So confession time... I had no intention of including the little scene with Lizzie and Ressler but then some of you were rather...upset with how I left off in the last chapter so...here ya go.


Lizzie sat on her couch, her back against the arm rest as she faced Ressler, her legs drawn up close to her chest as she ate her lo mein.

"So uh… How are you dealing with all of it? Not just being pregnant but, well the circumstances?" Ressler cleared his throat awkwardly as he stabbed a piece of General Tsos with one of his chopsticks. He sat on the other end of her couch, one leg hiked up onto the cushion to face her.

Lizzie sighed at the question, she supposed she was going to have to get use to being asked that once her pregnancy became obvious. She'd been trying to wrap her own head around it ever since she found out. Bottom line was, it was her baby and she wanted it. At least that's what she kept telling herself. "I'm scared." She murmured, playing with the noodles in her to go container. "I'm gonna be a single mom. And the dad...I have huge misgivings about him. He's probably a psychopath and he's out there somewhere." Lizzie bit her lip to stem the flood of tears. She was done crying over Tom Keen. Or whatever his name was.

"We don't know that." Ressler tried to reassure her.

Lizzie merely snorted and shook her head, not willing to divulge everything she knew which basically boiled down to…yes, her ex husband really was a psychopath. Okay fine, an argument can be made for a sociopath. She couldn't very well tell him that Tom was hired by Red to look after her and Tom turned. Too many variables, too many possible questions.

"Anyway, you're not alone. You've got me, the team… and in some freaky way, you've got Reddington."

Lizzie snorted as her smile became watery. "Thanks, Ress. That means a lot."

Ressler nodded, uncomfortable with the mushy conversation and quickly changed the path of the conversation. "Are you going to tell Cooper?" Ressler questioned before swallowing another piece of chicken.

Lizzie shook her head, biting her lip. "Not yet."

"Liz-"

"No, I know. It's dangerous. And I promise, I'll listen to whatever the doc has to say on this but…not yet."

"Why not? Liz, it's not just you anymore."

Lizzie's eyes flashed as she glared at him. "Don't you think I know that? I get that. And like I said, I'll listen to my doctor. But I know what they're going to tell me. Take it easy. Listen to my body. It's not like I'm going to be placing myself at unnecessary risk. I'm going to be careful, Ressler. I just… I can't be sidelined right now."

Ressler stared at her a moment, trying to size her up, before nodding slowly. "Alright."

The rest of the night was spent slowly picking at their food and laughing at late night court room shows and Jerry Springer episodes until they began to doze off.

The third time Lizzie's head began to dip, Ressler chuckled sleepily. "I should head out." He barely got the full sentence out before his jaw cracked with a huge yawn.

Lizzie shook her head with a small grin as she stood up. "You're not going anywhere. Let me get you a blanket and pillow. You can crash on my couch."

Ressler's only answer was a small nod and to burrow further into the back of her couch.

/\/\/\/\/\

Red climbed into the front seat and laughed. "What is this? A '78?" He asked with a sigh, shaking his head, his eyes distant and nostalgic.

The dark skinned man in the driver's seat looked over at him, unamused. "You got a picture?"

"My father loved Cadillacs." Red continued with a smile as he handed over a newspaper clipping.

"And she's alive?" The man questioned as he looked down at the clipping with the picture of a pretty young woman with brunette hair.

"She's calling herself Jolene Parker."

The man nodded definitively, adjusting his cowboy hat atop his head. "I'll notify you when I find her."

"You don't have all the information." Red stated calmly, carefully masking his confusion.

The cowboy looked over at him without a flicker of emotion. "I have all I need."

Red shook his head, his lips pursed. "No. She's –"

"Do I tell you how to do your job?" Cowboy interrupted, his voice slightly raised. "No, I don't. So don't tell me how to do mine. If I was able to find you hiding on that sheep farm outside of Dingle, I can find this girl. Don't you worry how."

Red paused before a moment, counting backwards from ten in his head before smiling as he squinted at the man's head. "I love hats. But that honestly, that takes a certain kind of man. What size are you? I'm a 7 1/2."

The cowboy was completely unamused as he stared at Red. "I'll find the girl."

Red laughed, shaking his head before becoming serious, his face solemn. "I don't want you to find her. I know where she is. I want you to tell me where she's been. Cities, safe houses, aliases. She's already faked her death to elude me. Now she's back. I want you to tell me everything you can about where she's been, what she's been up to."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie stood in the center of the enormous warehouse, trying not to think about all of the legal and illegal merchandise were in the wooden crates of various sizes that surrounded her. She was coming to appreciate the little glimpses she got into her dad's world – like a protracted, twenty-years-too-late, 'take your daughter to work day' event.

