"Well..." Francis Holbrook wasn't sure just how effective the time in the garden might have been, "we did what we could. Now it's up to the Big Guy, I guess." He had been sincere in his supplications, and he knew Liz had asked with hope and trust in her own heart.

"It's hard to turn such matters over and trust in someone else's abilities when we humans are so used to doing things for ourselves." Liz nodded thoughtfully quiet.

"How has that turned out for us?" Francis cut her a look. "Best to leave it in more capable hands, I'm thinking, especially when it comes to something like this bomber guy."

"I'm not arguing." Liz wasn't. She closed the outside door, sighing heavily. Francis stepped around her, sighing as well. Hearing a small bark echo down the corridor, the woman remembered she had yet to take the puppies out.

"Darn it. I forgot about them in all the turmoil of the day." She realized.

"Then thank your lucky stars you have capable employees to take up the slack." Joe smiled as he came in through the other backdoor, the fur balls barreling inside their enclosure, tiny feet tripping over each other in the supposed rush. "If you were looking to take them out, we just got back." The guard unleashed the bundles of energy, grinning at their playfulness.

"You didn't have to do that." Liz smiled her gratitude, going to check on the essentials. "Oh my gosh, Joe, you even took care of the food and water? Red doesn't pay you enough."

"As I point out each and every opportunity I get," Joe managed straight-faced.

"Well, I plan on echoing that sentiment." Liz promised herself as much. "You are my saving grace most days, so don't think I don't know it."

"No biggie." Joe shrugged. "I was checking this section, anyway." He chuckled as the puppies went on the attack, gnawing at his fingers and shoelaces. "Oh my god, you're so ferocious." He growled playfully, ruffling their short fur with a beefy hand.

"You seen, Red?" Liz chuckled, tickling her puppy's tummy.

"Disappeared into his office last I saw," Joe gestured. "About ten minutes ago." He motioned to the vicinity needed.

"Thank you... again." She smiled at the man. "Good night, Joe."

"Night..." Joe offered a lazy salute before returning his attention to the man-eaters at his feet.

Liz leaned, kissing Francis' cheek with a sisterly peck. "Stay out of trouble. You're worse than those puppies sometimes."

"I meant to tell you." Francis managed straight-faced as well. "I peed on the carpet in my room last night by accident."

Liz dropped a weary head, shaking it gently. "I'll buy some new puppy pads for you." She held her smile. "I thought this phase had passed some weeks back. See, I was wrong."

Francis shrugged apologetic shoulders, his look a forlorn one.

"Thank you, Francis. For being with me out there. It meant so much." Liz softened, as did her expression. "Really."

"Yeah, don't tell Red about the carpet. He really likes rubbing my nose in it." Francis nodded sedately. "Literally."

Rolling her eyes, Liz continued on her way.

Stepping through the doorway of the dimly lit office space she had finally reached, Liz studied her husband for a moment, her eyes softening.

The man sat quietly, his unfocused eyes staring out the darkened windows.

Stepping in behind him, she lay a gentle hand on his shoulder. "...Red." After a moment of silence, Liz sighed quietly, smoothing a hand over the man's head.

"Red?" she repeated softly.

"Hmm?" Red blinked, shaken from his thoughts. Turning to the movement at his side, he found Lizzy patiently waiting for his attention. "I'm sorry, sweetheart." He sighed and pushed back away from his desk. Pulling her to his lap, he gave the woman a kiss. "Ready for bed?" He asked, a wane smile on his face.

"What were you thinking about?" Liz murmured, resting her arm along his shoulders.

"I know I'm missing something, Lizzy." He rubbed his eyes wearily, frustration settling on those broad shoulders. Even in his present mood, he instantly missed Lizzy's warmth as she slid off his lap.

"Well, maybe if you got some decent rest, it would come to you." Liz took his hands, pulling the man from his seat.

"Maybe if I look at the problem from a new prospective, I–"

"Red, please rest. If you dwell on a problem, the solution won't come, you know that." She bolstered, leading him towards the bedroom. "For all you know, the answer could come to you in your sleep."

She pulled his tie and coat off, laying them aside. "Now, get ready for bed. It's late, honey."

Nodding his acquiescence, Red stripped out of his clothing and performed his nightly routine, albeit absently.

Tossing his robe to the end of the bed, he climbed in and sighed. He shifted his eyes when Lizzy walked through the bathroom door, shutting down the lights as she went.

"Red, you can only do so much." Liz gently reminded, tossing her robe beside his. "Remember that." She murmured as she climbed in beside him and placed a loving kiss on his mouth. Snuggling to his side, Liz reached overhead, turning the lights off.

Both fell silent, focusing on the fan twirling above them in the darkened room.

Closing his eyes, Red drifted off minutes later, unaware of his wife's deepening concern.

Liz lay awake for quite a while, just watching his features as the man slept, her own thoughts troubled and fretful.

LIZZINGTON

Walking through the airport, Red scanned the familiar terminal, a dark scowl on his face.

Something wasn't right. Something was amiss. He just couldn't put his finger on it. Just as he would focus, something else caught his attention. Thoughts collided... jumbling inside his mind.

He needed to focus.

It was all so frustrating. So many hiding places and not one of them seemed right.

Shadowy figures came and went amid normal travelers making their way to whatever appointed destination.

He would approach a figure, reaching to turn the person about, but then the distance between himself and the object of his inquiry would suddenly stretch out into infinity.

A feeling of subdued excitement and expectation would grow, only to be dimmed harshly by the disappointment and frustration of denial.

Another shadow would walk between himself and the first object of the man's search, catching Red's attention and the cycle would begin anew.

The world began to spin in a dizzying blur. Red fought against the sensation. Shutting his eyes hastily, he squeezed them tight.

A small laugh caressed his psyche, causing him to start, eyes opening wide.

Lizzy's face came into sharp clarity. She was holding one of those camera rods that some people taking selfies use. Which was stupid. They didn't own such a silly contraption.

Red shook his head trying to clear it.

Everything he was seeing now seemed to be through a camera lens... held by his wife.

They were still at the airport...or...no, wait...

Red didn't know how he knew, he just did. He was no longer at the airport, but Lizzy was...and she was alone.

Red knew instinctively something sinister lay on the horizon. The woman had no protection... none.

Where was Joe? Where were her guards?

Where the fuck was he?

Red reached out his hands, but there was only empty space. He couldn't reach Lizzy! She couldn't see him, the blue eyes seemed to look right through him...

Catching a glimpse of a small smoldering wisp just over Lizzy's shoulder, Red instinctively reached for the woman. Just as he realized the ineffectiveness of the movement, the curling smoke sparked, blinding him in a flash of light, but not before he saw–

"Lizzy!" Red bolted upright, his eyes popping open, his breaths ragged and uneven. He was drenched with sweat. Darting startled, anxious eyes frantically around, he exhaled a haggard breath, suddenly finding himself back in their bedroom... in their bed.

"Red?" Liz muttered sleepily, sitting up groggily.

"Fuck!" Red gasped, frantically reaching for his wife.

Abruptly sliding Lizzy across the bed, he clutched her against his chest, burying his face in her soft hair. Releasing a shuddering breath, he fought to calm his rapidly beating heart.

"Hey... I'm here." She soothed the trembling man, rubbing his back comfortingly. "It was just a dream." Her soft voice washed over Red's mind, settling the panic somewhat. "It's okay..."

"That wasn't a dream," Red gritted through clenched teeth, "that was a fucking nightmare."

Ducking his face under Lizzy's chin, Red settled his ear between her breasts, listening to the reassuring beat of her heart. Granted, it was a little faster now, but beating strongly, nevertheless.

She was okay. She was here with him. He could feel proof of that.

Cuddling to his taut body, Liz lay quietly, waiting for the tremors to subside somewhat.

"I saw you die in the airport." Red could finally share the terror. "You were alone and... and I couldn't get to you." He gasped for air and reality once again. "There was this incredibly bright flash of light–"

"God wouldn't let that happen to us." Liz turned her head, kissing his temple. "I'm right here beside you. You know I am. You feel me."

Sighing peacefully, Red nodded against her neck before rolling to her side and gathering her close.

"Sleep, Red." She soothed. "I'm right here."

Murmuring quietly, Liz spoke soothingly to the man until he finally dozed off. Wrapping an arm over his middle, she rested her head against his chest, ready should she be needed again.

LIZZINGTON

Cradling the warmed mug in hand, Liz eagerly lifted the creamy brew to her lips, cautiously sipping the steaming liquid. Breathing in the rich aroma, she silently wondered if it was possible to get a caffeine buzz from merely inhaling the vapor. Smiling inwardly at the thought, she swallowed the darkened elixir and closed her eyes, basking in a Zen-like state, her smile growing exponentially.

Considering the late night both she and Red had suffered through, the stimulant was very much appreciated. After Red's initial nightmare, he woke twice more, needing to reestablish a connection with her before he settled into a troubled sleep.

It seemed they weren't the only ones to suffer a long night as the other guests straggled tiredly into the room.

Chugging his coffee, Francis stared bleary-eyed at the others. "Okay, am I the only one who can't sleep with this creep out there doing his thing?" He rubbed his eyes wearily. "I keep expecting everything I touch to blow up. Hell, I even hesitated to flush the toilet this morning."

The man's confession brought smiles and quiet chuckles.

"I was up there," he motioned above him, "counting off how many steps it would take to throw myself in the tub just in case something went awry."

Chortling, Red shook his head.

Leave it to Francis to break the tension.

"Shit. I threw myself on Emma last night simply because my text message chimed." Danny grumbled into his coffee cup. "Bout smothered her tiny ass."

Emma nodded solemnly, which brought other smiles.

"You should have seen my ass when the alarm went off this morning." Mark shook a woeful head. "I had that weapon cocked and aimed before I realized what was going on."

"Keeping in mind, we are all seasoned professionals." Red made mention, his own features slightly gloomy. "This bastard is affecting us all, and it's time we put a stop to it."

"I second that emotion," Francis quoted one of Smokey Robinson's greatest hits.

"Well, fear not. I have a feeling today is the day..." Red lifted sage eyes to those gathered.

Frowning, Mark shifted his attention towards Sean McSha.

"No, it's just a feeling." Red said, slowly buttering his biscuit. It was a feeling that was beginning to royally piss him off.

Leveling his eyes with McSha's green ones, Red got a reading on the man.

Sitting his bacon aside, Sean wiped his mouth on a cloth napkin. "Tis possible." He said. "There's... something in the air." The thick accent hardened.

