the gauze pads in place.

"What about my leg?" Ressler tried to hold himself up on his elbows to get a look.

"Lay down. Lay down. Donald, never let it be said that I valued a Zegna Venticinque tie over a human life, even yours." Red stated, removing his tie and placed it under Ressler's leg, close to his groin then made a single knot. "Take up a handful of your own tie." Red removed the magazine from Ressler's pistol and began tying it within a second knot in the tie around Ressler's leg. This is gonna be hugely unpleasant and very painful. Bite down. All right?"

"Yeah." Ressler loosened his tie and shoved the knot into his mouth.

Red twisted the magazine, tightening the makeshift tourniquet around Ressler's leg painfully as the man's own tie muffled the sounds of his screams. Once he deemed it tight enough, Red ensured that the tourniquet would not unwind.

Red grabbed Ressler's hand which had begun to hang limply at his side. "Keep pressure on it. Just keep pressure on it." He murmured as he placed Ressler's hand over his wound. Ressler seemed to get the message as he tightened his hold around the wound despite the pain.

"I don't like his chances, Red." Red spared a glance at Garrick as the man began to speak. He had pulled up a chair on the other side of the glass, right next to the bed on which Ressler lay. "That leg looks like minced beef. All you have to do to save Agent Ressler's life is come out, Red." Garrick swung his head to look over at Ressler with his one good eye. "Don – We never met in person, Don, but if you'd done your job back in Brussels in '08, I wouldn't be here now." He switched his view back to Red. "Agent Ressler here ran that little kick murder squad tried to clip you in Waterloo Station, Red. I gave him your train number, your itinerary. All Little Donnie here had to do was supply the bullet, but no. Bungled! And now, as fate has a great fondness for moments like these, here we are. And it is you, Red, that can spare or end Agent Ressler's life."

"You know, Anslo, I'm looking at you, and I got to say I'm really surprised. With the access you now have to top-notch plastic surgeons, why you haven't done something anything about that horrific scar. I mean, how do you wake up to that staring back at you in the mirror every morning? But you know what? It's not the scar. It's really the eye. But, hey, lucky you. I normally carried Hydra-Shok hollow points. I was trying out a new series of center-fire wadcutters that week. It's probably the only thing that saved your life, really – Me switching ammo. Think about that little irony now every time you randomly find your reflection or are reminded of that unfortunate thing I've done to your face." Red laughed. "Think about it."

"You trashed a one-of-a-kind partnership."

"We were never partners, Anslo. You violated whatever trust I had in you. So, naturally, I did what I always did – And beat you. And you did what you always did – Got beaten by me." Also stood up from his chair and walked to the front of the box. Raising his hand, he began firing, his bullets ricocheting, sending his men running for cover although judging by the screams of pain, a couple of them didn't make it. "True to form, Anslo. Why take time to think when it's so much easier to shoot? This glass was developed by DARPA for secure cover and housing in combat zones. That .45 might as well be a spit straw."

Garrick glared at Red before looking over at one of his men and motioning him forward.

"Oh, good, Red. I've brought a whole picnic basket to this party." Garrick motioned over to the man who was carefully placing a brick of C4 against the door to the box. "And, little pig, little pig, you are going to let me come in."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie flattened herself against the wall, prepping herself before going around the corner and leaving cover. "Okay, let's go. Oh, calm, calm, calm. Come on, come on, come on. Use your training. Use your training. Just like Pop and Dad taught you. Be fluid. Be fluid."

Lizzie entered an office just as Cooper's voice came over the comm. "Command down. Command down. Armory overrun. Repeat, armory overrun." Lizzie bit her lip, realization dawning that it was all up to her now. No big deal, right?

She heard a patter as if something had fallen at the end of the hall. Looking around desperately, Lizzie noticed a plastic bottle sitting on the table and smirked.

/\/\/\/\

"Help! Please, help! Help! Can someone help me? Please, help!" Lizzie watched from the shadows as Garrick's man came jogging in at the sound of Lizzie's recorded voice playing in a loop on her cell phone. Stepping up behind the man as he rounds the desk, Lizzie points her pistol at the back of his head, the plastic bottle scotch taped around the muzzle.

"Lower your gun to your side. Now reach across your body with your right hand and remove your tactical belt. Any sudden or aggressive movements, and I will kill you."

The man slowly began reaching as if to remove his belt, the moment his movements became sharp, as if pulling a knife, Lizzie shot him in the head, causing the man to fall forward onto the table and sending things crashing off of it. Lizzie winced at the noise. Well, her makeshift silencer was a bit moot now.

/\/\/\/\

"We don't have enough explosives." One of Garrick's men murmured nervously.

"What?" Garrick turned his head, pointing to his good ear.

"We don't have enough explosives, not according to the specs we pulled up on this thing."

Groaning in aggravation, Garrick grabbed his radio and pressed the comm button. "Tabletop to blue wolf. Send a short chalk back to the armory. We're a little light on bang here. So you bring me back every piece of explosive ordnance that they have."

Meanwhile, in the box, Red had two fingers to the pulse point on Ressler's wrist while he counted down the seconds on his watch. "Donald, I'm gonna quietly cross my fingers before I ask, but what blood type are you?"

"B-negative." Ressler murmured drowsily.

Shaking his head, Red laughed. "And you thought we had nothing in common. There's only 2% of us, you know?" Red began putting the equipment he'd need onto the bed beside Ressler and rolled up his sleeve.

"What are you doing?"

"You need a blood transfusion. Or we're gonna have to open that door, which will likely be the end of both of us."

"Give me a gun. These bastards want to go. Let's go."

Red laughed, pushing Donald back down as the man made a pathetic attempt to sit up. "The concept of a last stand sounds so heroically romantic, doesn't it, Donald? But there's a good reason why we didn't see what happened to Butch and Sundance. Being riddled by bullets and left to rot under a scorching Bolivian sky does not a sequel make. And if you've surmised nothing about me by now, know this. I'm gonna be around for the sequel." Red wrapped the blue Velcro band of the arm tourniquet around his arm and made sure it was tight.

"You're really gonna do a field transfusion?" Ressler's brow furrowed in confusion as he watched Red place one of the small tourniquets around his upper arm as well.

"Oh, come now, Donald. Think how much smarter you'll be afterwards."

"Why the hell are you doing this? It's pretty obvious I hate your guts, and I can't imagine you hold a whole lot of warmth for me, especially after hearing about Brussels."

"I knew about Brussels."

"Then why save me?"

