Lizzie's eyes fluttered open as the sun streamed in through a crack in her curtains. Snuffling slightly, Lizzie wriggled, freezing immediately at the sensation of her hair being swept away and feather light kisses on the back of her neck.
The events of last caught up to her quickly, causing her to smile and let out a small, delighted little moan as another kiss was planted on her jaw. Lizzie cuddled further into the body behind her as she craned her neck, ensuring the next kiss landed on her lips.
"Good morning." She mumbled around a large smile.
"Morning." Don stated, his voice sleepy deep. She couldn't help but think that voice was like sex in sound form.
Don's arms squeezed her once more as he kissed her sweetly. Pulling his one arm out from under her head to hover over her on his forearm, he smiled down at her. Lizzie turned onto her back to gaze up at him, placing her hand over his where it lay on her belly.
"Thank you." She murmured, returning his smile.
Don's soft gaze took on a hint of confusion. "What for?"
"For staying with me."
Don snorted before he kissed her on the nose. "I didn't do it all out of altruism, Liz." He teased, as he lifted his hand to rest on her cheek, gently swiping his thumb along her cheekbone. "I'm here because I want to be." He said softly.
Lizzie lifted her head to kiss him soundly. Sliding his hand around behind her head, Don held her close, unwilling for the kiss to end.
After a few moments of sleepy morning kisses, Lizzie pulled away. "Lovely as this is, the Bump is on my bladder." She murmured.
Ressler chuckled, scooting away to allow her to roll out of the bed. Lizzie threw a sultry look over her shoulder as she walked away, able to feel his eyes appreciating the way she looked in just an over large t-shirt that doubled as pajamas and her panties.
"Get up, we've got to get to work soon." She ordered teasingly.
"And what exactly am I supposed to do while you're hogging the bathroom?" He asked, laughing.
"Make me breakfast, duh." She said, laughter jumping in her eyes as she closed the bathroom door.
Don snorted as he flopped back onto the bed, his chiseled chest peaking out from under the sheets as he stretched. He laid there for a moment, a stupid grin on his face before rolling out of bed, heading towards the kitchen.
/\/\/\/\/\
Red walked into the old cabin to find her in the small living room, staring at a small picture on the mantel, framed with colored popsicle sticks and glitter. He stopped steps away from her as she slowly turned her head to look at him. "You look so different." He murmured in greeting.
"Not as different as you." She said, her voice tinged with bitterness.
Red watched as she took a step towards him and swallowed thickly, preparing himself for the inevitable. A crack echoed throughout the small cabin and Red's head whipped to the side at the force of her slap. There was a breathless moment before he turned his head back, his face a mask of indifference as he gazed into her tumultuous eyes. Red licked the corner of his lip and instantly tasted the tell-tale metallic bitterness.
"You always did have a nice backhand."
/\/\/\/\/\/\
"The answer is no. I gave up one life. Do you think I'm gonna start over, do it all again?! You're crazier than I imagined!"
"You can't go back to Philadelphia. It's too dangerous." Red stated calmly as he watched her pace the length of the living room.
"What do you think I'm gonna do? Stay here in in this?" Naomi threw her arms out around her. "I can't believe you brought me here. I'll tell you where I'm gonna go home, with my husband. Frank has two daughters. You think he's just gonna walk out on them?"
Red's eye twitched at her mention of the cabin. She was right, the place did hold a lot of memories. Their old cabin that they'd use for weekend get-aways. He could never bring himself to part with it. "I need to know where Jennifer is." He said, trying to turn the conversation.
"I kept my end of the bargain, didn't say anything about you or Elizabeth." Red's face hardened at the way she spat out his daughter's name. "How much does she know?"
Red frowned at her. "Very little."
"A- are the" Naomi sighed, rolling her eyes to the ceiling as they began to glass over. Red winced in sympathy, his guilty conscious rearing its head at the fact that he's upending her life. Again. "Are the two of you, what, working together? I don't even want to know how you pulled that off." She scoffed.
"Listen to me about Jennifer." Red barked, not particularly comfortable with going down that road with her. "I can protect her."
"I'm never going to tell you where my daughter is. Because of you, I'm forced to finally tell Frank, a man who's never kept a secret from me not only that I was married before, but that I was married to — He sits me down, tells me he's sorry for me. Try and wrap your warped mind around that. The man's entire life is upended. All he can think about is me."
Red sighed, shaking his head as he stood up, palming his fedora. "The arrangements have been made passports, identities, a new life. Talk it over with Frank. If you love him, you'll let me help."
/\/\/\/\/\/\
"Where's Naomi Hyland?" Lizzie greeted as soon as she accepted the call.
Red scoffed, letting silence hang for a moment. "In safe hands." He stated simply.
"What does that mean – you've already set her up with a cozy new life in Saint Kitts or Solvang?"
"Solvang?" He questioned as if affronted. "I never send anyone I care about to Solvang."
"She spent nine days with Berlin. We have to debrief her. She could know something his real name, his location." Lizzie argued, sitting down on the steps that lead to the offices from the war room.
"Did you read about that housewife in Reston? She shot a bank manager." Red deflected.
Lizzie sighed heavily. "You're not hiding her from the FBI. You're hiding her from me."