Hearing his own thoughts repeated out loud, Red blew out a slow breath. It was as close to a confirmation if there ever was one, in his opinion.

Everyone fell silent, the weight they felt returning with a sickening stomach roil.

"Then we catch the fucker." It was simple enough for Francis Holbrook.

"There is little else we can do, old buddy." Danny agreed.

"We've been in worse spots." Mark dismissed irritably. "Why is this getting us down?"

"He has control." Red knew the answer. "Which we do not like."

"I don't, for one," Harper replied evenly. "So, I suggest we do something about it."

"Like what?" Francis was all for action, but he had no answers at this point either.

"Our network is extensive." Mark reminded. "We need to get out there and work our resources, not sit around scratching our collective asses."

"Well put." Harper nodded his agreement.

"This case is like any other. Because it might conceivably hit closer to home than we like to think...we are allowing this guy to dictate our behavior." Red sought each man in turn, sighing. "As my wife so helpfully pointed out last night, we've done everything humanly possible to stop what's going to happen and we just can't, not by ourselves." He laid it on the table. "With that said, I think we need to get in a different mindset."

"Could you clarify that statement just a tad for those like Daniel, who might not be bright enough to follow your train of thought?" Francis asked around the toast in his mouth.

Danny grinned over for the jibe.

"We've done our bit," Red clarified. "Now we go about our daily lives." He glanced towards the sound of the front door opening, and hushed voices traversing the hall. "Something will break for us. It always has in the past. We just wait for it and trust in our own abilities."

He smiled and stood as Antonio and Maria came waltzing through the archway. Both stopped to offer Lizzy and Amanda a kiss on the cheek.

"There's food on the buffet," Red gestured. "Maria, may I fix you a plate?" He glanced to his side and smiled when Lizzy eagerly popped up from her seat, gathering a couple mugs for their use. "Antonio doesn't trust me to do so for him, I know."

"And never will." Antonio headed to the source himself, hefting a plate.

Perusing the selection, the couple gathered their desired treats before taking a seat at the table. Red sighed, moving one seat over as the older man waited patiently for just such an occurrence, Antonio's expression a stern one.

Francis scowled, having to go about the entire table, having given over his own seat to Red...to find a spot that wasn't taken. But his mood brightened considerably when he discovered his seat companion.

"Mio amore." the young man hastily sought Maria's hand, kissing it gallantly. "My heart beats faster just being in your illustrious presence."

"I know." Maria smiled pleasantly over. "Pass the creamer, please."

Francis moved very much closer, having secured the creamer from Danny's hand. "Anything for you, my precious love."

"Well, at least he doesn't do it behind my back." Antonio had watched the by-play with amused eyes. "Is there any marmalade?"

The marmalade was passed down with all due pomp and ceremony.

Antonio took the coffee Elizabeth handed him. "Thank you, angel."

"Oh, you were right, sweetie!" Maria motioned to the plate before her, also taking a cup handed her. "These are beautiful place settings!"

"Thank you." Liz whispered, kissing their cheeks in return before she all but skipped back to her seat. "They are lovely, aren't they."

"We really should start looking for real estate," Harper offered as a line of discussion. Danny nodded his agreement. "We can't continue to horn in on Red's graciousness on our behalf."

"Oh, Red doesn't mind." Mark assured those about him, including their gracious host himself. "Houses are a dime a dozen. What I need is a jet."

Liz tittered softly when Amanda sat back, her mouth falling agape. "Oh, you need a jet, do you." Her tone suggested perhaps the man...did not.

"They aren't that much, baby." Mark noted Antonio's shifted stare. "...Eh...Amanda." He hurried forward. "Not if you put them upside, say...a yacht."

Liz smiled. "That's what Red assured me as well."

Red shifted amused eyes. "It's true, baby. Right Antonio?"

"Such things are merely tools of our trade, Elizabeth." An airy hand was waved about. "Money is made to be spent."

"Such large amounts scare me a little." Liz admitted freely.

"You will get over that, I assure you." Maria smiled happily.

"Well, I won't," Amanda snipped, sending Mark another glare.

"The organization is growing." Red reminded. "We need to expand to keep up with growing demand."

"I want a jet, too." Francis felt left out of the festivities.

"Then the organization should kick in to help foot the bill." Antonio, always a wise businessman, declared. "Since the tools of which we speak would be readily available to all participants."

"We were going to suggest that." Francis pouted. "We're not cheap ass bastards." He moved closer still to Maria Crocetti. "You don't think of me as one, do you, beloved?"

Red grinned when he noted McSha's head lift upright, his focus immediate and intent on Francis' pursuit of Maria, and that Antonio was happily fixated on placing syrup on his French toast.

"Have you no shame, man?" Sean wanted to know. "The woman's husband is sitting right there." He motioned with his butter knife.

"Oh, he doesn't mind." Francis waved off any concern. "Do you, Antonio."

After the briefest of seconds, Antonio shifted casually in his seat and lifted a finger, as if to address a point of interest, before Francis moved on, giving Maria his undivided attention.

"I would buy you the world for a mere kiss. You surely must know that." Francis promised the woman his undying loyalty.

Shrugging the matter aside, Antonio smiled his gratitude when Emma handed over a petite creamer for his use.

Swiveling his head back and forth, McSha looked on in bewilderment as the others continued enjoying their breakfasts, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Being witness to McSha's confusion, Liz shifted amused eyes Red's way, only to hastily avert her gaze, lest she break and ruin the façade. Enjoying the silent communication with his wife, Red patted her hand consolingly, as if to say... he understood her plight. Earning a muffled snicker in return, Red winked when she artfully covered the sound with a slight cough.

Maria sought her husband's attention. "Would you buy me the world for a mere kiss, husband?"

Biting into his own toast, McSha turned his attention to where it was needed, curious himself as to the answer.

"I can buy and sell that little pip-squeak; you must surely know that...wife." Antonio sent Francis a sincere sneer.

"Is this getting personal?" The boy wanted to know.

Sniggering quietly, McSha cast Red a questionable glance. Having seen it all before, Red waved off any concern Sean might have... by forking up a pile of fluffy eggs.

Shrugging, Sean leaned his forearms on the table, interested in the entertainment before him.

"He's like that before his second cup of coffee." Maria patted Francis' hand lovingly. "You mustn't mind him."

"Okay." Francis was happy again, sighing his bliss for being in the woman's good graces once again. "I, personally, am never in a bad mood, just saying."

Maria patted his cheek...lovingly. "Yes, but that money thing is troubling me somewhat."

Francis' face fell. "He's been at this longer than me. I'm climbing the corporate ladder. I just need a few more years. I'm worth the wait, angel pie."

"I'm sure you are." Maria lifted noble brows. "Come see me when you reach that lofty pinnacle, hum?"

"But what do I do in the meantime?" Francis was getting upset. "I'm in my sexual prime now, honey buns."

Maria glanced him over before shifting a sly amused smile towards Nora. "This is your prime, is it?"

Canting her head, Nora gave a slight shrug of agreement as if to say; the boy wasn't bad... eager to please, but very unsure of himself.

Noting the byplay, McSha gave Francis a thumbs-up for his effort, which only seemed to confuse Francis all the more.

"Well...yeah." Francis was really getting upset now. "I don't like the doubt in that lusciously sensual voice, baby cakes. I'm deeply wounded here. I'm sharing this with you freely."

"You refer to me as baby cakes again and you'll be wounded elsewhere as well, lambkins." The older woman's brows lifted even higher. "And it will be in a most vital spot, rest assured."

Francis sat back rapidly; the scolding glare Maria offered over giving the man room for doubt himself. "Your tone is a little off-putting, love of my life."

"Then I still have what it takes, do I not...my little cabana boy." Maria's smile was a sweet, loving one. "I need more coffee."

Francis was up and fetching the pot in milliseconds. "Of course, my pet."

"Francis, while you have the pot... could you?" McSha asked politely.

The request seemed to confuse Francis all the more. He hesitated slightly, but cordially poured the coffee, his true attention focused on looking down Maria's blouse.

McSha grinned for the audacity. Matters proceeded on.

Antonio rolled bored eyes. "Getting back to the subject at hand."

"It would be advantageous of us to have a backup with fresh pilots if the occasion calls for it." Red felt the expenditure worth it. Considering all the business he did around the world, and now that he was married and wished to take his wife on excursions to exotic locales... it seemed a wise move on his part.

"You should create a joint account," Antonio suggested, "and ante up equal shares."

Silently conferring with the men at the table, the others nodded their agreement. "Can we all say...Marvin Gerard?" Mark asked the question on each man's mind.

"We really need a couple of accounts. Besides expenditures, there has to be payroll for staff, for emergencies and what not." Harper added.

Red sighed. "We need an accountant to keep track of this crap."

Once more, all fell silent as they mentally searched for a trustworthy person to hire for the now open position.

"Mark, did you not say that young lad... Steven was excellent with numbers?" Antonio asked, breaking the silence.

"Kid's a walking calculator. He's fixed a few slips at the hotel, actually." Mark replied offhandedly, then pinched his lips and sat his fork down. "You're stealing my best waiter?"

"Yes, I am." Antonio smiled. "But it's not done with any maliciousness on my part, I assure you."

"Mark, the kid was going to have to move on at some point." Red reminded. "Why not set him up to do this? He can still manage the hotel's finances while keeping track of this side of the equation."

"And his sister? What about her?" Liz hadn't forgotten about her little flower girl.

"We'll set her up in the best school around." Red replied.

"You don't think Steven is a little young?" Danny asked. "To be trusted with that much responsibility?"

"You were sixteen when you hacked the Pentagon." Red reminded. "Besides, all he really needs to do is manage the accounts by providing daily balances and confirming withdrawals."

"It's not as if we are asking him to do taxes." Francis reminded all. "At least, I won't," he muttered around his bite of biscuit. "Cause I don't do them."

Giving an exasperated shake of her head, Liz returned her attention to Red. "What about college?" She demanded the important things be discussed.

"He'll have ample time for classes, Lizzy." Red assured. "We're not slavedrivers."

"I will handle that aspect." Antonio put the matter to rest.

"We will handle all their expenses." Red eased his wife's concerns before they could take shape.

"Speaking of help." Amanda spoke up. "I have a bachelor's degree in finance. If you want, I can assist Steven."

"I know you wanted me to take time off," Emma smiled over at a pensive Daniel, "but if I can help... I do have a bachelor's in business and a couple of associates in marketing and finance."