Spinning around at the sound of a heavy metal door slamming shut, Lizzie smiled at the sight of her dad and Dembe coming towards her. She gladly reciprocated a quick hug and kiss on the cheek from Dembe before he wandered off to take care of some business or other further into the warehouse before turning to her father.

"Lizzie." Red murmured in greeting as he hugged her tightly. She had noticed his hugs had become longer and more snuggly since she told him she was pregnant. Not that she was complaining. Her dad's hugs had always been one of her favorite things. "Have you seen the paper?"

"What about it?" Lizzie asked as they pulled away, taking the newspaper he proffered and opening it up.

"Mark Hastings, US Attorney from Maryland – Put away the head of the Reynoso Cartel. A week later, he went missing."

Lizzie looked up at him and shrugged her shoulders. "I remember. The Bureau assumed it was a retribution killing."

"Yeah, well, two days ago, he was found wandering on a road in Pennsylvania. Nobody knows where he's been." Red stated, pointing to the article which discusses Hastings' sudden reappearance.

"Was he in hiding?"

"I believe he was held captive, but not by the Reynoso cartel. It's all quite a mystery. They say he's too traumatized to speak. But if what I believe about Hastings is true, if he has been held captive all these years, then it would confirm that the myth is true – The Judge is real." Red announced solemnly.

"The Judge?" Lizzie shuffled on her feet, feeling slightly awkward that she didn't know.

Red nodded, pulling up a medal folding chair next to another and gestured for her to take it while sitting down in the other himself. "Every culture has a justice myth, an avenging angel who exacts retribution for the weak and innocent. Golem for the Jews, Tu Po for the Chinese. The Ancient Greeks had Adrestia, the Goddess of Revenge."

Lizzie nodded, sighing lightly as she sat down. "And we have The Judge."

"Think of him as a prisoner's court of last resort. When your legal appeals have all been exhausted and there is no hope left, you can make one last plea to The Judge."

"What kind of plea?" Lizzie questioned, smiling as Dembe walked over, pulled up another chair, and sat down beside her. He stayed quiet as usual, always preferring to observe.

"Prisoners can state their case, argue their innocence, explain why they were convicted unfairly and who is responsible – a prosecutor, a corrupt detective, maybe an incompetent public defender." Red continued.

"This demand for justice – where does it go?"

"Supposedly, it's passed among inmates until it finally reaches some book depository at the Federal Penitentiary in Monroe, Virginia."

"And then?"

Red shrugged. "Nobody knows for sure. Nobody's ever met him. Somehow, the appeals make their way to The Judge. He reviews the case, and if he thinks you're innocent, he evens the score. If freedom or life were taken unfairly, he demands the same in return – an eye for an eye."

Lizzie nodded thoughtfully, her mind already running over all the possibilities.

"Now that I've given you the next name on the List, would you mind telling me what Agent Ressler was doing coming out of your apartment building early in the morning two days ago?"

Red looked at Lizzie solemnly, his lips pursed. She simply stared at her dad for a few moments, feeling a bit like a teenager being reprimanded. Then she remembered she was a grown ass woman.

"Jesus dad," Lizzie rolled her eyes. "My watchers are there for my protection, not to be used as your spies. We both know how it turned out the last time you employed one of those, yea?"

Shifting uncomfortably and re-crossing his legs, Red cleared his throat. "Yes well, the question still remains."

Lizzie huffed out a breath in annoyance. "I told him about my pregnancy. He was there as my friend, to comfort me. We ate some crappy Chinese food, watched some crappy tv and then he crashed on my couch." Combing her fingers through her hair, Lizzie smiled softly. "It was nice. But…we're just friends, Dad. Geez, I'm pregnant with my spy ex-husband's baby. Not exactly the time for a budding romance, yea?"

Red stared at her for a moment before nodding his head with finality. "Good. His propensity for slipping on banana peels would greatly hinder any attempts at chivalry."

/\/\/\/\/\

"Reddington says Mark Hastings was held captive?" Cooper questioned as the team stood in the War Room.

"Yes," Lizzie nodded, "but not by Reynoso. He thinks it might've been payback for a different case Hastings prosecuted. Aram?" Lizzie looked to Aram, who with a swipe of his mouse pad, sent the digital file to the large screens above their heads for viewing. "Leonard Debs – sentenced to 14 years for armed robbery when he was 28."

