Lizzie sat in their office, looking up as Ressler walked in, throwing his cell phone down on his desk.

"My ex, Audrey – she's getting married. She just texted me again. Wants to meet for drinks to talk about Tassels." Ressler sighed, skimming his hand back and forth over the back of his head.

"Tassels? Is that her dog?" Lizzie questioned, looking up at him in confusion.

"No, it's the guy. He's a hedge–fund guy – pink shirt, loafers with those tassels. Anyway, the thing is, I got to tell her I'm happy for her when I'm not. The guy's a tool." Ressler rolled his eyes.

"Gotcha. Tell her…tell her that marriage isn't all that it's cracked up to be." Lizzie said softly, looking back down at her paperwork, worrying her bottom lip between. She was glad to be rid of Tom. That didn't mean she wasn't lonely or didn't wish things had been…different.

Ressler was quiet for a moment and she could feel his eyes on her. "Everything alright Keen?"

Lizzie's eyes wetted at the compassion in his voice. They had slowly begun to thaw towards each other and she now hesitantly called him her friend, at least in her head. Wouldn't want Captain America's ego to inflate any further.

"Yea uh… I should… well, you probably should know." Lizzie cleared her throat. "I'm divorcing Tom." Lizzie looked up just in time to see the shock slide across Ressler's face.

"But..why? I thought you guys were doing well, working through everything?" Ressler stood and came over to Lizzie's desk, leaning against the side right beside Lizzie's chair.

Lizzie shook her head. "How could I, Ress?" She leaned back in her chair, letting her head fall against the headrest as she looked up at Ressler. "He was my husband and yet I was so quick to believe the worst of him. It almost felt like a relief." Lizzie blew out a heavy breath through her lips. "Like there had been something…off for our entire marriage and it finally clicked into place. Like my instincts had been muted until the proof hit me in the face."

It was a rehearsed half truth but that was the genius of the lie. It was true. She so easily accepted that her husband was a spy/ assassin. There had been something in her waiting for the shoe to drop since the beginning but she convinced herself that it was just a paranoia born of who her father was, what he did. The psychologist in her wrote it off as her projecting her inner turmoil about her father onto the new man in her life – her father was a criminal so that meant every man in her life was, right? Damn she hates when she's right.

"But…he was cleared. Do you think we should dig deeper?" Ressler asked.

"No, no. I think he's innocent it's just… the trust between us is gone, Ressler." Lizzie snorted, shaking her head. "And apparently my trust in him never existed."

"Damn." Ressler placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "I'm sorry, Lizzie."

Lizzie looked up and smiled at him. That was the first time he'd ever called her by her first name. Guess they really were friends.

"Thanks, Don."

/\/\/\/\

Red sat in Meera's living room, reading a book by the light of a dim table lamp. When she walks in, he snaps the book shut and looks up at her as she stops dead in the doorway, her hand lifted to turn the overhead light switch on. Kudos to her for not questioning his presence in her home. Why people, even criminals, expected him – a criminal and international fugitive – to respect personal boundaries and trespassing laws, he'd never know.

"Hello, Meera. I trust you know why I'm here."

"Yes. You're here to kill me because I'm the mole."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie groaned as she pushed herself away from her toilet where she'd had her head stuck inside for the last 20 minutes. After wiping her mouth, Lizzie took the hair tie off her wrist and threw her hair up in a messy bun. Adjusting the thin strap of her cami, Lizzie brought her flannel covered knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs.

"Shit." She murmured, resting her head on her knees.

/\/\/\/\

Red sat in one of the many pews in the synagogue, wearing a Yarmulke. Lizzie quietly walked up next to him and sat down.

"Are we Jewish?" She whispered hesitantly.

Red laughed, shaking his head. "No, of course not," He fluttered his hand in a 'look around gesture. "But when in Rome."

Lizzie simply nodded, looking around at the synagogue. Their family had never been religious but she'd always found something rather pleasant about places of worship. They were rooms cradled in awe and wrapped in a comforting sense of history. She could have used that growing up.

"There's nothing more profound and of lasting consequence than the decision to have a child. The exploitation and perversion of that decision is the stock and trade of a truly evil organization – the Cyprus Adoption Agency."