Nodding thoughtfully, Red mused on the problems facing the newly formed organization.

The men glanced over to Lily. who had held up a very tentative hand, asking permission to speak.

Antonio's expression softened. "You have something to add, child?"

She shrugged hesitantly, blushing. "I'm only a registered nurse." She pouted prettily, then brightened. "But I have surgical experience." She trailed off, shrugging her embarrassment. "That has nothing to do with business things, though, does it."

"She says that like it's a bad thing." Red held his amusement. "How would you feel about furthering your education, Lily?"

"I-I guess I could?" Lily looked curiously at Harper and Red. "Why?"

"I don't know about the others, but I was shot recently." Red said. "Could you handle such matters? Or at the very least, keep us alive until the doctor arrives on site?"

Glancing at the man beside her, Lily's brows lifted with surprise to find Harper nodding his encouragement. "Eric...were you wounded recently?" She was appalled at the possibility, clearly.

"Not recently." The man took the small hand in his capable ones. "I am very careful...now. Because I have reason to be."

Lily seemed to breathe easier. "W-Well, I am good in emergencies, believe it or not." She warmed to the scenario presented. "And I learn things very quickly."

Harper kept an obvious expression. "Oh, she really does do that...really."

The men picked up on the endorsement instantly. Antonio's eyes smiled; his expression unreadable. Red's mouth quirked with amusement, for his Lizzy held the very same quality, he was proud to say.

Danny lifted Emma's hand to his lips for a brief kiss.

Francis lifted Maria's hand to his lips for an overly long caress.

Antonio's scowl deepened, having noted as the boy's tongue sensually flicked out, licking the woman's fingers suggestively.

"You taste of honey, my sweet." Francis purred contentedly to a very blase Maria.

"Well, that could be." She mused thoughtfully. "I was putting some on my scone when you so surreptitiously pulled my hand to your lips."

"I really do learn quickly, as Eric said." Lily's voice was more confident now, having pulled her attention away from Francis' shenanigans. "I want to help. Can I, do you think?"

"Absolutely." Red made the executive decision. "Okay, after we secure Steven, Amanda can help him get organized and keep the ball rolling when he's in class." Red outlined a tentative plan of action. "Lily will be on emergency standby and taking classes. Emma can help me with the day to day." He smiled over at his friend. "Which hopefully frees up personal time for Dembe."

"I appreciate that." Dembe inclined his head and smiled at Emma as well. "However, do not feel you have to on my account."

"Oh, I'd love to help!" Emma replied, excited by the prospect.

"You've worked out all the details of Steven's new life." Mark pointed out a flaw in the plan. "Now, how about speaking to the kid himself to find out if he is even interested in joining our ranks?"

"It's not like we are a first-class, legitimate operation, remember." Harper further put a damper on matters. "If he is as bright as you say, there must be other options opened to him."

"He may not want to relocate." Antonio waved an imperious hand. "Perhaps he is happy where he is."

Pulling his phone free, Mark dialed the boy's number. "Taking my best waiter..." he grumbled when the line was picked up. "That's about as low as it gets...Steven?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Donovan." The kid perked up quickly. "Do you need me to come in early, sir?"

Placing the call on speaker, Mark set the phone on the table. "No, we needed to speak to you about a job opportunity."

"Yes, sir?" Steven's voice wavered nervously. "Please tell me I'm not being fired."

Red smiled at the phone. "Steven, do you remember me?"

"Mr. Reddington, sir," Steven replied. "Of course, sir."

"Yes," Red said, "now, feel free to decline the offer we are about to suggest," he put the kid at ease, "and there will be no repercussions of any kind to your present employment."

Steven cleared his throat. "W-What offer are we speaking of, sir...exactly?"

Red laid it all out for the boy, detailing the work involved in such an undertaking.

"So, do you think this may be something you're interested in?" Red glanced at his constituents with a hopeful air. "Or perhaps...you would like time to think the prospect through?" He asked.

"No!" Steven blurted. "I mean, I'm very interested, sir. I would very much like to...eh, yes, I...I am on board, sir. Very much so."

Everyone at the table chuckled quietly, feeling the boy's excitement through the phone. It wasn't every day that an education and a sizable paycheck was tossed in one's lap. Not the extent Red was talking, anyway.

"Steven, would you like to talk it over with your sister first?" Liz addressed a relevant issue. "She's leaving her school, friends, and home behind."

"She's been..." Steven hesitated. "I think she would like the change of scenery, actually, ma'am."

"Is something wrong?" Red asked.

"Since our parents..." Steven cleared his throat, "she's had trouble in school. Her friends have kind of been..." he sighed quietly. "I think a change would be good for us, sir."

"When would you like to start?" Red asked.

"When do you want me to start, sir?" Steven countered.

"Well, I would imagine you want to close out your house, settle any outstanding accounts..." Red remembered well handling his parents' estate.

"A moment, Steven." Liz said, then muted the phone. "Let me help them."

Red looked at Elizabeth questioningly. "Red, I'm older than they are and when I had to close out Sam's..." she trailed off. "Let me go down and help them."

Nodding, Red took the phone. "Steven, we're going to send some help down to you to get this straightened out, all right."

"Yes, sir. Thank you..." The boy breathed a sigh of relief. "It's all a little...eh..."

"Steven, I want you to go ahead and start closing out your house." Mark said. "Do not go into work."

"But Mr. Richards has me scheduled for–"

"I'll call Richards." Mark smoothed over. "We'll call back shortly with an update."

"Yes, sir. Thank you for this opportunity. I won't let you down." Steven was practically vibrating with excitement as he hung up the phone.

"Well, I think you made his day." Danny grinned.

"I have a guest house they can utilize until they get settled in here." Francis offered over. "It's close."

"We'll take them." Antonio decided. "They can stay with us. The entire west wing is open."

"Oh, yes!" Maria concurred ecstatically. "We'd love to have them!"

"Alright," Red agreed, then motioned between himself and Lizzy, "we'll handle getting them enrolled in school."

"When should I go, do you think?" Liz asked Red.

"Give them the day to let it settle in. Steven could still change his mind..." Red said. "But if not, then we'll go."

"We?" Liz asked hopefully.

"I get the feeling that Steven needs an older male figure in his life right now, so yes, I will be going."

"Maria and I will ready the house for their arrival." Antonio said. "Well...staff will. I am quite inept at such things, as my wife will attest."

"He can run a worldwide business organization but can't find his sock drawer." Maria grinned at her husband in open affection. "That's why I label everything."

"I know where my sock drawer is, beloved."

"Well, of course you do." Maria cajoled freely. "Color me impressed, Francis."

Francis sighed happily.

"Come ladies! We must begin preparations for Samantha and Steven!" Maria practically beamed. "I know where we can find the most adorable canopy bed!"

"Hey, baby." Francis pooh-poohed such a notion. "Guys don't like to sleep in those girly things, trust me."

"I meant, for the little girl, Francis." Maria was patience in itself.

"...Oh." Francis scowled gloomily. "Whatever."

"Well, with that settled," Red pushed from his seat, motioning to the men. "Shall we men adjourn to our tedious tasks and leave the ladies to more exciting prospects?"

"Do you people realize you have a tendency to take over other people's lives?" Harper was somewhat bothered by the rapidity and swiftness of the decisions made this day.

His suggestion was met with scowls of disapproval from those accused.

"Oh, Eric." Lily sighed lightly. "Don't be such a stick in the mud. This is about as exciting as it gets." she brought her hands together, her cheeks aglow. "A canopy bed! How precious can one get?"

"I'll see what I can do to alter your perception of exciting." He had leaned to gently nuzzle her nose, which caused a more tinted response to those already pink cheeks.

Liz's smile grew into a soft, indulgent one. "Oh, aren't they sweet. I said, from the first, I believed those two would make such a cute pair. Didn't I say that, Red?"

Red offered over a stunned double-take. "Excuse me there, chick-pea?" His look was an incredulous one. "You never said any such thing...as I recall."

Liz took on an innocent air. "Yes, I did. I most certainly did." She objected politely. "I distinctly remember saying almost those exact words to you." She thought back. "I can't remember the exact moment, but I'm sure I said it." She seemed most pleased with herself over the matter.

"You told me to make sure I kept Harper as far away–"

Red noted Antonio's stately glare and the definite swipe of the man's hand across his throat meaning...shut the hell up, and let it go or you will live to regret the day.

"Red." Those blue eyes turned on him with a cool sweep. "I don't think I said any such thing. Why, anyone can see how very much in love those two people are. I would have to be blind not to see and I assure you, I am very perceptive about such things...as you well know."

"Yeah." Red sucked it up and took his medicine like the man he was. "Anyone can see how perceptive you are, sweetheart. I don't know what I was thinking."

"I don't either." Liz was happy again, turning back to those two people. "It just does my heart good to see something finally working out for someone as nice as Harper and as sweet as Lily. Doesn't it do your heart good, Red?"

"Yeah." Red smiled pleasantly, ignoring Antonio's knowledgeable smirk. "It sure does, angel cakes."

Liz smiled contentedly over.

LIZZINGTON

Going off in search of Red, Liz found him, along with Antonio and Francis, in his office. They were gathered around Francis' laptop, studiously serious expressions on their handsome faces.

Dembe sat at a side table, ledger book in hand. Liz knew that couldn't be a good sign, as ledger books meant...expenditures, in Red Reddington's world.

"What are you men up to now?" Liz asked fretfully.

"We're buying jets and some other little toys..." Red gestured to a line of sleek black SUVs he had just purchased, "from the US Marshals Service."

Scoffing quietly, Liz dropped her face into her palm. "You're buying from the Marshal Service, why?" The blue eyes widened with concern. "Anonymously, I hope."

Noticing the look of exasperation on his wife's face, Red chuckled.

"Well, we knew the previous owners." He explained. "Who knows what goodies the feds missed?" He said, then shrugged. "I like surprises. How about you, Antonio?"

"Won't be any surprise to me," Francis scoffed. "But, profitable? Yeah." he nodded enthusiastically. "Sign me up for those crates of firearms there."

"Plus, the prices are unequaled." Antonio stated what he believed to be an important factor. "What a savings!"

"Whatever..." Liz sighed her discontent. "Aren't there background checks?" She bit her thumbnail anxiously.

"Oh, baby." Red's look was a sad one for such innocence. "Don't worry about it, okay? We got it covered."

"Many, many years back." Antonio cut a look as well. "Outwitting the government is child's play...child, I assure you."

