Previously...

"Anton wants revenge. He always has. The fact that it has been sixteen years means nothing. James and I, we destroyed his life, his livelihood. Now, he wants to do the same to James. He's obviously trying to find Sherry and Sammy, probably so he can makes James witness their deaths. I would not doubt that Anton will kill James in the end, too. Anton is a very proud man. Being forced to flee the country when James took down his multi-billion dollar operation was not a hit he took lightly. I wouldn't be surprised if he has been thinking about this for years, planning it all. He will torture James until he finds Sherry and Sammy, and then he will kill them all slowly. Anton is not a man to be taken lightly - he is unstable and murderous."

Six pairs of eyes - Reddington, Ressler, Liz, Aram, Samar, and Cooper's - flash to the box sitting on the desk, left open to grotesquely display James Madison's hand. Ressler speaks up, sighing as he taps the note he'd dropped earlier.

You have twelve hours.

"And we're running out of time to find them."

6:30 PM -The Post Office

By the time 6:30 rolls around and it's time to go home, no one has come up with any ideas - or, at least, none they are willing to share (because Ressler is still pretty sure some of his teammates are tossing around the idea of finding Sherry to draw Anton out of hiding). Ressler and Liz have been in their office for hours, going over everything they have, and eagerly awaiting information from the geek squad ("Ressler, don't call them that, they're the forensics team - have some respect!") about the hand.

It had been confirmed an hour ago that the hand did, indeed, belong to James Madison, but beyond that, they hadn't leaned much. It had been cut off using a (dull) serrated instrument, which explained the gruesome flesh hanging from the bones. There were traces of chemicals and dirt in the wound, but nothing else, nothing specific enough to lead back to Anton or James.

Ressler sighs and throws down the forensics file with a 'thump'. Liz looks up and offers him a small (tired) smile.

"Ready to go?" she asks, and he yawns deeply as he nods.

"If we can pry Sammy from Samar's arms," he says dryly, and he chuckles at the thought. Samar had taken to Sammy like a mother hen to her chick, and both partners knew it was going to be difficult to win him back.

"They make an adorable sight, at least," Liz offers, staring out of their office window to see Samar holding Sammy, who's laughing hysterically as Aram pulls the most ridiculous faces.

Reddington is watching them, too, but instead of smiling like Liz and Ressler do at the sight, he's contemplative.

Ressler knows that look, and knows that nothing good ever comes from it. So as he hands Liz her coat and helps her into it, he keeps his eyes on the older man. He finally looks away as Reddington meets his gaze when they walk into the main room.

"Time to go," Ressler announces, clapping his hands together and motioning toward Sammy. The little boy looks up in surprise, grinning a big, toothless grin as he sees Ressler and Liz. He shrieks and holds his hands out, opening and closing his tiny fists to let them know he'd like to be held now, please. Liz moves toward and takes him into her arms, surprising herself with how easy it seems, how natural a movement it's become (after just two days).

"We're headed home," she tells them, brushing her hand over Sammy's soft, blond locks. "We didn't find anything helpful. How about out here? Did you guys come up with anything?"

Samar is about to answer (probably to inform them that, no, they hadn't found anything useful) when Reddington cuts in. Ressler had almost forgotten he was there, because the older man was being uncharacteristically silent.

"No information necessarily, however I do have an idea."

Ressler is about to tell him where to shove his idea (because he DOES NOT like the way Reddington is staring at a sleepy Sammy) when Director Harold Cooper walks up.

"Please, share, because we don't have any leads and I don't relish the thought of having more body parts on my doorstep at 5 o'clock in the morning."

Fair point, Ressler concedes, because he knows that he, Liz, and Sammy will be up at the ass crack of dawn again so they'll be at the post office before their next scheduled delivery. He doesn't look forward to it, either, but what can they do? Reddington hadn't given them a whole lot to go off of on this case.

"I propose - and believe me, I do not like this idea any more than anyone else is going to, but remember that I am the one who brought Sammy to you in the first place, his safety is my #1 concern," Reddington begins, and Ressler is about to tell him to stop right there, because if his idea puts Sammy into harms way in any way whatsoever, then he can shove it right up his -

Liz sighs quietly - so quietly no one else can hear- and reaches down, taking his hands with hers and squeezing tightly.

Calm down, it's ok, we're right here, her motions say, and when he meets her gaze, he feels the anger and fear seep out of him.

"Keep going," Liz says, and Ressler tries not to notice Reddington noticing their hands.

"I think it's time we advertise where Sammy is staying."

Like a flash of lightening, Ressler's anger is back. "No way in hell!" he yells, startling Sammy. The baby begins to cry, and Ressler feels sorry he yelled, because Liz has to let go of his hand to comfort the baby. "No," he says more quietly. "Reddington, you said yourself that these men are stronger and smarter than we are. If they know where Sammy is, there's no guarantee Liz and I - and even Dembe! - can keep him safe."