"According to this so–called Judge, this guy is innocent?" Ressler questioned gruffly.

"A witness allegedly came forward at the time saying Debs wasn't at the scene. Hastings never told the defense."

"Debs got out two months ago. He served 12 years of his 14–year sentence."

"Hastings took 12 years away from Leonard Debs, so The Judge evened the score." Cooper announced solemnly.

Lizzie nodded and walked towards the screen with the view of all of the possible victims of The Judge then looked back at Ressler. "And Reddington says there have been others. A New York homicide detective, an appellate court judge, two prosecutors all missing and presumed dead, all involved in cases in which some impropriety was alleged, which made them targets for The Judge." Lizzie said, pointing to each face as she said the person's occupation.

"An underground criminal court of appeals." Cooper raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"We believe that the appeals are being processed through a book depository run by a prison–literacy project."

"We pulled the files of everyone who worked at the depository," Aram interjected, looking to Lizzie in apology at his interruption before continuing, "and I think we found something." Aram then brought another picture onto the screen. "Frank Gordon – a civilian now, but he's a convicted killer. He now works for a prison–literacy project at their book depository in Monroe, Virginia."

"So he takes the letters from the returned books, screens them for The Judge." Ressler stated, clearly thinking aloud.

"Find him. And see if you can get anything out of him." Cooper nodded decisively before walking toward his office.

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie looked around at the book depository which looked rather like a decrepit library where the shelves were over flowing with old, torn, beaten books. Boxes of books were stacked in piles on the floors and tables around them, gathering dust.

"Frank's been with us for almost six years now, ever since the court reversed his conviction."

"Does his job require he interact with prisoners?" Lizzie asked the kindly woman who was Gordon's boss.

"Well, n–not directly, but he does respond to their requests. Our program is one of the many that provides inmates with reading materials." She stated as she flicked a light switch at the top of a stairwell and led Lizzie and Ressler down into the basement.

"Frank?" The woman called out.

Ressler looked back at Lizzie, his lips thinned. "Who else knows Frank stays here?" He asked brusquely.

"Is he in some kind of trouble?" She asked.

"What's back there?" Ressler questioned, walking into a small area which housed a twin bed, a little dresser and a desk. Two sides of the area were walled in with fencing.

"Oh, I–I really feel we should wait for Frank to come back. It's his space. It's –"

Ressler rummaged through the desk and found a flashlight, flicking it on, he looked to Lizzie.

"Stay here." He murmured before walking further into the basement.

Lizzie placed a hand on the woman's shoulder as she went to follow after Ressler.

"Hello? Mr. Gordon? FBI. We'd like to talk to you." Lizzie heard Ressler call out before the sound of thuds emanated from the dark.

"What is it?" Lizzie called out.

"Stay where you are." Ressler shouted back and Lizzie let out a huff in frustration. Lizzie froze at the clear sound of fighting.

"Ressler? You okay? Ressler!"

Lizzie ran into the back, grabbed another flashlight from the desk and unholstered her weapon.

"Ress-" Her cry was cut off as someone knocked into her as they ran past. She fired off two shots at the person fleeing but between the disorientation and the darkness, she knew she missed.

/\/\/\/\

"I set up checkpoints at all major roads and highways, sent Frank Gordon's photo to State, Federal." Lizzie said as she walked up to Ressler where he stood in front of Gordon's desk, rummaging through various sheets of paper.

"You're not gonna believe this. Pleas from inmates, all handwritten from prisons all over the country – ADX, Marion, Pelican Bay. And look at this. Alan Ray Rifkin. It's a case folder – research, evidence. Frank was reviewing trial transcripts for The Judge." Ressler barely looked up form what he was reading as he spoke.

Lizzie moved closer and read over Ressler's shoulder. "Alan Ray Rifkin – American college student, dropped out, joined the army, deployed to Afghanistan. In 2003, he was tried and convicted as an enemy combatant – fought alongside the Taliban. He's scheduled for execution tomorrow. According to the charges, Rifkin and a few dozen Taliban fighters raided an Afghan village, killing dozens of civilians. At trial, Rifkin's lawyers claimed it was friendly fire, that the American military destroyed the village, from the air, mistaking it for a Taliban outpost. The military denied it."

