Lizzie stood in front of the antique full-length mirror in the corner of her bedroom in her bra and panties, shifting on her feet to get different views of her stomach. As she stood straight, the change was hardly noticeable. But if she turned to the side, there it was. A small bump centered under her belly button. Smoothing a hand over the gentle curve, she smiled softly to herself. She could still hide it from the rest of the world with a loose fitting shirt but it was there. Her little baby.

Spinning on her feet, Lizzie walked over to her bedside table, glancing at the clock as she picked up her phone, she realized she was running a bit late.

"Hello?" She answered.

"Lizzie."

"What the hell are you doing calling me?" Fear seized Lizzie and she crept over to her window, lifting up the curtain just enough to peer out.

"I need to talk to you. Can we meet?"

"You have got to be kidding me, Tom. No." She scoffed.

"I'm trying to help you. I have information about the person who hired me. Please." Tom pleaded with her.

Lizzie shifted on her feet and walked over to her bed, flumping heavily onto it. "Fine."

"Thank you!" He effused. "Thank you. When can we meet?"

"I don't know. I'm about to get another case. Can I reach you at this number?"

They worked out the details quickly and she hung up without so much as a 'good day.' Her dad was going to kill her for this. But he had known exactly which button to push. The need for information was Lizzie's kryptonite.

"Well baby, apparently he-who-is-nameless isn't as gone as I had hoped." She grumped.

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie walked into the little workshop in the backyard of Red's safe house and peered around, disconcerted at the sight of her dad tinkering. Red Reddington was tinkering. He sat at a work bench with a bright overhead lamp shining down as he concentrated on what he was doing.

"You're late." He observed quietly as he used one of those tiny screwdriver things – like those ones you could use to tighten your glasses – on two small parts.

"Sorry. Something came up."

Red looked up from what he was doing without moving his head. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, fine." Lizzie stated, having already decided not to tell Red about Tom's call until after she'd met with him. He'd only tell her not to go. "What is all this?"

Red shrugged as he picked up another little piece, lined up the holes, and began screwing a small bolt in by hand, just to get it started before picking up the little tool again. "Just a little restoration."

Lizzie snorted. "Of what? The timing mechanism for an explosive device?" She teased, reaching to pick up one of the pieces.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah!" Red warned her off, slapping her hand.

Lizzie laughed as Red smiled, both amused at their own antics. "Should I be worried?"

"Yes. But not about this." Red sighed as he stood up from his work bench and walked over to a side table. Picking up a newspaper, he turned back towards Lizzie and handed it to her.

"What am I looking at?" Lizzie asked, her gaze stuttering across the first page.

Red pointed at the article he wanted her to read. "A car accident. Killed the driver, Nathan Platt."

Lizzie looked at him, her brow twisted in confusion as she held the paper loosely in her hand. "Why am I looking at it?"

"Because it was no accident. The crash was engineered by a notorious cyber criminal known only as Ivan." Red answered solemnly.

"Please." She scoffed. "And you know this how?"

Red pursed his lips in obvious distaste for her flippant tone. "I've had some experience with the man. He stole from me. His brother and I spent a delightful evening sharing stories over a plate of meat jelly and half a gallon of vodka. All the while, Ivan had his hand in my wallet."

Lizzie rolled her eyes, tossing the paper back onto the table. "My job isn't to settle your grudges, Dad. So I'm gonna need a little more than your gut instinct that Ivan was involved."

Red smirked, having figured that would be her answer. "How about a confession? Ivan took credit for the hit in some deep, dark recess of the internet– a place only inhabited by scary people and reckless teenagers. A place where curiosity inevitably kills the cat."

"So, Ivan ran some guy off the road. Or are you thinking it's something a little more sophisticated?" Lizzie questioned, her interest finally piqued.

"Given his technological skills, he wouldn't even need to get his hands dirty. Ivan's had a very long career– Russian markets, selling off government secrets, disrupting Siberian pipelines."

"It sounds like his beef's with Moscow." Lizzie countered.

Red nodded his head, in complete agreement. "This is the first time Ivan's ever struck on US soil, a fact that should have you all very concerned, because whatever he has planned, this is only the very beginning."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie sat at the work bench in the little shed once more, watching him labor away at the various intricate pieces which she still had no idea what they were for. She could see the little pieces but they weren't making up the whole yet. Story of her freaking life.