"Because that's what you do when someone is dying in front of you. Allies today, enemies tomorrow The world is a complex place, further complicated by man's fickle nature." Red deftly inserted a needle into both his and Ressler's arms and watched dispassionately as his blood began to flow towards Ressler through the thin tube connecting them. "Years ago, I saved a man's life under a beautiful old cedar tree in Lebanon. A month later, he tried to kill me in a hotel in Damascus. I understood. Allegiances shift. A month later I broke his neck with a shower caddy. It's this job today, another one tomorrow. That needle in your arm becomes the one in your neck. It's just that fast."

Garrick sat back down at the chair he'd pulled up beside them on the outside of the box. "Do you remember that Road Runner cartoon where the Coyote makes the mountain of TNT and gunpowder barrels? And blows himself sky–high?"

"Yes, Anslo. Is that what you're doing out there? Is this to be mass suicide by explosion, I hope?"

"No. We'll be fine out here, Red. But with these charges rigged to blow inward, I can't say the same about you. It's no matter. I intend to thoroughly torture the hell out of whatever's left of you. Oh, come on! Play with me!" Garrick banged his head against the box in frustration when Red refused to be riled by him. "I'd give that leg up as a lost cause by now, wouldn't you? If sepsis hasn't set in by now, Donnie, it will. And then your body will slowly start to poison its own blood supply. Including that little keg tap that Reddington's giving you right now. Drip, drip, Don. Drip, drip, drip."

Red's lips thinned slightly as he watched Ressler close his eyes, as if trying to shut out everything around him.

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie makes her way through the armory, placing ammo and everything else she may need into the pockets of the dead man's Kevlar vest she'd stolen. Grabbing a silencer, Lizzie screwed it onto the muzzle of her gun. Pausing at the sound of footsteps, Lizzie backed up against one of the shelving units. Drawing her gun up closer to her, Lizzie held her breath at the sound of movement right beside her. Taking a breath, she spun and took the shot. The only sound heard was the din of a metal box falling the ground as the dead man fell.

" Raines? Raines? Respond now or I'm gonna shoot. In three–two–one." Another man's voice came from a few aisles over." Creeping closer, silent on her bare feet, Lizzie crept up right behind him.

"Tabletop to Chalk One, where's my bang? Let's go. I've got a box to blow up."

"Tell him you're on your way back. Tell him anything other than that, and you're lying with your buddy." Lizzie murmured, a clear threat in her silky dark voice as she held her gun to the man's head and with the other, grabbed his radio, pushing down on the button.

"Chalk One to Tabletop, we're on our way back now."

"That's good." Before he could go on the offensive, Lizzie pistol whipped the man, knocking him out.

Spinning around at the sound of a gasp, Lizzie aims her gun.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Agent Keen, it's me." Aram held his hands up, eyeing Lizzie's gun nervously.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She asked, immediately bringing her gun back down to her side.

"I could ask you the same. Where did you come from?"

"I snuck in. What are you doing?"

"Trying to restore the telecom so we can call in the cavalry."

"Where is everyone?"

"Captured."

"Where's Red and Ressler?"

"I think Ressler's in bad shape."

Ok, that sucks, but what about my dad? "Any idea who hit this facility?"

"Um, someone called Garrick. He's disabled telecom, simplex, and duplex signals."

"How long before you can restore the telecom?" Lizzie asked as they made their way through the halls, not wanting to stay in one place for too long.

"I haven't been able to hack around it. They are jamming the signal internally."

"How?"

"Uh, based on just the waveform readings and the wattage output, it's, uh, something powerful, uh, but portable."

"Where would they place it?"

"All the uplink and communication relays are in the sub garage."

"Could you reset the telecom if the jammers were disabled?"

"It would automatically reset, yeah."

Good. You got a weapon?"

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

"'Cause we're gonna go find those jammers."

"We"?" Aram asked, shifting on his feet.

"Yes. You and I in the plural." The man made her want to pinch his cheeks most days but right now she didn't have time for his piss-my-pants-in-fear routine.

"Uh, but I–I–I thought I'm waiting for the signal so we can call the cavalry."

"We are the cavalry. Give me your gun." Lizzie put out her hand in wait.

"Um, I–I've only shot at paper." Aram fumbled with his holster before handing his gun over to Lizzie. She expertly checked the mag to make sure he had ammo then cocked the gun, handing it back to them.

"Pretend they're paper."

/\/\/\/\

"Donald! Donald!" Red shook Ressler gently by the shoulder as the man began to fade in and out of consciousness. "Feeling any wittier yet? Any strange cravings for Beluga caviar or Marcel Proust?"

Ressler rolled his eyes. "I know you don't think much of me, but you don't get assigned a case file like yours unless you pass muster."

Red pursed his lips. "May I ask you something with the hope that you won't take offense?"

"You already know it's gonna offend me. Ask anyway."

"What happened to Audrey Bidwell?"

Ressler froze, staring at Red, most likely wondering how the hell Red knew about Audrey. His lips thinned as he realized who he was talking to. "She left me."

"You were engaged."

"To her, yeah. It was my engagement with you that ended that relationship. Five years, I chased you. Five years trying to make my name. Look where it's gotten me." Ressler looked away from Red and so couldn't see as lips pursed, an almost guilty expression crossing his face. He did feel bad for the guy. Sort of. Didn't mean he had to like him though. The man had a terrible propensity for banana peels.

/\/\/\

"Chalk Two to Tabletop, one dead, one down." A voice came loudly over Garrick's comm.

"We have an enemy within. We have a monkey wrench running around in here somewhere. Find them." Garrick instructed his men.

/\/\/\/\

"How did you know about my ex?"

"I know a great many things about you, Donald."

Ressler shook his head tiredly. "Right. It's the core of your business. Information. Misinformation. I don't know how you did it, Reddington. Forsaking the flag, abandoning your country."

"We become who we are." Red replied gruffly. "We can't judge a book by its cover but you can by its first few chapters and, most certainly, by its last."

"So, what's it all about, then, the Blacklist? Revenge?"

Red chuckled darkly. "Oh, revenge is too easy and over so quickly. I would hope for more than that."

Ressler closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. "We're not gonna live through this."

"I think we will."

"How?"

Red was silent for a moment as he sucked the inside of his cheek. "Have you ever sailed across an ocean, Donald?"

Ressler's face winced in confusion at the quick change of subject. "No."