"Adoption?" Lizzie looked at her dad askance. "Is this an attempt to make me feel better about my failed marriage and how close I came to adopting a baby with a spy?"

"Life is full of lovely little ironies." Red laughed. "The Cyprus Agency offers a promise of something very special– perfection. Their clients are ordering from an unlimited genetic menu, the characteristics of the child they want to bring home. But the evil is not in what the agency offers. It's in how they get it done. The Cyprus Agency is in the abduction business. They don't locate kids for adoption. They steal them and adopt them out to new parents. And moving stolen children is difficult. There's copious amounts of paperwork. They're using a forger. One of the best. But I'm biased. He's one of my best." Red paused and looked at her solemnly, handing her a folder. "Lizzie, I'm giving you the chance to take down a criminal organization that is abducting babies from their mothers' arms. This is the next child the Cyprus Agency will deliver, a boy, less than two weeks from now."

"Who is he really?" Lizzie asked, opening the folder and looking down at a file of a beautiful baby boy.

"I have no idea. But he's about to become the child of David and Wendy Roland."

/\/\/\/\/\

"So, where did he come from?" David Roland questioned them as they sat around the couple's dining room table.

"I don't know." Lizzie looked over at Ressler, hesitant. "Our source says he may have been abducted."

"Oh, my God." Wendy Roland covered her mouth with her hand in horror.

"Abduction? Abducted from whom?" Mr. Roland asked. "W–we've been through all the details."

"Y–you're saying he may never be our son?" Mrs. Roland questioned, on the verge of hysterics. What, y–you're saying there may be another mother out there who's looking for him?"

"I'm sorry Mr. and Mrs. Roland, I know this is very difficult." Ressler murmured, shifting in his seat.

David Roland sighed. "S–so, what do you need us to do?"

/\/\/\/\/\

Brimley walked out of the backroom of the abandoned office building, the squeak of the little wheels on his oxygen tank trailing behind him. He took the oxygen mask off his face as he stood in front of Red. "She's a tough little punjab. Doesn't talk so much."

"That's why you're here, Mr. Brimley." Red stated, his hands behind his back.

"She's telling the truth. Don't bet the trailer money, but I pushed her hard, and I'm telling you– that girl's cleaner than a duck fart."

Red nodded and waved dismissively at the man. "Thank you, Teddy." He stated, walking over to where Meera was being held as the squeak of Brimley's oxygen tank wheels slowly faded away.

The heavy door creaked on its hinges as he opened it then closed with an echoing bang. Walking over to where Meera sat, restrained to a chair, looking exhausted and rather the worse for wear, he sat down. Red sat down across from her, crossed his knees and hung his fedora on his knee. He quietly stared at Meera for a moment, his lips turned down in a frown. "Let's talk."

"Already did."

"Yes, but now that you've been vetted by Mr. Brimley, I'm more inclined to listen. Like I said, to get into the black site so quickly, Garrick had to have the site layout in advance. Which you gave to him."

Meera shook her head. "No."

"I have an RFP we recovered from the trash of a government contractor, signed by Meera Malik. You leaked classified data in the name of improving security."

"No. I was authorized to start the bidding process."

Red paused, the muscle under his left eye twitching. "Authorized by whom?"

"I don't know. All I know is that Cooper handed me the order. Putting a bullet in my head gets you nothing. But letting me help you might get us both what we want."

He had to admire the girl. She had chutzpah. "And why would you want to help me, Agent Malik?"

"Someone on the inside betrayed us. Colleagues of mine were killed. We both want the same thing. Let me go, and I'll find out who did it."

"The order was classified."

Meera smiled grimly. "You let me worry about that."

/\/\/\/\

The sting they'd attempted on the Agency's general council, Caldwell, failed rather abysmally. The Rolands had spooked the man as they tried to get answers from him while talking over coffee with the man. When he went outside to take a phone call, warning his boss, Lizzie and Ressler moved in on him and he walked right into traffic, getting hit by a bus. But not before giving Lizzie and Ressler enough probably cause.

