Don stared back at Lizzie, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open in wonder. "Are you serious?" He whispered, as if afraid that if he spoke too loud, this moment would disappear in smoke.

Lizzie smiled sweetly. "Yea." She said just as softly. "You're amazing with him, Don. You love him, and he loves you." Lizzie shuffled her son in her arms so that he was better supported with just one hand before bringing the other up to run her fingers through Don's sleep addled hair lingeringly. "I love you. And I could not imagine a better father for Sammy." She murmured.

Don's cheeks felt like they were going to fall off as he sat up quickly and leaned over Lizzie. Caressing her cheek, his thumb soothing over her cheek bone, Don leaned forward ever so slightly and brought his lips to hers sweetly. Aware of a still nursing Sammy between them, Don didn't allow the kiss to become heated though he wanted nothing more. Pulling away, he smiled at Lizzie, wiping a few stray tears off her cheeks. It wasn't until he noticed hers, that he became aware that his own cheeks weren't dry.

"You two are the best thing to ever happen to me." He murmured gruffly.

Lizzie laughed softly. "Does that mean 'yes?'"

Don scoffed happily. "That means hand me our son, I want to hold him."

/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie carefully stepped through the doorway of the rusted old tin can of a ship her dad had asked her to meet him on.

"Red?" She called out hesitantly, unsure of who all was there. Looking down at Sammy whose little head was swinging about, his eyes wide in curiosity, Lizzie pursed her lips. Okay, maybe bringing him hadn't been such a good idea. Hefting him in her arms to draw her son higher up onto her hip, Lizzie stepped further in, calling out her dad's name once more as she hesitantly walked down the stairs.

A door on the other side of the room slowly creaked open and Lizzie tilted her body so that Sammy faced away from any coming danger. However, she immediately relaxed as Dembe's head stuck out around the opened door.

Her brother took one look at her, then down at Sammy and said nothing. His face a mask, Dembe opened the door wider. Lizzie quickly walked over, smiling at her brother though it wasn't returned.

As she came around the door, Lizzie froze at the sight before her, her eyes widening in horror as she gasped.

Red spun around quickly at the sound of her entrance. "Lizzie! Why the hell would you bring him here? Dembe! Get him out of here! Now!" Red barked angrily, marching forward and removing Sammy from her numb grasp as her eyes refused to move from the far side of the room.

The door opened and closed behind her once more, presumably with Dembe removing Sam from the room.

"I cannot believe you brought him here, Lizzie." Red hissed angrily. "What could have possibly possessed you?"

Lizzie's gaze finally snapped from where she'd been staring and she met her dad's steely gaze with one of her own. "You said to meet you on a boat. He loves the seagulls. And it's been a couple days since you've seen him." She said waspishly. "You could have warned me that this was the scene I was walking into." Her voice raised as she brought up a hand to point to the far side of the room.

There, in front of her, was Gina Zanetakos, her foot attached to a long heavy chain as she stared silently back at Lizzie from where she sat upon a dirty, threadbare mattress. She'd clearly seen better days. The dirt on the woman could not hide the various bruises and cuts on her body.

"What the hell is this?" Lizzie hissed. "I can't believe you! You're torturing now? Is that a thing you do?"

"You know what I am, Lizzie! Of course it's what I do!" Red shouted bitterly. "And we've gotten valuable information about Berlin from her – his weapons supplier and his location being a couple of them."

"I can't believe you." Lizzie scoffed disgustedly. "And you have the audacity to yell at me for bringing Sammy here while you're torturing a woman in the belly of a rusted old tin can!"

"Not that I don't love the soap op – "

"Shut up!" Both Red and Lizzie's heads snapped towards Gina as they yelled for her to be quiet at the same time. The woman merely rolled her eyes and rested her back against the wall of the ship.

"Why the hell did you ask me to come here? I thought she was in prison." Lizzie asked her dad bitingly. "And for that matter, how the hell does she supposedly know so much about Berlin and his operation? I thought that was Tom's deal."

"Because I need a favor." Red paused, shifting on his feet awkwardly. "And well, mostly because who – what she is. She's a spy, Lizzie." He muttered gruffly, looking away in discomfort.

Picking up on her dad's mood, Lizzie shifted on her feet. "You said 'mostly.' How else did she get the information?"

The tic under Red's left eye began to twitch and he brought his gaze back to his daughter's face, staring at her steadily, but refusing to speak.

"Pillow talk." The snide voice came from the far side of the room.

Lizzie froze, her eyes widening as realization set in. "You have got to be fucking kidding me." Lizzie uttered disbelievingly. So her dead spy of a husband had been cheating on her. If that whole situation weren't messed up enough, let's add a god damn cherry on top.

Lizzie looked over at Gina coldly. "Now I wish we could kill him again." She muttered as Gina stared back at her stoically through her one good eye.

Red cleared his throat, forcing Lizzie's attention back to him.