Liz frowned superficially. She was part of that organization, after all.

"Raymond," Dembe lifted his tablet, poised to write, "they have a Sunseeker 68 Predator."

Liz's brows furrowed when Red's lifted, obviously interested in the information provided.

"What?" Liz asked curiously. "What is that?"

"Nothing of any real consequence..." Giving Dembe a nod of approval, Red stood, smiling down at his wife. "Don't worry 'bout it, okay? It's covered...really."

Glancing suspiciously between the two men, Liz shifted narrowed eyes towards a chortling Antonio.

Sighing woefully, Liz let the matter go. "Nora said lunch is ready. Come eat before it gets cold."

She left the room feeling a little deflated and decidedly put-upon. She frowned back at the occupants, pouting prettily, unaware she did so.

LIZZINGTON

Considering Red's jaded reputation, it was decided Elizabeth, along with a bevy of guards, would secure their haul from the Marshal's Service.

"I can kind of understand the fleet of SUVs," Liz could, considering the damage they could inflict, "but I can't believe he bought another boat." She muttered. "I mean, what the hell does he need another one for?" She asked as she climbed up into the new spacious SUV.

"Red's a lot like a sailor," Francis made mention, then frowned as a thought occurred. "Well, he actually is a sailor, but I digress." He continued on. "Instead of women, he has boats in every port."

"Well, he's got two here now." Liz glanced back at the sleek boat trailing behind David's SUV.

"No," Joe begged to disagree, "he has one yacht and one powerboat...kind of." He muttered quietly.

"It says right here," Liz held the receipt aloft, "it's a yacht."

"Well, yeah, technically speaking." Joe didn't disregard the classification. "But it's mainly built to experience speed in style."

"It's designed to keep the wife from bitching," Liz offered her own definition, "while her husband speeds about like a drug runner, you mean?"

Distracted by all the new gadgets to play with, Francis scoffed. "Red wouldn't be so conspicuous." He scolded. "I doubt he'd take you along... considering you're a Fed and everything."

Taking a clarifying breath, Liz gave the man a baleful look. "Well, I don't think Red would introduce me as a Fed, what with him wanting to remain inconspicuous and all."

Shrugging, Francis continued pushing buttons in his general vicinity. "You went along with it," he reminded. "You're picking up the merchandise, which makes you an accessory after the fact, so don't sound so high and mighty, little missy."

Muffling his laughter, Joe glanced in the rearview mirror just to see the pained expression on Liz's face.

Clearing his throat, Joe controlled his humored tone. "Where to now?"

"Oh, yes," Liz removed a paper from her purse, "Samantha's new school... or at least, I hope it will be." She said, then rattled off an address not that far away from their location.

"It's a large gray stone building." Liz remembered from the website. "You can't miss it."

"You're awfully sure Steven won't change his mind." Francis said.

"I think he wants out of there." Liz replied knowingly. "Too much pain. No end in sight. No hope." She spoke from experience. "I think Steven wants better for them both... and there's obviously nothing holding them there." She said. "It doesn't hurt, too, we obviously want to help him."

"I suppose it would be a weight off," Francis admitted, "having adults around to offer advice."

"Not from the likes of you, I hope." Liz gave the man a sour look.

"Who better to give advice about the ladies." Francis asked, primly straightening his tie.

"How are things going with Melissa, again?" Liz asked, just as primly straightening her jacket.

"That's a low blow." Francis grumbled. "You've been hanging around Silas too much."

"I've been hanging around with you too much, you mean." Liz laughed. "I know what a mess you are... and won't be shy about warning any potential partners about the fact... you're insane."

"You take the bad with the good." Francis lifted a proud chin. "Or at least, that's what Red says about you." He smirked.

"He does not!" Liz gasped, ignoring the muffled snort from the front seat. "Red loves me... just the way I am." She repeated his words verbatim. "He said so!"

"Red is a natural born diplomat." Francis knew well enough himself. "Plus... he wants to keep getting laid."

Removing her phone, Liz dialed Red quickly. "We'll just see about that!" She replied haughtily. "Red!" She burst out the moment the man picked up the phone. "Do you love me, just the way I am!"

"You know I do, my love." Red replied without pause, for he sensed were he to do so... there would be hell to pay. Not that he didn't love Lizzy just the way she was, thorns and all, because he did. He just knew, by the tone of her voice, this wasn't the time to question such a... question.

Besides, he had a pretty good idea what was happening on her end of the conversation, and who the catalyst of such a conversation might be.

"See, I told you!" Liz lifted her own defiant chin.

"Silas is right. You are so gullible." Francis frowned, just then realizing the fact.

"Not in this case, she's not." Red disagreed. Liz smiled brightly, sticking her tongue out at the man beside her... then frowned, realizing what Red's words implied.

Pointing a teasing finger at the woman, Francis offered up a silent mock laugh.

"So, shut up the hell up, Francis." Red waved off Antonio's look of concern, then covered the mouthpiece. "He's annoying Lizzy."

"Ah..." Nodding his understanding, Antonio shrugged the matter aside, turning the page in his book. "Tell her, Maria and I love her very much." He muttered, well adept at handling ornery children. "And be there a problem looming on the horizon, I will handle it for her, whatever it might be...so shut up, Francis, and stop making waves."

Red relayed the message as seriously as he could.

Brightening, Liz's cheeks plumped. "See, Maria and Antonio love me, too."

"Kiss ass daddy's girl." Francis frowned sullenly. "Try to help a guy out, and this is the thanks you get."

"Let me assure you," Red's mouth twisted at the corner, "you aren't helping me in the slightest."

"Not if you're going to constantly take her side, I'm not...no." Francis' frown deepened. "We men have to stick together. It's us against them."

"Since when?" Red wanted to know.

"Since the dawn of time?" Such a statement flabbergasted Francis.

"And on that note," Joe interrupted hastily. "We have arrived at our destination...thank God." he motioned to a stone facade building surrounded by trees, sitting back off the road.

"Yes," Liz peered eagerly out the window to her surroundings. "Oh, Red! It's even more beautiful in person!"

Meandering slowly down the winding road, they traveled the stately grounds. "It looks so charming... welcoming." Liz craned her neck this way and that. "Lots of trees and places to play. Some children are out playing now. Oh, they are so cute and so tiny!"

"I hate munchkins." Francis muttered his dissension.

"What is with you today?" Liz smacked his shoulder. "They are adorable, you old grouch!"

"They smell. Kids smell, everyone knows that."

"Francis, I'm leaving your butt in the car!" Liz decided. "You're going to get Samantha kicked out of this place even before she gets to enter it!"

Red and Antonio exchanged oblique glances for the boy's behavior.

"I spoke to a Ms. Parker, baby." Red eased the situation. "She's the Interim Administrator of the school."

"Interim?" Liz asked suspiciously. "What happened to the other one?"

"Maternity leave." Red replied. "The woman who was supposed to take the position had an accident, leaving Ms. Parker to fill the role unexpectedly." He said, sensing his wife's suspicion.

"Sounds like a set-up to me...or an Agatha Christy novel." Francis nodded sagely. "What sort of accident are we talking about here?"

Liz gave over a queer look. "What are you blathering on about now?"

"How many people knew you were considering this school for our new accountant?" The man air-quoted with his fingers. "The Feds can keep track of our organization through Steven's kid sister. You know how kids blab everything they know when asked. They can't be trusted."

"Francis." Red drew in a deep breath. "Has Melissa been speaking to you about having children?"

"She can want and be damned." Francis moped, his tone a chiding one. "Not gonna happen on my watch. I got some living to do before I tie myself down with anchors around my neck."

"Oh, Francis." Liz's expression melted into a gentle, nurturing one. "How precious. You as a daddy! I can picture it...really!" She placed her hands together excitedly. "What's so wrong about settling down a little? Children are a blessing. Truly they are."

"Red! Tell her to leave me alone." Francis grabbed Lizzy's phone, holding it close so he could say his peace. "I got a right to my opinion. It's a God-given constitutional right! Our forefathers felt the same way I do about rug-rats. Everyone knows that!"

Antonio put his book aside. "Francis." His deep, soothing tone settled the boy's nerves somewhat. "I think it would be a wise decision on your part if you decided to come over to the house tonight that you and I could have a little talk, don't you?"

"I've had that little talk, Antonio. I know where babies come from." Francis rolled his eyes.

"That's not the talk I had in mind." The older gentlemen's tone chilled. "Eight o'clock. Be there."

"Okay," Liz compressed her lips tightly for a beat, grimacing slightly. "I'll call when we're done and let you know the verdict, Red." She promised. "I love you...just the way you are." She smiled sweetly. "And you too, Antonio."

"I love you, too." Red smiled. Shaking his head, he hung up the phone. "That boy, Antonio. This woman is throwing him for a loop. What are we going to do to help him out."

"I do not approve of that pairing, Reddington." A deep scowl marred the still handsome features. "I state here and now for the record."

"Many did not approve of Lizzy and I, Antonio." Red reminded. "Who are we to judge such things for Francis?"

"Your actions toward Elizabeth proved your sincere emotional attachment." Antonio shook a noble head. "This young woman's actions prove other things to me."

"She doesn't seem to have Francis' best interests at heart, does she, but still..." Red had his doubts as well. "Francis has stuck it out for a reason. He doesn't have to remember."

"Thus, the talk this evening." Antonio nodded. "I wished to feel him out. The right woman can lift a man to the heights of Nirvana, but the wrong one can send him to the depths of hell."

Red had seen the scenario played out many times over the years for many of his associates.

"If I have made a mistake in placing Francis in the position I have, I must know it now, before we risk damage to the organization."

Red snapped his head around at such a proclamation. "You don't mean that."

"I fear I must take this matter seriously." Antonio clearly didn't wish to be the heavy in this matter, though. "He is like one of my own sons, always has been. But if he is weak, if a woman can bend his mind to such an extent..."

"Oh, and Maria can't bend your mind?" Red took up for his young friend, but he knew the wisdom behind Antonio's words. One misstep in their world could mean death.

"Maria can affect me in so many ways. It's true, of course, but not once has she proven disloyal or traitorous to me in all the years of our marriage." Antonio's temper flared. "It takes a special type of woman to stay true in our profession...to accept what we are. You know this!"

Red lowered his eyes. Yes, he knew it, and no, he didn't sense it in Melissa. Not at all.

"Something has upset our young friend, and I intend to get to the bottom of the matter." Antonio stressed. "Francis has always hit on Maria," he mentioned the boy's quirk Antonio had always found amusing, but over time, he also noticed a pattern, "but when something is troubling him..."