"On a sailboat surrounded by sea with no land in sight?" Red's voice dropped half an octave lower as his gaze was drawn to the near distance. "Without even the possibility of sighting land for days to come? To stand at the helm of your destiny. I want that one more time. I want to be in the Piazza del Campo in Sienna, to feel the surge as … I want another meal in Paris at L'Ambroisie in the Place des Vosges. I want another bottle of wine." Red smiled softly. "And then another."

He paused, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I want the warmth of a woman in a cool set of sheets. One more night of jazz at the Vanguard. I want to stand on summits and smoke Cubans and feel the sun on my face for as long as I can. Walk on the wall again. Climb the tower. Ride the river. Stare at the frescos. I want to sit in the garden and read one more good book. Most of all, I want to see my daughter again. And I want to sleep. I want to sleep like I slept when I was a boy. Give me that. Just one time. That's why I won't allow that punk out –" Red swung his head as if to point outside at Garrick. " – there to get the best of me, let alone the last of me."

Ressler closes his eyes as a tear rolls down his cheek, turning his head away from Red so that he couldn't see. Red pretended he hadn't.

As the sound level in the room increased, Red looked up to see Cooper, Meera, Luli, Dembe, and a few other agents being led into the center of the room, their hands tied behind them.

"What do you want?" Cooper questioned Garrick, speaking for the whole group.

"This isn't about what I want, Assistant Director Cooper. No. What I've wanted, I've simply taken. This is about what I need. And what I need is access to that box."

"Then let's start with what I need, which is all of my people released right now."

Garrick let out a breathy laugh. "You're not in charge, Harold."

"No. But I am the man who can get you into that box."

"And if I go in there and start kneecapping your people one by one until you give me what I want?"

Cooper's back straightened and he jut out his chin. "Then you're not getting Reddington."

Garrick stared at him, his face turned so that he could more easily see him with his good eye. "No. I'm going to bet someone other than you can get me into that box."

"Then place that bet."

Garrick leveled his gun at Cooper's head.

"There you go again, Anslo, using a pistol in place of a brain. You gonna put a bullet in the head of the man who can hand you mine?"

"I think someone's trying to save your life." Garrick stage whispered to Cooper.

"Hardly." Red scoffed. "I have little to no use for that man. But before you shoot him, be absolutely certain that I'm not outsmarting you. We know how frequently that's happened in the past. It would be a shame if in killing him you denied yourself of the prize that you came here for." Garrick didn't appear to be listening. "Anslo!" Red raised his voice, forcing Garrick to look at him. "How long do you think you can hold out here before half of Quantico's graduating class rappels down on top of you?"

"Red, this time you are quite simply mistaken." Garrick walked slowly towards the box. "The question really is, how long are you going to hold out? Are you really going to let Agent Ressler there just expire? Are you really going to let me put Assistant Director Cooper's head all over that wall? How many people are going to die here today, Reddington?"

At that moment, Ressler cried out, bringing Red's attention back to him. Red came to his side and sat back down in his seat.

"What's happening?" Ressler choked out.

"Your heart is pumping harder and harder, trying to compensate for blood loss." Red murmured, checking Ressler's pulse. "And that shotgun blast broke your leg. I think it also partially ruptured your femoral artery."

"Partially?"

"You would have bled out by now if the hole were any bigger." Red stated as he cut the gauze off of Ressler's leg. "But now I have to close it."

"Close it how?"

"By cauterizing it." Red stated, grabbing supplies from where he'd set them on the floor. "I'm gonna have to cut open your leg to get at the artery and then sprinkle some combustible compound on it – and ignite it."

Ressler shook his head violently. "Mm, mnh–mnh. Mnh–mnh."

"Donald, if you don't tell them how to open that door, I have to do this, or you will die." Red stared grimly at Ressler as he sat back down, supplies in hand.

Ressler slammed his head back against the metal bed and sucked his teeth. "Then do it."

"Grab ahold of the bench back there and don't let go." Red began pouring rubbing alcohol over a hunting knife. "I'm gonna cut as fast as I can, but I can't have you trying to stop me once I start, okay?"

"Yeah."

"This is gonna hurt." Red murmured. Just before he began cutting, he saw Ressler stuff his tie back in his mouth before grasping desperately for the edge of the bed.

"Aaaaah!"

"Hold still, Donald. This will be over in a second." Red concentrated intently on what he was doing. Though, he supposed, Ressler's leg couldn't get much more mangled than it already was. Thankfully, Ressler passed out from the pain rather quickly.

Red carefully sprinkled some of the compound into the wound before lighting a match and placing it against the powder in Ressler's leg. With a flash and the smell of burnt flesh, Ressler wound was cauterized.

Disliking not having Red's full attention, Garrick grabbed Luli, causing her to cry out as he dragged her over to the box, gaining Red's attention. Red stood and walked over to the front of the box as Garrick forced Luli to her knees and stood behind her, pointing his gun at the back of her head.

"– 10, 9 –"

"Harold! Open the box now!"

"– 8 –"

"Give him the code!" Red growled.

"No."

"– 7 –"

"Anslo, my people can help you."

"– 6 –"

"Cooper can get you in here."

"– 5 –"

"Put that gun to his head." Red pointed angrily at Cooper.

"– 4, 3 –"

"For once in your life, stop and think!"

"– 2,1."

Red blinks as Luli's blood stained the entire door of the box.

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie smashes another signal jammer on the ground, smiling at another small victory which is short lived as a noise causes her to spin around. Blinding pain flashes across her face just before everything turns black.

/\/\/\/\

Garrick directs his men holding Dembe to bring him forward. "Red, I don't have to explain what happens now, do I?" Garrick shoves at Dembe's shoulder. "Down." Dembe shrugs him off life a fly but got to his knees anyway, of his own will. "Would you prefer that I did the countdown? Because I wasn't that keen, frankly. You open the box, or Dembe dies."

"Harold, tell him." Red pleads. "Wait. Ressler knows the code." Red turned his back and walked over to the bed.

"Wait is over, Red. People are dying now."

"Ressler. Ressler!" Red smacks Ressler, trying to make him wake up.

"Raymond." Dembe speaks up, his soft voice resigned.

"Ressler! Ressler!" Red yells as he continues to hit Ressler.

Ressler murmurs slightly before falling unconscious once more.

"Raymond!" Dembe shouts, forcing Red to look at him. "Ours is a friendship forged once in this life and again in the next. Goodbye, my brother."

Red walked over, placing his hand on the glass. "Harold, open this box. I'll give you anything."

Dembe began to murmur a prayer in Arabic. Red's face crumpled in devastation as he began to cite the prayer along with him.