"Now about that favor…"

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Red and Berlin sat at a small table in an old storm cellar. Zoe sat beside Red, away from the table – away from her father. Berlin shifted in the rickety wooden chair as Red stared steadily at him, his own eyes shifting back and forth between Zoë and Red. Each time his eyes fell upon his daughter, he looked as if he were seeing a ghost, as if any moment now she may blow away with the wind.

"Your daughter told me your name is Milosz Kirchhoff." Red paused, pursing his lips before he continued. "All these years, Mr. Kirchhoff, you've believed with the blackest of hearts that I murdered your daughter. And yet here she is. The story was wrong, Milosz. Please enlighten me. What were you told and who did the telling?"

Berlin sat quietly for a moment before clearing his throat. "It was in '91. The Soviet Union was falling apart. A small group of us. Members of the Politburo, the military, KGB, Stasi. Had a plan to push back the progressives, to stem the tide. We were meeting and discussing strategy when a bomb."

"The Kursk Bombing." Red intoned solemnly.

Berlin nodded his head. "Fifteen died. And with them, our resistance. Rumors began that the Americans were involved. One name emerged. Yours. You came after my daughter. You exposed her as a dissident. She went to jail. After that, my loyalty was questioned. I was exiled to the Gulag, where, one by one, her bones were sent to me." As he said this, Berlin's broken gaze fell upon Zoë once more.

Red looked over at Zoë. "You fled. You must have had help. Who?"

Zoë paused and licked her lips. "There was a man. He said he could protect me from." She looked over at her father, her eyes hard. "From you."

"What was his name?" Red asked softly.

Zoë shrugged her shoulders. "I never met him. I don't know. His people. They called him 'The Decembrist.' Please. That's all I know." Zoë shifted in her seat, lifting her legs hesitantly as if wishing to stand but afraid of the reaction this would illicit. She appeared to want to say something but was battling an inner war to gain courage.

Zoë's back stiffened and she sat up straight. It seemed as though she'd won. She met her father's gaze. "You killed my friends. You destroyed my life once. Isn't that enough?"

Red almost pitied the man as he visibly winced at his daughter's verbal lashing. "At some point, I may call, ask for your assistance."

Berlin seemed to gather himself before turning towards Red. "About what?" He asked gruffly.

Red stood up, palming his fedora. "The Decembrist."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie lay with her head resting on Don's bare chest, her arm slung over his torso as his hand was in her hair, sweeping the sweaty strands from her forehead.

"So are we still taking Sammy to feed the ducks?" Don asked, his voice gruff with the after affects of lazy morning sex.

"Mmm yep." Lizzie murmured, nuzzling into his chest further as she shifted to get comfy.

Don chuckled at this, tightening his arm around her. "We can't do that from bed, you know." He teased with a small smile.

"Mmm shhh." Lizzie snuffled. "Sleep first."

Don laughed, shaking his head. Before he could tease her further, however, her phone rang. Both of them groaned, knowing immediately who it was.

Grumpily turning over to grab her phone off the bedside table, Lizzie grumbled under her breath. "He promised. The asshole promised. One day. We asked for one day off."

Pressing the call button, Lizzie put the phone to her hear. "Yea?" She barked.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie and Red stood in the hallway of a dilapidated office building.

"You're working with Berlin?" Lizzie yelled angrily. Though she wasn't yelling so much because she was angry, but rather to be heard over the blaring sound of heavy metal music coming from behind the door they stood in front of.

"I need to talk to you about a bombing in the Soviet Union Kursk, 1991." Red shouted just as loudly. Before he could continue though, the sound grew exponentially as an old man opened the door and closed it quickly behind him, though not without offering Lizzie a glimpse of a man slumped over, the only thing keeping him upright were the ropes that bound him to the chair.

Lizzie looked the old man up and down. She raised a brow at the white curly hair, oxygen mask, and portly belly. She never would have put him down as a masterful torturer but then again, her dad had a tendency to draw quirky people to his side like he had some sort of lopsided gravitational pull.

"Fella won't talk!" Brimley shouted, louder than necessary with the door closed but that could be put to the large noise canceling headphones that were still placed over his ears.

"Keep pushing him." Red yelled, enunciating clearly.

"I'm telling you! He's more scared of talking than he is of dying!" Brimley argued.

Red huffed and walked towards the man. Lifting one of the ear pieces away from the man's ear, he yelled. "Keep pushing!"

Brimley rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna need lunch! Tuna on Rye! Coleslaw if they have it!" He said in a huff before turning back to the room and going inside, the wheels of his oxygen tank squeaking behind him.

Liz looked over at her dad, her eyes wide in incredulity and disgust. "What the hell is going on?!" This was the second time in as many days that she's seen her dad be party to torture.