"So, the federal government has armed a cyber terrorist with the digital equivalent of a nuclear warhead." Red shook his head as he rummaged in his toolbox. "Another fabulous example of your tax dollars at work and yet another reason why I don't pay taxes."

Lizzie had just told him about the FBI's findings about Nathan Platt – mostly that he wasn't a TV repairman but rather an NSA agent working on creating the 'skeleton key,' a computer algorithm that could decimate countries by slicing through any secure network – defense grids, weapons systems, and communications, with the touch of a button. The 'skeleton key' which Ivan had apparently just stolen. Obviously, Red was less than impressed.

"State's reaching out to the Russians, but getting them to cooperate will be one thing, and actually finding this Ivan will be a separate problem altogether." Lizzie stated, ignoring his judgments against the FBI, growing rather used to it and knowing not to take it personally at this point.

Red shook his head and continued tinkering. "Kastrychnitski Rayon. It's in Minsk, Belarus. That's where Ivan is currently."

Lizzie looked at her dad, holding up her hands in shocked annoyance. "Wait, when did you learn this?"

Red shrugged nonchalantly. "I've always known this."

"And it didn't occur to you to say something earlier?" Lizzie's voice raised slightly with consternation.

Red chuckled happily. "You FBI are such blunt instruments. Lizzie, you don't just swoop in and arrest a man like Ivan, because you know what he'll tell you once he's in custody? Nothing."

"I assume you have a better idea?"

"If you want to know what Ivan is up to, you have to get him to share that. Not because he has to, because he wants to." Red stated, smiling at her benignly before lowering his head to work again.

"How do I do that?"

"We create a problem for him and then solve it. And to do that, we need to take a field trip." Red stated, flicking his finger against the small center piece of the mechanism he'd just put together, causing it to spin quickly around the pole holding it in place.

/\/\/\/\

Red sat down at the table in the little restaurant in Minsk.

"That seat's taken." The man opposite murmured without looking up from his food.

Red simply smiled over at the little man. "Perhaps the face escapes you. Allow me to refresh your memory. Grand Cayman Bank account number 106574832. It held approximately $5 million, and then, suddenly, it didn't. It was a clever hack. Kudos and all that. But I've come to collect – with interest."

Ivan smirked at him and stood up, gathering his tablet and bag. "Sorry, friend. I have no interest."

"I wouldn't go out there if I were you." Red called after Ivan as he headed for the door.

Ivan swung back around to face Red, his eyes narrowing. "Is that some kind of a threat?"

Red laughed loudly. "Yes, but not from me." He shook his head. "Seems you've stirred up the borscht, Ivan. Murdering that NSA troll got the FBI talking to the FSB. Now you're neck-deep in the beets, Ivan. They've issued an arrest order for you. According to my informant, they're en route here now."

Ivan swore in Russian. "Of course they are." He muttered.

Red grabbed for a small bun on one of the plates at the table where he still sat and took a large bite. "Mmm! This piroshki is delicious. My point – " Red swallowed his bite. "I can secure safe travel for you out of the country – for a price."

"Let me guess, $5 million plus interest?" Ivan questioned as he stood beside the table. "Thank you very much. I'll pass."

They both looked towards the window at the sound of sirens and Red smiled as a police car pulled up to the sidewalk right outside the restaurant.

"Oh, there's my cue. You're on your own, comrade." Red stood up from the table, wiping his mouth with a napkin, before heading towards the back of the restaurant.

"Uh I accept your generous offer." Ivan stuttered as he followed after Red, clutching his tablet to his chest.

"I thought you might have a change of heart. Shall we?" Red swept his hand out in front of him, directing Ivan to go ahead of him into the kitchens.

Once they were surrounded by the bustle of the kitchen staff, Red stopped, holding out his hand which held a piece of paper. "$8 million. I want it transferred to this account."

Ivan looked down at the paper and nodded. "Fine. Let's get out of here." Ivan muttered and attempted to move off again.

Red held him gently by his shirt sleeve and set the paper onto the counter. "Not until I have my payment."

"You can't be serious." Ivan cried. "They're gonna be here any moment."

Red smiled kindly. "Then you'd better type fast."