Lizzie and Ressler stood in the foyer of the Cyprus Agency's office as agents began to swarm around.

"You can't. Those files are confidential." One of the many secretaries murmured as she pointed at a box that one of the agents were holding.

Ressler walked up to her and held up a folded pile of papers. "Warrant. I need you to step outside." He then pointed to a computer that one of the agents was holding without bothering to look to ensure that the secretary had scuttled off. "Get that hard drive to Aram. We need a full work–up on it, pronto." The man nodded before scurrying off."

As they stood there, a man with salt and pepper hair, an expensive suit, and rather handsomely aristocratic features walked towards them.

"Agent Ressler?"

"Mr. Mallory. I see you got my message." Ressler replied, shaking the man's hand.

"I did. I just – I don't really understand." The man looked around him in confusion as the agents milled around, removing various files and computer equipment.

"I – Neither do we." Ressler stated, shifting on his feet with his hands placed on his hips. "But it's clear an adoption being brokered by this agency is a fraud."

"Well, I–I can't believe that. If there was a misstep with a case, it undoubtedly happened overseas. All of the legal aspects on our end are dealt with by Ted Caldwell and his team, who I am completely confident in."

"Someone got it wrong." Ressler stated firmly.

"All right, Agent. You're welcome to examine all the records, warrant or not, but if there was a false claim made, believe me – you should be looking into our overseas partners."

"We're launching a wider investigation. Until we're done, you're out of the adoption business."

"Understood." Mallory nodded his head. "I just ordered an internal review myself. Look, this agency is only as strong as its reputation, so I want answers as much as you do. Anything you need – anything – just let me know."

/\/\/\/\

"Twenty-seven files." Lizzie dropped the pile of files onto one of the table tops in the war room of the post office. "That's 27 adoptions brokered in the last 3 years alone."

"Is that a lot?" Cooper questioned.

Lizzie nodded her head. "That's a lot, especially when you're adopting out infants, and that's almost never done internationally. But there's the thing. I've gone through every case file. I can't authenticate a single adoption. One child was supposedly born to a birth mother in Lithuania, but I can't find any record of the birth."

"They're smart." Cooper sighed, frustrated. "The trails lead to facts we can't verify instead of something we can prove is a lie. Bring me evidence. Make the case. Compare the kids delivered by the Cyprus Agency to police reports of missing kids."

"I'll call Interpol, check their database." Ressler gruffed.

"A lot of their missing-persons files have DNA on record. We should coordinate DNA panels on all the kids." Lizzie spoke up.

"Let's do it." Cooper said, nodding his head.

At that moment, Aram came in carrying his lunch – a microwave bean burrito, judging by the smell of it – to his desk. Lizzie covered her mouth and nose but it was too late, her stomach roiled.

"Excuse me." She murmured, hurrying off to the restroom.

Cooper and Ressler looked at each other, dazed, then over to Aram.

"What?" He questioned around his bite of food, looking around nervously.

/\/\/\/\

Red and Lizzie stood inside the lobby of an office building that was closed for the evening, the only light came from the street lamps through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"How's the case coming along?"

Lizzie ran her fingers through her hair. "We compared the DNA to every known sample on file for missing or abducted kids – not a single hit. The Cyprus Agency delivered 27 children, all unaccounted for. Nobody's ever reported them missing."

"You're so linear." He chuckled, shaking his head.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lizzie's hip jutted out as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"The FBI and the police– the way they teach you to think never ceases to amaze me. Lizzie, not every missing child is on the back of a milk carton."

"Who wouldn't report a missing child…?"

"People who won't or can't go to the police. Criminals. Run the DNA again. This time, don't look for an exact match. Look at the relatives. You want to find where those kids came from, that's how."

/\/\/\/\

Ressler came around the corner and poked his head into their office. "Keen, the DNA results are in."

"We get a hit?" Lizzie asked as she stood from her desk and headed out to the war room with him.

"We got five." Ressler stated as they headed down the stairs and over to one of the computer terminals. "You need to see this. Five hits, all women. According to the DNA, these five women are the biological mothers of 12 of the 27 kids."

"The mothers. Let me guess. They're in prison."