Red shrugged his shoulder, slamming his mask in into place to hide the pain of seeing his daughter's reaction caused. He'd killed in front of her – for her. But he had always tried to shield her from the worst of who he was as much as possible. But the situation was dire and needs must. She needed to understand the gravity of the situation. She needed to see the lengths at which they needed to go.

"We're shaking a few trees. There's been a development. It seems Berlin is merely a pawn who's been tragically manipulated."

Lizzie's brow furrowed and her righteous anger came to a grinding halt. "Manipulated by who?"

Red nodded his head towards the door where the music had stopped abruptly. The new silence was only disrupted by pained groans. "That's what Brimley's trying to ascertain."

Lizzie shook her head, shaking off her natural curiosity. "Berlin killed Meera, he put Tom in my life, and every time you have a chance to stop him, you let him go."

Red put his hands in his pants pockets. "Berlin will be held accountable for his actions after I acquire the name of the man who set him against me, a man they call The Decembrist." Red promised with a sigh. "If you want to find the one ultimately responsible for gutting Harold Cooper and killing Meera Malik, I suggest you help me find him."

/\/\/\/\/\

"The man we're looking for is known as The Decembrist. His acts are said to have contributed to the end of communism in Eastern Europe." Lizzie stated as she hopped up onto one of the tables in the war room.

"How is he connected to Berlin?" Samar questioned from where she stood next to Aram.

"He tried to assassinate him during a meeting in Kursk and faked his daughter's death."

"Berlin's been hunting Reddington, hunting us, and now Reddington wants to help Berlin get revenge?" Ressler asked with a scoff.

"Kursk – that bombing. The men who were killed that day were leaders of the Soviet Old Guard." Cooper intoned, looking off into the middle distance as he jogged his memory.

Ressler looked over at Cooper, his brow furrowed in consternation. "You really think we should be helping these two settle scores?"

Cooper shrugged his shoulders. "Our goal is to take down Berlin. If that means solving a terrorism case along the way, I'm fine with that." He stated dismissively.

"I'll contact the FSB." Aram said softly, his fingers already clicking on his keys.

Cooper shook his head. "They won't help." Aram's fingers froze. "The bombing was considered an act of patriotism. That's why they never pursued it. Pull the Russian reports, the crime-lab data. I want our own analysis."

/\/\/\/\/\

"They have the bomber's DNA?" Cooper asked suspiciously.

Aram nodded. "Yes." He answered quickly, bringing the digital files up onto the big screen. "The Russian crime lab reported finding epithelial cells on the lip of a coffee tin found in the debris."

Samar leaned against of the the tables. "How do you know it was the bomber's DNA? Didn't anyone else like coffee?"

"Uh, the reports I.D.'d the explosive device as Semtex. Same explosives a bomber used to down Pan Am 103 by hiding the explosives."

"In a coffee tin." Liz recalled. "Our guy copied that?"

Aram merely nodded.

"They have a name?" Cooper asked gruffly.

Aram shook his head with a wince. "Only a DNA profile, which was useless 20 years ago before they had a database to run it against. But today…" With the press of a button, a man's picture filled the screen above them.

"You found The Decembrist." Lizzie said with a small smirk.

"Kiryl Morozov. He was a low-level KGB operative." Cooper murmured, folding his arms over his chest.

"And today?" Samar asked.

Cooper smiled grimly. "One of the most powerful men in Russia."

/\/\/\/\/\

Red lay on his side on Lizzie's living room floor, swinging Sophie the Giraffe out in front of him enticingly as his grandson watched with rapt attention, rocking back and forth on his hands and knees. The babe was days away from crawling, Red knew it.

"ba bi paa mm pa bit." Sammy stated with all the seriousness of an 8 month old, his sentence structure a conglomeration of vowels, consonants, and slobber.

"Ah yes, of course. How remise of me. I apologize." Red stated with equal gravity.

"Ba." Sammy agreed.

Both of their heads swung to the left at the sound of Lizzie's laugh, the speed at which little Sammy's did so, knocking him off balance and causing him to fall to the side with a giggly gurgle.

Red sat up with a groan and smirked up at Lizzie and Don where they sat on the couch, Don's arm around Lizzie's shoulders. "Excuse us, Samuel and I were just discussing the virtue of sharing." Red stated grandly as he sat the toy next to the baby who was currently joyously clutching his toes and rocking side to side on his back as he babbled.

"Do international criminals even know how to share?" Don asked with no real bite to his words.

Lizzie snorted and elbowed him in the ribs while Red smirked. "Why of course, Donald." He answered jovially. "Intel with a dash of fear can go places that not even money can."

Don's only reply was a raised brow.

"So…" Lizzie said, deciding a quick subject change was in order. "I guess you're going to Russia then." She stated leadingly.

"No." Red stated stonily.

"You're not going?" Don asked.

"Yes, I'm going." Red said to Don. "No, you're not going Lizzie."

"Dad – "

"One – I'm going with Berlin. No way in hell are you getting near that man. Two – you know damn well you're not stepping foot in Russia so get the idea out of your pretty little head."

