So this takes place during the Milton Bobbit episode but there really isn't much of the "Milton Bobbit" bits of the episode because, well, for the most part (except for the scene at the end) it doesn't further the plot. At all. Though one or two of the Bobbit scenes will be from Ressler's POV again as it was mostly he and Meera doing this investigation. Also, I can't type Milton Bobbit without giggling. Heh. Bobbit. He should have been a short little guy. Then we could call him Bobbit the Hobbit.


Lizzie knocked on the doorjamb of Cooper's opened door, peaking her head in with a shy smile. "Can I talk to you for a moment, Sir?"

Cooper looked up from his computer with a soft smile and took his glasses off his face, setting them down on his desk as he leaned back in his chair. "Of course, Agent Keen. Close the door, sit down." He directed gently.

Doing as he said, Lizzie sighed as she sat down, rubbing her scar anxiously.

"Something on your mind, Keen?" Cooper questioned when Lizzie was unforthcoming.

"Um…yea…yes. Sorry Sir." Lizzie took a steadying breath. "Sir, I may need to start stepping back from going into the field… at least into potentially dangerous situations."

Cooper's brow raised as he scratched at his 5 o'clock shadow. "Oh? Why is that?"

Lizzie bit her lip, resisting the urge to touch her stomach. "I'm pregnant, sir." She said with a small smile. "I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to handle runaway subway trains." She joked, laughing nervously.

Cooper chuckled and nodded. "Indeed not, Agent Keen. I understand. Will you still be able to work with Reddington?"

"Yes, of course. I can still act as liaison as well as work up profiles as needed. And as I said, I can still go out into the field – interviews and such. I'm just not sure I can actually do the chasing part. What happened with Harrison Lee… that was too close for comfort, Sir." She murmured, unable to resist the urge to stroke her stomach any longer.

Cooper smiled softly at her, nodded and stood up, prompting Lizzie to do the same. "I understand." He said rounding his desk. "And I believe congratulations are in order." Cooper held out his hand to shake and, laughing lightly, Lizzie took it.

"Thank you, Sir."

/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie hopped out of her SUV and closed the door. Looking both ways, she hurried across the street and smiled as Red and Dembe got out of their silver Mercedes. Walking forward, she gave both a quick hug and stood back.

"So this is it, 1896 La Vista Street?" Lizzie asked, looking at the solid metal door.

"Yes, apparently so. Dembe has already done us the great service of picking the lock. Shall we?" Red swept his hand out as if to say 'Ladies first.'

Lizzie smirked as Dembe held the door open for her and walked into the building, stopping short at the sight that greeted her. There was a sleek black BMW parked off to the side, the garage door at the back of the warehouse locked from the inside with a chain. But that wasn't what made her stop in her tracks. There were metal shelves lining an entire wall, loaded down with weapons of every sort and all the necessary accoutrements – assault rifles, scopes, ammo, grenades, vests, pistols. Everything you could think to possibly need. There were even weapons laying across the large metal table in the center of the room.

Any possible shred of doubt about her husband's guilt was shredded at the arsenal that laid in front of her. He was a cold-blooded killer and there was only enough room in her heart for one of those.

As she came out of her gun-induced stupor, Lizzie could hear the sound of a camera shutter. Turning towards the noise, she found Dembe taking pictures of a giant evidence board with her face as well as Red, Dembe's and her team mates plastered across it.

"They were gathering information about us and the task force." Red murmured from where he stood off to the side, gazing at the pictures. He pointed to a few of the photos which lined the left side of the board. The pictures were mug shots of some of the blacklisters they'd taken down.

"Are they looking for information about the Cabal or trying to find out what we know?"

"That, my dear, is the question of the hour." Red murmured as he surveyed the rest of the room, meandering over to a small desk in the corner of the room. "They may not even have anything to do with the Cabal. It could just be one of my many enemies wanting to get a leg up on me."

Red began rummaging through the desk. "By the way, Lizzie. I feel I should give you fair warning." Lizzie turned to look at him as he straightened to look at her. "I've given your security a new objective. One that I should have put into place when we forced him to leave."