"I know," Reddington says quietly. "I understand the risk. But I would be there all night, too, along with several of my men. Not just Dembe. My hope is that Anton will send someone - or even come himself! - to stake out the area. He won't attack right after learning the information. No, Anton is careful - keep in mind he's been planning the kidnapping of James Madison for fifteen years. He will not attack tonight. However, if he reveals himself, there's a chance we can follow him, find where he's keeping James."

Ressler doesn't like the idea - not at all. He hates the idea of putting Sammy - and Liz! - in danger. But the way Reddington paints a picture in his mind - them, surrounded, safe, while Reddington and his men follow Anton back to wherever he's hiding - it sounds like a good plan.

Before he can say anything, however, Liz speaks up.

"It's a good plan. Or at least, it's the best we have. Sammy will be safe and at least this way we'll have a chance of finding James before he's... well, while he's still alive," she finishes weakly, turning to stare at the spot where the aforementioned man's hand had sat most of the day.

Ressler sighs. "Fine."

They turn to look at Cooper, who's nodding in agreement. "Do it. Reddington, have your people follow Keen and Ressler home. Make sure they and the baby stay safe. How do you plan on leaking Sammy's whereabouts to Anton?"

Reddington grins and leans heavily on the desk. "Oh, a hint dropped here and there, a word to the wrong person... Anton has eyes and ears all over this city. Believe me, Harold, it will be easy."

Director Cooper does not look reassured, but Ressler's sure it has more to do with Reddington's ability to gather and distribute such damaging information in a way that he describes as 'easy' than his doubt that Reddington can pass information of Sammy's whereabouts along.

"So, we just go home? Do you need anything else from us?" Ressler asks, grabbing Sammy's bag (thank goodness it's a plain, black backpack instead of some of the more horrific diaper bags he's seen some men carrying) and slinging it onto his shoulder.

"I know quite well how much you hate sitting and twiddling your thumbs," Reddington offers, smiling as he watches Ressler gather all of their things (having a baby caused ones belongings to triple overnight). "But that's all I need from you, Donald. Go home, pretend everything's normal, and for God's sake, please don't talk about the case at home. You may be bugged."

Ressler very much wants to question Reddington about his last comment (paranoia or actual fact?), but before he can, Reddington turns on his heel and struts from the room. "I'll see you tomorrow, Donald, Lizzie!" Dembe follows the older man without question, offering the agents a brief nod before walking into the elevator that Reddington is holding for him.

Ressler sighs. "Alright. I guess that's that."

Liz nods, rearranging Sammy more comfortably on her shoulder before waving goodbye to Aram and Samar, who have both turned their attention to Aram's computer. Aram mentions something about tapping into all the cameras surrounding Ressler's apartment so that they, too, can have eyes and ears on Anton if he's spotted, but Ressler is tired and knows that his part in this exciting night is, thankfully, more relaxing than most.

"Ready?" he asks Liz, and she nods. They walk down the garage in silence, and as Liz buckles Sammy into his carseat and his little head lolls to the side as his bright blue eyes slip closed, she smiles.

It occurs to her that this was what she was hoping for when she tried adoption with Tom. She wanted the sleepy baby smiles, the shared exhaustion when the baby woke them up at five in the morning, the extended family and friends (Aram, Samar, Reddington) who loved her baby and made him happy, the comfortable silence as they buckle their sleeping baby in and head home after a long day.

"You ok?"

Ressler's voice is quiet but inquiring. She realizes that she's been rearranging the buckle on Sammy's carseat for far too long, and gives it one last tug (safety first) before closing the back door and walking around to her side. Ressler already has the door popped and it holding it open from his side when she climbs in.

"You spaced out there for a minute," he says, and he looks concerned, his lips turned down and his brow furrowed.

"No, I'm fine," she says, and she is fine - a little terrified, maybe, because taking care of Sammy with Ressler for a case wasn't supposed to be everything she ever wanted - but she was fine.

As Ressler pulls out of the garage and flips the headlights on, she tells herself that she shouldn't be getting too attached. But then Sammy lets out a little baby snore and Ressler chuckles and she looks over to see his blue eyes sparkling (why the hell does Sammy have to look so much like Ressler? It's screwing with her little fantasy) and she knows it's too late.

She's already too attached.

8:00 PM - Ressler's Apartment

Ressler ends up on bath duty with a tired, cranky four month old because "I clearly remember telling you how swimmingly bath time went last night! Your turn to try," Liz had said the second he'd tried to pass the baby over to her. "I'll make him a bedtime bottle," she says, and walks off, and Ressler is left holding Sammy in the open air.

"Ah!" Sammy protests, kicking his feet back and forth, not used to being suspended in the air.

Ressler shrugs to himself, because how hard can bathing a baby really be?

He heads to the bathroom and sets to the task of removing Sammy from his blue and white striped onesie before setting the baby on his knee (he leaves the diaper on for now, because he has had personal experience with little boys being uncovered, thank you very much) and turns on the water with the hand that isn't supporting the squirming baby.

"Waaa!" Sammy yells, and Ressler looks over, hoping Sammy isn't about to pitch a fit, and stares in surprise when he sees Sammy's eyes sparkling, a huge grin taking over his face as he watches the water bubble into the tub. "Waa!"