Ivan groaned but began typing away on his tablet. Within moments, he was turning it so that Red could see it. "Okay. Done."

Red leaned forward and squinted at the screen. "See? Do you find all those little fingerprints on the glass distracting, or does that sort of thing not bother you?"

Ivan rolled his eyes and growled before making his way out of the restaurant, Red trailing after him with a placid smile on his face.

As they exited the back alley behind the restaurant and made towards Red's waiting car, Ressler came running around the corner.

"Stop! Ivan!"

Dembe quickly hustled Ivan into the car as Red took out his gun, took aim, and shot Ressler in the chest. Ressler fell to the ground at the impact as red seeped across his chest, his eyes closed though he could hear the tires squeal as the car made off with Ivan and Red inside.

Meera walked slowly up to him and looked down at him.

Ressler opened one eye and groaned as he sat up. "You think he bought it?"

"Hell, I did." She murmured.

/\/\/\/\

Red sat at the small table in his jet, gazing over at Ivan.

"So, tell me, Ivan, what are your intentions?" He asked, taking a sip of his scotch. "I assume you took the Skeleton Key for one of three reasons– some dastardly deed you have planned, something dastardly someone else has planned, or you've lined up a buyer and have no idea what they have planned. I'm curious, what's your price?"

Ivan shrugged, looking out of the window. "Honestly, I haven't given it much thought."

"Don't be coy, Ivan." Red smirked. "Whatever the number, I can likely double it. You could probably use the retirement money right about now."

Ivan shifted in his seat, refusing to look anywhere but out the window.

Red set his tumbler down on the table and sighed. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Ivan finally looked over at Red and shook his head, his shoulders hunched and blushing ashamedly. "The hack in DC, the NSA agent – it wasn't me."

"Then who was it?" Red questioned, his voice hard.

"I don't know, but he's been using my name. Look, my contempt is not for the US. It's always been with Russia. Last thing I need is a Hellfire drone missile up my zadnitsa, right?"

"Then if you didn't do it, who did?"

Ivan shook his head wearily. "Whoever it is, they're very good at covering their tracks. I haven't been able to ID them yet."

"Perhaps I could be of some assistance." Red smiled benignly.

/\/\/\/\/\

"I'm coming!" Lizzie hurried down her stairs at the sound of someone on her stoop, knocking on her door. She and Ressler had made plans to watch some TV and eat takeout while he told her about what happened in Minsk. She skidded to the door in her socked feet, wearing her comfy sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"Hey Ress, did you get the-" Lizzie had opened the door wide and stopped dead when she realized who it was.

There stood Tom with his stupid doe eyes and too large glasses, a shy smile on his face.

"Hi Liz."

"I told you I'd call you with a time and place." She murmured angrily.

"Yea well, I noticed you were home so I decided to take my chances." Tom shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"Tom, you need to leave, now." Lizzie stated harshly, her eyes skittering around the street. This was why she had bodyguards, so where the hell were they? Where was Ressler for that matter?

As her eyes were searching her neighborhood, Lizzie didn't notice his eyes wandered down to her stomach. She was brought back harshly to the person on her stoop when he grabbed her forearm tightly.

"Are you pregnant?" He whispered in shock, his eyes never leaving her stomach which was covered by her favorite cotton t-shirt which really didn't hide her new bump at all.

"That's none of your business." She stated, her chin held high, refusing to show Tom her fear as she tried to wrench her arm away from him only for him to tighten his hold on her.

"Lizzie, this ch—"

"Hey! Get the hell away from her!" Lizzie looked up in relief to see Ressler come around the corner, hurrying towards them, a large brown paper bag in one hand.

Tom let go of her arm and backed down the stairs, his hands up.

"Fine. Fine." He looked over at Lizzie. "This isn't over." Tom smirked before heading off, jogging across the street.

"You alright?" Ressler questioned worriedly as he made his way up her stoop.

Lizzie wrapped her arms around his neck once he was close enough. "Yea…yea, uh, thanks." She murmured wetly.

Ressler awkwardly held the bag out to the side as he wrapped his other arm around her waist. "Hey, you'll be alright. I've got your back." He murmured hesitantly.

Lizzie laughed, noticing his discomfiture and took a step back. "Yea. Thanks Ress. Uh…come in! Let's eat. The spud is hungry." Lizzie tried to lighten the mood with the nickname they'd given her baby as she ushered him inside. She was determined not to let Tom ruin her evening.