"No." Ressler's closed in a thin line as he paused. "They're not in the system because they're criminals– they're in the system because they're missing."

"Missing?" Lizzie's head shot around to look at him.

"All five of them."

"Five women– all attractive, smart, in their early 20s."

"All five were in college when they disappeared." Ressler stated.

"Four of the five disappeared without a trace." Lizzie said as she read the files. "Allison Hayes – she was a physics student at BU. She went to class one Monday morning and vanished. The police reports are almost identical. These were clean grabs, no witnesses."

"All except one." Ressler walked over to one of the evidence boards and pointed to a picture of a pretty young woman. "Kate Ellison, also 20. She goes drinking with a fake ID at a bar near Brown where she's a sophomore. She got taken on the walk home. A witness said they saw her fighting with a man who then pushes her into a van, but no ID was possible."

/\/\/\/\

"So, they're not taking children." Cooper's solemn voice echoed across the room as everyone had stopped to listen in. There was something about this case that horrified even the most seasoned agents. "They're taking women. What's the timeline?"

"Kate Ellison was taken three years ago." Lizzie paused, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Wait. That can't be right. According to the DNA test, Kate's the mother of two children delivered by the Cyprus Agency. They're 1 and 2 years old."

"So she gave birth after she was taken?" Cooper questioned.

Lizzie shook her head in horror. "She didn't only give birth. She got pregnant after she was taken."

Ressler rummaged through the other files before looking up grimly. "So did Allison Hayes and Michelle Lefferts. The kids matching their DNA were conceived after they were abducted."

"These women are alive. They're still out there." Cooper announced heavily.

/\/\/\/\

Aram: I was looking at Ted Caldwell's computer, the one we seized from his office. Now, most of it was routine, but deep in the background was a file nobody wanted found.

Ressler: "Purchase Orders." What exactly was he buying?

Aram: Not buying. From the looks of it, I'd say it's something he intended to acquire. I had them printed. It's a complete dossier – medical profile, grades going back to middle school, athletic and extracurricular interests.

Liz: Charlotte Patterson – in her second year at Georgetown. You think she could be the agency's next target?

Ressler: We can't afford to risk it. We need to get her into protective custody.

/\/\/\/\

Ressler and Lizzie stood in the war room, downtrodden. They had failed at finding the latest victim in time by mere moments. Lizzie could still hear the screech of the black van's tires echoing in the parking garage.

"Charlotte Patterson never made it home from class. She was definitely inside that van." Lizzie sighed, throwing a file onto the table beside her.

"Her cell's not active. We're setting up checkpoints, and every law-enforcement agency in a 200-mile radius has her photo, along with the make, model, and plate number of the van." Aram spoke up, he was always most confident when in his element, surrounded by his computers and tech.

"Where are we on Mallory?" Cooper asked.

"Waiting on documents from overseas. And the files we seized at the agency have Caldwell's name all over them." Lizzie pointed to one of the many boxes currently littering the room. "But there's no paper trail proving Mallory or anyone else knew what was going on."

"Are you saying he's innocent?" Cooper questioned, disbelieving.

"No. We've interviewed employees on three continents – accountants, marketing, researchers. They all seem to be clean." Ressler stated, leaning against the desk next to Lizzie.

"We need proof!" Cooper shouted, clearly frustrated and as disturbed by this case as everyone else in the room. "And it would be nice to get it before another woman is abducted."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie and Ressler waited in the hallway of the County hospital's morgue.

"Name is Kate Ellison. Computer said the FBI is looking for her." The medical examiner began speaking as soon as he walked through the door.

"Thanks for the call. You get a cause of death?" Ressler asked as the man approached.

"Single gunshot wound. And that's about the only thing in this that makes any sense. Just h–hang on a second. Let me get my file." The medical examiner spun back around and went back through the door he'd just exited.

Ressler looked over at Lizzie who had her lips pursed in thought. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing good." Lizzie blew out a breath, running her fingers through her hair. "Kate Ellison had blond hair and blue eyes. She dies, and a day or two later, Charlotte Patterson gets taken."

"It's the same type. Maybe the agency needed a replacement." They both winced at the implications of the thought.