"Violent crime in D.C. is at a 20-year low, and yet in the last four months, there have been seven random acts of violence by individuals with no prior criminal record." Red paused and Lizzie could hear him take a bite of something. "Lizzie, what do you know about social psychology?"
Lizzie rolled her eyes but decided to play along. She recognized the signs of an impending blacklister. "It's the study of how our behavior is influenced by the world around us."
"Not influenced, manipulated. In what little time I devote to the judgment your government has made about my character and how I treat my fellow man, I can't help but think about how many of their own citizens they've treated like lab rats in the name of science. I believe this murder in Reston is part of an underground social-psychology experiment. Conducted by our government."
Lizzie scoffed and shook her head.
"Strap on your tinfoil hat, Lizzie." Red stated as if he could see her reaction.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
"According to Reddington, three recent incidents prove the U.S. government is still conducting mind-control experiments." Lizzie nodded to Aram and he quickly brought up a few pictures onto the screens behind Lizzie. "Terry Cho, a middle-school teacher who killed seven of his coworkers during his lunch break. Construction worker Henry Lee Bryce used a hammer and a box cutter. Killed by police. The third, Maddie Thornhill, single mom who opened fire at a bank in Reston." Lizzie pointed to each photo as she spoke of the person. "Reddington has alleged that these crimes weren't random, but orchestrated by spooks the government continues to finance through their black-ops budget."
Ressler shook his head as he braced his arms against the table in front of him. "Look, to be honest, I think this is a big distraction to keep us busy while Reddington spirits away his ex."
Cooper stood for a moment, gazing at the pictures on the screens above their heads. "Interview the shooters and their families. Then we'll worry about the wife."
As they dispersed, Lizzie made her way over to Aram. "Hey." She said, grabbing his arm. "What would you say if I told you to pull Frank and Naomi Hyland's phone records for the past five years?"
Aram looked around them shiftily. "I'd, uh, ask if you had a warrant."
Liz smiled slyly. "Would you ask me to show it to you?"
"Why would I do that? I trust you implicitly, Agent Keen." Aram stated before winking at her and continued his journey towards the elevator and his lunch.
/\/\/\/\/\/\
They were once more back in the war room with the team gathered round. "Maddie Thornhill told us her life fell apart after a series of anonymous accusations." Lizzie stated from where she sat at Aram's desk. He'd kindly let her sit down after noticing her trying to massage her lower back, wincing in pain.
"The shooter I spoke to said the same thing." Samar spoke up. "In his case, it was accusations of pedophilia. There were no witnesses, no victims ever came forward, but the school didn't want to take chances, so they fired him."
"Their problems metastasized like a cancer, striking to the heart of these victims' identities." Lizzie stated.
Ressler rose a brow in incredulity. "Victims? These aren't the victims, Keen, these are the perps. The people they killed are the victims."
Liz glared at him and sighed. "All I'm saying is that some people aren't wired to handle stress, and someone took advantage of that."
"Agent Keen had me expedite DNA profiles." Lizzie rolled the chair over a bit to give Aram some room as he began rifling through some files on his desk. "All three perpetrators possess the MAO-A 2R gene."
"The extreme-warrior gene." Lizzie stated. She'd done a paper on this very subject in her junior year of undergrad.
"Clinical studies have proven people who possess this gene are prone to aggressive, antisocial behavior."
Ressler shifted on his feet, his hands in his pockets. "Are you suggesting the government has identified people with mild genetic abnormality and is turning them into killers?"
"That's exactly what we're suggesting." Lizzie replied solemnly.
/\/\/\/\/\
Lizzie knocked on Cooper's door to announce her presence and walked into his office. Looking up from his computer, Cooper gave her a closed lip smile and took his glasses off, tossing them onto his desk.
"The perp in the freeway shooting I hear he had this warrior gene." He phrased his question as a statement.
"Yeah. Agent Navabi has identified 11 other cases in the last 18 months. No connection other than –"
"They share this gene."
Lizzie nodded. "And it's not just some statistical anomaly. I- it's as if they're being triggered."
"Close the door." Cooper ordered softly.
"Sir?" Lizzie backed up and closed the door before heading over to his desk and sitting in one of the chairs. "You know something?"
Cooper sighed, swiping a hand over his face. "Every word Reddington said about this program is true. In the army, officers sit in bars, and they talk sideways 'a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy.' MK Ultra was just the start. There were others quietly run in military bases and universities all across the country psycho-pharmaceuticals, electromagnetic pulses, microwaves that broadcast words and phrases into the brain." Cooper shook his head. "I love this country, but every once in awhile, you hear about something like this, some bone-evil crap that's almost inconceivable. That's what I hate most about this detail – Reddington pulling up the carpet and shoving your nose deep into the filth." Cooper smiled in apology and Lizzie nodded. No one was more aware of her father's relationship with the seedy underbelly of the world than she was. "After a while, it's all you can see." Cooper continued. "Subproject 7.I"
Lizzie held her breath and when it seemed as though he wasn't going continue, she shook her head. "I don't know what that is."
Cooper sat back in his chair. "t's a black-budget program. It's funded out of the D.I.A. The goal was to use genetic predispositions to train and trigger assets."