/\/\/\/\

Later that night, once Ressler had left, Lizzie dialed the number she'd memorized a couple months before.

"Ms. Keen." The gruff voice on the other side answered.

"Baz? Were you guys…did you…"

"We saw, Ms. Keen. I'm sorry we didn't interfere. We've got clear directions from Mr. Reddington though, Ma'am. We have to stay out of sight unless absolutely necessary. We were about to step in when we noticed Mr. Ressler."

"Oh uh…okay. That makes sense."

"I'm sorry again, Ma'am. Are you alright?"

"Yea, no. I'm fine. Don't worry. It's alright."

"Alright Ma'am."

"Alright…uh, would it be futile to ask you not to tell my dad about this?" She asked, embarrassed.

"Goodnight, Ma'am." Baz chuckled before hanging up.

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie sat down at the workbench and immediately put her head in her hands. She was beginning to understand her father's viewpoint. The National Security Agency had been duped by a 17-year-old kid for Christ's sake and to make matters worse, he'd escaped right out from under her and Ressler.

Red seemed to follow her train of thought as he chuckled under his breath. "So, how exactly does a 17-year-old kid slip through your fingers?" He questioned as he fit two pieces together.

Lizzie ran her fingers through her hair as she lifted her head up. "He hacked the school's security system and activated the automated evac protocols." She murmured embarrassedly as she watched her dad work.

"If you ever find him, ask him if he'd like to earn some extra money." He teased.

"We'll find him. Forensics is processing his house, his computer, e-mails, cell records."

"Well, it sounds like you have everything well under control, which begs the question, why are you here?"

Lizzie shifts in her seat, biting her lip. Truthfully, she felt guilty about not telling him about Tom's little visit…or his phone call. But she still needed his information. So, she just had to swallow her guilt and remain silent.

When Lizzie remained silent, Red sighed and pointed to a piece that had somehow made its way to the corner of the work table. "Hand me that piece right there." He murmured before gesturing to the corner by the door where Dembe stood. "Dembe, come over here. We'll turn this into a family project for the night."

/\/\/\/\

"Harrison was using some serious layers of encryption on his computer, but I was able to find a hidden partition filled with terabytes of data." Aram stated to the room at large as the team stood around his desk in the war room.

"Who is she?" Cooper questioned as she looked at a collage of pictures of a pretty young girl with long brown hair. All of these pictures had been hidden away on Harrison Lee's hard drive.

"Her name's Abby Fisher." Aram answered.

Lizzie's brow furrowed. "Any relation to–"

"Yes," Aram nodded, "she's the daughter of David Fisher, lead engineer of the Skeleton Key program. And check this out – she's enrolled at the same high school as Harrison. The photos look like they were taken from a webcam. He breached her computer, surreptitiously watched her, and it gets worse. He hacked into her cell, e-mail, texts. Hell, he even got into her mp3 collection. He chronicles her every move. He's stalking her."

Cooper's lips thinned before he sighed. "Get David on the phone."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie looked around the war room, the cuts on her cheek from when she'd shot out the window of the moving train and jumped in were starting to itch as they scabbed over and she knew she was going to have lots of aches and pains tomorrow.

"Good work today." Ressler said softly, smiling as he walked up to her.

"Yeah." Lizzie smiled in return. "You too. Hey, you hungry?"

"Thanks, but I think I'll just head home." Ressler said, shaking his head softly.

Lizzie raised her brow in concern as she brought a hand up and squeezed Ressler's bicep in comfort. "You sure?"

Ressler smiled reassuringly. "Lizzie, I'll be fine. See you tomorrow."

Lizzie stared at him for a moment, before nodding when she was convinced he would, in fact, be okay. "See you tomorrow then." She murmured.

/\/\/\/\

God, she'd almost died today. It was just hitting her as she walked through the park. There was still enough light out for there to be a decent amount of people milling around.

She had almost died today and all she wanted to do was curl up in a blanket burrito and tell the Spud it was going to be okay, that they were going to get through this. But no. Instead she was out in this stupid park, waiting for stupid Tom under this stupid street lamp. She really hated her quest for information sometimes.

Speak of the devil, Lizzie sucked in a breath and let it out slowly when she saw Tom walking towards her with his trademark smile.