"He lays it on thick." Red sighed, knowing the truth when he heard it.

It was difficult for a man of Francis' profession to relax, let alone trust anyone. There were only a select few in his inner circle he could lower the shields and be himself.

Due to all the guards on site, and how Red and Lizzy welcomed him into their home, this was a safe space for Francis.

Hitting on Maria was another safe area. Francis knew well Antonio and Maria didn't take him seriously. If Maria played along and allowed any sort of reaction to Francis' lame one-liners, a good time was had by all. What mattered most was, no matter how many boundaries he pushed, Maria accepted him and offered a sort of normalcy.

Considering how thick he was laying it on this morning, Francis had been in dire need of that acceptance and normalcy.

"I must know where Francis' heart lies. I must see the depth of his involvement with this woman." The older man lifted his head. "And then, I will make my decision. Enough said on the matter."

Red scratched his head absently. "I will never turn on Francis."

"I know that." Antonio scowled. "Nor will I, but neither will I turn on the organization which I built with my own two hands. I nurtured it as a beloved child. I watched it grow into something of which I take great pride. I will not allow one person to take it down, no matter how fond I am of this young man of which we speak."

Red wasn't sure to which person Antonio referred. Was it Francis or Melissa? "Can I ask a favor?"

Antonio set himself ready to refuse, for he thought he knew what request was to be made.

"Wait until after we wind up this bomber thing." Red played for time. He needed to speak to Francis before this fateful talk. "It has everyone on edge. We need to concentrate fully with no added interruptions or distractions, agreed?"

Antonio settled. "No. We do not need anything to disturb the situation any further than it already is. You are correct. I will wait." Antonio decreed. "But make no mistake. I will speak to Francis... soon."

Red nodded grimly. "I understand."

LIZZINGTON

Falling in step behind Liz and Francis, Joe scanned the grounds for threats. He was pleased to note the other guards had held back, discretely blending as best they could in such surroundings for the children's sake, of course.

Kids had stopped playing, craning their necks to see why so many new visitors had arrived.

"You better not blow this for Samantha." Liz warned her companion. "I'll have Antonio roast your nuts over an open flame if you do."

Francis glanced down to his 'nuts', his expression carefully neutral. "You just never mind about my nuts." He whispered a harsh rasp for kids were nearby, their interest more than caught by the lovely lady and her friends. "They are safely tucked away, thank you very much."

"Won't stop Antonio from locating them." Liz wrinkled her nose disparagingly to the guy. "Will it."

"There're no threats, Joe." Francis steered the conversation away from his jewels. "If I know Antonio, and I do, he has already scoped this place out. If it wasn't safe, he wouldn't have allowed us to come today."

Elizabeth felt better. And better still, as she glanced about the stately entrance foyer they had just entered.

"Hello," the receptionist smiled as Liz and Francis stepped through the door, "welcome to Rosecrest Academy." The smile seemed sincere enough. "I'm Mary. How may I help you?"

"I'm Elizabeth Redmond," Liz smiled her relief when she didn't stumble over the name, "we have an appointment with Ms. Parker."

When Red called earlier to secure an appointment, Liz's blood drained from her head when the man used an alias for them both. She had just grown accustomed to her new name, now the man was throwing more into the mix.

It was part of the whole, though, and she determined to get used to the way things were done in Red's world. She was a large part of it now and she didn't mind one bit, but it felt odd still, the things that seemed so normal to her new husband.

Smiling brightly, the receptionist hurriedly lifted from her seat. All morning, she had recalled how kind, attentive... and sexy Mr. Redmond sounded on the phone. The man had a voice that could melt butter, among other things.

"Yes, we've been expecting you." The receptionist hastily assured one and all. "Let me just get Ms. Parker for you."

Walking to a nearby office, Mary tapped on the hard surface of the door.

Glancing up from her busy work, Ms. Parker set her tea aside before brushing muffin crumbs from her desktop. Offering them an inviting smile, she motioned them inside.

"Hi," Liz offered the woman her hand, "you spoke with my husband, Erik Redmond, earlier?"

The woman offered a hand over to...

"Oh, no." Elizabeth hastily corrected the oversight. "This is Francis Holbrook, a very dear friend. An unexpected issue prevented my husband from attending today. He feels horrible about the fact."

"His loss is my gain." Francis smoothed expertly, taking the woman's hand holding it longer than necessary were the slight flush any indication on the lovely cheeks.

"Oh, my, I'm sorry for the..."

"This looks to be a very efficiently run place, Ms... Parker, wasn't it?" Francis could be so damned charming when he wished, Liz was reminded. Suddenly flustered and a trifle unprofessional, Ms. Parker pulled it together rapidly enough. Artfully removing her hand from Francis' grasp, she expertly softened the movement by smoothing the front of her stylish skirt.

"Welcome. Please, sit." Ms. Parker motioned to a convenient chair. "You wished to enroll a child who lost her parents in an unfortunate accident." Her expression saddened. "As I understand?"

"Yes," Liz's eyes lowered, then lifted determinedly. "I should alert you. We do not have sole custody of Samantha. Her brother, Steven, does. We are merely acting on his behalf." She said. "If you need to speak with him, we can get him on the phone immediately, of course."

"He is in another state, you see." Francis slid closer, placing his hand on the woman's desk. He made the gesture somehow intimate in nature. "In transit, so to speak. We are his chosen representatives. He wanted everything settled upon his arrival, as one might."

"Upon Samantha's complete enrollment, her guardian may need to sign paperwork listing emergency contacts and the like," Ms. Parker smiled, sliding over a pamphlet of sorts, "but we can get the ball rolling, as you say."

Perusing the curriculum for the school, Liz was most pleased they offered additional courses that allowed Samantha to explore various interests.

"Should Samantha find an extracurricular class not to her liking," Ms. Parker said, "she may transfer to other courses. We believe a child is an individual here, and they should follow their interests whenever possible."

"Good," Liz appreciated their open approach to childhood development, "because this little girl has been through enough and it's time for her to simply be a child again."

"I agree." Ms. Parker nodded, leaning forward, her expression an earnest one. "Now, tell me a little about Samantha."

Almost an hour later, they lined up the best classes for Samantha to start with in hopes they could gauge her level of readiness. Completing her enrollment was easier than expected after Francis got Steven on the line. Signing the required documents electronically, they secured Samantha's place in school.

"These classes are fundamental in nature and not awfully challenging, agreed, but I really think this is the best path for Samantha at this time."

Elizabeth was warming to the woman and her frank way of speaking, although it was always tempered with discretion and diplomacy.

"With the weight of her parents' death, I'm sure her studies have taken a backseat, so let's see where she is first, not only academically but emotionally." Ms. Parker straightened her frame, seeking input.

Liz smiled, pleased with their choice. "That sounds like a wonderful plan. I know she'll be excited by the move, but that won't mean it's not overwhelming."

"When do you think she might wish to start?" Ms. Parker linked her hands together. She seemed always aware that Francis was close by, often smiling over to the man, but never with any hint of anything other than polite deference.

"We would like if she could acclimate herself to DC," Liz said. "We also thought it would be wonderful if Samantha could tour the facilities beforehand, so she can be better prepared for what awaits."

Ms. Parker smiled warmly, nodding her agreement. "I think that's an excellent idea." She glanced over the desk calendar. "The entire student body will be taking a brief break academically. I'll be on site though through the next two weeks. Just give a call and I'll be ready to show her around."

Rising, Liz shook the woman's hand. "Thank you for your assistance, Ms. Parker."

"You're very welcome, Mrs. Redmond." The woman nodded cordially. Francis stepped forward, offering his own hand. Ms. Parker smiled, overly brightly slipping the small appendage into Francis' much larger palm. "Mr. Holbrook." Ms. Parker's breath caught slightly in her throat as Francis' eyes trained steadily on hers. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"The pleasure." Francis' tone dropped into a low timbre, "was all mine... Ms. Parker."

The woman's grey eyes dropped demurely, and she swallowed...hard.

"I look forward to meeting Samantha." She offered a sincere goodbye.

They accomplished the walk to the opening portal of the building in silence.

Stepping out into the open air, Francis looked back at the building, glancing about his general surroundings. A smile graced his lips. "This place isn't so bad."

Liz glanced up at the taller man, her own expression bemused. "Did you note she was wearing argyle socks, Francis? Do anything for you?"

"She was wearing silk nylons." He corrected immediately. "And yes, they did all sorts of nice things for me. Thank you for asking, Elizabeth."

"You're such a slut." Elizabeth stated her opinion stoutly. "But you saved our asses in there, I think."

She reached, tiptoeing, planting a kiss on Francis' cheek.

"Of course, I did. I always do." The young man agreed readily, then glanced at his companion. "What was it I did, exactly?"

"You were just yourself, twit." Lizzy giggled. "But a charming twit. Didn't know you had it in you, to be truthful."

Elizabeth walked ahead, her smile a contented one.

Joe stepped to Francis' side. "Smooth." He nodded to the consensus. "Even I was impressed at one point. But I knew you had it in you."

"Think I'm leaning hard to the notion..." Francis seemed surprised by the fact, "that I kinda want to have it in her." He turned his head, seeking another of his own kind's opinion on the matter being discussed. "... I'm speaking of Ms. Parker, you understand?"

"Went without saying, old buddy." Joe sauntered after Elizabeth, holding his smile. "She seems a very nice lady. Don't blow it."

"Joe?" A troubled scowl crossed Francis' face. "Are you forgetting about Melissa?"

Joe held his reply, his face passive.

"Such thinking makes me a louse, doesn't it?" Francis felt the role suddenly.

"Does it?" Joe pondered openly. "Listen, Francis." He glanced to ascertain if Liz was being helped into the SUV, which she was. "You've never solicited my advice before and there is a very good reason for that." He shifted to his other foot. "It doesn't matter. You make your own decisions and they have always been pretty sound to me."

"It does matter, though." Francis' scowl deepened. "What you think of me."

Joe took his time in a reply. "All I know is when I look over in a fire-fight and you're somewhere in the needed vicinity, I feel just fine." He shrugged his shoulders. "That's what matters to me." He held the younger man's eyes easily. "Everything else? I figure you can handle just fine cause you always have."

Francis swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding sedately. "That's some deep shit, man."

Joe walked on.

Francis cleared his throat, slowly following suit.

"Francis! Come quickly." Liz was holding her phone aloft. "It's Ressler."

Francis rolled his eyes.