Lizzie's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Tom will never be within 50 feet of you again."

Lizzie's eyes widened at the implications of what her dad had just said. Her eyes skating over to her brother, she saw that he had stopped what he was doing and was looking at her solemnly before nodding his head, in apparent agreement with Red, and began photographing the rest of the warehouse.

Looking back at her dad, Lizzie ran her thumb over the scar on her wrist. "You can't—"

"Elizabeth, you are well aware of the lengths to which I will go to protect you. will not allow him near you or my grandbaby again." Red said somberly as he walked towards her. "So the next time he asks to meet, I suggest you say no." Red's mouth contorted in a displeased frown as he turned around, walking over to a metal basin.

Lizzie winced at his displeasure. This was the first time he'd commented on her decision and his disappointment cut through her. She hesitantly walked over to stand next to him as he peered down inside of the basin. Her brow furrowed in confusion when she saw the burnt and charred remains of photographs and papers. "He said he wanted to help us, so that we could know what they know. Why would he burn some of the evidence then?"

Red squatted down next to the basin and carefully sifted through it, some of the charred remains breaking into ash as he disturbed them. "This is most likely information about his employer. As you said, Sweetheart, he said we'd find out what they know about us." He delicately lifted out a small scrap of paper and peered at it. "He never said he'd tell us who hired him in the first place." He stated solemnly as he stood up, showing her the paper in his hand.

Lizzie squinted at the scrap and looked over at her dad in confusion. "Berlin?"

/\/\/\/\

Red walked into the laboratory at the University of Science and Technology in San Salvador. At the sight of the short, portly man, he threw his hands up in the air excitedly. "Cvetko, you rascal. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to find a Bosnian in San Salvador." He cried, wrapping the man in a hug before taking his face in both hands and kissing the sides of his bald head.

"Wish it was harder." Cvetko murmured grumpily.

"Oh, this looks rather ghoulish." Red said placidly as he surveyed the various human remains scattered around the room. "Vlad, I need your help identifying somebody."

Cvetko shook his head before walking over to his microscope. "Can't help." He muttered, looking into the eye piece.

"Of course you can. I have a fingerprint. Got it at a lovely party out in Vegas. Benson ran it, got a name."

Cvetko looked up from the microscope and rolled his eyes. "Benson – there's your problem."

"She says the print belongs to a Craig Keen. Well, Craig Keen is an alias – a very good one at that, complete with a credit rating, school and medical records, passports with a long history – all the trimmings."

"No." Cvetko stated shortly, going back to his observations.

"What do you know about touch DNA?"

"I said no." Cvetko repeated, standing up to go find another slide with different bone fragments.

"I know very little," Red continued, following after Cvetko around the room, "but as I understand it, it's possible to actually lift tissue cells from a fingerprint and run the DNA?"

"Is that right?" Cvetko spun around and his eyes narrowed in anger. "You slept with my wife."

Red smiled placidly, rocking onto the heels of his feet with his hands in his pockets. "How is Fadila?" Vlad grunted, moving passed Red to go back to his microscope. "Vlad, it was a mistake. I can easily blame it on the hashish and the grappa, but the truth is– may I speak freely? You're better off without her. She's fickle. I'm sorry, but this business with the fingerprint– it's important." Red finished plaintively.

Cvetko looked up from his microscope, looking askance at Red. "Do you still have that little villa in Dubrovnik?"

Red's eyes narrowed, unsure. "I do."

"A weekend there with Fadila." Cvetko said excitedly. "She would love it!"

Red shook his head, rolling his eyes despairingly. "I can't understand why you insist on chasing that woman. All right. The villa is yours. And if it doesn't work out with Fadila, I know a ravishing Dane who would adore you. She's slightly cross-eyed and there's something very hypnotic about her gaze."

/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie stood at the back of the small storage-space-turned-office that Red had rented out for them. She had one hand wrapped around her torso as the other tapped the capped dry erase marker against her chin as she gazed at the evidence board she'd created which currently included Tom, Gina Zantakos, Jolene Parker, and Victor Fokin.