"So The Judge thinks Rifkin is innocent." Ressler murmured before doing a double take as if just realizing Lizzie was next to him. "You shouldn't have done that you know." He stated.

"Done what?" She asked, confused with the way the conversation turned.

"Come after me. You just – " Ressler looked down at her stomach, "You just shouldn't."

Lizzie's brow scrunched in fury as she punched his arm. "Don't you dare go all alpha-male-must-protect-woman-and-child on me, you ass."

Ressler huffed out a laugh as he rubbed his arm as if in pain though she really hadn't hit him very hard. "Ow! C'mon, it's not like that!"

"Oh it's exactly like that. Just – don't, Ress. You're going to make me regret telling you." Lizzie sighed, stepping away from him as she combed her fingers through her hair. "I'm still a trained agent. I'm not waddling yet, I haven't slowed down. I can still do my job. Got it?"

Ressler sighed, shaking his head. "Yea, I got it. But I can't just… turn it off. You're my partner. I'm worried."

Lizzie smiled sweetly at him. "I know that, Ress. But you just said it yourself. We're partners, we've got each other's backs. That's why I went in there after you." Lizzie turned and walked up the stairs, leaving Ressler and the creepy basement behind.

/\/\/\/\

Ressler and Lizzie were in their office, going through the various letters that inmates had sent out in hopes of them reaching The Judge. They looked up at the sound of a knock at their door.

"Guys," Aram said, his head peaking over the door jam, "that Rifkin case you were asking about – the investigating officer was the Senior FBI Agent in Afghanistan at the time – Harold Cooper."

Lizzie and Ressler stared at Aram for a moment then looked to each other, wide-eyed.

/\/\/\/\

"You think this is a coincidence? Reddington feeds you The Judge, and I'm next on that lunatic's hit list?" Cooper questioned, pacing the war room.

"We need to take it seriously." Lizzie tried to placate her boss.

"No, we don't." Cooper shook his head vehemently. "The federal prosecutor on the case is Tom Connolly. His reputation speaks for itself. So should mine. Rifkin admitted to treason."

"We're not saying he's innocent. But if you or Connolly are in danger –"

"What exactly does this so–called Judge think that we missed?" Cooper cut Lizzie off midsentence.

Lizzie shrugged helplessly. "We don't know yet. We're reviewing the file now."

"Fine. You do what you need to do. But I'm telling you, Alan Ray Rifkin is guilty. And I for one will lose no sleep watching him pay the ultimate price for his crimes."

/\/\/\/\

"Okay, so, the question is, why does The Judge think Rifkin is innocent?" Ressler asked, looking at both Lizzie and Meera as they stood around Meera's work station.

"We've been together a timeline of events using the file you found in Frank Gordon's room, and we found a problem. After Rifkin was caught, Cooper had him flown from Bagram to Andrews Air Force Base in Virginia. From there, prison transport took them to a federal holding facility in Alexandria. That trip should've taken 30 minutes. At trial, the US Marshal supervising the transport said it arrived on schedule." Meera held out a manila folder with a sheet of paper inside for Lizzie and Ressler to see. "But look at this – the event log. It recorded the actual time that the Marshal swiped in to Alexandria. That trip didn't take half an hour. It took 2 1/2 hours."

Lizzie's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why wasn't this presented at trial?"

"Another event log was – one that matched the 30–minute timeline." Ressler stated, subdued as he handed over a file with the event log which was presented at court.

"One of the event logs is fake." Meera stated.

"We should find the Marshal, ask him directly." Lizzie stated before biting her lip. She hated where this investigation was taking the team. The entire foundation of the team rested on Cooper. He was the leader. And now the foundation was cracking.

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie hopped out of her car and slammed the door shut as she saw the man exiting the Marshalls' office. "William Munson?" She yelled over the snow and wind, clutching her coat tighter around her. "Agent Keen. FBI." She stated in introduction as they met each other half way in the parking lot. "I'm investigating a case you're connected to. The defendant is Alan Ray Rifkin."

Munson looked around wildly before grasping her arm, leading her further into the parking lot. "Not here. I don't want the people I work with knowing I'm involved in this." He quickly shuffled her over to his car, unlocked the door and opened the passenger door, waiting impatiently for her to get in and slammed the door.

"I'm running out of time, Mr. Munson. Alan Ray Rifkin is running out of time." Lizzie stated after they'd both been sitting in the car for a few moments, the heat up to full blast to counter act the freezing temperatures outside.

"I know that. Why the hell do you think I came forward?"