"If it's black-budget, how am I supposed to gain access?"
/\/\/\/\/\
Lizzie and Ressler sat in chairs of the office of Senator Sheraton.
"I am a dear friend of Harold Cooper. He was a pallbearer in my daddy's funeral." Stated Senator Sheraton in his deep southern drawl. "But I told him when he called only yahoos are interested in Subproject 7."
"So you're saying it doesn't exist?" Ressler questioned.
Sheraton looked at Ressler with pitying amusement. "You're asking about mind control." Sheraton shook his head. "This government can't make up its own mind, let alone control one." He stated before continuing to gnaw on the toothpick in his hand.
Lizzie could recognize a deflection when she heard one, her father was the king of them. "Senator, is that a yes or a no?"
"It's a yes and a no. Have we studied mind control? Yes. Does it work? About as often as a blind squirrel finds an acorn."
"We've been tracking a spike in violent crimes, mass shootings." Lizzie stated.
Sheraton sat forward in his chair, clasping his hands together atop his desk. "I'm gonna pay you the courtesy of being blunt. You're wasting your time. If there's been an increase in the incidence of violent crime, you're not gonna find the answer to why in the black budget of the U.S. government."
"Understood. But I also understand that you do oversee that black budget, and Harold Cooper would appreciate it if you could provide us with any information you have on Subproject 7."
Sheraton smiled benignly at Lizzie. "Of course. My office will deliver all pertinent documents. Now, if you will excuse me, I am late for my next meeting."
/\/\/\/\/\
"This is a mistake." Red stated gravely. "I can't help you in Philadelphia."
Naomi shook her head from where she sat on the opposite couch, her hand in Frank's. "We've made up our mind."
"You know I would stop at nothing to protect you."
"We don't need your protection." Frank spat.
"Yes, you do." Red paused, staring intently at Frank. "I understand it may be difficult for you to accept my help, given the history that Carla and I share."
Naomi snorted. "Don't flatter yourself. Carla Reddington was a miserable housewife married to a miserable man. That woman no longer exists. We're not going anywhere."
Red switched his gaze over to Naomi, the tick under his eye twitching as he rolled his tongue. Damn that stung.
/\/\/\/\/\/\
Lizzie ran her fingers through her hair, leaning heavily on her elbows against the table. "Everything the Senator sent is redacted. Entire pages."
Ressler inched closer to her and covertly laid his hand against her lower back in comfort, though feigning as if he were leaning over her to read the pages. "Dollar amounts are omitted. Project names are code." He murmured.
Lizzie had to resist the urge to lean towards him. "Yeah, 'Elegant Lady,' 'Forest Green.' I mean, if any of these are Subproject 7, it'd be impossible to tell."
Samar's gaze became distant for a moment. "The Polyglot."
Lizzie sat up in her chair, forcing Ressler to sidle away from her. "What?"
"In Mossad, we have a contact. He's like a code breaker. You give him your black-ops budget, the redacted pages, he'll tell us what they mean."
Ressler reared his head back, his eyebrows inching toward his hairline. "You have our black-ops budget?"
Lizzie huffed out a laugh at his preoccupation before turning her attention back to Samar. "The Polyglot, how do we find him?"
Samar shrugged, wincing apologetically. "He was cleared level 4. I don't have that kind of access."
/\/\/\/\/\
Red's laughter emanated from her phone's speaker. "Oh, my God. Is that what they call him in Tel Aviv? I haven't spoken to Haskell in years."
"But you know where to find him?"
"I do. But it's a sticky situation. Old Haskell and I had somewhat of a falling-out at the craps table."
/\/\/\/\/\
"You're lucky I know this man is as harmless as a fruit fly." Red murmured grumpily. "I still can't believe you talked me into letting you come. You're pregnant, ready to pop." Red uttered, shaking his head woefully. "That face – god it was like that time when you were seven and you just had to have that doll that actually cries."
Lizzie snorted. "You're just put out that I know your weakness. My bright and shining face." She teased.
Red harrumphed as he lifted his hand to knock. Within moments a short balding man answered the door.
"Hask –" The moment recognition appeared on the man's face, he slammed the door shut, disallowing Red to finish his greeting.
Red frowned and glanced at Lizzie before knocking again.
"I have no interest in seeing you. Go away. You're not welcome here." The man's voice emanated from behind the heavy wooden door.
"Haskell, I told you I'm sorry." Red shouted in order to be heard. "What more can I say?"
The door swung open violently. "You knew I was in recovery."
"I didn't." Red defended. At the disbelieving look on Haskell's face, Red shrugged. "Okay. Yes, I did. But you were having such a great time. And after everything that happened with Sheryl and that Cuban, the boxer – what was his name?"
Haskell's face pinched with anger. "I'm not talking to you about this."
"Yasiel! God, that hair. Beautiful hair. I thought you could use a little distraction. You forget we won $25,000 on one roll."
"Yes, and I lost twice that much after you left." Haskell fumed. "I woke up in that Hotel. I still don't even know how I got to mesquite. That kind of money means nothing to you, but to me …"
Red opened up the duffel bag he'd been holding and revealed the many bundles of cash inside. "It's an olive branch, with interest." Haskell leaned forward to take a peek and silently opened the door wider to let them in.