She quickly spun around towards the door as it slid open, smiling when Red walked through carrying a drink tote and a brown paper bag.

"I come bearing gifts– pimento cheese sandwiches, toasted with the crusts cut off. Eartha Kitt's recipe. It's a fantastic story." He stated grandly as he set the food down next to the lamp on their makeshift desk.

Lizzie's smiled dropped as he sat in the chair, getting straight to business. "Okay, what do you know about Tom?"

Red sighed, sitting back in his chair. "Little more than you. Several years ago, it came to my attention that somebody was meddling in my business. To protect myself and my interests, I inventoried my vulnerabilities."

"Me."

Red nodded slowly. "Among others. Lizzie, I've been monitoring Tom since he entered your life. About a year ago, I discovered that he had purchased three more passports from a trusted forger I use in Warsaw."

"That's it? He bought passports? He inserted himself into my life even though he was already my watcher. Why? Because of you.

"I can only assume that's the case."

Lizzie walked over and sat down in the chair next to Red's and grabbed a sandwich from the bag. "Do you think they were already aware of our connection? Are they aware? They could just think you have some creepy obsession with me."

Red snorted, shaking his head at her little joke. "I do not know, unfortunately. Since there was nothing concrete about our relationship at Tom's little hidey-hole, I can only assume that no, they do not know. That being said, we should act under the assumption that they do know."

Lizzie nodded her head in understanding. Always assume the worst, got it. "So what, you started the Blacklist to stay near, warn Tom off?"

Red smirked as he reached his own hand into the bag. "That, and things were shifting with the Cabal so I wanted to be near for that as well."

Lizzie paused just before taking another bite. "Could the two things be related?" She asked nervously.

"The thought has crossed my mind." Red sighed as he unwrapped his sandwich from the paper. "However, I have no evidence to link Tom to the Cabal as of now."

Lizzie nodded slowly. "But that doesn't mean the link isn't there." She murmured.

Red only nodded in affirmation before murmuring a small "Ah!" And reaching into his bag, pulling out a CD case and handed it to Lizzie.

"What's this?"

"Surveillance footage, taken by the people who were hired to watch you and Tom."

"The apple man. You watched them?" Lizzie asked, embarrassedly as she could only imagine what was on there.

"Some. Enough." Red coughed awkwardly. "Perhaps you'll see something that I could not."

"He wanted me to run away with him."

"Things are unraveling for him. He's desperate to keep you close. The people Tom works for are obviously very cautious. They operate slowly from the shadows. I've spent years tracking them, to no avail. Tom has, in their eyes, screwed up royally. We now have a chance to draw them out. However, Things will have to appear normal to Cooper, and the others. Which is why you'll need a case." Red reached back into his bag and pulled out a newspaper which he then handed to Lizzie.

"Yesterday in Brooklyn, a taxi drove into the back of a truck under the 86th Street L Train, killing the driver and his female passenger. It's being reported as an accident, but I suspect, in fact, it may be murder, the work of The Undertaker. He's a broker of death, a man who somehow convinces ordinary people to kill on his behalf. Murder/suicide is his signature. How he recruits, nobody knows, but if this accident is his work, it gives you a rare glimpse into the way he operates and a chance to find him."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie curled up on her couch with her laptop balanced on the arm rest and clicked play. She set the surveillance footage to fast forward and just watched as her life with Tom flashed across the screen, unwilling to look up as she sat in the same room as so many of the scenes playing across her screen were in. Lizzie watched the footage numbly until her limbs began to ache from being still for such a prolonged period of time.

Soon, she gasped, quickly pausing the footage, rolling it back a few seconds, then pressed play again. Lizzie watched closely as Tom set the floor lamp in the dining room onto the table, removed the bottom and took out a key.

Pausing the video again, Lizzie slowly turned her head towards the dining room and stared at the lamp for a moment. Snapping into action, Lizzie sprang from the couch in a tumble of limbs and slid on her socked feet over to the dining room. Mimicking Tom's actions, Lizzie set the lamp across the table and unscrewed the bottom. As she removed the bottom panel, Lizzie sucked in a breath at the sight of the key still taped to the bottom of the lamp.