Lizzie's head reared back slightly in shock. "Came forward? To whom?"

"That group, the one that fights against the death penalty – The Amnesty Collective."

Lizzie licked her lips, knowing she'd heard that name somewhere. "You and Cooper, you were at Andrews when Rifkin landed. You drove him?"

"Yeah, I was there." Munson forced air out between his lips. "But Cooper and me, we weren't the only ones. That prosecutor, Tom Connolly, he was waiting on the tarmac."

"Connolly was there?"

Munson nodded, dejected. "He was angry. Said the Rifkin case was assigned to him. Kept saying they didn't have enough to convict. He was going places, you know, and he wasn't gonna wreck his career by losing a high-profile case."

"You heard this?" Lizzie asked, incredulous.

"He said they needed a confession. He told Cooper to pick him up, take him over to one of the hangars, and not let him out until he admitted it."

"Mr. Munson, did Agent Cooper physically coerce Rifkin?"

"'Physically coerce?'" Munson scoffed. "Man, you feds are too much. He beat him, yeah. I swept out the entry log, made the timeline make sense, and I had Rifkin treated in his cell instead of the infirmary to avoid any record. Everyone said he was betraying our country. But now, if he's really gonna die…" Munson closed his eyes tight, his head falling back onto the headrest as he blew out another burst of air from his lips.

/\/\/\/\

"I found a flash drive, and your girl got some stuff. The last six months, she's been in Havana, Port Au Prince, Miami, various aliases. Last September, she was in Prague." The Cowboy's voice came over the line.

"This Jolene is definitely moving towards something." Red murmured, crossing his legs as he took another sip of his scotch.

"Red, best I can tell, the girl's tracking someone, causing trouble. She's either got lots of little targets or one real big one."

/\/\/\/\

"We need to talk about Rifkin." Lizzie announced herself as she walked through the door to Cooper's office.

"I've already said everything I have to say on the subject." Cooper stated, his voice carefully controlled as he stood up from his desk chair.

"Sir, I need to know whether you –"

"What's going on?"

Lizzie whipped around at the sound of another voice coming from the corner of Cooper's office. She was greeted with the sight of a man with more-white-than-gray hair and a smaller stature.

"Agent Keen, this is US Attorney Tom Connolly." Lizzie's eyes widened and her cheeks reddened at the introduction.

"Harold's been telling me what a great agent you are." Connolly smiled kindly. "Dog with a bone." It sounded more like a curse than a compliment yet he maintained his genteel smile. This guy gave Lizzie the creeps.

Turning back to face Cooper, Lizzie sighed. "Sir, may we speak privately?" She asked, nervously eyeing Connolly out of the corner of her eye.

"The thing is, this Rifkin case – the court has made its decision." Connolly stated, causing Lizzie to grind her teeth in annoyance. She hadn't asked him, dammit.

"Agent Keen, whatever you have to say to me, you can say to both of us." Cooper stated, sweeping his arm out to Connolly just in case she'd thought he'd been talking about his invisible friend, Bob.

Lizzie straightened her spine. In for a penny, right? "I need to know what happened at the airport after you landed with Rifkin."

Cooper pursed his lips, his large brow furrowing in question. "Rifkin was transferred to a holding facility, as documented."

"You beat a confession out of him." Lizzie stated baldly.

"Who told you that?" Lizzie may have imagined Cooper's voice had deepened dangerously. She hoped she'd imagined it.

"Your transport log was doctored." She stated, slapping a folder onto Cooper's desk. "This is the real log, which shows how long Rifkin was actually at the airport. There's a two–hour gap."

"Where'd you get that?"

"Does it matter?" Her voice rose in consternation.

Cooper sighed, leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers over his stomach. "Let's not play games. You clearly have a theory. Let's hear it."

"No, I don't have a theory." She spat. "I have a witness who says he heard you" Lizzie pointed at Tom Connolly "order you" She pointed to Cooper, "to beat a confession out of Rifkin. He saw it happen."

"I did not railroad an innocent man. There were witnesses, firsthand accounts." Cooper shouted.

"Did you beat him?" Lizzie punctuated each word as if it were its own sentence.

"Yes. Agent Keen, Alan Ray Rifkin deserves the sentence he received for his crimes."

"He's being transferred for execution. We have to stop it until the court looks at his confession."

"His day in court is over." Connolly spoke up, the slimy little shit. "He's exhausted his appeals. Once that happens, the Supreme Court is clear. Why he confessed or whether he's even guilty becomes legally irrelevant."