Don looked between Red and Lizzie in disbelief. He'd never heard Red speak so harshly to Lizzie before. "I feel like I'm missing something." He murmured.

Lizzie leaning against Don's side. "Russia is a touchy subject. I know it has something to do with my past, but Dad absolutely refuses to say what or how." She stated huffily.

"It's for your safety, Lizzie. You know that. So drop it."

Quite used to this, Lizzie rolled her eyes but nodded reluctantly.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Kiryl Morozov is one of Putin's most trusted advisers." Reven Wright stated brazenly. "The man runs the finance ministry." The Deputy Attorney shook her head as she gazed at Cooper.

Cooper leaned against his desk. "And we have reason to believe he's responsible for the 1991 bombing in Kursk that left –"

"Twelve people dead." Wright cut in. "The FBI investigates crimes that happen in America or against Americans."

"Reddington won't give us Berlin until we give him Morozov. At the very least, we should go there and question the man." Lizzie stated from where she was situated in the corner of Cooper's office.

Wright raised a brow at the audacious agent. "I'm not sending you to Moscow to interrogate a high-ranking Russian official about an act of terror he may or may not have committed."

"If Reddington gets to Morozov first. God knows –"

"Harold, that's an order." Wright spoke over Cooper once again before exiting the office, slamming the door behind her.

Lizzie turned from the door, swinging her arm out behind her towards the door. "That's it? You're just gonna stand down on this?"

Cooper shrugged his shoulders, his eyebrows reaching towards his hair line. "You heard her. My hands are tied. But Reddington has anonymous sources. I'm sure he'll get that name somehow. Won't he, Agent Keen?"

Lizzie resisted the urge to smirk. Instead, she simply nodded her head. "Yes, sir. I'm sure he will."

/\/\/\/\/\

Red picked up his phone, not even deigning to look down at the caller ID as he already knew who it would be. "Tell me you have a name."

Lizzie jumped down the last few steps, making her way down to her office from Cooper's. "I do, but this can't come back on the task force. Are we clear?"

Red rolled his eyes though the effect was lost on Lizzie as she couldn't see him. "Yes, yes. Of course."

Lizzie smiled, able to imagine his put-upon expression just from the tone of his voice. "The Decembrist's real name is Kiryl Morozov."

"Ah thank you, Sweetheart." Red murmured gratefully. "It seems as though I'll be making a trip. Give Sammy a kiss, please? Oh and tell him he's not allowed to start crawling until I get back."

/\/\/\/\/\

"I got a name." Red stated once the other line was picked up.

"So it's done?" Berlin questioned gruffly

"No."

There was a pause. "What are you proposing?"

"A trip to Moscow."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Red crossed his legs, sitting back in the plush leather seats of his jet. "Kiryl Morozov is paranoid and well-protected. He has no clear weakness for women or drink. However, like any politician, he does have an unending need to hide his ill-gotten gains. The diamonds. Which he buys and sells through your broker at Mercury City Tower in Moscow. There was a friendly and rather convenient diamond heist this morning. When Morozov learns the broker has been hit, he'll insist on a meeting to assess his exposure. When he does, we'll be there waiting." Red stared coldly at the other man who didn't seem to be listening as he stared out the window, watching the clouds. "Milosz, focus." Red barked.

Berlin's head swung towards Red. "I've made Morozov millions, and he's the one who set all this in motion?"

Red pursed his lips. He didn't have the time for Berlin's introspection. They had an assassination to plan. "Milosz, the meeting at Mercury Tower. When it happens, it'll happen fast before the M.U.R. arrives."

Berlin nodded. "My people will be ready."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Red and Berlin stood outside where they knew the elevator would stop. The sound of rapid gunfire overtook the hallway and both men leisurely looked left and right, ensuring there was no unwanted attention. The elevator dinged.

The man with salt and pepper hair and a fine coat which was now soaked in the blood of his guards, looked at them, wild-eyed as the door opened to show both Berlin and Red with guns aimed at him.

"Who are you?" The man asked in Russian.

Berlin sprang forward, jumping over the bodies of Morozov's guards and grabbing the man by the lapels of his coat, digging the muzzle of his gun into the man's cheek. "I am retribution!" He growled.

Behind him, Red rolled his eyes at Berlin's theatrics. Honestly, the man had no flair.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Morozov stuttered.

"Kursk." Berlin spat.

Morozov's brow furrowed as he looked harder at Berlin. "Milosz?"

Berlin tightened his grip on the man's lapel, shook Morozov and banged his head against the wall of the elevator. "The bombing, my daughter – all of it brings us here."

"I did what I was told!" Morozov yelled. Berlin apparently didn't like this answer as he dug the muzzle of his gun further into the man's cheek. "Aah!"

"You're not The Decembrist." Red stated solemnly, finally deigning to speak.