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie was in the kitchen, humming along to the radio as she bit into a piece of peanut butter and Nutella toast. Bopping her hips, Lizzie stuck the piece between her teeth and held it there as she turned around to grab her blazer and gasped, dropping her toast to the floor.

"Dammit Dembe!" She yelled, grabbing a paper towel clean up the mess. "You scared me half to death!" Lizzie shouted as Dembe laughed.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth." He murmured, still chuckling. "Are you alright?"

"Oh yea, sure. Laugh at the poor woman as you give her a heart attack right before work. Well, you won't be laughing next time when it induces labor, you prick!" She said, trying to keep her voice angry though she couldn't help but giggle at Dembe's continued laughter.

Shoving her brother, she chucked her hip against his as she stood beside him next to the kitchen counter. "So what's up?"

"Raymond asked me to give you this." Dembe handed her a manila folder, still smiling gently as she took it.

Opening it up, Lizzie's brow furrowed at the picture inside. "Craig? Tom's brother?"

"That is not his real name. Look at the rest."

Christopher Maly. His real name was Christopher Maly.

Lizzie smiled, already forming a new thread on the evidence board in her head. "Thanks Dembe." Lizzie looked up at him as she spoke and noticed he was looking around the room, at the walls. "What?"

"This paint – what color is it?"

Lizzie laughed under her breath, shaking her head at his preoccupation. "It's called 'Chicago Skyline.'"

Dembe nodded solemnly. "Nice."

/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie stood with Ressler, watching the proceedings as the local PD ushered Danny Moss – the man-dying-of-heart-failure-turned-assassin who'd just attempted to kill a Senator – into their squad car. Ressler nodded at Lizzie in silent question and Lizzie nodded back. As they both started to make their way to the SUV, Lizzie's phone rang. Holding up a finger to ask for a moment, Lizzie walked off to the side.

"Keen." She answered.

"How's your case developing, Lizzie?"

"We have one of the assassins in custody. We're taking him in for questioning now."

"Have you figured out how he selects them, the common denominator?"

Lizzie sighed and looked over at her partner, shrugging her shoulders helplessly at his impatient look. "They're all sick. We know from their autopsies they're terminally ill."

"Well, there you have it. You only know these assassins were ill because of their autopsies and police reports. You know after they're already dead. But somehow, The Undertaker knows before. Find out how he knows that, and you'll find your man."

Lizzie nodded her head even though he couldn't see it.

"Where are we with Craig? Is he still in town?" Red continued in the space of her silence.

"A–as far as I know."

"Good. Find him. Watch him. I think it's time for the three of us to have a little chat."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie waited until she heard footsteps coming down the other end of the hall. Carefully peaking her head around the corner, she watched as Craig – Christopher – inserted his key card into his door and opened it. Running silently down the hallway, Lizzie shoved the door open just before it closed fully, hitting him in the back of the head as he hadn't moved away in time. Lizzie slammed him up against the wall, punching him in the eye once, twice, before he cottoned on to what was happening.

Craig picked her up, slamming her against the mirror on the adjacent wall, causing her to groan at the impact. Lizzie then cried out as he punched her in the face. Shaking it off, Lizzie punched him in the nose, following it up with a quick elbow on the same spot, sending him sprawling on the floor as the cartilage in his nose snapped.

"Hey, Craig. Can we talk?" Lizzie asked coolly, drawing her weapon.

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie stood over Craig where she had him handcuffed to the sink.

"Who do you work for?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Craig said quietly, shaking his head as blood continued to dribble from his nose.

Lizzie slapped him across the cheek. "Who do you work for?!"

"Please, look. This has got to be some" Craig began to plead and Lizzie grabbed a fistful of his hair before slamming his forehead into the side of the porcelain sink. " – Aah!"

"I know who you are." She said calmly, bashing his head against the sink once more.