The ME soon returned with the file and they turned to look at him.

"Okay, Kate Ellison, abducted at the age of 20. She dies at the age of 23. So, where has she been for the last three years? I would say nowhere."

Ressler and Lizzie glanced at each other in confusion. "Meaning?" Ressler spoke up after a moment of hesitation.

"Let's start with the muscle tone. She has severe muscular atrophy. Her arms, her legs, all the major muscle groups – are deteriorated."

"What would cause that?" Lizzie asked as they all moved to the side as a nurse wheeled the body of Kate Ellison over to them.

"Inactivity– I don't think that this woman has stood upright for any length of time in years. She was in an induced coma." The ME removed the sheet covering the woman's arm and turned it to show the crook of her elbow. "The needle marks on her arm suggest that she was fed through a tube. Okay, now, here's where my findings go from the crazy to the totally insane. She's given birth – several times."

"How is that possible in her condition, though?" Ressler questioned, shifting on his feet.

"Well, she was heavily sedated and she's lost a lot of muscle mass, but she's actually in great shape to deliver a child. Her folic acid, her calcium, her iron were all incredibly high. So, whoever's been keeping her has been giving her prenatal care."

"If she was shot, maybe she was trying to escape." Lizzie voiced her thoughts aloud.

"That would be pretty tough." The ME shrugged his shoulder, his head tilted slightly. "She was on some very heavy sedation – a benzodiazepine called hydroxipam."

"Thank you." Lizzie murmured as she fished in her pocket for her cell phone as it vibrated. Glacing at the screen, she quickly answered it as she walked away from Ressler and the ME.

"Aram, what do you have?"

"It's about Owen Mallory." The techie's voice came over the line. "Cooper said get into his life, so I started with his undergrad degree from Harvard."

"Oh, let me guess. He never went."

"Oh, no, he went. Here's the thing– he went under a different name. Owen Mallory was enrolled as Charles Lassiter Jr. He falsified his transcripts, applied as the only son of Charles and Jill Lassiter from Bethesda."

Lizzie spun around and looked over at Ressler. "We've got something on Mallory." Speaking into the phone again, Lizzie demanded, "Aram, send us the Lassiters' address."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie and Ressler sat on the couch in the home of the Lassiters.

"I know this must be a shock. His name is Owen Mallory." Ressler said as he placed his coffee cup gently on the small table between the couches. "He attended Harvard, claiming to be your son."

"I'm sorry. What did you say his name is now?" Jill Lassiter questioned, nervously tucking a strand of her grey hair behind her ear.

"'Now?'" Lizzie questioned, picking up on the woman's phrasing. "Mrs. Lassiter, do you know this man?"

Mrs. Lassiter's lips thinned as she looked at her husband before finally nodding. "He was our son."

"The boy we knew was named Michael Shaw." Mr. Lassiter took his wife's hand in his and patted it gently with the other that wasn't clasped around hers in a comforting gesture. "And when we met him, he was seven years old and in foster care."

"So you adopted him." Lizzie caught on.

Mrs. Lassiter nodded slowly. "He was with us for 16 months. Charles and I- I mean, we knew Michael was troubled. But nothing could have prepared us for –"

"T- the therapist called it severe attachment disorder." Mr. Lassiter picked up where his wife left off as she became choked up. "Uh a- and there- there – there were many therapists, all kinds. We tried. I know – I know how that sounds. But- but when Michael began threatening to hurt himself an- and us, then the doctors stepped in and felt uh – " The man's voice faltered. "for, uh for Michael to return to foster care."

"I'm so sorry. That must have been very difficult." Lizzie gave her best sympathetic voice though on the inside she was fuming. How dare these people treat a child like a bauble that they no longer wanted?

"No, I'm sorry. It's just, in many ways Charles and I blame ourselves. In hindsight, we weren't ready. We, the marriage was troubled. We- we just weren't equipped for a child."

/\/\/\/\

Dembe drove up next to Meera's car in the cemetery, the headlights illuminating the headstones eerily. Red smoothly hopped out of the back seat the moment the car rolled to a stop.