"Stay on your knees!" Garrick pushed down on Dembe's shoulder as he attempted to stand, knocking him back down to his knees. As Dembe and Red continued to pray in harmony, Dembe attempted to stand once more, only for Garrick to push him down again. "Stay on your knees! Stay on your knees."

Red slid to his knees so that he is on eye level with Dembe, gazing at his best friend, his brother through the droplets and smears of Luli's blood on the glass.

"Goodbye, Raymond." Dembe smiled softly.

"Open the box!" Red screamed.

/\/\/\/\

"Come on…Yes!" Aram murmured to himself as he sat in the hallway, attempting to get a signal with his cell phone now that all the jammers were destroyed.

"North Arlington Furniture Warehouse. Can I help you?"

"Uh – Hatchling 5591."

Aram walked over to where he was to meet Lizzie once they destroyed all of the jammers. "I got the signal out, but I need a dispatch co-" Aram finally looked up from his phone to see Garrick's man standing over Lizzie's body. "-Dispatch code Cavalry's on their way. You're about to get your ass kicked off the planet, pal." Aram recovered from his shock rather quickly.

"Want to bet I can drop you before you can get one shot off with that pistol?" Garrick's man questioned with a small smirk.

/\/\/\/\

Well, I'm gonna kill him now, aren't I, Red?" Garrick goes unanswered as Red and Dembe continue to recite their prayer, Dembe smiling softly, peacefully as Red struggled to hold it together.

Red flinched, closing his eyes at the sound of a gun shot.

"Go!"

He heard Garrick yell and opened his eyes to see Dembe smiling back at him. Smirking back, Red stood just in time to see some of Garrick's men take off to where the shot had originated from.

/\/\/\/\

"Wow. I killed him." Aram stared down at the gun in his hand in shock.

"We need to move now! Aram!" Lizzie shouted, grabbing Aram's hand. "Listen to me. We need to move now!"

Just as they started to run, the heard the sound of several guns cocking.

"Hold it!"

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie walked placidly beside her captor, refusing to give them the pleasure of watching her struggle. She merely walked along as the man held her by the elbow, her hands tied behind her. As they walked down the stairs into the room that held the box, Lizzie looked over at the box and smiled in relief at the sight of her dad standing in the box. Then she noticed the blood. Her gaze fell upon the crumpled body of Luli, causing her to miss the look of sheer terror that Red was unable to hide at the sight of her. But Garrick didn't.

"Well, who might this be? Someone you know, Red?" Garrick walked over and grabbed Lizzie roughly, shoving her to her knees in front of the box.

Lizzie tried to smile reassuringly at her dad as a tear slipped down her cheek. They stared at each other for a moment, her dad's face contorted in anguish before he stepped away, turning his back and walked over to Ressler.

"Ressler!" He shouted, slapping Ressler across the face and receiving no response, he digs his fingers into Ressler's wound.

"Aah! Son of a bitch!" Ressler was immediately alert and clasping at his injured leg.

"Look at me." Red grabbed Ressler by the chin, forcing him to look. "I need you to focus. I need the code." His words were clipped, angry. A majority of his anger was directed at Anslo but a healthy dose of it was reserved for himself. His little girl had a gun to her head because of him. Because he was who he was. He'd never hated himself more.

"What code? What code?" Ressler questioned between clenched teeth.

"To open the box." Red's voice was like gravel, his face thunderous.

"Oh, God, my leg – !"

"Tell me the code now."

"Do not give him the code, Agent Ressler! That's an order!" Cooper's voice interjected. A corner of Red's brain began to plot the man's murder.

"Oh, come on!" Garrick shouted, digging his gun into Lizzie's skull.

"Telecom has been restored. They have an open signal out." One of Garrick's men stated before Garrick could go on a rant.

"In about five minutes, an FBI assault will retake the building. Get out now. You might survive." Lizzie hoped her voice sounded steady.

To prove them correct, her phone began to ring. Garrick quickly reached into her pocket and retrieved it, answering it and putting it on speaker.

"Lizzie. Hey, what's going on? We haven't – "

"Lizzie isn't available right now. May I ask who's calling?" Garrick questioned, gesticulating with the hand that held his gun as he spoke.

"This is her husband." Tom answered angrily. "Who the hell is this?"

"I'm the guy that's gonna put a bullet in your wife's head." Garrick clipped his hard consonants as he spoke. "Hi." He said in a singsong voice.

"Who is this?" Huh, Tom actually sounded worried, Lizzie thought. "Put my wife on the phone."

"It's for you." Garrick held the phone towards Lizzie.

"Tom!" She yelled.

"Liz, are you okay? What's going on? Are you safe?"

"Tom, listen to me! Call the FBI!"

Garrick pointed the gun back at Lizzie and hung up the phone.

Having watched the entire scene, Red grabbed Ressler's gun off the floor, grabbed his collar and stood over him as he aimed the gun at Ressler.

"No! No, no. What are you gonna do? You gonna kill me? You just saved my life."

"Circumstances have changed, Donald. If you can't save her, you're of no use whatsoever. Look at me. Look at me!" Red shook Ressler as his eyes rolled in delirium. "Agent Keen will die. Now is the time!"

"Romeo. The access code is Romeo." Ressler murmured.

Red spun around and walked back over to the front of the box. "R–O–M–E–O Romeo." Red directs Garrick, glancing at Lizzie and giving her a pained smile.

The sound of sirens announced the opening of the door and Red hopped out of the box as soon as he could.

"Anslo, what are you doing here?" Red questioned nonchalantly, his Concierge of Crime mask now firmly back in place now that he felt he held at least some cards.

When he received no reply, Red's lips pursed. "Let them go, Anslo."

"Are you pleading for the lives of the feds?" Garrick asked, gesturing towards the captured agents.

"There's enough blood on the floor. It's time to get the hell out of here."

"Oh, I know what time it is. You watch out for Old Red here." Garrick spoke to the room at large. "He may not look like much, but I once saw him kill a Somali with a wire hanger."

Red chuckled, shaking his head as if reminiscing. "Simpler days, Anslo. Simpler days."

Garrick nodded his head then seemed to shake himself, realizing he'd gotten side tracked. "Right. Bring her." Garrick pointed at Lizzie and then began to walk away.

"She doesn't do anything for you, Anslo. She's dead weight." Red tried to reason with him, stepping in front of Lizzie, between her and Garrick.

"Do I look like I care what you say, Red?" Garrick looked over his shoulder at Red.