"Aah!" He cried out, blinking away the stars.

"I know about the time you did at Wasco. I know about the warrants. I know about you, Christopher Maly."

Craig's eyes twitched up at her then back down at the floor quickly. "I don't know who the hell –" She slammed the side of his head against the sink again.

"Somebody provided you with an identity, a history, embedded you into my life. I want to know who, and I want to know why."

"This is a mistake. You have no idea who you're dealing with." Craig stated, shaking his head and chuckling drily.

"I never did like you." Lizzie said with disdain before standing back up from her crouch before she walked into the other room, answering her phone.

"Ressler, hey, what's up? Yeah. Of course. No. I'll be right there."

Craig laughed again. "You didn't exactly think this through, did you?"

At that moment, a knock came at the door. Lizzie's gaze went to the door and back to Craig, a small smirk crawling across her face.

"Actually I did." She stated before walking down the hall to answer the door. Lizzie murmured a quick greeting to Red and Dembe as she moved aside to let them in.

"Looks like we're a little late to the party." Red deadpanned, looking around at the broken mirror and lamp from the earlier kerfuffle. Turning on the spot in search of Craig, Red smiled benignly as he saw him in the bathroom, cuffed to the L joint of the sink's piping. "You must be the brother–in–law."

"Ressler called. I have to step out. He isn't cooperating." Lizzie spoke up from behind Red before quickly exiting.

Red nodded in understanding, not looking away from Craig even after the door closed signaling that Lizzie had left.

"Oh, hell. Dembe, get the hacksaw. We're gonna have to take him out of here in pieces." At Craig's widening eyes, Red laughed uproariously. "I'm just kidding. We'll get old Christopher to talk. Who's up for a field trip?"

/\/\/\/\

Red sat beside Craig on a small bench in the center of the gallery. He'd strategically hung Craig's coat between the man's hands, covering his handcuffs from the sight of other patrons as he held a gun pointed at Craig, hidden beneath his own coat.

"Terrifying." Red shook his head as he looked around at the grotesque paper maché dolls and puppets which constituted the exhibit. "You know, this artist got his start with puppets. What is it about puppets? It's the same with clowns. I'll never forget a puppet show I saw when I was 5, maybe 6. Hansel and Gretel."

"Why are we here?" Craig asked impatiently, looking around them.

"Scared me to death." Red continued on as if Craig hadn't spoken. "But it wasn't the witch. It was the oven. Imagine an oven puppet. I don't think I set foot in our kitchen for a month."

"I don't know what you think you're gonna gain from all this, but I'm not gonna talk. I will die before I give you anything." Craig quickly clammed up at the sight of Dembe casually pushing an elderly woman around the exhibit. He seemed to freeze, swallowing loudly. "If you so much as touch my mother – " He whispered angrily.

"God, I miss Bob Ross." Red lamented, once more ignoring Craig. "That television painter with the little squirrel on his shoulder and the happy little trees. Few strokes with a palette knife and an entire mountain range would emerge through the clouds– absolutely mesmerizing." Red shook his head pleasantly before springing up from the bench. "Well, let's go back to the hotel. I think I saw some yogurt pretzels in your mini bar."

/\/\/\/\

Ressler and Meera walked into the offices of the Green Glades Insurance company. They'd finally figured out how the Undertaker had chosen his victim/ assassins. They all had life insurance policies through this company.

"So, we're specifically looking for the policy files for a Wahid Davi, a Dee Torres, and a Danny Moss." Ressler told the sales manager as he walked them through the office.

"I looked up those names after you called. And the thing is, we don't have any active files on any of those names."

"When you say these people don't have active files with you, what does that mean? I mean, these people have life insurance policies with you." Meera questioned.

"Well, I mean, if they were dropped, then they would have been purged from the system. Dropped and purged why? Good God. Any number of reasons. Uh, medical conditions, change of lifestyle– it's– it's like a whole formula. I mean, if you guys want to talk actuarial tables, then Milton's your man. Milton Bobbit. He's where all policies go to die." The man chuckled lightly at the obvious inside joke.