"Directive for a mandatory security upgrade." Meera handed Red a thin file. "The person who ordered it signed page 6."

Meera waited silently as Red leafed through the small packet of papers. His lips puckered in thought as he got to page 6. Dropping the hand that held the file, Red turned on his heel and walked back over to his car. "Our business is done, Agent Malik."

/\/\/\/\

Red's car pulled up behind Lizzie's where she was parked along a fairly wealthy suburban street in Maryland.

"Sorry I'm late." Red apologized as he got out of the car, walking over and giving Lizzie a quick hug.

"What the hell is this place?" Lizzie pointed to the house which was the address Red had given her.

"Not at all what it seems." Red smiled benignly as he began walking slowly up the path to the house.

"What are we doing here? I told you– I need help tracking hydroxipam. There's no federal prescription database. Can't subpoena every pharmacy on the East Coast." Lizzie's frustration practically leaked from her.

"You don't have to. Did you know the earliest-known cul-de-sac is over 2,000 years old, unearthed in El-Lahun, Egypt? Aristotle himself was a big fan– said they made it difficult for the enemy to find their way while attacking. Now, be polite. You're about to meet one of the nicest narcotics dealers this side of Cleveland." Red quieted as he knocked on the door. It was immediately opened wide and they were hit by a barrage of hip hop music, laughter, and dozens of indistinct conversations. Walking in, Lizzie attempted to avoid the many women and men in what appeared to be various stages of undress, almost getting hit in the head by an inflatable alligator in the process. She followed Red into the kitchen and over to a man who had his head covered by a hood, standing over a pot on the stove.

"Russell!" Red called, his arms opening invitingly as the man took the hood off and stood straight to see who was calling for him.

"What's up, fool?" The young man with shaggy brown hair laughed as he and Red embraced.

"Ah. Smells delicious, Russell." Res murmured, taking a whiff as he stood over the pot that Russel had just practically been immersed in.

"Mescaline steam bath. You want a hit?"

"Oh, my God. If only I could do just one. No, thank you. No, last time I played around with that, I ended up naked in the desert trying to hitch a ride to Tuba City. Those Navajo tacos– Oh! Heaven!" Red shook his head, laughing nostalgically.

"– When was this?" Lizzie questioned from behind the pair.

"Uh, about two years ago." Red looked towards her without actually meeting her eye. Lizzie just rolled her eyes, unimpressed with her dad's history with drugs.

"She seems like a cop." Russel leaned towards Red and said in a not-so-whisper.

"You see? I keep telling her that. She doesn't listen to me." Red pointed at Lizzie then back at Russel as if to say 'I told you so,' before clapping Russell on the shoulder. "Listen, Russell, this isn't a social call. I came for your professional opinion. I need to know about hydroxipam."

"Sure, yeah, I know all about that– that and the Betamax and the BlackBerry."

Red shook his head, his lips cocked to the side in a small grin. "I don't understand the reference."

"Nobody wants it. Uh, hydro is supposed to be a sleep aid, but it's crazy powerful– too powerful. The half-life's like 100 hours."

"So?"

"So," Russell chortled, "people need to get up in the morning."

"Where can I get it?"

"You don't want it." Russell tried to convince Red. Guess there is honor among criminals. Lizzie thought to herself. A drug dealer who is trying to convince a paying customer that they don't want the product.

"I do."

"Okay." Russell said with a sigh, shaking his head. "But I got to tell you, I don't think most pharmacies even stock it now. Luckily, I have access to their inventories." Russell grabbed an iPad from the kitchen counter and typed something in before placing it back on the counter so that both Red and Lizzie could see. "There. See? Only three pharmacies in 1,200 miles carry hydro. And of those, only eight doctors wrote scripts – in the last year."

"What's this code here?" Lizzie asked, pointing to one of the columns of data.

"That's what kind of doctor wrote the prescription. Looks like seven are sleep therapists, and one is a fertility doctor!?" Russell chuckles and Red began to laugh as well when Russell looked up to see why no one else found that funny.

/\/\/\/\

"FBI. We need to talk with Dr. Gideon Hadley." Lizzie stated with authority as she and Ressler walked up to the reception desk at the fertility clinic, flashing their badges.

