A/N: Thanks for sticking with me, hope you enjoy. Un-beta'd and disclaimed as usual. Shout out to my gutterbugs who let me bounce this one around until I had no choice but to write it.

The name Berlin was a constant echo in Lizzie's ears. It was as though a labyrinth had sprung up in an empty field. Her meeting with Cooper went as well as could be expected with a raging hangover and a huge chip on her shoulder. Naturally, Reddington was already there when she walked in; only her professional pride kept her from turning on her heel and walking out. The outcome wasn't what she had hoped for, but for now, she had more pressing matters to think about.

There was a viral outbreak at a bank downtown and somehow it was all connected to Berlin and Tom. The entire team was on a razor edge; even Reddington was tense and less loquacious than usual. He waited until they were on his jet to broach the subject of her sudden desire to leave the task force.

"You know, Lizzie, if you leave, everyone on the task force will go back to their normal lives. Except you. Your life will still be what it is right now. You will have no job, no husband and Sam will still be dead."

She stared at him in outraged disbelief. The frustration she had bottled up since last night poured through her like molten brass into a bullet mold. She flew from her seat and stood over him, leaning down so she could see his eyes when she spoke.

"You say that as though I am somehow responsible for losing those things in my life, Red. My husband, my father and my job, my whole life, you are the reason that all of those things are gone! You are the one who took them all away from me! Did you even realize that? Are you even sorry for it?" Her face was less than two inches from his; she could count the flecks of gold in the green of his eyes. He stared back at her for a long moment, and then pressed his lips together, and looked away from her.

She slumped on to the bench seat behind her, wondering why he always provoked her, wishing she could hold her temper with him. All her life, she had worked to discipline her emotions, building careful walls to keep people at a distance, then Reddington shows up and they were no more than lines drawn in the sand. Gone.

When Red spoke his voice was so quiet, she almost didn't hear it.

"I do feel sorry about it, Lizzie. I know the havoc I've wreaked on your life. Even though maybe all I've done is show you the cracks that were already there, I can understand the pain of losing what you've known for so long. Even though it was all a lie."

She stared at him in wary disbelief. That was possibly the most sincere thing she had ever heard him say. The man would never cease to surprise her.

Two nights later, an exhausted, bereft Lizzie hauled a bagful of Chinese takeout she didn't recall buying up the stairs of her house to find Raymond Reddington waiting for her on the couch. She refused to even acknowledge him, merely dropped her purse on the chair and carried the food to the kitchen.

"Lizzie, you can't ignore me forever. Don't make me stay here all night; I really hate sleeping on couches."

"You're free to leave any time, Red."

"So you do speak." He was chuckling to himself when Lizzie stormed in, furious, again.

"Do you think this is funny? Meera is dead, Tom is dead, by my own hand, and Berlin is still out there. Look at me, Reddington, and tell me how funny you think this whole situation?"

He looked poleaxed for exactly one moment before the mask snapped into place. He stood and shrugged off his suit jacket, hanging it on the coat rack in the foyer.

"I'm sorry about Meera, Lizzie. She seemed like a decent person. I'm sure you'll understand that while I'm not altogether sorry about the late Mr. Keen, I am sorry you were forced into that choice."

Lizzie glared at him. She was so tired of this dance, this deceptive tango.

"I seem to be surrounded by death, since you came along Red. But, despite all the best efforts, you're still here."

He smiled at her macabre suggestion. "Oh, you are definitely your father's daughter, Lizzie. You have all his finer qualities. And a few of his less admirable qualities."

It was exactly the wrong thing to say to her.

Lizzie shoved him back hard against the door. She wanted to punch something, preferably him for the inappropriate feelings he stirred inside. She felt…sick, twisted, even deviant ever since Tom had left that key on his way out the door.

"You should know, shouldn't you? You are sick, you know that?"

Red looked at her as though she were a grenade without a pin.

"Sick? That's a new one. Why the recent addition to my already colorful list of failings?"

"Because of this!"

She reached into her pocket for the folded sheet of paper, the photocopy she'd made of the birth certificate from the file. Mother listed as Katarina Rostova of the Soviet Union, father: Raymond Reddington, US Naval Officer, Bethesda, Maryland. Lizzie felt nauseous every time she read the words. This man was her father.

Red reached up and slowly removed the paper from her fist and smoothed the wrinkles before unfolding it. She watched his face as he read it. What if he hadn't known? What if her mother had never told him she was pregnant?

He finished his perusal of her birth record and refolded the paper. His smile was almost sad now, as though he was sorry for her pain and confusion.

"How long have you had this? Who gave it to you?"

"Tom. Before he disappeared. Last week."

He stepped away from the door and she allowed it. The strength granted her by her initial fury was gone now. She slumped into the chair and scrubbed her hands over her face. Reddington sat carefully on the couch, watching her with…pity perhaps? Who could tell what the canny bastard was thinking?

"So for a week or more, you've been operating under the assumption that I'm your father. Well, that makes some things more reasonable."

"Lizzie, look at me." She looked up reluctantly. Hating the way he could make her feel awkward.

"You are, indeed, Raymond Reddington's daughter." Lizzie felt the room begin to spin.

"I'm not who you think I am, Lizzie."