/\/\/\/\

"I have to admit, Red, I was starting to think you'd never come out of the box. But then her. She was unexpected. Old boy's still got the touch, does he? Well, whatever blows up your skirt."

Lizzie rolled her eyes just as Garrick's men blast a hole in the floor. Honestly, she was going to have to have a talk with her dad. If he had such a reputation for relationships with younger women… she needed to warn him to never bring one of them home. One of them put a harness around her and attached it to a rope. Lizzie immediately grasped onto it, glad they had at least tied her hands in front of her.

"Hold on tight." Garrick rumbled before pushing her in to the hole.

/\/\/\/\

An ambulance was waiting for them at entrance to the tunnel of the old subway line. As they came out of the darkness, Lizzie and Red were shoved into the back.

As the ambulance went on its way, sirens blaring, one of the paramedics had Red lay down on the stretcher and began pressing her fingers to his neck, in search of something.

"Ninety seconds to the drop. I need that chip!" Garrick growled from the front seat.

"I'm trying!" The paramedic screeched. This must be her first rodeo, Lizzie figured as she watched the woman barely hold it together.

"The Emissary Hotel in Chicago. Mr. Kaplan." Red murmured at Lizzie once she looked his way, shifting his eyes towards the defibrillator. Lizzie nodded in understanding.

"Hurry the hell up!" Garrick yells as the paramedic marks the spot where Red's chip is with a marker before slathering the area with iodine.

Springing into action, Lizzie took the defib paddles and placed them on the chest of her guard, one of Garrick's men. She didn't wait around to see if she'd killed him, instead bending over to steal his gun and spun to shoot the driver in the head.

Looking over at her dad, they smiled softly at each other, their eyes sad. Red nodded at the door and Lizzie sighed.

"'Til next time." She murmured, opening the door and jumping out of the moving vehicle.

/\/\/\/\

Chained to a rope taut above him, his wrists bound in leather, Red swayed, his feet barely touching the ground as he was surrounded by darkness.

Garrick pulled the gunny sack from over Red's head and smiled – well, more like grimaced – at Red. "Oh, this shall be fun."

/\/\/\/\

"How did this happen?" Diane Fowler, Cooper's boss at the DOJ, murmured angrily as they walked through the halls of the Post Office, surveying the damage and directing agents to get tasks done.

"Anslo Garrick was a known associate of Reddington's. He came in with a tactical assault team. He knew the floor plan."

"Then I have no choice. This task force is decommissioned. Do you understand what has happened, Harold? You obviously have a mole."

"We have to find Reddington."

"The only thing that matters right now is how quickly we contain this. This did not happen. Reddington is, and always has been, a fugitive at large."

/\/\/\/\

It had been too late. By the time she was able to catch up to the chip's location, it had already been dug out of her dad's neck and thrown onto the ground inside a medical glove.

Lizzie was now back in the Post Office, having just been told that they would not be searching for Reddington. The hell they weren't.

"Aram, wait. You can't –" Lizzie scrambled over to Aram as he began packing up equipment.

"We're done. I'm done." Aram stuttered. The poor guy had seen more action today than he probably ever has in his life.

"Listen to me – Red's alive." She pleaded.

"Liz, this is out of my hands." Lizzie gave him her best puppy dog eyes. They always worked on her Dad and Pop. Even Dembe couldn't resist. "Okay, assuming –"

"Mm-hmm?" Lizzie encouraged, her lips stretching into a grin. She's still got it.

"I could help, what would you need?"

"Closed-circuit feeds from the block around the building from when Reddington came in, going back an hour."

"Supposed to hand off the security feeds to the new team of investigators. I suppose I could make us a copy."

"Thank you." Lizzie clapped Aram on the back, standing back up from her crouch.

"How do you think Ressler's doing?"

"He's in surgery. They're hoping they can save his leg." Lizzie's lips thinned in worry. He may be annoying sometimes with his Captain America routine but Ressler was her partner and a good guy. "Aram – we got to keep this between us. We don't know who we can trust."

"Yeah."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie ducked around the corner and pulled out her cellphone, quickly dialing the number for the Hotel.

"Emissary Hotel." She heard the Operator's voice over the line. "How may I direct your call? Yes?"

"Hi. Mr. Kaplan, please."

There was a pause before the Operator spoke again. "He's not available. Can you be reached at this number?"

"This – ? Uh, yes, I suppose."

"Goodbye."

God, her dad turned her life into a Bond film.

/\/\/\/\

"The girl. The agent. I want to know who she is. You came out of the box for her. Traded your life for hers. Red Reddington placing somebody else's life ahead of his own. What makes her so special? I learned so much watching you, Red. You taught me, gave me a taste of the good life. But that's all I was allowed, a taste."

"You're greedy, Anslo. You went behind my back, made deals you knew I wouldn't approve. What did you expect?" Red's poker face was in full force, though he was glad that Anslo's own tendency to monologue steered the conversation away from Lizzie.

"I suppose I expected something better than a bullet in the face, Red."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie unlocked the door to her house, praying that Tom was at work. He should be at work. It'd been days since she'd been back to the house. She'd even had Dembe come pack a bag for her a few days ago while Tom was working. Looking around and seeing the coast was seemingly clear, Lizzie headed towards the stairs, wanting desperately to change into some less bloody clothes while she waited for Aram to find what she needed.

"Lizzie?"

Shit. What the hell was he doing here?

Lizzie turned around on the stair to see Tom standing at the bottom. "Yeah, I–"

"What the hell is going on? I don't see you for days and then a man is telling me over the phone that he's going to kill you!?" Tom questioned, slowly coming towards her on the stair. She had to give him credit – he was a great actor. She almost believed that he was scared for her. Almost.

"I know. And we'll talk about this later, but right now-"

"Damn it, you need to stop. You need to stop. You need to walk away from this job before it destroys you." Tom reached for her as he came closer but she quickly batted him away. She could not deal with this right now.

"Don't."

Tom's face turns thunderous and he appears to be about to speak when Lizzie's phone rang. Squeezing past Tom, Lizzie walked back down the stairs.

Ignoring Tom's pleas for her not to answer it, Lizzie pressed the green call button.

"I sent you the files. Our cameras cover five blocks around the office in every direction." Aram's voice came over the line, the echo of rapid typing floating through the line as well.

"Okay, I'll look through them right now." Lizzie went over to the computer that sat at a small desk in the corner of the living room.

"Don't bother. Red wasn't followed. He came in at 5:15. No tail cars, no eyes on the street."