"What do you mean 'Go to die?'" Ressler queried, his hands on his hips.

"No, it's nothing. It's just we – we like to joke about Milton. He's – he's kind of obsessed with death. He actually volunteers to deliver flowers to the Westport cemetery."

/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie entered the hotel room and stopped short at the sight of Dembe and red sitting on the edge of the bed, watching the Three Stooges, both giggling madly. Looking back into the bathroom, Lizzie scoffed at the sight of Craig still sitting there, chained to the sink while these two knuckle heads watched the Three Stooges.

Red held up a finger "Wait." He chuckled, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"What are you doing?" She questioned, her hands outspread beside her.

Red flapped his hand at her. "Shh, shh, shh. Watch – the hat."

"Raise your right hand. Will you get rid of that hat? Raise your right hand." The character on the TV intoned

Red finally stood, still chuckling as he turned off the TV. As he looked over at Lizzie, he quickly dropped his smile. "Unlike someone who shall remain nameless, we waited for you. Shall we get started?"

/\/\/\/\

"I get a phone call. They tell me where to go, and I go." Craig explained.

"Who tells you?" Lizzie questioned from where she stood in front of Craig. Red was perched on the side of the tub and Dembe's hulking frame occupied the bathroom doorway.

Craig shook his head in frustration. "Different people. It's never the same person twice."

"Jolene Parker?"

"I'm telling you that I don't know any names."

"My husband hid a key in the house. What's it for– a safe deposit box? A storage unit?"

Craig chuckled darkly. "It's your husband."

Lizzie bashed his head against the sink. "Tell me about Tom." She demanded.

Craig blinked rapidly, groaning slightly. "I don't know his real name. He's got a brother in Chicago. I've heard him talk about a woman, Niki."

"Niki? Is that some woman he sees?"

"Do you think we sit around and we chat about it?" Craig spat. "There's a reason that his cover is that we're estranged and our parents are dead. There's a reason that there are no people in his life – because none of it is real." His phone began to ring for the third time in 5 minutes. "We were supposed to meet. He wants me to help him cover this whole mess up. He knows where I'm staying. It's only a matter of time before he's here."

Lizzie looked back at Red. "We got to get out of here."

/\/\/\/\/\

They had moved Craig to the small chair beside the window in his hotel room. Red sat across from him while Lizzie and Dembe stood, hovering.

"Everything's fine." Craig said into his phone.

"Yeah? Then why didn't you pick up?" Tom's voice floated through the room as Craig had put him on speaker.

"There's a situation. I'm handling it. I just need time."

"Time for what?" Tom questioned.

"What are you – my wife, Tom?" Craig snapped. "Listen up. I just need" Craig glanced over at Red who quickly held up two fingers. " – two hours. I'll explain everything then. Just sit tight. Don't panic."

"Easy for you to say. I'm the one who is accountable to Berlin for this mess. I'm coming to your hotel now."

Craig winced at Tom's inadvertent slip and hung up the phone.

"Tell me about Berlin." Red's gravelly voice demanded. "Berlin." He spoke louder as it appeared Craig didn't want to answer.

Craig shook his head. "I can't."

"What's in Berlin? Is the bank in Berlin? Christopher who's in Berlin?" With each question, Craig just shook his head harder until Red sighed, frustrated. "Dembe, we're moving the conversation elsewhere. Wipe down the room."

Dembe quickly nodded and walked into the bathroom.

Red turned towards Lizzie. "Tell me about the building."

"The south elevator has no cameras, empties into the basement. Two doors past the mechanical room lead to the alleyway."

Lizzie stuttered to a stop at the sound of the window breaking. She looked just in time to see Craig's feet as he plummeted to the ground.

Red calmly moved to the window and peered out. "Okay, then." He said, putting on his fedora.

Lizzie's wide eyes moved back and forth from the broken window to her dad. "What now?" Her voice tinged with hysteria. "What are you doing?"

"Putting on my coat." Red deadpanned as he, in fact, shrugged on his coat.