"My friend Miss Watkins is a blogger looking for her first scoop." Red finally introduced Lizzie as they entered the foyer.
"I write mostly about social-science experiments. Researching one right now, actually the black-ops project Subproject7." Lizzie stated as she shook Haskell's hand.
Haskell's smile turned a little bit creepy. "Why don't we take this into my office? It's V2K-shielded." Haskell turned around and headed off down the hall. Lizzie looked back at her dad, her face a mask of worry and slight fear. Red merely smiled genteelly and swept out his hand as if to say after you.
/\/\/\/\/\
"Here she is – government white paper on Subproject 7." Haskell stated, whipping a folder out of its place in the filing cabinet before slamming the cabinet shut.
"I've seen the white paper. It's heavily redacted. Wha– " Lizzie broke off as Haskell chuckled, placing the file in front of her and opening it up to reveal full, non-redacted, pages of the report. "How did you?"
Red smiled, shaking his head as if in awe. "Haskell's quite a puzzle man. Spends his days combing through thousands of pages of redacted government documents, comparing them to defense-authorization reports, executive orders. He's found a way to read between the lines. I wouldn't have the patience."
Haskel bowed his head, accepting the praise graciously. "Subproject 7 was born out of the human genome project. Some genius in government figured that if DNA could be used to identify people who were predisposed to cancer, it could be used to identify people who were predisposed to become assassins."
Lizzie picked up a photo. "Who are these people?"
"The Team. They used the brains of mass murderers and reverse-engineered from there, fine-tuned a three-phase activation process. First phase disruption of schedule, routine, daily life. Second destabilize sense of self-worth. Final phase was to sever the primary emotional bond. Get all three: jackpot."
Lizzie continued studying the photo as she listened. "This man here who is he? I've seen his face before."
Haskell leaned over to get a better look. "Oh, yes. He was their lab assistant, Dr. Linus Creel."
/\/\/\/\/\
"Dr. Linus Creel, PHD in clinical psychology from N.Y.U." Lizzie stated, hitting the button on the remote in her hand to bring the man's image up onto the screen. "After Subproject 7 disbanded, he opened a private practice."
Ressler leaned against the table, in front of one of the computers. "It appears he supplements his income working as a locum tenens at six area hospitals."
"I cross-referenced Creel's name with the 11 warrior gene killers in the last 18 months." Samar stated, setting a large file down on the table. "At some point, he was on staff at each of the hospitals where the killers were receiving counseling, including our friend Maddie Thornhill."
"That's how he's recruiting them." Cooper said gruffly.
Samar looked over at Aram. "Can we access his network?"
Aram shook his head, ducking his head in apparent shame. "Already checked that. I can't break through his firewall. If I could somehow gain physical access, I could upload a program to deactivate it long enough to hack his patient list."
Ressler took a step away from the table and pointed at the computer. "Come here. Take a look at this." Aram hurried over and sent a mirror of the computer screen to one of the overheads for the slightly technologically challenged Agent Ressler. "Creel has this posted on his website, calls it an intake questionnaire."
"Some kind of I.Q. test?" Samar questioned.
Lizzie hopped off of her stool and walked nearer to read the contents of the questionnaire better. "No, it's a modified MMPI-2 the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory but it's heavily modified." Lizzie paused as she studied it. "He reconfigured the test questions to flag aggression and low impulse control."
Ressler rocked back on his heels. "That's how he finds the subjects with the warrior gene."
/\/\/\/\/\
Lizzie waddle-walked over to Aram's workstation and leaned an elbow against the table. "Aram, if I asked you to create an E.M.R., could you feed it into their database?"
Aram's eyes shifted in thought before he gazed steadily at Lizzie. "You want a fake medical record?"
"Yeah family history, immunization records, billing addresses, but most importantly, we'll need a full psychiatric history."
Aram's brow furrowed in confusion. "Like what?"
/\/\/\/\/\/\
Red gazed steadily at Naomi's sleeping form on the couch before slowly turning towards Frank as the man entered the room. "She's exhausted. Why don't you and I go for a walk?"
The two men quickly made their way up towards the small road that rolled through and vivisected the surrounding trees.
Coming to a stop at the side of the road, Red turned to face Frank. "This may be hard to understand, Frank, but after all these years, your wife has become more like an estranged sister to me. We can't really bear each other's company. But I've become somewhat concerned about her general well-being and sense of security."
Red's gaze flickered towards an approaching SUV.
"Are you threatening me?" Frank scoffed.
Red placed a hand on Frank's shoulder. "She loves you." The vehicle came to a stop a few feet away from them. "You've made her happy. Given her a life, stability." The sounds of doors slamming broke through the quiet of the forest. Red wasn't worried as he knew it was only Dembe and Mr. Vargas. "The one thing I could never provide." Red patted Frank's shoulder genially before walking around to the back of the SUV. "Come closer, Frank." When the man didn't move, Red trapped him with his steely gaze. "Frank. Come here." He ordered.
Red opened the trunk of the SUV and murmured softly. "Come on."
Frank stopped short as he came around the SUV to find a yellow lab happily waving his tail as Red pet him. "That's Monica's dog. What the hell have you done?"