"Right, that's water," Ressler says, though he knows for certain it's far too early for Sammy to say any words. He finds himself grinning along with Sammy as the baby gets increasingly excited watching the water fill the tub. Ressler tests the temperature with is wrist several times, and when the water is high enough to cover Sammy's waist, Ressler swiftly tugs the diaper off and deposits Sammy into the water.

"Success! Didn't get peed on," he says, ruffling Sammy's hair as the baby begins splashing around in the water. A chuckle from the doorway causes him to turn his head in surprise.

"It's the little things, right?" Liz says, setting a bottle down on the counter before joining Ressler on the floor. He's shed his shoes and jacket, but he still looks a little silly sitting on the floor in his slacks and button down. He's rolled the sleeved up to his elbows, and loosened his tie, and Liz tries to shame her heart into slowing down as she takes in the sight of her partner (quit thinking about him like that, this isn't real). She's unsuccessful, so she turns her eyes away from his body and focuses on Sammy. "He wasn't this excited for bath time yesterday," she comments, giving the baby the stink eye. He laughs harder, tossing some water on her as he tries to wiggle in Ressler's grip.

"Wet babies are very slippery," he comments, and Liz reaches around him to wrap her fingers around Sammy's waist to keep him upright while Ressler goes for the baby shampoo. "Thanks," he murmurs, pouring some shampoo directly onto Sammy's head before lathering it into his blonde hair.

"Welcome," she whispers back, running her thumbs calmingly along Sammy's back as Ressler quickly soaps the baby up.

"I thought I would hate this assignment," Ressler says, and Liz turns to look at him as he gently, carefully washes the suds away from Sammy's bright eyes. The baby looks up at them both, his gaze full of excitement and trust as he plays in the water. His toothless grin stretches his entire baby face and causes dimples to appear on his cheeks. "I don't. I ... I like having Sammy."

"Me, too," Liz confides in her partner, and he turns to offer her one of his boy-ish grins.

"You and I both got screwed over," he mentions offhandedly. "We should both have this. You should have adopted with Tom, and I - I was gonna have a baby with Audrey, before they died."

He's never told her this before, and he's not sure why he does now, but he's thankful that Sammy chooses that moment to pull his shampoo bottle into the tub. It 'thumps' loudly and causes a great big splash, and at first Sammy yells in fright, but then he begins laughing hysterically, and Ressler is too busy worrying about whether he'll be up all night with hiccups to be concerned that Liz is staring at him with tears in the corners of her eyes.

"Oh, my God, Ressler. I didn't know."

He shrugs, wrestling the shampoo bottle away from Sammy, who wants to throw it again. (Thank goodness his laughter has died to chuckles, because baby hiccups are no fun).

"I didn't tell anyone, of course you didn't know."

"Still," she says quietly, and it's what she leaves unsaid that's important. Still, I know you miss them, and still, no one should have to go through that, and still, you should have told me, I'm your partner, but he's right - they are both messed up, and they both should have a slippery, laughing baby at home, and it's unfair that they were robbed of this.

"I just miss it, is all," Ressler says, reaching behind him for a towel. Sammy would be happy playing for much longer, but he doesn't know how much longer he can stay here, in this tiny room, sitting beside the woman who has helped him take care of Sammy for the past few days, who he's beginning to mix up his feelings for. I want this, badly, with you - is what he wants to say, but he knows he can't, he knows she doesn't feel the same way, so he wraps Sammy in a towel, unplugs the tub, and escapes to his bedroom where he dries the baby off before redressing him in a one-piece sleeper.

Sammy is cooing sleepily when Ressler notices his hands are shaking.

God, we need to finish this case fast, because I don't know how much longer I can do this, he thinks, and he feels like a fumbling middle schooler as he swoops Sammy up in his arms and contemplates locking himself in his room for the rest of the night (because he's not sure he can face Liz again after running out like that).

Liz takes the choice away from him when she walks into the room, takes Sammy from Ressler, and says, "Get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning," before smiling (softly, too kindly, the type of smile that makes his heart beat faster) and walking out.

Ressler lays down, and he's exhausted, but it's a long time before he's able to fall asleep.

Wow! Sorry for taking so long. The universe conspired against me, and 3 things kept me busy this week: 1) My computer died, 2) my mom has been super sick, and 3) I am (still) moving from one state to another, so that sucks. Thanks for those who left constructive/helpful reviews! I love reviews because they let me know what I'm doing well, and what I need to work on. Being super stressed this week, reviews that just told me I needed to write the next chapter were not helpful! :( I'm sorry it took 4-5 days, but it's been a super busy week!

Regardless, hopefully I'm back on track! This chapter was a little bit of a filler/we NEEDED some Liz/Ress/Sammy fluff, so I fit it in and next chapter has 2 important things: more leads on the case, and some Ressler background.

Please review! (And head on over to my Archive account (same name) to see a picture of baby Sammy as I imagine him!)