Note to self: DO NOT, under any circumstance, use the app to edit chapters or documents. Sorry to anyone that read the unedited version of this chapter. OKAY. Secondly, I am so sorry for the long wait. I has just been one thing after another since I last posted. thank you so much for patience, reviews, favorites, and follows. I am so so so appreciative of the interest in this story. I hope you enjoy this chapter, since it gave me a bit a grief (3,000+ words were just sitting here wanting to be finished). I kinda went through a period of immense turmoil over...well...everything. I hope you guys enjoy it, and I am beyond grateful for your patience (I said that already but I'm serious haha the guilt is real).

As Liz exited Red's room, she could feel Dembe's quiet frown trailing after her. Knowing that she shouldn't have, Liz looked back once to give him a nod in confirmation, but to confirm what, she didn't exactly know. Yes, here I go to discuss my reappearance with the doctor who helped dupe your good friend. Yes, we're once again going to talk privately without your company. Yes, my co-conspirator is freaking out. Yes, I think I am still the person I was when we decided that ill-conceived attempt at escape. Yes, you are totally right not to trust me.

The only respite from Dembe's heavy look, and the immense weight of the guilt it placed on her shoulders, was found in the cutting stress of Nik's voice once he'd led her to the very room where Rosa had given them her worrisome update on Red's condition. Once he looks back down the hallway to see if they'd been followed, an action that irritates Liz on the spot no matter how founded his paranoia, her ex shuts the door and faces her with what she can only describe as panic.

"Are you kidding me?" As a troublemaker, Elizabeth had learned early on to take a deep breath when faced with an impending accusation; knowing that if she had prepared herself for a raised voice, the raised voice had less of an effect on her defensiveness. It wasn't a practice she had employed in a long time, but after a day that involved the revelations, dangers, and heartache that hers had, she was resorting to her base-self; the core of which felt more familiar and less frightening than all the other pieces of armor she had donned to separate her life from Reddington's.

I got used to that life, thrived in that life. And it still terrified rush, the fun, the affection she harbored for him in those moments between freaking out and getting away, the undeniable and unavoidable intimacy she didn't have to dodge, an intimacy that-

"What? You're not going to answer me?" Liz watched Nik pace away from her, his hands up in the air before he made an about face near the door to come storming back towards her; taking up residence in her space the way he had when he nearly refused to take the bullet from Red's chest a year or so ago. "Did you know he kidnapped and interrogated me after we did what we did? For a whole day, I sat in a chair convinced he was going to kill me." Nik's voice broke, and Liz felt her eyebrows draw together in concern, picturing Red seated across from Nik with that cold determination she observed while on the run with him.

"We went over your death a dozen times before he came to the conclusion that there was nothing different that I could have done to save your life. I lied the whole time to keep you safe, and here you are next to the man you wanted so desperately to get away from?!" He looks at her as if she's going to help him makes sense of it all, and Liz has it in her to grimace a little. What was there to say?

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, and I'm grateful for what you did, but-"

"But, nothing, Liz!" He practically hisses the words at her as he stands there, crossing his arms over his chest tightly as he leans forward. There's a terror in his eyes that seems magnified ten-fold compared to the conversation she'd had with him when Tom had been shot. When I saw someone who felt just as trapped as I did then. "I risked my life for you for nothing. Was interrogated for nothing. And Mr. Kaplan? Where is she? Why isn't she here? Because I haven't spoken to her in about two weeks, and she said that she would call if something was going to go wrong. She said she would get me out."

"I don't know where she is." It was a question she had been asking herself since Red brushed off her inquiry in the graveyard. Where's Mr. Kaplan? What have you done with her? Red had conveniently sidestepped that conversation by bringing up Agnes. Smoke screened by her ultimate kryptonite, she'd forgotten- no, scratch that- she hadn't had the time to ask him about Kaplan again since then. He couldn't have killed her. This was Mr. Kaplan they were talking about. They had a history. A long, sordid history. They trusted one another, cared for one another. He couldn't, he wouldn't-

"I don't want to die, Liz." Nik moves to the very chair she'd been sitting in earlier, and she turns to watch him. There was a point to all this, there had been a point to all this, and now it seemed like a childish ploy. A terrible game of hide and seek. The failure of their attempt to get away from this life, the pain she'd brought to her team, to her friends, to Red...It's because of who I am. Liz clenches her fists and walks to Nik. She crouches there and takes his shaking, sweaty hands in hers.

"I won't let him kill you." Nik scoffs in reaction, trying to see if she's serious about her promise. She knows that he isn't stupid. Nik is aware of just how much Red is willing to do for her. "And I would tell you to get the hell outta here, right now, but I need you to stay." Nik didn't seem to be the kind of man to worry about what might happen if he left, and he seemed to be in it for himself and the money regardless of his ability to save people's lives. Liz is all too aware that Red had only been alive to trade himself for her today because this man in front of her was paid handsomely to dig a percussion-cap bullet out of his chest.

"You actually want me to help him, don't you?" She stares up at him from her crouched position, and squeezes his hands a little tighter; catching his eye with an earnest worry blossoming in her chest. There's too much to think about right now. One thing at a time, that was how she was going to get through this without going insane. Just one thing at a time. And that one thing happened to be Red's health and safety. He saved my baby and traded his life for mine.