"So you said you had information for me. What is it?" She said in greeting.

"Are we just not going to discuss what I found out yesterday?" Tom questioned, his hands in his jeans as he frowned at her bluntness.

"No."

"Seriously?"

"It's none of your business. You lost any right to know about… this… when you married me to spy on me."

"I was spying on you according to Daddy Reddington's orders." He whipped back angrily.

Lizzie snorted, rolling her eyes. "If you were following orders, I would have never known what you looked like." She hissed.

"Fine." Tom growled. "You want information? Here it is. My boss sent another one to take my place. She was using an alias, Jolene Parker."

Lizzie's brow furrowed in confusion. "I've never heard of her."

"You're welcome." He spat.

"What? Tom, explain." Lizzie ran her fingers through her hair in agitation.

"I've hung around because I knew this would happen. The buck doesn't stop with my boss. We were hired for this job. I knew he'd just send someone else. So I watched. He even had her using the same warehouse I used as a sort of home base." He stated, calming down slowly as he spoke. Tom withdrew one of his hands from his pocket and handed her a scrap of paper. "That's the address."

"What happened to her then? This Jolene Parker?" Lizzie asked as she hesitantly took the paper and put it in her pocket before folding her arms over her chest.

"I killed her." He stated simply.

Lizzie's eyes widened and she took a step back. "What?" She asked breathlessly.

Tom shook his head, laughing softly. "What did you think, Lizzie? That I would stick around and just watch them infiltrate your life?"

"I thought maybe you were coming to tell me so that I could handle it…so the FBI could handle it!" Lizzie noticed her voice was raised and quickly tried to quiet down, looking around them hesitantly to see if anyone noticed. "Not come to me after the fact and admit to murder!"

"It needed taken care of, so I took care of it." Tom stated, shrugging his shoulders. "But I wanted to warn you that she won't be the last one. My boss doesn't know what happened. He probably assumes I went rogue. So right now, they're going to have two missions, find out what happened to me, and then continue where I left off."

Lizzie counted to ten as she tried to come to terms with how blasé Tom seemed to be about killing someone. She'd deal with the fact that he had apparently done it to protect he later. What the hell was it with the men in her life thinking it was perfectly okay to kill people to protect her?

"Why hand me the address then?" She questioned, trying to shift the conversation to a different track.

"So you can know what we know. Hopefully that will help you stay ahead of the game." Tom said quietly and Lizzie could only nod, swallowing heavily.

An awkward pause took root between them and they both shifted on their feet, suddenly uncomfortable.

"You know uh… there's a second option." Tom murmured quietly.

"Oh? What's that?" She asked.

"You could come with me. The two of us and-" He looked down, nodding towards her stomach with a small grin on his face. "The baby. We could get away from all this." He said softly.

Lizzie laughed harshly, shaking her head. "That's never going to happen." She stated before turning around and walking away.

/\/\/\/\

"I'm sorry." Lizzie murmured as soon as he opened the door to his safe house. She was fairly sure he had no idea what she was apologizing for but the way he smiled sadly at her made her doubt how sure she was.

"Come in." Red said softly, moving to the side so that she could enter the house.

They quickly made their way into the living room and sat on the sofa.

"What's this?" Lizzie asked, pointing to the large wooden box that sat on the coffee table.

"It's a 1940s Sorrento music box." His gravelly voice answered as he opened it up, winding it a couple times in order to make it play. As the music began to play, Lizzie looked over at her dad in shock as her eyes became wet.

"I know this song." She whispered brokenly. "When I was a little girl, I had these terrible nightmares. I remembered flashes of- of fire and smoke. God, so much smoke." Lizzie closed her eyes against the images that began to play in her mind's eye. "Pop would lay in bed with me and hold me in his arms and hum that song. He'd tell me I was safe – that everything was gonna be okay." She looked over at her dad in shock, smiling adoringly as tears rolled down her cheek. "You spent days building that damn thing. You knew about Tom coming back. You knew. And you wanted me to know that everything is going to be okay." As she spoke, Lizzie leaned towards him and he readily took her in his arms.

"You're going to be okay. You're safe." He murmured, resting his head against hers and kissing her hair, humming along softly to the Anniversary Waltz as he soothingly rocked back and forth.