"A man just jumped through the window. There's a body on the sidewalk!" Lizzie cried, pointing to the window just in case Red hadn't noticed.

"Yes. And your husband, the police, and all the king's men will be here soon. If you care to stick around and explain, feel free. But I, for one, will not be in attendance." Red began to head out of the hotel room before stopping short next to the bathroom door. "Dembe, I'll get her downstairs. After you're finished, grab the pretzels."

/\/\/\/\

Police vehicles quickly swarmed Milton Bobbit's location at the Westport Cemetery, their sirens blaring. Lizzie hopped out of her vehicle and jogged over to where Meera and Ressler stood, safely behind the police line. She watched the scene for a moment as Milton shouted at Dr. Fredrick Osborn – the chair of the Department of Endocrinology at City Memorial who supervised the clinical trial which caused Milton Bobbit's flesh to begin to rot away. Bobbit currently held a gun to Osborn's head and wore a suicide vest just for good measure.

"Negotiator's en route." Lizzie said softly.

"We have snipers in place." Meera updated everyone.

Ressler shook his head. "No."

"He's not gonna let us take him, and the man has a death wish. How do you plan on recovering the hostage?" Lizzie questioned.

Ressler walked around the front of the SUV they'd taken cover behind and began walking up to where Bobbit and Osborn stood.

"What– what are you doing?" Meera stuttered.

"Ressler!" Lizzie called after him.

"Stop! Not– not one more step further. Don't come any closer! I swear to God– you take one more step!" Bobbit aimed his gun at Ressler who held up his hands but continued to move forward.

"Stay calm, Mr. Bobbit. Fredrick Osborn you're under arrest." Ressler stated, walking over to Osborn and quickly cuffing the man.

"What?" Osborn questioned, looking at Ressler like he was out of his mind.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you."

"What is happening?!" Milton cried out as his plan unraveled before him.

"You're under arrest for evidence tampering, for murder in the furtherance of a corrupt criminal enterprise." Ressler spoke to Osborn, ignoring Mr. Bobbit.

"You can't arrest me." Osborn said shakily.

"We know about the clinical trials, the people who died."

"What about him?" Osborn tilted his head in Bobbit's direction as Ressler began leading him away. "You should arrest him."

"I'm not leaving." Bobbit stated desperately.

Ressler looked back at Bobbit but continued walking. "I don't think Milton has any intention of being arrested today."

They got a few more steps away before they were knocked down by the concussive blast as Milton Bobbit blew himself up.

/\/\/\/\

Red sat quietly in one of the chair's in Cooper's office, staring down at a sheet of paper. "Time's up" Cooper stated from the doorway before quickly making his way into the room.

"Is that what this was about? You getting access to Bobbit's client list?" Cooper questioned as he sat behind his desk.

"Yes." Red said softly, standing up as he placed his fedora atop his head.

"Find what you were looking for?"

"Good night, Harold."

/\/\/\/\

Lizzie is visibly exhausted as she slumps in the chair in their storage-space-turned-office.

"You need to rest. We've done well. With Craig, things have been set in motion." Red told her quietly, unable to keep the concern from his voice.

Lizzie shook her head. "I don't think I can."

"You're going to have to, Lizzie. You just told Cooper that you need to step back from the dangerous stuff – and then you go and attack Craig in his hotel room!" Red's voice rose with frustration. "Elizabeth, you were supposed to watch him and wait for us to get there. I cannot keep you safe from yourself."

Lizzie said nothing, biting her lip as she nodded silently. She knew he was right and truthfully, in hindsight she felt like she was already failing at being a mother as she continued putting herself in dangerous situations. Lizzie vowed to herself to make more of a conscious decision and to stop being so reckless. Her dad was right, though she would die before she told him that.

Sighing, scratching his head in exasperation, Red turned to their evidence board. After staring at it a moment, he moved the small scrap of burnt paper that had the word "Berlin" typed on it up to the top of the board.

"What is it? What does it mean?" Lizzie asked.

Red stared at the board a moment longer before shrugging. "I don't know yet."