"We'll see if the Federal Clemency Officer agrees with you."

"He won't even agree to a meeting. Be careful who you go around talking to, Agent Keen." Connolly chuckled.

Lizzie whipped her head around to look at Cooper. "Are you telling me this, or is he?"

"The only career you should worry about is your own." Cooper stated solemnly as he guided her out the door of his office.

/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie exited her office and headed down the hallway, her head in a file.

"Oof! Sorry I wasn't – " Lizzie cut off as she realized who she'd run into.

Connolly smiled at her as he removed his hand from her arm which he had grabbed to help steady her.

"Don't worry about it, Ms. Reddington." He demurred, walking off. Lizzie stayed rooted where she was, her eyes widened in terror as she watched him walk away.

/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie sat at the foot of the stairwell. No one usually used this stairwell so she figured it'd be safe.

"I think we're in a bit of shit, Dad." She whispered manically into her phone.

"Your deplorable language aside, Lizzie, what seems to be the issue?"

"Assistant AG just called me Ms. Reddington. That's the issue." She hissed.

She heard nothing for several beats and just as she was about to pull her phone from her ear, to check if the minute counter had stopped, signaling the call had dropped, her dad spoke again. "Are you absolutely certain, Lizzie?" His voice had gone deep, deadly.

"Yes! There was no mistaking it! He bumped into me in the hallway and called me Ms. Reddington!"

There was another pause. "Lizzie, listen to me. You are to never be in a room alone with that man, do you understand me? He is a friend of Harold's and he is the Assistant Attorney General so his presence in the Post Office – especially since you seem to have piqued his interest – is unavoidable. But you will not be alone with him. I will tell your detail to alert me immediately if they see him entering the Post Office while you're there. Do you hear me?"

"Yes. That's easy enough. He's a slimy little bastard, I don't want to spend any alone time with him anyway." She murmured. "But what does this mean?"

Her dad blew out a breath harshly. "I suspect that Connolly got that information from the same source Alan Fitch did and if that's the case, then he is a part of the same organization."

"Shit."

"Precisely."

/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie blew out a frustrated breath, causing the hair which had covered her face as she kept her head down to blow about her in a small wave. "Connolly was right. They don't consider the event log new evidence, and even if they did, the deadline to consider Rifkin's factual innocence has passed. Do they realize how insane that is? His innocence can't be considered?" Lizzie's voice went higher as she gazed at Ressler in disbelief.

/\/\/\/\/\

"Cooper's been taken. He was picked up outside of the prison right after Rifkin's execution." Lizzie's voice greeted as soon as he picked up the phone.

"By whom?" Red asked as he handed over his empty scotch glass to Dembe, re-crossing his legs as he stared out the window of his jet.

"The Judge, we think, as retribution for Rifkin's execution."

"Alan Ray Rifkin? –" Red asked, clueless.

"We've got nothing!" Lizzie shouted. "No license plate, no surveillance footage. They could be anywhere by now."

"Back up, Lizzie. Rifkin." Red directed, kindly yet firmly. "Go back to Rifkin. Why would The Judge hold Cooper responsible for his execution?"

"Because he coerced Rifkin's confession."

Red paused. "You're certain of that?"

"Cooper admitted it to me."

"How about the guy the Judge released?"

Lizzie's eyes narrowed at the apparent subject change. "Hastings? We're getting a court order to talk to him over his doctor's objections. He's worried about further trauma."

"If you ever want to see Cooper again, you need to get Hastings to talk. Lizzie, I must be going."

"Wait. Did you hear me? Rifkin was executed – an eye for an eye. Cooper is going to die."

Red's cellphone beeped as he hung up. "Dembe, you better tell Edward there's gonna be a change in flight plan."

/\/\/\/\

Red walked up the grand stairs of the Quantico Naval Base's main hall, stepping in front of a man – an admiral according to his stripes – as he descended. As the man looked up to see the person who was blocking his path, he froze, his eyes widening slightly. "Richard. Say something, Richard. I keep meaning to attend our academy class reunions, and I remember how pinched I look in dinner dress blues." Red greeted.

"What the hell do you want?" Richard hissed under his breath, looking around them surreptitiously.

"How's your family?"

Richard glared at Red. "My wife left me, thanks. After I was sidelined. You made a hell of a mess when you left. Nobody believed we couldn't see it coming. Maybe we helped you. Maybe we facilitated your treason. Even without any evidence, it was enough to destroy some careers."