"Dr. Hadley's in a meeting." The man behind the counter stated kindly.

"You'll just have to interrupt." Ressler ordered.

The man pursed his lips before nodding his head and walking into the office area. Ressler and Lizzie stood quietly for a few minutes before they noticed him coming back.

"I'm so sorry. Dr. Hadley actually stepped out for the afternoon."

"I thought you said he was in a meeting." Questioned Ressler.

The man shrugged his shoulders, clearly losing his patience. "I thought he was. He'll be back in a few hours. You're welcome to wait."

"Great. In the meantime, I think we'll give ourselves a tour of the facility." Lizzie stated, walking around the desk and heading towards the doors which lead into the offices

Hearing a commotion behind her, Lizzie reaches for her holster, spinning around to see Ressler wrestle a gun off of the guy and laying atop of him on the ground, subduing him.

"Find Hadley." Ressler grunts.

Lizzie nods before quickly making her way through the floor. Pausing at the sound of gunshots, Lizzie spoke into her mic.

"Ress? You alright?" She whispered lowly.

"Yea." He grumbled. "Found Hadley." His voice came through her earpiece.

Lizzie ascended a set of stairs and found a floor that said "Restricted Area." Opening the door, Lizzie was met with a cavernous, bare bones floor of the building. Walking forward, her gun raised, Lizzie made her way to where it appeared that a large portion of the floor was cordoned off with heavy plastic sheeting. Finding a parting in the sheeting, Lizzie walked through only to stop dead. There were two rows of ten hospital beds – 20 in all. There were IV lines at each bed and the soft beeping of machines recording the vital signs of the woman sedated on each bed – all of whom looked to be in some stage of pregnancy.

Just as Lizzie's stomach began to roil, she let out a gasp as she was tackled from the side, knocking her gun out of her hand and sending it skittering across the floor. Lizzie looked up at her attacker and realized it was Dr. Mallory. She landed a punch to the side of his head, dazing him, and scrambled out from underneath him. Before she could reach the gun, Dr. Mallory swept his arm out, tripping her and sending her careening into one of the hospital beds. She heard him stand and was suddenly bowled over by one of the hospital beds, trying desperately to break the fall of the unconscious woman who fell out of said bed at the impact. Lizzie looked up at the sound of her gun cocking. Laying the woman down on the floor, she turned to see Mallory aiming her own gun at her. Closing her eyes and wincing at the sound of a gun shot, Lizzie waited a breath before opening her eyes. Looking down at herself and assessing the damage, her brain quickly caught up to the lack of pain and she looked around her. Seeing Mallory writhing on the floor, clutching his knee, Lizzie looked over at Ressler and they both smiled shakily at each other.

"Keen?"

"I'm okay. Call it in."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie sat across from Mallory in the interrogation room. The man sat stoically, his now bandaged leg sitting at an awkward angle under the table.

"We found Kate Ellison. And I'm guessing that's not the only body we'll find before this is done. Is it Michael? We know who you are. Michael Shaw adopted at 7 by Charles and Jill Lassiter and returned to foster care. Owen Mallory has no record, but Michael Shaw– he's quite a con man, isn't he?"

"Thank you." The man smirked, dipping his head in apparent gratitude.

"You must have felt so rejected, being removed–"

"I wasn't removed." Mallory cut in, his sudden anger whipping through the air between them. "I was returned like a defective toy."

"I met the Lassiters." Lizzie continued calmly. "Is that why you did this? To get back at them?"

"The Lassiters didn't want a child. They wanted an accessory to smile for their Christmas card. They wanted perfection, like all the others. So I sell what people want. Everybody wins. They get their little geniuses, and–"

"And you and your employees get rich?"

"No." Mallory let out an amused breath. "Well, yes. But it's not about the money for me."

"What does that mean?"

"I think I've said enough. But my legacy is complete. And there is nothing you can do to change that."

"Your legacy." Lizzie couldn't keep her eyes from widening in horror. "You're the father. The children brokered by the Cyprus Agency are yours. Why?"

"Well, I was damaged goods, wasn't I? Not fit to survive in their privileged world. Well, I am surviving. Now part of me is thriving in every home that has my child."