Red turned to face Frank as Dembe quickly leashed the dog. "You're finished with Monica." He stated gravely.
Frank angrily took a step forward, his hands turning to fists. "Where is she?"
Red's brow raised, unimpressed at the man's apparent bravado. "We had a few words. And, thanks to my friend's – " Red waved his hand toward Mr. Vargas. "– rather judicious rescue, we also have a dog."
"Monica – what did you do to —"
Red rolled his eyes. "She's fine." He stated, his words clipped with annoyance. "But from this point forward there is only Naomi. She believes you to be an honest man, Frank – faithful, and that is what you will become. You're going to accept my protection and leave Philadelphia."
Frank scoffed, shaking his head. "No. I'm gonna call the cops, turn you in. You're not gonna get away with this."
Red stared at Frank stoically before springing into action. Bending down quickly, Red grabbed a stick, snapped it in two and held it to Frank's neck, his other hand holding the man by the back of his head so he couldn't move. Frank's eyes widened and he began to breathe heavily.
Red smiled at the man's obvious terror. "You make her happy." He stated darkly, pressing the jagged edges of the stick into the man's carotid. "That is the only reason you're still here." Just as quickly as he put the stick to the man's neck, Red stepped back and tossed the stick. "Go get it, boy." Red spoke gently, watching as the dog continued to sit on the road. Red shook his head, chuckling. "City dog." He murmured.
/\/\/\/\/\/\
"I swear to God, you better know what you're doing." Don murmured as he stood in front of Lizzie in their office, his hands on her hips.
Lizzie smiled up at him and kissed him sweetly. "I'll be fine. I'm a trained psychologist remember? I know what actions and reactions he's expecting; I know what answers he expects on the questionnaire."
"Doesn't mean things can't take a turn. The guy's obviously a psycho." Don argued, taking a step closer.
"I'll be fine. I promise."
/\/\/\/\/\
"Hello. You must be Angela. My name is Dr. Creel." The doctor introduced himself as he walked in and quickly sat in the stool next to the bed that Lizzie was currently on, swinging her legs back and forth. "Says here you've been having some troubles with your husband." Dr. Creel stated, flipping through her records.
Lizzie scoffed, rolling her eyes. "That's an understatement."
Creel smiled benignly. "Now, I see that you've been treated for depression and anxiety before."
"In college, postgrad. I had, you know." Lizzie winced. "A rough patch."
"You were hospitalized." Lizzie looked down at her lap as he stated this.
"I know this must be difficult for you." He said, his voice pitched in sympathy.
Lizzie shrugged her shoulders, letting out a self depreciating huff. "I took some pills. They had to pump my stomach."
"Was this deliberate or an accident?"
Lizzie appeared to deliberate. "Kind of both." She said slowly. "It's not what you think. I- it's not like I ever wanted to commit suicide. I took them in front of someone. I had this boyfriend Ronnie. I was so young, – and he – Was cheating. I was such an idiot." Lizzie chuckled lightly.
"Feel that you want to hurt yourself now? Now that your husband has left?"
"No." Lizzie looked down and rubbed her belly. "I couldn't."
"But you're angry at him." Creel persisted.
"I'd kill him." Lizzie didn't hesitate as she answered, she didn't need to. "I- I- I mean, I would never kill him." She backpedaled, laughing nervously. "That's not what I meant. It's just a figure of speech."
"I understand." Creel chuckled. "What's his name?"
Lizzie pursed her lips. "Tom. His name was Tom."
"And if you caught Tom cheating, if you walked in on him, – and you could – Kill him?"
Lizzie shook her head determinedly. "I'd never."
"But if you could do anything and get away with it, what would it be? No chance of ever getting caught? You're above the law. Have at him."
"I'd chain him up." Lizzie said darkly.
"Yeah?" Creel moved forward to the edge of his seat.
"And I'd force him to tell me about all of the lies, the secrets he kept. I'd make him my prisoner." Lizzie tsked, letting out a huff of a laugh. "It's pretty messed up, huh?"
Creel rolled his stool closer to her. "You know. We don't put people in prison for how they feel." Creel tapped her on the knee with his pen and all she wanted to do was knee him in the face, shove the cartilage of his nose so high up into his brain the next time he got the sniffles, he'd be leaking memories. "You can't control it. You are who you are. It's biology." The man gave her the creeps. "We never argue about height or eye color. But try telling someone their reaction to anger or love or violence is baked in." Creel smiled softly at her, his lips thinning as they stretched, before he rolled his stool back once more. "Now It says here that your parents died when you were 4. What do you remember about them?"
Lizzie shrugged. "Nothing, really."
"Perhaps if you did, it would be easier for you to accept who you are."
"Like the Sins of the Father. That it?" Lizzie raised a brow.
"Absolutely. The more time you spend with your parents, the more of yourself you see in them. For better or for worse, they're a glimpse into your future."
"My father died in a fire. I was 4." Lizzie stated, shutting down any thoughts of what her real father's identity could mean for her future. She knew it wasn't great. But she also knew she wouldn't trade him for the world. God she really was messed up.
"Is that how you got the scar on your hand?"
"Yeah. I guess." Lizzie murmured, bringing her hands together to rub the scar. "I don't remember, actually." The lie fell easily from her lips.