Morozov shook his head. "It was the American. It was him." Berlin dug the muzzle painfully into the side of the man's head. "Aah! They gave the order!"

"What people?" Red barked.

"I can't say. Aah!"

Red stepped closer. "Who is The Decembrist?"

"Fitch. His name is Alan Fitch.

With a pop, Red closed his eyes as blood splattered across his face.

/\/\/\/\/\

Finished wiping off his face, Red carefully placed his kerchief into his pocket as the strode down the hallway of the Mercury City Tower. "Milos, this you cannot do." Red said gravely.

"Give me one reason." Berlin hissed.

"Because he's mine."

Berlin scoffed. "Yours? He gave the orders, discredited you, and you want to protect him?"

Red shook his head, his lips pursed and his eyes dark. "This is not for you to do."

Berlin stopped abruptly and turned toward Red, drawing his face uncomfortably closer to Red's. "But I will. Alan Fitch is dead." Berlin stated before walking off.

Red sighed as he stood there, watching Berlin leave. Once the man was no longer in sight, Red turned towards Dembe. "Call The Florist."

/\/\/\/\/\

Fitch placed one of the white tulips Red had sent to him on the small table beside Red's wingback before sitting down across from him. This was Fitch's favorite club. Red personally hated these sorts of places. It was just a bunch of rich old men, sitting around drinking Scotch in silence. Rather dull in his opinion. Not the scotch, of course. The silence. Scotch and a good jazz record. Now that was a good way to unwind.

"A little early in the day, don't you think, Ray?" Fitch questioned as Red placed his tumbler on the side table.

Red shrugged his shoulders. "I'm still on Moscow time. Just got back from calling on an old friend of yours, Kiryl Morozov."

Fitch paused before sighing. "You met with the Russian finance minister? To what end?"

"To his end, as it turned out." Red stated benignly, reaching forward to grasp the decanter. "Drink?"

/\/\/\/\/\

"The finance minister of Russia is dead. If a single word." Reven Wright fumed. "A whisper of this gets out, if anyone even suspects we sanctioned it –"

"I didn't sanction anything." Cooper cut in.

Wright slapped her hand against Cooper's desk. "Damn it, Harold! Your team discovers Morozov was behind the Kursk bombing, and 18 hours later, he's dead? Reddington is behind this!"

Lizzie stepped forward. "Reddington called an hour ago. He believes Alan Fitch's life is in danger."

Wright looked at Lizzie, her lips thinned. "Did Reddington bother to tell you why Berlin is suddenly interested in killing Alan Fitch?"

Lizzie shifted on her feet under the other woman's gaze. "He believes he's the one who orchestrated the Kursk bombing."

Wright looked over at Cooper, her eyes wide in incredulous shock. "Are you accusing the Assistant Director of National Intelligence of being a terrorist?"

"We need to bring him in."

Wright shook her head tiredly. "Alan Fitch is not your concern. I'll contact the Secretary of Homeland Security and have the situation handled."

/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie bit her lip, hesitating. Wright had just left Cooper office and Lizzie knew she should leave as well but she couldn't.

"Agent Scott?"

Lizzie ran her fingers through her hair. "Sir, I feel you should know – " Lizzie cleared her throat awkwardly. "Fitch isn't just the National Intelligence AD." She murmured.

"Oh?"

"He's also a part of the group that… we discussed."

Cooper leaned back in his chair, his brow raised. "Understood. Thank you, Agent Scott."

With a sharp nod, Lizzie turned on her heel and left.

/\/\/\/\/\

"Ray, will you listen?"

"We had an agreement." Red stated darkly.

Fitch nodded tiredly. "Yes."

"I don't go after you, you don't come after me."

"I'm – "

"You ordered the bombing in Kursk." Red cut over Fitch, his words slicing through the air. "Then you pinned it on me. You blamed me for killing his daughter. Some years ago, a copy of this photo was left on the corpse of an associate of mine." Red whipped the small polaroid out of his suit jacket pocket. "Taking it as a warning, I traced the girl to a man they call 'The Stewmaker.' He told me a story about the girl. She was sent to him by a man she'd never met. She was in trouble, needed to disappear, so he took her photo, put it in a locket, and sent it to her father. All those years spent searching for the man who supposedly murdered his daughter, and it was you. You sat here in this very room and pretended you had no idea who Berlin was or why he was coming for me." Red paused, his gaze flashing dangerously. "He was coming, Alan, because you sent him."

Fitch shrugged, nonchalant. "I sent a lot of guys. You and I were not on the best of terms at the time. And since you're playing the innocent victim in all this, let me remind you. You stole some very damaging information about us when you disappeared."

"You violated our agreement." Red's voice was like gravel.

Fitch shook his head in denial. "No. I honored it. I got the others to hold off, but Milosz Kirchhoff, Berlin, whatever the hell name he's using. He chewed through the leash. I couldn't stop him."