Red's lips thinned, guilt imperceptibly creasing the corners of his eyes. "Yes. Richard, I need to know about the Rifkin case. He claims civilians were fired on by soldiers from a Black Hawk that CENTCOM says it never deployed."

Richard reared back in disbelief. "I can't help you."

"You were operational in the Guldara District. If there were choppers in the air, you knew about it."

"Rooming with you was the worst thing that ever happened to me."

Red rolled his tongue before continuing. "I'm offering you an opportunity, Richard. The men who want this information can be very helpful. If you help them, it could put you back on track."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie pinched her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she hastily walked to her car outside of the Hastings' residence. "Aram, the paper said Rifkin's last words at his execution were 'Good night, mother.' He said it to his spiritual adviser, Ruth Kipling. I just heard Hastings say it."

"Okay," Aram's voice came over the line, as did the sound of his quick typing. "Ruth Suzanne Kipling – single, 62, attended Vassar College, and co-founded the prison rights organization The Amnesty Collective."

Lizzie combed her fingers through her hair as she climbed into her car. "The Marshal that covered up for Cooper and Connolly – that's the organization he reached out to."

"Which is how Kipling found out about the entry-log evidence. Okay, I've got an address in Mercer County, Pennsylvania."

"I bet that's where she's holding them."

/\/\/\/\

"Red." Lizzie answered her phone, glancing at Ressler out the corner of her eye as they sped down the highway.

"Lizzie, have you located Harold?"

'Yes. We're almost there."

"There's been a development."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie stood outside of the barn on Kipling's compound, her hands raised as Ressler made the local P.D. fall back. "Ruth, this is not a tactic." Lizzie shouted, able to see Ruth's head pop up at the window of the door to the barn. Lizzie held up a phone in order to try and get her point across. She then yelled out her phone number and waited. After several long moments, it rang. "I'm not trying to negotiate. … Yes, new information on the Rifkin case. Someone with high-level access is en route."

/\/\/\/\

Red walked down the aisle of the barn, attempting to appear unaffected by the rhythmic banging emanating from the horse stalls which had been refurbished to act as prison cells with opaque glass making it impossible to see who was housed in each one.

As he stepped forward, he laughed. "Of course. A woman." He shook his head as he sat in the chair across from Ruth Kipling.

"If you came to advocate on behalf of Agent Cooper –" Red's eyes flicked over to where Cooper sat in a macabre bargain basement example of an electrocution chair. He wouldn't wish the kind of death that contraption would give on his worst enemy, certainly not on Agent Cooper.

"I didn't." Red stated firmly. "I came to advocate on behalf of you. After devoting your life to a pursuit of the truth, to making things right, it would be such a shame in your last act to get it so wrong." Red stared at Kipling a moment, watched as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair before handing over a thick folder. "This is a classified Pentagon file on the Rifkin case. In the spirit of full disclosure, it's a felony for me to have it or for you to see it. But under the circumstances, who are we to quibble? It states that on October 3, 2002, US military intelligence officers deployed a unit by helicopter to the village of Guldara in the Kabul Province of Afghanistan to extract an asset whose identity had been compromised. The Taliban in the area with whom Alan Ray Rifkin had aligned himself got word of the informant and advanced on the village. But they were too late. The boys had extracted their asset and left. Angry and suspicious of others, the Taliban and Rifkin set fire to the village and executed inhabitants. Dozens of women and children were killed at the hands of the Taliban in response to US military intelligence in the area. I guess, fearing more headlines, the Pentagon wanted no association with the incident, so they covered it up." Red stated gravely and paused for a moment before continuing. "That is what happened. That is the truth. That's why you're not gonna light up Agent Cooper today. Alan Ray Rifkin wasn't executed because of a beating or because of a cover–up. He was executed because of the truth. Now, you and I could talk for days about the whys and why–nots of an execution, but at the end of it all, in the final moment, the only irrefutable fact is you better be right. And I'm betting you're not so sure."

Kipling's eyes narrowed as she sat primly in her chair. "How could you possibly know what I'm thinking?"

Red smirked darkly. "Mark Hastings. You let him go because he had served his time, because this has always been about justice in your eyes, not blind revenge. The day you started this, you knew it would inevitably end, that when you released your first prisoner, you would get caught. You don't want to diminish your legacy of righteousness because of him which is why you're going to surrender." Though his words and tone were dark, Red sprang up out of his chair as if a flip had been switched and tossed his hat back atop his head as he smiled over at Cooper. "Harold, don't look so glum. Come on." He said jovially, winking at the man.