"Early trauma scars us in ways we don't often recognize or admit."
Lizzie just raised a disbelieving brow.
"Look, Angela, I am here to determine whether you are a danger to yourself or others. I know that you don't want to spend the night here. So, I am going to see if I can expedite the blood tests. Meanwhile, I would like you to take a simple personality test I developed for my patients." Creel leaned over and grabbed a pad of paper with the questionnaire on it to hand to her. "It's a standardized psychometric test that's gonna give me a deeper understanding into issues you may or may not have."
"When the nurse drew my blood, she said that you ordered a genetic screening."
Creel stood and smiled. "Too many of my colleagues focus on the nurture side of the equation. And sure how your parents treated you is important, but the genes they passed on matter more. There are no wrong answers. Just – Whatever comes to mind."
"Okay, got it."
Lizzie watched the man leave and head over to the nurse's station. Propelling herself off the bed, Lizzie grunted as she got to her knees and quickly removed the doctor's laptop from the bag he'd left in the room.
Opening the laptop, Lizzie fingers hovered over the keys. "Go." She murmured.
"Hold down power, shift, 's.'" Aram's voice floated into her ear.
Lizzie quickly did as instructed. "Okay. I see white letters on a black screen."
"Perfect. Okay. Type forward slash b-n. It's running a dictionary attack. Should take a few seconds."
"Got it." Once more Lizzie did as asked.
Okay, it's gonna give you a password. I need you to write it down."
As an apparently random set of numbers began appearing on the screen, Lizzie reached into the bag and grabbed Creel's prescription pad and began writing.
Sitting up a bit to look out the window, Lizzie saw Creel heading back to the room. Cursing, Lizzie shut and threw the laptop back in his bag and ripped the page with the password out of the pad before making her way back to the bed as quickly as she could, grabbing the questionnaire as she hid the prescription pad under her thigh.
"The blood panels won't be done – " Creel seemed to pause as she fidgeted on the bed. "for another 20 minutes."
Lizzie smiled sweetly. "Okay."
Creel sighed heavily. "Did you really think you could just come in here, lie to me? I know why you're here."
Lizzie's eyes widened in apparent fear. "I told you I-I need your help."
"You are a junkie. You're trying to forge scripts." He yelled angrily.
Lizzie shrugged innocently, pasting on another sweet smile. "Maybe my father was an addict, too."
Creel frowned at her. "Hand them over!" He held out his hand. "Now! Let's go. You're pregnant for Pete's sake!"
Lizzie laughed a little crazily as he stepped forward. "They're under here somewhere. Okay, got them." She stated victoriously as she removed the pad from where it'd been hidden. "Are you calling the cops or something?"
Creel's smile sent shivers down her spine. "No. Now I'm only more interested in your test results." Creel sat back down on the stool and indicated towards the questionnaire still in Lizzie's hands. "Please continue."
/\/\/\/\/\
Lizzie breathed heavily as she opened the door to the surveillance van parked outside the hospital. "Oh, my God." She said dazedly as Samar helped her into the van.
"You okay?" Aram asked worriedly. Looking her over, he sighed sadly. "You didn't get the password."
Lizzie looked at him incredulously. "I mean, what do you expect?" She asked, exhaling sharply. At Aram's forlorn face, Lizzie laughed, and with a flick of her wrist, a folded scrap of paper appeared between her fingers. "'Course I got it." She teased. "Magic." She stated with faux mysticism as she handed it over.
/\/\/\/\/\/\
Lizzie paused on her way out as she saw Aram running over to her out the corner of her eye. "Hey." He called.
"Hey."
"I followed up on Frank and Naomi Hyland, like you asked." Aram whispered as he drew along side her. "Both phones are dead."
"Mm-hmm." Lizzie encouraged, knowing Aram well enough to know that wasn't all.
"I identified the five numbers they called the most to see if any of those people were getting calls from new numbers. People that Frank and Naomi might have reached out to."
"And?"
"There's a woman. Monica Lyons." Aram whipped out a sheet of paper with a list of phone calls made. "She got six calls today, all unanswered. All came from a pay phone at a gas station in rural Maryland. Only a handful of homes in that area."
"What gas station?"
/\/\/\/\/\
"Oh, he must belong to someone." Naomi stated as she kneeled beside the dog, happily petting him. "Maybe we can see if he has a chip or something, see who his owners are. If he doesn't have any, we could bring him back to Philadelphia."
Red looked at Frank pointedly and the man cleared his throat. "We can't go back."
Naomi's head whipped up to gaze at her husband. "What? We- we already decided."
"No, uh, If there's any chance you're in danger, I couldn't live with myself if something were to happen to you." Frank said pleadingly, taking Naomi's hand and leading her over to the couch where he sat next to her.
Naomi's stony gaze turned towards Red. "You did this. You threatened him. You threatened his girls."
"No, this had nothing to do with him. This is about us what's best for us, for you. That's all that matters."
Before Naomi could reply the sound of the cabin door slamming caused everyone to turn their heads towards it.
"Hello, Mrs. Hyland." Lizzie greeted cheerily as she walked in. Looking towards her dad, her smile widened. "Hey Dad."
"Oh you have got to be shitting me." Naomi stated incredulously.