"Aram has pulled up what they think is a video of the bomber." Liz's face took on a more urgent look, and she motioned for the guy to hurry up.

Francis quickened his step.

LIZZINGTON

"There, I got your freaking gifts," Silas grumbled, shoving his way out of the quaint shop. "Happy now." He bitched, shifting the numerous bags to one hand.

He hated shopping on a normal basis, but when assisted by a snotty twit, it made the chore even more hellish.

When the young saleswoman had first approached him upon his entrance, she had been all smiles. Once Silas inadvertently let it slip, he was shopping for American women... the smile fell.

The guard momentarily forgot about the animosity Russians felt these days towards all Americans.

Sensing tension between the two, the woman's coworker hastily sprung into action, taking over the transaction.

Silas was grateful for the intervention. He took perverse pleasure in throwing his rubles around that day, for he knew a hefty sales commission was going the second woman's way because of her inborn kindness towards any race of peoples.

The pleasure he felt seeing the first idiot's face drain of color upon that realization, and the loss of an enormous tip he handed over to her counterpart, had soothed his pique somewhat.

Though his assistant helped the shopping excursion speed by, it wasn't until he left the store that he felt the tension completely leave.

It didn't hurt, Red had thankfully narrowed down his options when he requested Silas raid the safe for some items of interest to Liz.

Matryoshka dolls that belonged to her grandmother had instantly caught Silas' eye. Liz would get a kick out of something so personal being passed down in the family to herself. He knew she would cherish such a gift.

Juggling the bags in hand, Silas inhaled a calming breath, and the smooth, enticing aroma of coffee.

Crossing the street, the man eventually fell into line, perusing the menu available. Scowling at the inflated prices, he sighed, removing his wallet. It seemed like only yesterday it cost pocket change. How the hell long had it been since he was last here?

It was a freaking cup of coffee, for God's sake, not the Russian crown jewels.

Thanking the man for the refreshment, Silas walked on, savoring the hot beverage that had cost him an arm and a leg.

He hadn't walked far when an eerily familiar tune caught his attention, drifting up from one of the bars which were situated in every basement opening lining this street.

He knew the song. An oldie but goodie from his past, wasted youth.

It brought back memories. Some unwanted. Those, Silas filtered out and just stood a moment, listening to the poignant music.

He leaned his bulk against the fencing of a deck which enclosed a small outside café. He had sat at many a similar café with Red, hearing the same song.

I follow the Moskva down to Gorky Park

Listening to the wind of change

An August summer night, soldiers passing by

Listening to the wind of change...

Visions to which the song alluded came at breakneck speed.

It was a different time, a different place.

But even after twenty-five years, very little had changed politically. Just as he and Red suspected, even back then.

It all unfolded as if it were yesterday in Silas' mind's eye.

Memories of those nights filtered past as the song played on...

LIZZINGTON

"What the hell are we standing out here for," Silas bitched, "when we could be in there, where it's warm." He jerked a thumb towards the bar down the steep, dark stairs. "Besides, you told Declan to meet us inside, not outside the bar."

Glancing through the windows at the tv off in the corner of the establishment in question, Red fixated on the small screen. People swarmed the top of a solid concrete wall. The masses were smiling, laughing...but a certain leeriness, long ago shaped, could be felt even through the fleeting images being broadcast.

"He'll find us. Quit your bitching." Red muttered, his attention focused still on the tv. "You slept in the snow and rain the last couple weeks. What's a little cold wind in comparison?"

Sticking a cigarette into his mouth, Silas briskly rubbed his chilled hands together. "It's about time that damn thing came down." He muttered. "It's a fucking eyesore, always has been."

"I thought the graffiti was interesting for the most part." Red said, removing a smoke from the pack. "I wonder how Gorbachev felt about Reagan stealing his thunder?" Shielding the flame of his lighter from the wind, he drew on the filter til the tip glowed. "It's just a show to placate the masses." He said, sticking his hands deep into the pockets of his heavy winter coat. "The KGB will still exist tomorrow...just under a new acronym. You and I both have seen it a hundred times, Silas."

"Yeah," Silas didn't disagree. "Wonder if any Russian ladies are in the mood to celebrate properly?" He grinned slowly, then shrugged. "No more KGB?" The handsome face shadowed. "Makes me sorta sad."

"Different name, same function." Red arched a knowing brow, but in his opinion... FSB didn't have the same panache KGB did.

Both men suddenly tensed, both drawing their weapons, turning to the presence of an unknown danger, their senses alerting them to another's presence.

"Perhaps we are, how do you say it," a swarthy looking man with an impressive stature stepped from the shadows of a nearby alleyway, "turning over a new leaf." His face came into view under the yellowish light of a streetlamp, smiling tightly.

"I prefer the phrase, turning over in one's grave, myself," Silas offered the same insincere smile. "If we're throwing metaphors around, I mean."

Tempering the man's mood, Red gave their adversary a stony look. "What do you want, Vitsin?"

"What we all want," Vitsin spread his hands placatingly, "...world peace, of course."

"Give me a break..." Silas grumbled his disgust.

"No?" Vitsin chuckled humorlessly. "Or, as you have suggested," he said, "nothing has truly changed in the world in which we inhabit." The smile died a natural death. "Which means perhaps, I have come to kill you."

"Leave now or later without your middle toe." Silas lifted his weapon, training the site more accurately.

"You Americans are so territorial, especially when it comes to other's native soil." Vitsin grinned maliciously. "I believe I was here first."

"You want to be here last?" Silas clicked the hammer of his weapon back. "If so, that can be arranged."

"Do you not have control of your man?" Vitsin gestured to Silas. "Is he always this caustic... disrespectful?"

"Caustic? Yes." Red didn't lie. "Disrespect?" He held Vitsin's eyes steadily. "Is in the eye of the beholder in your case."

"We must all learn to relax our vigilance around each other." The smaller man spread apologetic hands. "The Cold War is ending. In a year's time, perhaps we will work alongside each other, amiable companions, similar goals as our objective."

"Then I'll know hell has frozen over." Red could banter with the best of them. "I have business here and I plan to stay until it's completion. You have a problem with that... let me know."

"If I do?" Vitsin lifted his stare, breathing in a calming breath. "You will be the first to know, I assure you."

He turned to take his leave, but something struck him. Vitsin hesitated, seeking out Silas. "You would shoot off my middle toe? Why?" It puzzled and amused the man clearly.

"Think of it as my calling card." Silas smiled pleasantly. "Saves on printing costs and you'd be surprised how quickly word gets around. Especially when some guy hobbles into a bar and relates the gory details of how his accident happened." His huge hands swept a path across the air. "Silas was here!"

"I've seen that written on the bathroom walls." Vitsin held his smile in check.

"Learn to read English properly..." The massive guard sighed heavily. "Those ditties promise that I'll give any discriminating lady a good time."

Vitsin nodded slowly. "This has been an entertaining moment I shall remember fondly." He shifted a stony stare. "Do your business, American. Then leave my country for the next time we meet...matters will not be so cordially handled. My promise."

"You know what amuses me, Vitsin?" Red chuckled mirthlessly. "Little egomaniacal men who think they are more important than they really are in the larger scheme of things. You don't want to really cross swords with the big boys... I promise you that."

Vitsin's smile faded, his eyes turning icy cold. "I will kill you and your massive friend here. Make no mistake about that."

"You've already killed my patience." Silas cocked his head warningly. "Get the fuck away from me before I stuff your little scrawny ass into that wood chipper over there."

"The one that's on sale?" Red had noted the equipment in a shop window across the street several moments back.

"It's a bargain if it lives up to its advertising." Silas nodded slowly, his eyes never once having left Vitsin's face.

Red read the bright red letters aloud. "An entire tree trunk in less than twenty seconds." The man lifted an impressed brow. He glanced up and down their adversary's body. "You won't need the entire twenty seconds, I'm thinking."

"I'll smoke a cigarette afterwards, then." The guard stated quietly. "I liken it to a smoke after a good lay. Savor the moment, so to speak."

Red's lips quirked with amusement at Silas' bravado.

"We will meet again." Vitsin took his leave. "... I am looking forward to the moment."

LIZZINGTON

Silas shook the cobwebs from his thoughts, glancing down to the cold cup of coffee setting beside him. "Well... just fuck." He grimaced his annoyance. How long had he stood here like an idiot? Dwelling on the past?

Did it really matter?

He glanced around at the diners eating their meals. The people walking the streets, talking and laughing, his presence ignored entirely.

Russian people amused him on most days. They took everything in their stride. Nothing much rattled or upset them. Life was what it was.

Silas gathered his bags and moved into the stream of humanity on the busy street. He had places he had to be. He left the cold coffee sitting on the post of the fence.

LIZZINGTON

Arriving at the Blacksite, Red greeted Cooper as he came down the stairs from his office. Guiding McSha to Aram, waiting across the way, Liz left Red alone with Cooper.

"They want to transfer McSha to maximum immediately."

"That's not going to happen." Red vetoed the idea outright. "I gave my word." His expression hardened. "If they plan to usurp that? They can take over this mess themselves. McSha stays with me."

"They're not going to like it."

"Like I said... they can come in here and see how well they do with the ongoing situation as it now stands." Red shrugged his shoulders. "All it means to me is a good night's sleep for a change. Let them take on the stress."

Cooper got on his phone making the necessary calls.

"What have you got?" Red asked as he stepped to Lizzy's side.

"It's useless Red..." Liz shrugged, gesturing to the screen.

Studying the video, Red glanced at McSha to get his thoughts on the matter.

"It's a piece of shit film." McSha said, squinting hard at the grainy image. "We got nothing of value here." he straightened; his face grimly set.

"We know more than we did," Red said. "The guy looks to be six-foot tall, brown hair, medium build..."

"So is he." McSha motioned to Wilson across the way.

"Yes," Red said, "but at least we know we got the wrong guy is we stumble over a blond."

"Not necessarily, lad." McSha cut him a stony look. "I change my appearance with each job."

Red closed weary eyes. "We're back to fucking square one."

Throwing his pen to the desktop, Ressler sat upright, answering his ringing phone. "Agent Ressler?" He responded automatically. He listened, his expression quieting for a spell. "Yes, patch it through. Any related calls, send them my way... always."

Glancing away from the screen, Liz canted a curious head. She questioned Donald with a stare.

"Got a call on the tipline about suspicious activity at an airport." Ressler jabbed the flashing button to allow the call to come through.

"This is Agent Ressler." his tone was professional and crisp. "How may I help you?"