Red let out a bark of a laugh. "Well, now your dog is tracking a new scent. You. And there's nothing I can do about that, Alan. I have my people looking for him, but Berlin has gone into the wind. And he's coming for you."

Fitch pursed his lips. "You have no allies in my group. Without me to protect you, they'll take you down and they'll let the chips fall where they may. So this is as much your problem as it is mine."

/\/\/\/\/\

The team stood around in the war room. Cooper had just gotten word that Fitch was already gone by the time his Homeland Security motorcade came to pick him up to take him to safety. "Contact the D.C. field office. Get me an update on any eyewitnesses, satellite footage." Cooper ordered, looking directly at Aram. Turning on his heel, he turned to Samar. "Alan Fitch's abduction must be on Mossad's radar. Reach out to your people in Tel Aviv. And you talk to him."

Turning towards Lizzie and Ressler, Cooper stood with his hands on his hips. "Get his ass in here. Now."

Neither needed him to clarify whose ass he wanted. And both knew that he wasn't going to come in.

/\/\/\/\/\

Red sidled up to Lizzie as she walked down the street. "Elizabeth, we need to talk. Now."

Lizzie squinted against the sun as she looked over at her dad. "What?"

"That favor, I need you to do it."

Lizzie groaned. She'd been hoping he wouldn't ask this of her. "Why can't you do this again?"

"Because for a woman like her, prison is a much more vicious motivator than death. And that's all I've got left to threaten her with. Prison, however, offers up a lot of people with connections. Connections which would want her and would go to much further depths than I to get what they want."

Lizzie sighed, nodding her head. "Don's gonna kill me." She groaned.

"All that matters is finding Alan Fitch."

/\/\/\/\/\

Ressler looked in the side mirror of their SUV at the sight of Gina Zanetakos standing at a pay phone. "Liz, why would you do this? I mean, you're risking everything."

Lizzie glared at Don. "To find Berlin."

"You're supposedly a Federal agent and you're harboring a fugitive, worse than that, you're keeping her captive." He hissed.

"First of all, my dad is holding her captive. I didn't know about this until two days ago. Secondly, we're looking for Fitch right now, and we're gonna find him because of this."

"Whether he leads us to Fitch or not, I got to take her in." Lizzie shook her head at Ressler. "Are you hearing me? You had to know when you told me that this is where it was gonna go."

Lizzie's gaze flared hotly. "You don't get it. Fitch is a part of the Cabal. He's the only one holding back the rest of them from breaking the agreement with my dad. If he dies…" Lizzie cut herself off, clearing her throat as her eyes burned suspiciously.

Thankfully she was saved by a knock on her window. She quickly slid the glass down and looked out at Gina who was bent over, leaning against the side of the car.

"I got an address." The stated lazily.

"Where?"

"What difference does it make where? What? You're gonna follow her lead to someplace he says Berlin is hiding?" Ressler shook his head. "No. There could be 50 guys waiting. That's stupid."

"Hey, shut up." Gina spat.

Ressler glared at the fugitive. "I wasn't asking you."

Gina raised a brow. "You want Berlin or not?"

"There's no way I'm gonna let you go in there. This is a setup, an ambush." Ressler tried to reason with Liz.

Gina scoffed. "What are you, her boyfriend?"

Lizzie saw Ressler's grip tighten on the steering wheel. "What address?" She questioned before Ressler could come up with a come back.

Gina handed her a scrap of paper before shoving off from the SUV, turning to walk away.

"Hey, pal. I'm coming for you." Ressler yelled out. Gina lifted up a hand and flicked him off, not bothering to turn around as she walked off.

/\/\/\/\/\

Ressler and Liz allowed the SWAT guys to clear out the warehouse before going in themselves.

"Clear it out. Let's go. Clear out. Clear out." A voice came over the radio. Lizzie and Ressler shared a terse look. That was never good.

/\/\/\/\/\

The Captain of the bob squad came over to Ressler and Lizzie, his face grim. He was followed closely by a lieutenant in full IED gear, holding a tablet. "Looks like we're dealing with a plastic explosive C4, approximately 2 kilos." The Captain nodded at his officer to continue.

"Sir, the blasting cap's wired to a receiver." The Lieutenant lowered the tablet which showed x-ray images of the explosive device that was wrapped around Alan Fitch's neck. "We found our detonator. This thing can be detonated remotely. We need to jam the frequencies in case this nut job tries to set it off and blow us to hell."

"Then you're gonna disarm it?" Ressler questioned.

The Captain pursed his lips. "We have a vehicle for controlled detonation. It should be big enough to accommodate Mr. Fitch and one of my men. Once he's contained, then we can attempt to disassemble and disarm the device."

"Well, how long is that thing gonna take to get here?"

The Captain shrugged his shoulders. "Half-hour minimum, unless you've got another R.F.-resistant armored box that fits two."

Lizzie shared a look with Ressler. "Actually, I think it fits four." She stated.