"Lizzie." Red groaned.
"I'm sorry Raymond." Dembe murmured as he tailed behind Lizzie, having had no success in stopping her.
Lizzie turned her head towards her brother. "Colored pencil, jerk face." She said snottily, causing Dembe to laugh and shake his head as he headed back outside.
Turning back towards the rest of the group, Lizzie stepped back as the weight of Naomi's furious gaze fell on her before turning back to a suddenly exhausted looking Raymond.
"What is this? Are you kidding me?" She cried, standing up and pacing towards Red. "You bring your bastard daughter here?" Naomi threw an arm out towards Lizzie. "And she's pregnant?!"
"That's enough, Naomi." Red growled.
"Mrs. Hyland – " Lizzie attempted.
"Shut up." The woman snapped at her before turning to Red. "You abandon me and our daughter and then what? Raise her? And now you're going to be a grandpa?" Naomi scoffed. "You ruin our lives and then go on to have a perfect little life of your own."
Red opened his mouth but Lizzie lifted her hand to silence him as she stepped towards Naomi.
"My dad sent me to live with his friend, Sam. My Pop. He visited as much as he could. Want to know what happened on one of those memorable visits?" Lizzie's voice was a dark murmur. "I was six. Pop and I had just sat down to dinner when Dad came in, screaming my name, yelling for me. When he found me, he held me so tightly, I was afraid my ribs would collapse." Lizzie paused as she felt her Dad clasping her hand in his.
"Lizzie." He murmured, shaking his head.
"No. She needs to know." She argued, turning to face Naomi who stood there, thunderstruck.
"He was crying – sobbing. But he wouldn't tell me why. So I snuck downstairs that night when I should have been sleeping. He was telling Pop about what happened." Lizzie stepped closer to Naomi. "How you and Jennifer had been brutally murdered. 'There was blood, so much blood,' he'd said." Lizzie got a certain satisfaction at the horrified, stricken look on Naomi's face. "He thought you were dead." She whispered harshly.
"So listen here, bitch. Next time you hold a grudge for over 20 years, make sure it's warranted."
Naomi gulped, looking away as she folded her arms over her chest defensively.
In the ensuing silence, Lizzie reached into her pocket and pulled out her badge. "Now, if you don't mind, Mrs. Hyland, I have a few questions for you about Berlin."
/\/\/\/\/\
They all stood outside, Naomi, Red, and Lizzie stood on the porch of the cabin as Frank and Dembe packed the SUV with Naomi and Frank's belongings.
"Mrs. Hyland, no matter what you think of my Dad… if you could – " Lizzie paused, taking a breath. "I'd really like to meet my sister."
Naomi looked at her in sympathy. "I don't know where Jennifer is. She knew you – " She glanced at Red. "Would come for her one day, and she left. I don't know where she is."
Lizzie bit her lip and nodded, walking away.
Red watched her walk towards the cars before turning back to Naomi.
"If you need anything… Ever …" He murmured gruffly.
Naomi smiled shakily, nodding her head. Red stepped forward, took her in his arms, and kissed her forehead.
/\/\/\/\/\
Both Lizzie and Red slouched into the cushioned leather seats in the back of his Mercedes. Looking over at her dad, she smiled sadly at the sight of him with his eyes closed as if he were wishing for sleep to take him.
"Seriously Dad, worst taste in women ever." She teased.
Red snorted, shaking his head as he opened his eyes to look at her. "She's had quite a few years for her anger to stew, Lizzie."
Lizzie scoffed and looked at Dembe in the rear view mirror. "Why don't you stop him, bro? Clearly the man needs help!"
Dembe chuckled as Red gave a long suffering sigh. "I wasn't there for that one, Elizabeth."
"No excuses."
/\/\/\/\/\/\
"Okay, there has got to be 70." Aram murmured as he sifted through the various files of Creel's computer which he now had remote access to. "He was documenting them, searching for the perfect candidates. Hold on. Wait. I have got a hidden subdirectory here."
Lizzie moved closer. "The killers. Everyone in this file has murdered someone."
Aram nodded and sent an image towards the large screens. "Except one: Duncan Prince."
Ressler looked up at the picture, his arms folded over his chest. "He must be next. Where do we find him?"
"I got an address in College Park."
/\/\/\/\/\
They were back in the war room, having only found Prince's laptop and an empty gun case at the address but no Prince. Though the laptop had led them to find an apparent online relationship between Duncan Prince and an Amber Deveraux.
"We've looked at every conceivable database. There's nothing on an Amber Deveraux." Lizzie ran her fingers through her hair.
"Well, I don't know who the hell he's been talking to, but this Amber Deveraux just crushed the kid an hour ago."
Ressler turned towards Aram. "Listen to me this kid's gacked up and gone. The Stoner roommates have no idea where. The girl's in trouble. You got to find her."
Lizzie froze, her mouth widening with realization. "Amber Deveraux doesn't exist. That's how he's triggering his clients. Anonymous allegations that can never be verified. Poor reviews online, blind accusations at work. And by girlfriends who don't exist."
Cooper's lips pursed in thought. "You think he's catfishing, that he invented the girl to trigger Duncan Prince, push him over the edge?"
Lizzie nodded. "Yeah."