/\/\/\/\

Red entered a darkened den and started a record player, then sat himself comfortably in a stuffed chair

Sundown, you better take care
if I find you been creeping 'round my back stairs.
She's been looking like a queen in a sat–

Red lifted the needle from the record as an older woman in a white satin nightgown walked into the room, having come to investigate the sudden music.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" Diane Fowler asked angrily.

"I know, Diane." Red stated solemnly.

"What?" She questioned, walking slowly into the room and sitting in the wingback chair across from him.

"You signed a directive ordering a mandatory security upgrade at the post office. It's how you got the blueprints into enemy hands. You're the dirty rat, Diane."

"I'm calling the police." She made to get up from her seat.

Red chuckled darkly. "No, you're not."

"You stupid son of a bitch." Diane took a step towards Red and he pulled a pistol out of his pocket, pointing it at her.

"Sit your ass down."

Diane did as she was told. "I signed that directive for your protection."

Red chuckled. "You remind me of this woman I knew in Lisbon. Strange old bird."

"If you think Fitch or any of his people are going to let you get away with this, you're more arrogant than I thought. We came into the post office to make a point. If you come after me, if you so much as lay a finger on me –"

"You talk too much." Red stated with an air of boredom before shooting her in the stomach.

With a gasp, Diane slumped against the back of her chair. "You can't shoot me!"

"Why not? You're not one of the good guys. And, as of today, you're utterly worthless to the bad guys. Fitch and I have an agreement. He goes about his business. I go about mine. You and I don't have an agreement."

"I know the truth, Red, about that night – about what happened to your family. Do you want to know the truth?" Diane's voice had weakened with pain.

Red rolled his tongue, the muscle under his eye twitching. "More than anything in the world. But if you know the truth, Diane, then somebody else does, too." He said sadly before shooting her three more times. He sat there, staring at her, as memories of his wife and little Jennifer flashed before his eyes. After some time, Red shook himself and clicks the record back on and digging his cell phone out of his pocket.

I can see her lying back in her satin dress
in a room where you do what you don't confess
Sundown, you better take care
if I find you been creeping 'round my back stairs
Sundown, you better take care
if I find you been creeping 'round my back stairs

/\/\/\/\

"Mr. Kaplan…" Red greeted, walking forward to give the woman a quick embrace and a kiss on the cheek. "I'm sorry. It's messier than I had hoped." Red whispered, gesturing over to the chair where Diane Fowler still slumped. It was rare that he let emotions take over while he was... conducting business. Though frankly, it was becoming a rather common occurrence since he started working with the FBI, with Lizzie. The woman slumped in her wingback was the reason Dembe and his little girl had had a gun held to their heads. And that was unacceptable.

"Don't worry, deary. I'm used to cleaning up after you." She stated simply, taking her latex gloves out of her purse and setting to work. "Now when are we all going to get together for that family dinner you promised?"

/\/\/\/\

"Lizzie? What are you doing here?"

Lizzie looked up at her dad as he entered his current hotel room. She'd been sitting on his couch facing the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room which had a breath taking view of the capital city.

"I couldn't be alone. Not after today." She murmured as he sat beside her. Lizzie had just moved into her new apartment that weekend. She'd only slept in it a single night but the thought of being there alone …she just couldn't. Scooching closer to her dad, Lizzie laid her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around her knees and smiling softly as he brought his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him.

"It's going to be okay, Sweetheart. It already is. You did an amazing job today." Red kissed the crown of her head. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks Dad." She murmured, sniffling slightly. "I just… I can't get the image of those women laying there, helpless and forcibly impregnated by that… disgusting piece of shit."

"Shh..shh Sweetheart. He's going away for the rest of his life. Those women will be okay. Life will go on."

Lizzie nodded her head shakily and they merely sat there, soaking in the peace and pleasant company before Lizzie finally gained the courage to break through the quiet though her voice was so soft, Red had to strain to hear her.

"I uh… I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you that you're going to be a grandpa in a few months."


Yes. Yes I am a little bit evil. Also the song = Sundown by Gordon Lightfoot.