/\/\/\/\

Cooper sighed as he took down the pictures of all of the victims from the evidence board. "Five prosecutors, a federal judge, two cops – there were 10 people in that bunker." He stated, looking over at Lizzie as she walked forward. "What's this?" He questioned, pointing at the box in Lizzie's hands.

"Pleas we found in Frank Gordon's room from prisoners all over the country."

"Send it to the Justice Department for review. Walk with me?" Lizzie nodded, setting the box down on the table before catching up with Cooper as he entered the south hallway. "Agent Keen, I regret the methods that we employed to obtain Rifkin's confession. If you feel obligated to report it, I understand." He murmured.

Lizzie smiled up at Cooper. "I think we've had enough judgment for today."

She didn't want to believe that Cooper knew where Connolly's allegiances lay. She didn't want her boss to be another corrupt official. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

/\/\/\/\

Cooper sat back in his chair, gazing across his desk at Red where he sat calmly in his own chair. "You knew this was gonna happen with me, The Judge. If you thought that by saving me you'd get some kind of leverage –"

"Harold, a war is coming." Red stated grimly. "I believe the incursion of this facility and the rather sudden disappearance of Diane Fowler were just the beginning, and I'm certain that things will get considerably worse before they get better."

Cooper cocked his head to the side, his brows raised in sudden understanding. "You want my help."

Red nodded once. "Not now. Later. But when I do, I hope you'll remember what happened today." Red stated as he stood up and headed towards the door.

"Is that it?"

"No." Red turned to look down at Cooper. "I'd like you to reach out to Admiral Richard Abraham, he was very helpful in resolving the matters of the day. He's had a rough go of it for quite some time."

"Abraham." Cooper repeated the name.

"Yes. Admiral Richard. He's a good man. I wonder if you could pull a few strings."

Cooper nodded slowly. "I'll see what I can do."

/\/\/\/\

Red sighed as he opened the door to the Cowboy's car and got in.

"What have you found?" He questioned, his voice gravelly with the late hour.

"Looks like your girl has been following your every move." The cowboy stated as he handed over an iPad with various pictures of Reddington and even a few of Lizzie which had been downloaded from the flash drive he'd found. "You want me to bring her in?"

"No." Red sighed as he flicked through the images. "I believe she's finishing an operation. I'd like to see how it plays out."

/\/\/\/\

"How are you doing, Lizzie?"

Lizzie smiled, rolling her eyes good naturedly as she sat down on the couch of his safe house. "Well, not much has changed since the last time you asked. During our phone call. An hour ago." She teased.

Red shrugged again, smiling unashamedly. "I'm allowed to ask. I have Grandpa rights. It is law."

Lizzie looked over at Dembe and they both laughed, shaking their heads.

"Right. Well, I guess it's a good thing that there was actually something I didn't want to tell you over the phone. So I actually do have a bit of an update for you."

Red sat up straighter in his position on the other end of the couch and Lizzie could see Dembe lean forward out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh? Do tell, Lizzie. I don't do suspense very well." Red encouraged.

"I scheduled my first ultrasound." When the only response she received was a vaguely interested brow raise, she blustered on. "And well, I know it's only going to be like… a dot, and I know that you can't go in with me. So I thought uh, well I was hoping that Katy Cat would be able to get ahold of an ultrasound machine so you guys could see too." Lizzie paused to take a breath. "I mean, I'll get print outs, obviously but I just thought that well,"

"Lizzie, I cannot for the life of me fathom why you are so nervous. Of course I want to see my little peanut of a grandchild!" Red laughed happily, leaning forward to clap Lizzie on the knee. "And I just love that you still call her Katy Cat. I imagine she gets a kick out of it."

Lizzie chuckled, shaking her head. "Not so much, though I haven't seen her since she helped uh… clean up the apple man who was surveilling me. We should all have dinner one night. I miss her."

Red chuckled in answer, nodding his head. "We'll do that."

"I have to make some calls." Dembe rumbled, standing up. He bent forward slightly to give Lizzie another hug. "I will contact Mr. Kaplan as well." He murmured, leaning down to kiss her hair before walking off.

Lizzie smiled at Dembe's retreating back and then looked back at Red. "You should try calling her Katy Cat sometime. I'd like to see how well that goes over." She joked.

Red's head fell back in tumultuous laughter.