"Find out where he thinks she is."
/\/\/\/\/\/\
"Hold on." Aram shouted, drawing everyone's attention. "Prince's fake girlfriend posted a very real photo from a community forum on gun violence." Aram posted the image to the screens above their heads.
"Duncan must have seen this." Lizzie looked towards the corner of the image. "Senator Sheridan." Lizzie stated, pointing to the man sitting in a chair off to the side of the photo. "That's where our shooter's going. To the gun rally. Creel posted the photo. He's gonna be there. Observing his experiment."
/\/\/\/\/\/\
"You can't be serious, Liz. You're staying in the car!" Don yelled angrily. "Hell, you shouldn't even be coming with us!"
Don swerved to avoid a car not paying attention as their sirens blared and Don sped through and around traffic. Lizzie winced, shifting awkwardly in her seat as the rough ride did nothing for her already aching back.
"No, I'm coming out there! I'm the only one of us with a background in negotiating with a suspect in hostage situations!"
"We don't know if it will be a hostage situation!"
Lizzie scoffed. "He's going to a gun rally to find that his girlfriend doesn't exist, of course it's going to be a hostage situation!"
Don shook his head. "You're not going. That's final."
Lizzie glared at him before stretching her arm behind her. She quickly pulled a Kevlar vest out from the back seat.
"You have got to be shitting me." Don murmured incredulously as he gazed at the custom vest. Complete with extra fabric, perfect for covering a pregnant belly.
"Red had it made for me." Lizzie murmured as she took off her seat belt to put the vest on. "Said he knew me too well."
"Liz." Don groaned.
"No. I have to do this Ressler."
/\/\/\/\/\/\
The brakes squealed as they came to an abrupt stop in the courtyard of the community center. Lizzie and Ressler hopped out of their SUV and heard several doors slamming around them as their colleagues did the same. Most of them stayed back as Lizzie, Ressler, and Samar moved closer.
"You're here to kill me, Duncan." Creel stated, his eyes wild.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Duncan yelled, beginning to lower his gun.
"'I didn't mean to hurt you.' 'Whatever.' 'Here to talk.' 'With Paul?' 'He's a great guy, really. 'I.D.G.A.S.'" Creel petulantly listed off the private conversations Duncan had had with his supposed girlfriend. "Why do you think you never met her? Because she's not real! The picture she posted, the one that brought you here, I posted it."
Duncan gave an unintelligible shout as he cocked the gun.
"That's right. Pull the trigger."
"Duncan, no!" Lizzie shouted moving closer, ignoring Don's warning whisper of her name. "Listen to me. You. Put the gun down. You don't want to do this. He lied to you, manipulated you. It's not your fault." Lizzie pled with Duncan.
"Pull the trigger, Duncan." Creel persisted. :It's what you came to do. You're all part of my experiment." Creel's eyes danced wildly around as he gazed at all the people watching the spectacle. "Read my research! We can save them!" He shouted to no one in particular.
"Duncan, listen to me." Lizzie lifted her hands in supplication as she slowly walked nearer. "He's making you believe that you don't have a choice!"
"Do you think that I want to die? I don't. But I have run out of ways to get people to pay attention. Do this, and the world will listen. They'll examine my life, my research. That can't happen unless you pull the trigger."
With a cry, Duncan shot Creel. Lizzie quickly made her way over to the man as Ressler tackled Duncan to the ground.
"Medic! I need a medic!" Lizzie shouted as she kneeled next to Creel, holding her hand over the wound in his arm. Within seconds, the man grabbed her around the waist, forcing her to stand with one arm as the other withdrew from his pocket.
Lizzie inhaled sharply at the feel of cold metal being held to her neck. Ressler looked up and his eyes widened at the sight of Lizzie with a gun held to her head, Creel using her as a human shield.
Ressler quickly stood, leaving Duncan handcuffed on the ground. Lifting his weapon and seeing Samar do the same, Ressler took a step towards Creel and Lizzie only for the man to take two steps away. "Take it easy, pal. Creel, listen to me. You have to understand. If I have a shot, I'm gonna take it."
"Put your weapon down!" Samar shouted.
Creel shook his head. "I shoot her, you shoot me! That's how this works, right?"
"Make you a martyr?" Ressler spat. "Not today."
Creel leaned closer to Lizzie to whisper in her ear. You should know I saw your test results. You know what they said?" Before he could finish, the sound of a gunshot rang out and Lizzie barely stayed upright as Creel fell backwards, a bullet between his eyes.
"Where did it come from? Where the hell did that shot come from?!" Ressler shouted, his head on a swivel as he lunged forward, wrapping Lizzie in his arms protectively.
Samar searched the area before pointing upward. "There on the roof." She shouted. "Go!" Samar directed towards the other agents.
Lizzie focused on Don, her eyes still wide in fear. Distantly, she saw Samar walking Duncan Prince to one of the vehicles but it was as if she were watching a movie.
"Hey! Hey, you with me?" Don murmured as he slowly lowered them to the ground. "You're alright, we're gonna get an ambulance to check you out."
Lizzie swallowed. "You may want to get them here quick." She murmured.
"What? Why?" Don pulled away and began searching her for injuries.
"Because my – my water just broke."