"Damn it. How did Garrick know he was in the post office?" Lizzie turned her back as Tom walked over.

"My question exactly. So I started thinking – What if somebody inside already tipped him off?"

"You found the mole?"

"No. But I think I have a lead. We routinely collect all cellular transmission from inside and directly around this facility. So much data I had to play around with various mathematical structures, knots, multivariate polynomials –"

"Aram, the lead?" Lizzie interrupted, impatient.

"Right. I found a pattern in the transmissions – a series of calls made from a burner cell. Each call was placed just seconds after Reddington arrived at the post office."

"All from the same burner?" Lizzie questioned. Who would be that stupid?

"No. All from different burners, but all the calls were to the same number. I vectored the address to a private residence a few miles from here. The address is 8123 12th street."

"What?" Lizzie walked over to the large front window of their house and pulls the curtain so that she can see. She lived on 12th Street. 8123 was right across from her. Crap. "] I'll call you right back."

/\/\/\/\

"As with everything involving you, things are more complicated than they may appear. If I could, I'd end this right now, give you the horrifying death that you so deserve."

"Then do it." Red murmured, closing his left eye against the flow of blood coming from where Garrick hit him in the face, splitting open his eyebrow. He'd been Garrick's punching bag for about an hour now. Most of Garrick's hits had been kidney shots. Red was going to be pissing blood for days. Joy.

"Yeah. When it's time. You see, sadly, this isn't my surprise party. I am merely the hired help. My job was to get you to the venue. And while I would pay a high price to silence you forever, others have paid much more for the chance to hear what you have to say."

Red laughed and shook his head. "Please." He said sarcastically.

Garrick looked behind him where a man was being escorted in by one of his men. Judging by the stethoscope and medical bag, Red was going to go out on a limb and say he was a doctor. Or used to be. Looked to Red like the doc was far away from his Hippocratic Oath.

Sitting the bag on one of the metal chairs in the large warehouse building, the doctor quickly removed a syringe from the bag. Garrick smiled, gesturing over at the doctor "Anesthesia blocks the impulses to the brain so one doesn't feel the sensation of pain. The drug that the kind doctor is giving you does the opposite. It enhances the impulses received by the brain. When he's finished, the feeling of a breeze wafting against your skin will be enough to make you beg me to kill you."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie broke the glass of the back door to 8123 12th street, carefully putting her hand in the hole in the glass, she unlocks the door and enters, pistol drawn. Finding nothing downstairs, she went upstairs where she finds a bank of computer monitors – all looking down on a room in her own flat! You have got to be kidding me, she thought. Every room was covered. Including the bedroom. Lizzie's brow furrowed at the sight of an apple is in front of the monitors.

She put down her gun, but then realized someone is behind her. Lizzie moved quickly grasping his hand as he tried to reach around her and flipping him over her shoulder. The man went down hard and Lizzie punched him in the face, dazing him. Reaching for her gun, Lizzie shot him twice. Once in the head, once in the chest. She'd have to think about today's body count and why she didn't seem too phased by it. Staring down at the man, Lizzie shook her head. He looked like some biker dude, thick leather boots, all black clothes and long grey hair tied at the nape of his neck. Lizzie grabbed her phone and dialed Cooper's number, figuring the FBI would need to clean this mess up and investigate what the hell was going on.

"Agent Keen? Agent Keen, are you there?" Cooper's voice came through the speaker and she pulled the phone away from her face. Looking down at it, Lizzie bit her lip before hanging up.

Or maybe she could get some answers. Lizzie dialed Mr. Kaplan.

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie had been pacing in the living room of the house where someone had apparently been surveilling her when she heard a knock at the door. Walking over, she hesitated.

"Mr. Kaplan?"

"What color is the sky?"

"Red." Lizzie's eyes widened as she threw open the door before she'd even responded with the code word. She knew that voice. "Katy Cat? You're Mr. Kaplan?!" Lizzie's voice went shrill as she stood aside to let Mr. Kaplan inside.

"Who else knows you're here?" Mr. Kaplan questioned as she whipped out a pair of latex gloves and put them on.

"Nobody. Wait. You're my babysitter!" Lizzie followed Mr. Kaplan up the stairs in shock. This woman babysat her when she was a kid and Sam had to go away 'on business.' Her dad had arranged it for the times when he couldn't be there and Pop had to leave.

Lizzie had been five the first time she met the woman her Dad had introduced as 'Kate.' She could still remember the time that she had given her the nickname, 'katy cat.' The dour woman's voice had softened as she read her favorite picture book, 'Catwings.' Lizzie had giggled and pointed to her favorite character and said "Katy, cat!" Just as Red had walked back into the room. "Well Katy Cat, looks like you two will get along swimmingly!" Her dad had chuckled, ignoring the disgruntled look that Kate Kaplan had thrown his way.

"Yes dearie, and would it have killed you to call every once in a while?" Mr. Kaplan gave her a pointed look and Lizzie's gaze quickly skittered to the floor as they entered the room with all the monitors. "Now, have you phoned anyone?"

"No."

"Who is he?" Mr. Kaplan nodded at the body as she slowly got down onto her knees beside the dead man.

"I don't know. Every time Dad came to the post office, a call was made to this address, I assume to him."

Mr. Kaplan looked over at the desk where all the monitors say. "He's been watching."

"When he got word that Red was at the post office, he must have called Garrick to trigger the hit."

"I'll handle the body." Mr. Kaplan said, a note of finality in her voice.

"'Handle?'"

"We need the bullets. We can't have ballistics traced to your weapon."

"Okay, wait." Lizzie put her arms out in front of her. "I can't do this. I'm a federal agent."

"I have two directives – to protect you and find your father. I intend to do both. My team will be here soon. Find his car."

/\/\/\/\

"Increase the dosage." Garrick said in frustration. Even with the serum, Red was refusing to talk. His body was wracked with spasms of pain and he was sweating profusely, yet still Red did not speak, didn't cry out as his body roiled with fire.

"We're already 12 cc over the max." The Doctor answered.

"Then why isn't it working?!" Garrick yelled.

"He's resisting somehow. I can stick him again, but if his heart goes into v–fib, we could lose him."

Red opened his eyes slowly, a small smile gracing his face as he puckered his lips at Garrick, as if to give him a kiss.

Garrick chuckled darkly. "Stick him again."

/\/\/\/\

"I ran his face against the database." Mr. Kaplan announced as she climbed into the driver's seat of the dead man's car.

"What database?"