The team looked to the screens, watching Alan Fitch be carefully escorted into the Box by the bomb squad techs from the safety of the war room.

Once the blaring alarms had shut off, signaling that the Box was closed, the Captain spoke up. "We managed to gain access to the internals, trying to circumvent the keypad. Here's what we got so far." The Captain pulled out another tablet. "The Semtex runs along the circumference of the collar, as you can see. Encased within that, approximately 14 inches of solid core wire connected to a microprocessor which, among other things, creates a closed circuit."

"So if you cut the collar off, you interrupt the circuit and bang?" Aram questioned hesitantly and the Captain quickly nodded in agreement.

"Then how do we disable it?" Cooper asked.

The Captain swallowed. "Cautiously. We need to chip through the Semtex to see exactly what's underneath, make sure there aren't any redundant circuits or backups."

"And you can do that without triggering that thing?"

The Captain shrugged helplessly. "We'll find out, won't we?"

/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie groaned, rubbing the back of her neck tiredly as she and Ressler walked down the hall to their office. "Once this is all over, I'm sleeping for a month." She groaned.

When she didn't hear a reply, Lizzie opened her eyes and stopped abruptly, her cheeks flaming at the sight of Reven Wright blocking their path.

"I understand you're responsible for finding Fitch." Wright paused. "About the source –"

"Yes." Lizzie cut in.

"Does he have information about Berlin?"

Lizzie nodded slowly. "Yes, we believe he does." She said, deciding to stick with the pronoun Wright had decided upon.

Wright must have noticed her hesitation as her eyes raised slightly in indignation. "I don't care if your source is confidential or what promises you've made him. I want him here, I want him interrogated, and I want his name."

Lizzie's mouth works for a moment but no sound came out. Beside her, Ressler scoffed.

"You must be kidding."

Wright looked to Ressler, a single brow raised as she stood with her hip jutted out sassily. "Do I sound like I'm kidding?"

Ressler barked out a laugh. "It's Reddington. Her source is Reddington." He states before walking away, continuing his journey towards their office. With a polite nod of her head in Wright's direction, Lizzie scurried after him.

Closing the door behind her, Lizzie grasped Don's arm and turned him to face her.

"You are my favorite person right now." She murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Thank you." She said softly just before her lips touched his.

She knew how hard it was for Don to do that, to lie to a Deputy Attorney of the United States for her. She understood now that he was willing to do it for her. That didn't mean it was easy.

"Mmm you gonna show me how grateful you are tonight?" Don murmured and Lizzie could feel his smirk against her lips as he pressed another light kiss, his hands tightening around her waist.

"I might."

/\/\/\/\/\

Red quickly opened the door to the passenger side of the car and sat down, ignoring Zoë's startled intake of breath.

"Please excuse my intrusion. I'm curious. Your father I assume he's been trying to reach you…" Zoë's only answer was a hesitant nod of the head. "Has he called?" Zoë's lips tightened and her eyes shifted. That was all the answer he needed. "…I thought as much."

/\/\/\/\/\

Red entered the small restaurant and grabbed a chair, sidling up to the table where Berlin was awkwardly trying to coax his estranged daughter into eating something. As he sat down in the chair, smiling benignly at the two, Berlin reared back, surprised at his sudden appearance.

"Hello, Milosz." Red greeted. Turning to Zoë, Red smiled softly. "Thank you, my dear." He set a manila envelope on the table in front of her. "Passports, tickets, – and my eternal gratitude." Red saw Berlin's devastated face as understanding dawned on him. His daughter had sold him out. However, as Zoë quickly exited, Berlin quickly made his expression neutral once more.

"The bomb. I need to know how to stop the bomb."

"I don't know." Berlin answered quietly.

Red unholstered his gun and aimed at Berlin's chest. "That's the wrong answer."

Berlin chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm telling you I don't –"

Red raised the gun to Berlin's cheek. "Think harder." He ordered gruffly.

/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie, Ressler, and Cooper watched the bomb tech work in the Box with Fitch sitting absolutely still.

"What's your name, son?" They heard Fitch's voice over the speaker.

"What?"

"Your name. What– what is it?"

The tech seemed to pause. "Sir, I need you to be as still as possible. Any movement, the vibrations of your voice…"

"Do you have a wife, kids? That's what makes it the hardest. A wife and kids. I've been in the intelligence field a long time now. On my orders, 763 men and women have died in service to their country. And there wasn't a grieving wife or mother or husband I didn't either call or visit personally. Thank them for their sacrifice. That's what makes it the hardest. The families… You can't disarm it, can you?"

The tech swallowed so loudly, the microphones could faintly pick it up. "Sir, I asked you to be as still as possible."

Fitch sighed. "That's more than enough. I'm not gonna make it 764. What's your name?"

"Mike. My name's Mike."

"Go home, Mike. You've done everything you can."