"Now this ain't maybe nothing," Jim Anders began, "but I haven't lived as long as I have without listening to my gut."

"Yes, sir?" Ressler frowned. "May I have your–"

"There's this guy yesterday, see?" Jim continued. "He's tooling around in the bowels of the airport, and he's a nice enough guy mind you," he said, "but something 'bout him got my senses tingling."

"Was there something this man did to gain your interest?" Ressler wanted to know.

"I just said that, boy." Jim scowled. "You not hear me right the first time?"

"Yes, sir." Ressler replied. "I-I meant, what did he do to garner suspicion?"

"You know, after 9/11 and all," Jim continued on, "we gotta keep an eye out."

"Yes, sir." Ressler held his pen to paper, waiting to write down something... anything.

"I just thought, with this guy being Russian and all," Jim said, "maybe he wasn't right, you get my drift?"

"You're basing your suspicions on the fact this man was foreign?" Ressler's scowl increased.

Sighing his frustration, Jim shifted about restlessly. "I don't understand you, boy." He shook a woeful head. "You got someone there that speaks American?"

"Uh?" Ressler pulled the phone away, looking at it queerly. "Yes, sir? Just a minute."

Muting the phone, Ressler held the phone aloft. "He, uh, wants to talk to an American."

Elizabeth held her giggle.

"You do talk funny." McSha offered his own opinion on the matter.

Sharing a quiet laugh with Red, Liz took the phone handed her.

"This is Agent Reddington," Liz smiled, making her voice sound cheerful. "How may I help you?"

Shifting in his seat, Ressler glowered his consternation, still unable to believe Keen had actually married Reddington. He was going to have to pull her aside soon and get to the bottom of what had brought on that fiasco.

And now this farmer hick was accusing him of not being American enough? What was this job coming to?

Shifting narrowed eyes, Red glared at the perturbed Agent, daring Ressler to say one word of what was so obviously on his jaded little mind. Just one...

Sensing the sudden tension between the two men, McSha fought a smile.

"Tis a fight I'd come a long way to see." He nodded sagely. "So, if it's on the horizon, now...you be letting me in on the fact."

Red shifted a confused stare. "What?"

"Ach, the reason is of no never-mind." Sean waved such a silly thing aside. "There are those that need a good smashin' and those that can deliver one. All's I'm askin is, let me be there when it happens, one friend to another."

"Sean, have you been partaking so early in the day?" Red was naturally concerned.

Sean just smiled and settled back, sighing happily.

"I didn't expect to talk to a woman agent." Jim voiced his surprise. "That's okay though. Women, they know things..."

"Thank you, sir." Liz pinched her lips, containing a smile.

"You really should have Americans answer the phone, I'm just saying." Jim offered his two cents. "Makes the public more comfortable when calling in about a possible terrorist."

"I will be sure to pass that on to my superiors, sir." Liz mollified the guy.

"Now, like I was trying to tell the other guy," Jim moved on. "I was talking to the wife last night after she got home," the tale continued. "Muriel, she was working a late shift at the hardware store on account Charlene didn't show." It was patiently explained. "That's why I'm just now calling, you see."

Resting her chin on her fist, Liz settled in for the long haul.

"Anyway, I was telling her about this guy," Jim said, "and that I offered to have coffee and shoot the shit..." he cleared his throat, "pardon my language, miss."

"It's alright, sir." Liz smiled for the man's contrite manner.

"Thank you for your kind understanding," Jim shifted his stocky frame. "Anyway, I told her, Muriel...I said? This guy didn't show like he promised, and said I think it was because he was a Russian... and you know how they are."

"Russian?" Liz sat upright, garnering both Red and McSha's attention. While it could be nothing... it could also be something. Dragging the phone closer, she placed the call on speaker.

"Yes, ma'am." Jim confirmed. "At first, I thought maybe he didn't like what I said about Commies, thinking back on it, and maybe that's why he blew me off," he paused for a much-needed breath, "but after talking 'bout my time in Nam... he seemed to commiserate, which was confusing to me, as you might understand."

"Yes, sir." Liz hung her head, waiting for the punchline.

"So, like I was saying," Jim moseyed on, "I was telling Muriel, that's my wife," he clarified once more, "when I got to thinking 'bout it, when he didn't come for coffee... I thought the guy might have been up to something, being Russian and all." Jim straightened to his full height, which, even at his age, was impressive. "I don't trust them people further than they can spit."

"Why do you think that, sir?" Liz asked. "Did he say something? Or perhaps do something that didn't seem right?"

"See, this is why I asked to speak to an American." Jim approved of Liz's questions. "You understand about foreigners."

"I do, sir." Liz replied evenly, casting a blank stare Red's way.

"Back when I was in Nam," Jim was saying, "You're probably too young to remember, Nam, am I right? You sound young."

"It's true, yes. I was born after the fact, sir," Liz smiled. "I am aware, though, of the action your generation faced. I can't thank you enough for your service." She was more than serious, not discounting the guy's service to his country one bit.

"Thank you, ma'am." Removing his hat, Jim rubbed calloused fingers over his brim, touched by the young woman's respect. "It's rare we're thanked for our service." He said, then cleared his throat.

Allowing the man to gather himself, Liz waited.

"This guy... he was carrying these funny tools I recognized from my time in Nam," Jim carried on. "See, they had these little guys that would go down into the Cu Chi tunnels."

Recognizing the reference, Red sat forward. "Are you referring to tunnel rats, sir?"

"Who are you?" Jim wanted to know. "You ain't that first fella, are ya?"

Ducking his chin, McSha stifled a chuckle at the sour look on Ressler's face.

"No, sir," Red replied evenly. "I'm, uh, Reddington." He replied cautiously. Some inner tick told Red not to lie to this guy about anything. He couldn't have explained it at the time.

"Any relation to the Agent Reddington I was just speaking with?" Jim was curious. "She's a real fine, lady."

"She's my wife, sir." Red remained respectful, even as he narrowed his eyes at Ressler. "And yes, she is a real fine woman."

"That must be nice," Jim said, "working with your wife, and all."

"It is, yes, sir." Red smiled. "It's nice to be with her every day."

"I bet it is," Jim grinned. "Been with my Muriel forty-five years." He stated proudly. "Can't get enough of that woman. Wish I could be with her all day too...time just goes and then...it's gone, you know what I'm talking about?"

"It takes good people to create a relationship that's enduring." Red gave props where it was due. "I hope to create something as long lasting with my wife. And yes, sir. I know how time gets away from a guy."

"You been married long, Reddington?" Jim kicked back, resting in his chair.

"Actually, we just married this past week." Red built a rapport with the guy.

"Oh, well!" Jim brightened, slapping his ball cap on his knee. "Let me offer my congratulations, son!"

"Thank you, sir." Red grinned.

"You ain't on your honeymoon enjoying... some downtime with your lady?" Jim questioned, his tone a censured one.

Enjoying the artfully stated scolding for his apparent oversight, Red barely concealed his amusement, but sobered soon enough.

"No, sir. Work-related issues needed our attention." Red replied truthfully. "We hope to take time soon, though."

"I'll just reckon you do." Jim cackled a dry laugh.

Turning in profile, Liz hid a sudden flush covering her cheeks and the smile playing about her mouth.

"I shouldn't be keeping you so long," Jim had noticed the time. "What with your honeymoon on hold, I'm sure you and the wife would like time together, even if it's just over lunch."

"That is very kind of you, sir." Red focused on the matter at hand.

"So back to what I was saying, this Russian guy wouldn't have roused my suspicions had he met for coffee like he said he would," the man scowled, "and not been carrying what he was."

"You said it reminded you of the equipment the tunnel rats used." Red got back on track.

"Yeah," Jim stroked his jaw. "What a bunch of crazy bastards they were." He scoffed. "What was their motto again?" He thought back. "Yeah, I remember. Non gratus anus rodentum." He laughed, then sobered.

Met with confused stares looking back at him, Red muted the phone to translate. "Not worth a rat's ass."

"I may have thought they were some crazy bastards," Jim muttered, "but it always bothered me they thought their lives weren't worth a rat's ass." He said, confirming Red's translation. "I like to think, though, I misunderstood, and they really meant Charlie wasn't worth a rat's ass." He frowned. "I reckon, though, they were nuts for crawling around in the pits of hell," he granted, "but that don't mean they weren't the bravest sons-of-bitches there ever were."

"I agree, sir." Red did.

"I remember, they'd usually arm themselves with a silenced .38 and a Kbar," Jim shook his head. "Some that had been in country a while though... they weren't all there anymore, if you get my drift." he hung a sorrowful head.

"Yes, sir." Red felt a wave of melancholy those men sacrificed so much and gained so little.

"They knew the tunnels..." Jim continued, "so they'd take wire and explosives to booby-trap the place in hopes of destroying those damned underground cities."

"You believe you saw the Russian carrying similar wire?" Red asked.

"Now, I don't know all the specifics," Jim confessed, "but I do I remember that detonation cord," he could picture it well, "and it was a might different from what I used when I wired my tool shed for 220 here recently."

"Did the wire appear cloth covered, by chance?" McSha broke in. "Were the tips white?"

Leaning towards McSha, Red whispered. "What's the importance?"

"Cloth wire is used for decorative purposes anymore, otherwise it became obsolete in the late sixties due to asbestos." McSha said. "This guy is certainly old enough to remember houses being wired with that shit."

"It's safe to assume it's not something you would see in an airport setting." Red murmured quietly, catching the drift.

"No," McSha confirmed. "If he saw anything like I described, it's not fabric per se... but fiber fabric."

"You ain't Reddington." Jim scowled, interrupting the quiet chatter. "You also ain't American."

"Pardon my rudeness, sir." Red quickly lifted a pacifying hand. "I did not wish to interrupt as you retold the events which took place, for I believe what you are saying is of the utmost importance, so I asked our... explosive expert to listen in."

"He ain't American." Jim reiterated.

"McSha is Irish, sir." Red didn't lie. "Considering the seriousness of your claim, I believed it best to bring in our resident expert who has had dealings with the IRA, of which I know you are well aware... are a dangerous group."

"I do," Jim nodded. "Them Irish, they're a vicious lot... even without the drink. My brother-in-law is Irish, and has a short fuse, if you'll pardon the pun."

Giving the observation credence, McSha merely shrugged.

"It's good to know you're taking this serious like." Jim said. "Now, what'd you ask me?"

"Was the cord covered with what looked like cloth," McSha repeated, "and were the tips white, perchance?"