Mr Kaplan raised her brow at Lizzie as if to say do you really think I'm going to tell you that? "No matches. The car is registered to Borderland Cargo, a shell corp with a dummy address.

"What about the GPS data? If he works for the man holding Red, then maybe he's been there before."

Mr Kaplan looked askance at Lizzie, impressed. Going through the recently found addresses on the GPS, she frowned in thought. "You have six addresses. Five are centrally located – A motel, a church, two gas stations, and a restaurant in Alexandria. But this?" She pointed at one of the addresses. "This is something."

"Why?"

"It's an industrial neighborhood, remote. The kind of place I'd find for Mr. Reddington if I didn't want him to be found. Time for a road trip." Kaplan turned the key in the ignition and pulled out onto the street.

/\/\/\/\

"Armed lookouts." Mr Kaplan said, gazing up at the posted guards outside the warehouse from the relative safety of the car. "What are you doing?" She questioned as Lizzie pulled out her phone and went to dial.

"Calling it in. We need backup."

Mr. Kaplan pointed out of the car where a familiar looking group of men in military formation quickly incapacitated the two guards. "Stay in the car. My orders are to keep you safe." Mr. Kaplan directed as she saw Lizzie about to step out. Lizzie's head spun around as she heard the rear door open, only to sigh, rolling her eyes as Dembe slid into the seat behind her.

"Oh great, so now both of my babysitters are here." Lizzie grumbled, making Dembe chuckle. She tried not to bring too much attention to the way Mr. Kaplan's lips twitched upwards as well. The woman didn't smile very often, it was best not to mention it when she did.

/\/\/\/\

Red's shaking had graduated to full tremors as the Doctor took his blood pressure and measured his pulse.

"I think we're ready here."

"About bloody time." Garrick hit Red in the stomach once more, eliciting a weak groan as he swung on the chain, his feet unable to touch the ground as the man holding the other end of the rope lifted him higher.

Footsteps approached but Red was too weak to look up, his head resting limply on his raised arms.

"How are we?" He knew that voice. God he was in trouble. Moving his gaze, Red's lips thinned as his eyes settled on Alan Fitch. Well shit.

"He's ready for you, sir." Garrick murmured deferentially.

Fitch ignored the man as he walked up to Red. "Ray. It's been, what – 20 years?"

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie escorted Cooper and a team of agents into the warehouse that Red's team had raided only to find that Red wasn't there.

"Tell me, Agent Keen, which part of 'stand down' was unclear to you?" Cooper questioned, his gravelly voice at an all time low.

"This wasn't my operation. Fowler may have shut us down, but did you really think Reddington's people weren't gonna try to find him themselves?" She said leaning against the fenced area which housed… something.

"They did this without your involvement?"

"The only reason you're standing here is because they trust me enough to involve me."

"Enlighten me. What is all this?" Cooper pointed to the fenced in area which contained a wealth of computers and servers.

"Some kind of operations outpost three miles from the post office. Seems to be manned by the same people who infiltrated our facility and kidnapped Reddington. That doesn't concern you?"

"I lost a dozen people today, Keen!" Cooper lost his cool. "That isn't on you. It's on me. No one wants the men who did this more than I do. But riding shotgun on an unsanctioned massacre isn't the way to get it done."

"Excuse me, Director Cooper?" Aram hurried over, a small laptop opened in his hands.

"What is it?"

"There's something you need to see."

/\/\/\/\

"I thought I was clear This task force is done." Diane Fowler had the voice of a woman who'd been smoking for a handful of decades, which was further deepened by her disapproval.

"I think you'll reconsider." Cooper replied coolly.

"Why in God's name would I do that?"

"Because this isn't just about Reddington anymore. Agent Keen located a surveillance outpost a few miles from here. Next-gen tech, better than anything we have in the field."

"Surveillance on what?"

"Us. They've been watching this task force for months. Phone taps, communications logs. We're not sure to what extent. We were able to recover very little. The equipment and data were rigged to self-destruct."

"I don't understand." Fowler looked at Cooper, worry making her face look even older. "How is this even possible?"

"Something else you should know. They've been watching you, too." Cooper spun the laptop on the table to show her the video Aram had given him – a video of he and Fowler meeting up on the side of a street.

/\/\/\/\

"All right, that's enough." Fitch announced tiredly after Garrick had roughed Red up for another 15 minutes. "Let him down. Come on. Get him a chair."

Red was let down by one of Garrick's men and lost his balance, conveniently knocking into the Doctor. They quickly plopped him in a chair before everyone left the room, leaving Red and Fitch alone.

"I don't understand, Ray. None of this had to happen. I thought we had an arrangement."

Red tried to speak, cleared his throat then attempted it once more. "We do." His voice was barely a whisper.

"Eh, I don't know. The people I represent, they're nervous. We don't know what to think. We could've killed you. I don't mean today. I mean any day. I mean every day for the past two decades. But we don't. We know what you have, Ray. And we know what'll happen to it if you turn up dead. So we do nothing. We let you live. And in exchange, we– we trust that our secret remains secret."

"Nothing has changed."

"Oh, no. I'd say everything's changed. Everything changed the minute you surrendered to the FBI. Did you think we wouldn't know? Maybe you wanted to change our arrangement. Maybe you thought you could turn yourself in and, uh, find some new friends to protect you. Maybe you plan to expose us."

"No."

"What have you told, Ray?"

Red shook head vehemently. "Nothing."

"Then what the hell are you doing here?"

"My reasons have n- nothing to do with you."

"Do they have to do with your daughter, Ray?" Red looked up sharply at the question, his heart beating even faster than it already was from the drugs.

"Yes Ray, we know about her. Special Agent Keen. You see, at first we figured that this whole thing with the FBI was just another way Red Reddington was benefiting Red Reddington. But then we heard about the deal, how you're only willing to talk to her. What's so special about her Ray? Then we looked into her and it all clicked. Found out she was adopted by Sam Scott – your old Navy pal – just a couple months after little Masha Rostova disappeared."

"Don't you dare touch her." Ray growled, his eyes igniting in anger.

"Of course not. Because I've always liked you, Ray. You're a pain in my neck, but I like you. Just know this. Little Lizzie went to get coffee on that corner shop near your hotel this morning. You were walking in the park this morning. We could've taken you then. Instead, we dragged you from the safety and security of the bed you're now sharing with new friends. Why would we do a thing like that? To make it abundantly clear, there's nowhere you can go. There's no one you can trust to keep you from us."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie and Meera were hunched over a table back at the Post Office. "You were there? When Reddington's people took the building? How many people were killed?" Meera asked Lizzie.