Once the alarms had stopped blaring and Fitch was once more sealed in the Box – alone, he looked up at one of the security cameras.

"Harold, I know you're listening. Tell Ray I need to see him."

/\/\/\/\/\

"What a long, strange trip it's been, Alan." Red said gravely as he walked up towards the Box, the lights behind him turning off and the room around them plunging into darkness except for the single overhead light in the box. All security feeds within their vicinity had been shut down. No one was to be privy to this conversation but the two men.

Fitch licked his lips. "Listen to me, Ray. I don't know how much time we have, so you need to pay attention. I've been able to hold everyone off, convince them that it's in their best interests to let you live. But people aren't as scared as they once were. Some aren't so sure you even have it." Fitch paused. "Do you have it, Ray? Do you have the Fulcrum? They're gonna demand proof."

Lizzie came out of the darkness, shocking both her dad and Fitch. "He has it." She stated solemnly.

Red looked pained as he stared at his daughter. He slowly turned back towards Fitch. "I can't stop this thing, Alan. I tried. I can't."

Fitch nodded sharply as if he'd expected that, been preparing for it. "My death will trigger a series of events. The moderates are already outnumbered. The closer we get to 2017, the more radicalized they'll become. Talk to Mitchum and Hobbs. They might be persuaded. Jasper sides with the Chinese."

Red sighed and Lizzie shifted on her feet, trying to piece what little she knew with the new information. It wasn't even enough to form a shadow let alone a full picture.

"All right." Red said hoarsely.

"Listen to me, Ray. This is critical. I have a safe. Get to it. The combination 8-30-44. Remember that. Say it back."

"8-30-44" Red repeated softly.

Fitch smiled sadly. "Margaret's birthday."

"You've had a wonderful life together, Alan… The safe…" Red encouraged softly.

Fitch shook his head, his expression clearing as he shook himself out of his day dreams. "The safe. It's in St. Petersburg in the wall on the second floor of – "

Both Lizzie and Red jumped as an explosion rocked the room. Lizzie clenched her eyes shut against the horrific scene – the blood, sinew, bones, and brain matter splashed across the glass door of the Box like a macabre canvas.

"We're going to need to begin preparations." Red said gravely.

Lizzie merely nodded, refusing to open her eyes as her nightmare became reality.

/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie leaned her head against the cool glass as the street lamps flashed by as Don drove them home.

"Hey," Don squeezed her hand with his where they rested on the center console. "You alright?" He asked worriedly.

Lizzie let out a small wet laugh. "No Don. No I'm not alright."

"What's going on?" He questioned hesitantly.

Lizzie turned her head to look at him. "The only person stopping an all out war between my family and the Cabal just died, Don." She whispered gravely.

Don brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her fingers softly. "Our family." He corrected gently.

Lizzie met his gaze and smiled sadly, her eyes deadened. "I am absolutely petrified about what's going to happen to our family."

/\/\/\/\/\

"Untie him." Red ordered his men as he walked towards where Berlin was currently tied to a chair. He sat in the chair across from the man, a small table between them. He waited until Berlin was rubbing the ache out of his wrists before grasping the large bottle of vodka from the table and filling two glasses.

"Ah. Thank you." Berlin murmured, taking the proffered glass.

Red nodded his head solemnly and raised his glass towards the other man. "Na zdorov'e."

"Na zdorov'e." They both tilted their heads back and downed the shot.

Red kept the shots coming. Pretending to drink his own as Berlin downed each shot, one after the other.

"… I remember the parades from when I was a young boy, standing by my father, seeing those trucks that went by with the rockets and cannons. Beautiful." Berlin murmured drunkenly and chuckled softly. "And all those men marching as one, saluting at me as one." Berlin grinned as he pantomimed a salute. "Our soldiers, our nation. Yuri Gargarin was the first man in space."

Both men chuckled at this.

Berlin sighed, shaking his head in wonder as he gazed off into his memories. "We were so proud."

Red poured the final draft of vodka into Berlin's glass. The man hesitated before downing the shot, then setting the glass down onto the table loudly. Both men stared at each other – Red's gaze hard as he drew his pistol and Berlin's gaze was tired, resigned.

Red fired four bullets into Berlin's chest.

/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie leaned into her father and he was quick to lean back just enough to allow him to wrap his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer. They sat quietly on her couch while Don gave Sammy a bath, giving them some privacy.

"Lizzie – " Red started softly as if unwilling to break the silence. "What you said to Fitch – "

"Don't worry about it, Dad. I was bluffing."

Red slowly shook his head. "No. Lizzie, there's no reason to bluff to a dead man. Sweetheart – "

"Dad. Don't ask me. Please. Just don't ask." Lizzie pleaded. "It's not time."

Red froze, his body seeming to stiffen. He remained rigid for several moments before he slowly seemed to thaw muscle by muscle, his body relaxed. "Okay." He murmured, kissing the top of her head. "I trust you."