a/n: Since I DO respond to gentle nudging, here is chapter 2 of my gift. Elena will probably always get her way.

I still own nothing. Except now I do own a lease to a house and that is scary as hell. Note to all teenagers out there reading my M fics under the covers so their parents won't walk up behind them... Don't be in too big of a hurry to get out of the house. You'll miss your mommy, if nothing else.

Plus, bills are a bitch.

Please R&R! (I find it funny that for fanfiction writers, R&R means something completely different...)

Raymond Reddington.

It was almost unreal to think that the FBI had any real clue as to what continent the Concierge of Crime was on, much less what escort service he used. Liz could almost be impressed with the ragtag task force, but every time Ressler opened his mouth she had to question her own judgement in following him to Cooper's office. His voiced buzzed around in her head like a gnat... a veritable hum of white noise peppered with actual words.

"...Brussels..."

Liz's ears pricked up instinctively. Something had gone down in Brussels some years back, but the details were confidential.

The good stuff usually was.

"Brussels?" she inquired, shamelessly interrupting the tiring backstory of how the task force was formed. "What happened in Brussels?"

"I tried to kill him, Keen."

As if she should have already known that.

"And you were obviously unsuccessful..."

Ressler's eyes narrowed as Liz zoned in on that particular button and pushed as hard as she could.

"Obviously."

"Which makes the fact that you're having to ask for help that much harder to digest."

"Agent Keen," Agent Cooper cut in, breaking up the dog fight before it could even begin. "Agent Ressler doesn't have the authority to ask for your help. I do. And I am."

Butterflies.

Liz actually felt butterflies at the request. She was already proud of her work at the FBI, of course, but this was something different. This was acknowledgement from one of the most respected men in her line of work. Taking this job and actually succeeding would mean great things for her. Power...respect...the right to brag for the rest of her life that a woman did what an entire group of men couldn't do...

"And of course I'll do it. I'm honored." Liz smiled brightly, so wrapped up in basking in the light of Harold Cooper that she completely forgot about the darkness that was Raymond Reddington.

"Wonderful! I hope you're ready to dive in headfirst, Agent Keen. You and Agent Ressler will be taking a field trip this afternoon. How do you feel about starting your new job tonight?"

It was amazing how quickly the light dimmed.

"This is illegal!"

Ressler rolled his eyes and Liz briefly imagined stabbing him with her car keys.

But only briefly.

"No shit, Keen. Your extensive knowledge of the law is blowing my mind, truly."

"Bite me, Ressler. You know what I mean."

Footsteps fell in the hallway outside of the large office they had been quickly ushered into, and Liz shut her mouth until they passed. Only when they were gone did she realize that she had been holding her breath.

"This is not what I signed on for!"

"I don't know what you expected when I said you'd be going undercover as an escort. Do I need to explain what that word means?" Ressler said, backing away from her to stick his head out the door and check for listeners. Satisfied that there were none, he eased the door shut. "An escort is a person that gets paid to spend time with another person. If that person goes a step further and engages in a sexual act with the person they're being paid to spend time with, that is called prostitution. And prostitution is wrong."

"One day I'd like to hear all about how you know so much about escort services," Liz smirked, "but if you hadn't noticed, this isn't an escort service. This is a brothel."

And a lucrative brothel at that. The building looked kind of like Liz's bank, and she was sure it was several stories higher. Pretty women in pantsuits handed out elevator passes to men from all walks of life, and they crossed the marble foyer with their heads held high, as if they were going up to close a multi-million dollar deal instead of going up to get serviced by a hooker.

"Oh no, Dear. This is much, much more."

A side door that Liz hadn't even noticed -much to her own dismay- stood halfway open, and a tall brunette leaned on the frame, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"This is a business, and I'll thank you to remember that in your dealings with Mr. Reddington," the woman said, pushing herself off the frame. "It wouldn't do for people to think we can't be trusted. That being said, I want to go over the arrangement one more time. I give you access to Reddington, one of our most valued customers, and you leave me the fuck alone. Right?"

Ressler nodded, and it became perfectly clear to Liz why this woman was willing to turn in one of her biggest clients. It was that or jail. She probably should have chosen jail.

The woman gestured for Liz and Ressler to sit and they sat, almost mesmerized by the confidence this woman exuded. She seated herself behind the desk and folded her hands in front of her, reminding Liz of her middle school counselor.

Only this woman was much, much prettier.

And in all probability the madam of a whorehouse.

"My name is Eleanor. You don't need my last name, though I'm sure you think you already have it. I'll be your boss for all intents and purposes during this operation. Elizabeth, isn't it?"

"Liz. Call me Liz."

Ressler glared and Liz shrugged. She didn't like being called Elizabeth. Liz sounded more...professional.

"Liz..." Eleanor murmured, rolling the name around on her tongue. "No. Liz won't work. Liz sounds like you're an agent in the FBI, which is actually the opposite of what we're going for. I think we need to go younger. Lighter. Holly Golightly. Holly! Your new name is Holly." Eleanor grinned, quite pleased with herself. Liz, on the other hand, wasn't pleased at all.

"Holly?! Reddington's never going to buy that as my real name!"

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "That's the point. Do you think any of my girls use their real names? No. It's for their own good. And this is for yours, Holly. Wear it until you love it, Sweetheart."

There was a sound that was somewhere between a chuckle and a snort.

Of course Ressler found this funny.

"Fine. I'll be Holly. I'll be whoever you want me to be...whoever gets me close to Reddington. But just tell me one thing. I live five minutes away from this place. How in the hell did I not know you were here?"

"It's called hiding in plain sight. Speaking of, we need to get your disguise in order." Eleanor smiled and stood from her chair. "It's time for you to meet Monica."