"At least six. It was an outpost. Professionals. These people were highly trained. Like Garrick. What's all this?" Lizzie pointed to a pile of manila folders.

"A waste of time." Meera stated on a sigh. "By Cooper's directive, I reached out to a few of our colleagues at the Agency, informed them of our situation, and offered to contact my counterparts at the other black sites to share intel."

Lizzie picked up one of the folders, her brow furrowing in confusion as she opened it to take a peek. "All these names are redacted."

Meera rolled her eyes. "So much for inter–agency cooperation."

"You really think that Garrick had someone on the inside?"

"It's possible. The only one beyond suspicion is Ressler, unless he used Garrick to shoot him in the leg to cover his tracks."

"Is he still in surgery?" Lizzie's voice softened with worry for her partner.

"Four hours and counting."

Lizzie sighed before looking at a map from one of the folders. "Hollins Ferry Road. I know that address. It says DCM What does that mean?"

"Decommissioned. Here I am trying to help, and the only names that aren't blacked out are sites that are no longer in use."

"Is that a church?" Lizzie asked, poring over the map.

"Well, that's the cover story."

"I'm gonna need satellite access to this address."

"Why?" Meera questioned, not quite understanding where Lizzie was going.

"Because I think this might be where they're holding Reddington." Lizzie stated, shifting slightly so that Meera could read the map over her shoulder.

"Is this in Franklin Square?"

"Yeah. Why?""

"The ambulance that was used to abduct Reddington they found burning in a garage a quarter mile from there."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie looked up to see Cooper and Diane Fowler exiting his office. "I think we found Reddington." She announced, walking over to them, the map in her hand.

"Where?" Cooper asked, looking down at the map.

"A church in Baltimore – A decommissioned black site."

"A black site? You think that's where they're holding Reddington?"

"It makes sense. It's the last place we would think of. And if he knew about this site, he'd know about others."

Cooper looked over at Diane Fowler who had remained silent. "What about it, Diane? I need an answer. Are we shut down or not?"

/\/\/\/\

Garrick walked over to where Red was apparently still tied to the chair.

"Just you and me again, Red. Just like the old days."

"Oh, give it a rest." Red snipped. "We both know Fitch won't let you finish it."

"That's as may be. But you know what I can do, though, Red? I can find Lizzie. I can hurt her. I can make her suffer. And when I'm finished, I can kill her. Sometimes you just have to take what you can in this crazy world. Guess who taught me that, Red." He paused for a moment, waiting for Red to say something. "You did. What? No smart quips? No?"

Red began to have a coughing fit, leaning forward in his chair. Garrick pulled out a chair and sat close to Red, leaning towards him.

"You're not actually feeling something, are you, Red?" He teased.

Lightning fast, Red headbutts Garrick, then grabs him, stabbing him in the neck with the surgical scissors he'd pocketed when he'd fallen into the Doctor. Red watched coldly as Garrick drowned in his own blood before stiffening and falling limp.

"Regret." He murmured before standing up and letting Garrick's body fall to the floor after he pulled the bloody surgical scissors from Garrick's neck. Red left without looking back.

/\/\/\/\

Ten minutes later, Lizzie, Cooper, and Meera stormed the church with a group of armed agents. Seeing a body on the floor, Lizzie ran towards it, only to sigh in relief at the sight of Garrick's lifeless body.

"He was here." She murmured.

/\/\/\/\

"He was there. Lab tests confirm the blood was Reddington's." Cooper reported to Fowler as they sat in his office.

"Which means?" Fowler's strict, birdlike features tightened with impatience.

"As far as we can tell, he killed his captor and escaped."

"Then why aren't you out hunting him down?"

"I'm sorry?" Cooper leaned forward, lacing his fingers atop his desk. "I thought we were in the 'cover our asses' business, in containment mode."

"That ship has sailed, Harold." Fowler spat angrily. "Someone is surveilling us, and we don't know who. Reddington does."

"You don't know that."

"We have a mole. That mole leaked intel leading to the abduction and torture of Reddington. It's a simple math problem, Harold. Whoever is after Reddington is after us, and that means, as far as I'm concerned, that Reddington still has real value. The unit has a new focus – Finding him. As of this moment, the only target on the blacklist is Raymond Reddington."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie sat on the couch in a new safe house. Dembe had driven them there as they both felt that the Hotel was compromised. Neither had spoken a word all evening, silent with worry as they hadn't heard from Red yet.

Lizzie startled as her phone lit up next to her, grabbing it, she fumbled to answer the call.

"Hello?"

"Lizzie." His gruff voice came over the line.

"Red." Lizzie's entire body seemed to sag with relief. "Where are you?"

"Gone for a short while."

"Are you alright? Dembe's out looking for you."

"I've already called Dembe, he'll be coming back to the safe house soon."

"The task force, Cooper – They're searching for you. What should I tell them?"

"Lizzie, do you remember the men who stormed that outpost with you today?"

"Yea, why?"

"They're your team. They're tasked to protect you. Let them."

"Dad? What's going on?"

There was a moment of silence before she heard a great sigh. She could almost imagine her dad rubbing his hand over the top of his head in frustration. "They know, Lizzie. The people I've tried to protect you from. They know you're my daughter."

Lizzie gulped in fear. In the back of her mind, she'd always known that some day, it would all come to a head, that her dad wouldn't be able to keep them away forever. But she had hoped they'd have more time. She wasn't ready. If she was honest with herself, she didn't think she ever would be.

"The cards are still stacked in my favor, Sweetheart. But I don't think they will be for much longer. I need you to stay safe while I'm gone, okay? Dembe is to stay with you at all times when you're not at the Post Office. Baz and his team will also still watch over you. Promise me, Lizzie. Promise you won't do anything stupid. That includes going to see that husband of yours. Promise me."

Lizzie bit her lip at the intensity of her dad's voice. She hadn't heard him sound so upset since that night all those years ago, the night her sister had died.

"I promise, Dad." She whispered. "Where are you going to go? What are you gonna do?"

"There is a mole on the taskforce, Lizzie. I intend to find out who. Now, I have to go. But Lizzie I want you to know, wherever I am, whatever I'm doing, if you are in need, I will be there."

"Dad, that sounds an awful lot like goodbye." Lizzie couldn't stop the small sniffle.

Red chuckled softly. "Of course not, Sweetheart. Until next time."

The sound of the dial tone cut off her reply.