"Yeah..." Jim said. "Yeah, reminded me of that old wiring we ripped out when we updated the kitchen. You remember that?" He reminisced. "That old cloth covered aluminum shit." He chuckled. "Once we removed it, I stripped it and took it to scrap. It didn't fetch me what copper would have, mind you, but it was a nice enough buck, considering."

Chuckling, Red nodded. "Copper is worth its weight in gold." He knew well enough. Even he had stock in it.

"Don't I know it." Jim laughed. "Now, I know some detonation cord looks like electrical cord... but this stuff..." he said, "it looked like that det cord my cousin used to remove gophers and a couple tree stumps he needed gone before plowing his crops."

Red chortled quietly when Lizzy's eyes widened at the very idea these guys used explosives to blow woodland creatures out of the ground.

"I hate to play devil's advocate, and please don't take offence," Red did consider this could be the break they were waiting on, "but is it possible he was upgrading the wiring?" He said. "They cover some cable in flex."

"No offense taken," Jim assured. "You gotta ask questions, I know that." He said. "I've seen that cable cord the airport uses, and it's black." He remembered when they upgraded it. "What this fella was using was a custard color." He clarified. "He also happened to be wearing a work shirt, saying he was from Franklin's Electric."

Leaning forward, Liz hurriedly began typing in the name of the business.

"Only," Jim continued, "we ain't got no Franklin's Electric within two hundred miles of us, and even then, the name and logo wasn't right." He said, halting Liz in her tracks. "I looked it up last night."

Lifting his brows, McSha left the ball in Red's court on how to proceed.

"Where are you, Mister...eh..."

"I didn't properly introduce myself, did I." Jim sounded contrite. "It's Anders, Jim Anders."

"Where are you located, Mr. Anders?" Red wanted to know.

"Oh, you can call me, Jim. Everybody does." He offered. "I'm down here at Houston Hobby."

"Jim, we're going to send a team to meet you." Red stood, gathering his hat.

"Yeah?" Jim perked up. "So, you think I'm onto something here?"

"Considering your experience, research," Red smiled, bolstered by the guy's ingenuity, "and what you saw, I believe it would be advantageous to check out your concerns, sir."

"Well, alright then." Jim sat straighter in his seat. "You and the wife coming down?"

"We are, sir," Red assured. "We'll arrive in about four hours. Will that be alright with you, Jim?"

"Yeah," Jim said. "I could meet you. What terminal do you think you might land at, you reckon?"

"We'll be flying private, sir," Red replied.

Whistling approvingly, Jim edged out of his seat. "I hear you... gotta keep things confidential like."

"Yes, sir," Red stressed. "So, if you could keep this on the down-low..."

"You can count on me," Jim assured. "Ain't no commie getting nothing from me."

While everyone else might brush off the guy for his supposed intolerant views, Red oddly felt the tension in his shoulders relax knowing without doubt Anders would keep quiet.

Besides, the guy might be retired from the military now, but Red knew Anders could keep a secret better than most. It was something ingrained in a military man from day one.

"We'll see you soon, sir," Red said. "And thank you for the call. It's appreciated."

"You're not really taking this guy seriously, are you?" Ressler frowned as Liz gathered her purse and laptop.

"I am taking him very seriously." Red motioned Lizzy and McSha to proceed him.

"The guy's a little..." Ressler scowled, "backwoods, if you get my drift."

"Be that as it may," Red didn't discount the fact Anders was a good old boy, "something about him rings true. I'm going to check his story out."

"Better than sitting around here with our thumbs up our collective asses." McSha reminded one and all. "That fucking video was a joke."

"I don't know." Ressler still seemed unsure as they neared the elevator. "We should pass this by the higher-ups, I'm thinking."

"Oh, get your head out of your ass, Ressler." Samar passed the guy on her way to join the others. "The higher-ups only impede an investigation. They have not once helped our side out. And you, of all people, should know that."

"It turns me on, darlin... when that sweet mouth says those dirty words, were you aware?" McSha held the elevator door wide for the woman's entrance.

Samar shook her head, but a smile played about that enticing mouth, Sean noted.

"Either join us or not, it's makes no difference to me," Red said as he stepped in behind Lizzy. "If you're going, be at the airport in half an hour."

LIZZINGTON

Walking the concrete corridor, Anton Richter casually glanced around the bustling, but controlled chaos.

Outside the pit, men ran about, moving jet bridges as tug and galley trucks sped by. Luggage handlers haphazardly tossed bags to one another, narrowly avoiding the maintenance crews shuffling around.

It was a rather strange ballet of movement reminiscent of a performance he once witnessed at the Bolshoi. The ensemble pirouetted about in a series of twists and turns, never once impeding the fluid motions of those sharing the stage.

Their practiced movements never faltered. Not one misstep or overstep came from those gathered. It was rather fascinating to watch.

Sounds of airplanes taking off overhead and loud bangs of handlers throwing bags onto ever revolving conveyors echoed loudly down the concrete corridors. Yelling to be heard over the sound of the jets engines and rushing winds, all the voices overlapped one another in a strange cacophony that, when blended together, created a unique hum.

The airport was a bustling city, one he hoped would be crippled by day's end.

Swiping the blonde hair from his forehead, Anton squinted against a rushing burst of air shooting through the opened archways. Leaning into the strong gust, he scowled as a tarp came loose from its anchor and whipped about in his path.

"Damn wind..." The man grumbled.

Lowering the heavy bag to his feet, he tugged the lapel of his polyester work shirt. He grimaced as the stiff patch on his pectoral, one proclaiming him to be a technician of Franklin's Electric, scratched roughly against his chest hair.

How did people wear this shit day in and day out? He had only intermittently wore one the last couple weeks, and his skin chafed.

No never mind. All he had to do was finish the wiring on this job, and he would be rid of the shirt from hell soon enough.

Giving one last look over his shoulder, he found his immediate area clear of any other person. He especially breathed a sigh of relief that old crazy codger wasn't here to meddle in his business.

Pulling the tricks of his trade free, he set about his task, his mind wandering freely as it always did. There was something soothing about working with his hands.

It was such a routine now; he found comfort in the mechanical motions.

"Commie my ass..." Anton disgusted. What was it and that generations need to disparage one another with crude names. "Damn, redneck."

Pausing in his movements, he scoffed, having muttered the derogatory remark. He was just as bad as the ones he derided? What the hell if he was. It was only human nature.

Really, he couldn't fault the old man, or himself. Considering their shared histories with the war, and their uneasy alliance being on shaky ground for years... it was a rather easy habit to fall back on.

If the worst they did to one another was trade schoolyard barbs, could anyone really find fault?

When compared to wars, offensive names were really inoffensive in the grand scheme of things.

It was odd the things that started a conflict.

Generally speaking, normal everyday people were not the problem.

In his youth, he traveled extensively for school and found kind people throughout the world. Didn't matter if they were Brits or Yanks, someone was always around to offer assistance or aid if the need arose.

It wasn't until he grew older, and faced reality, that he learned how the world worked.

Normal, everyday people who went about their daily life were alright. It was corporations and politicians that were the problem.

Everything he did in his life, every job, centered around those entities and the burden they alone created.

When he first began offering his services, the jobs were on an individual basis. An angry spouse or disgruntled employee who wanted a little revenge. A lot of the time, no one died, though the target suffered extensive injuries.

Lately, however, there had been a change in targets and the hiring parties.

Before taking on this job, Anton eradicated a CEO at his beach house after he shortened employees' break times, removed bonuses and barely paid a living wage.

Days later, he was tasked with wiring the golf cart of an offensive Mayor who, in hopes of getting a bump up the political ladder, left those he represented to live in squalor when monies that were supposed to better the quality of utilities... disappeared into the ether.

A week later, he planted a bomb in the offices of a judge who allowed a pedophile to go free to harm again, which he almost did.

In each case, it wasn't an individual, but a group that hired him to make sure all the guilty parties received their just dues.

More often than not, Richter didn't really think about the outcome, only that he did what he was contracted to do. He did, however, take great pleasure in physically restraining the pedophile bastard with personally selected explosive devices just before the evil son-of-a-bitch could harm his next victim.

Anton truly enjoyed the pleading and genuine terror on the bastard's face as he awakened to the fact, he was strapped into bed. The same bed he had defiled so many a young unsuspecting victim, with wires connected to several blocks of C-4. Antiquated, yes...but effective still.

The memory brought a smile to Richter's face.

When all was said and done, the police knew a death had occurred, but not much else.

They were still, literally, sifting through the rubble left behind in hopes of finding anything distinguishable. Maybe once he was done here, he would send them a clue if for no other reason but to put their mind at ease that a perverted scumbag was off the streets...this time permanently and that no fucking judge could ever reverse Anton's decree where the sick bastard was concerned.

At any rate, this time was really no different except an individual hired him, but the man liked to think he was acting on behalf of everyone affected by government bureaucracy and corporate greed.

Richter knew his client was acting out due to his grief, but like the gentleman had said... he wasn't the only one affected. Hundreds suffered the same loss, but only the client had the means to right a grievous wrong.

While his employer wished to eliminate his targeted enemies and hurt them where they would feel it most, the client wished to avoid harming innocents. It would be quite an undertaking, but the challenge presented was an interesting one, and Anton enjoyed challenging himself in any form.

It was easy enough targeting individuals. You could follow them over a couple days, find a routine, and work with it.

This time, he could pinpoint a targeted area, but also needed to minimize the blowout to remain contained to the specific area to minimize casualties.

It would help, too, if he could somehow direct passengers away to avoid the area that shrapnel and the percussion would not harm them.

Simply alerting them over the PA to a technical glitch or a chemical spill shortly beforehand would do the trick. It had worked in several similar situations, after all. People were so gullible...so predictable when working with computerized alerts. They were conditioned to follow commands given.

Early training in school was the beginning for such rote behavior. Americans prided themselves on such drills, to keep their children safe, supposedly. It was, in fact, training them to follow blindly any commands offered over by a mechanical system.

Sad, really.

It was ridiculously simple to hack into any computerized system, especially for a man of Anton's expertise with such things. He was a computer wizard, had been since he was a child.

"It's almost too easy..." Anton muttered as he moved the wiring into place. "When will these morons give me someone worth my time and effort."

LIZZINGTON

Notes:

Sorry for the delay! If there are any mistakes, let me know. The kitten from hell was attacking me throughout editing, so who knows what might be weird.

Song Reference: Wind of Change by Scorpions