"Yeah, I do." I can't just walk away, now. Somewhere, there is a wise, old man working diligently from the shadows, an old man that told her that she should do just that, if she knew what was good for her. And you would keep walking. Nik's face is a mask of exhaustion, the stress he exhibits making the room seem jittery and her close proximity to him makes her feel restless. He stares at her as if she's insane, but she can tell he's resigned to it; empty and drowning in the insanity of this life.

"You need to make up your damn mind, Liz." It's a muttered thing that makes her defensive, and she stands, feeling drained and numb with no where to turn. Red. Agnes and Tom. Kaplan. Nik. Dembe. Baz. My Team. Kirk. My mother. Her list seemed to get bigger as she stood there watching Nik get his feet under him again and check his watch. He turns towards her, and Liz realizes that, since leaving Red's room, the fear has never really left his eyes. "Look, after this? I'm done. You tell him that for me. Cause I don't ever wanna hear from any of you again."

Drowning men always bring someone down with them.

That is all she can think as she ignores the vibrating phone in her jacket pocket and watches Kirk through the glass surrounding his room. It's almost the same as Red's except the equipment is notably different, and Kirk's lungs don't have fluid in them, and Kirk didn't need someone to shock his heart, and he didn't need to be on oxygen to breathe.

And, and, and. In fact, the man looked to be doing a far cry better than he had been when they all left that Godforsaken garage. His color was back, and though he was sleeping, his body seemed relaxed and comfortable. Which was more than Liz could say about Red.

Drowning men always bring someone down with them.

If it wasn't for Red, it would have been her that Kirk brought down with him. If it hadn't been for Red, Kirk would have likely taken her child from her, as well; a thought that she could not breathe against the magnitude of even after Agnes had been safe at home. She had been so blinded by the hope of her past, her true past, that she had fallen for a ruse. A ruse he probably fell for as well. For the man lying in the bed before her had seemed so desperate to believe a lie, so damaged by the truth, that no such emotions could be faked for someone's benefit. Could it? She knew very well that who she came from and what happened didn't necessarily make her who she was going to be or change the reality of what she was in the middle of but...At least I would know why this is all happening.

Folding her arms across her chest, Liz catches a bit of her reflection in the glass. Tired, disheveled, stressed... God she really needed to change her clothes, take a shower, go home, hold her baby girl... But home consisted of a small room built inside a warehouse, with armed guards and verified entries, and a bed for one that she and Tom shared, and she could hardly handle thinking of all the little things she had to square away about her life since finding out she was pregnant, let alone take a decent shower and nap. There was Red's condition to worry about, Kaplan's whereabouts, keeping Nik safe, talking to Tom and the team, being a new mother, worrying about the future, if Kirk would stay in it, how Red would react, if he would forgive her, if anyone would ever forgive her...If I really want forgiveness...

Liz drags a hand down her face, tries to shake some of the dozens of things she had to do from her mind. She lifts her face to the ceiling and closes her eyes; feels the tense muscles in her neck stretch. The memory of standing before her and Tom's old brownstone after Red killed a man for her in Wujing's bunker, after she read the ballistics report from Tom's gun. I had a life. People who cared about me. Friends to drink with. She doesn't know how she lost all that...or, more specifically, when she had lost it.

When she opens her eyes again, Kirk is blinking at her from his bed, and she can't help the way the muscles in her back tense. He doesn't seem to have noticed the way she startled, and she wonders if it's because he doesn't care anymore or if he's pretending for her sake. Either way, it doesn't matter. His arm rises and he beckons to her, a small smile on his face, and Liz feels her jaw clench in response.

Just hours before, she had threatened to kill him if he didn't tell her what she wanted to know in order to help save Red's life. Just hours before, he had let slip the information about Red nearly being burned alive. Just hours before, he had been holding her at gun point. And just hours before I watched Odette jump off a pier because of what their lives had become in his pursuit of the truth.

She glances at Dr. Shaw who has been dividing her attention between the computers at her work station and the lab set up behind it. The woman seems oblivious to her. Considering how hard the doctor is working, Liz has to wonder what's in it for her. And, not for the first time, she wonders what deal Kirk and Red made for the two of them to survive the grudge match that ensued earlier. Because of me. Because of my mother. Because of my father.

"Can I go in there, or is he like," Dr. Shaw swivels in her chair to look at her and Liz waves her arm at the glass and Kirk's general set-up next to his bed. "Not well enough for that?"

"It should be fine," She gestures to the alien algorithms, DNA sequencing, and charts that she's been contemplating and smiles. "See this? It means that, essentially, the procedure will work like it did for my previous patient." Liz isn't sure how to feel about that, nor is she sure that Red should be granting Kirk this miracle when he himself had suffered so terribly.

"He'll have the entire rest of his life to look forward to after this. Thanks to Mr. Reddington, I suppose." There's something pretentious in the doctor's voice that makes Liz feel cold, and instead of saying anything, she simply nods and enters Kirk's room; thoughts of prices, sins, and Red's willingness to absorb the misdeeds of others clogging her brain.

"Masha," He seems far away. His eyes are glassy, his smile soft and tired. Liz's eyes glance at the IV bags hanging beside his bed and she identifies medications that she recognizes as painkillers. Among them are fluids to hydrate him and bags of blood for transfusion. She stands at the foot of his bed, her arms still crossed loosely over her chest.

"I don't know what to do about you." Her voice is quieter than she would have liked. It lacked the punch and the ferocity from the last time they spoke, and she wonders why she can't get those two things back; why she can't be furious at him, why her irritation at him calling her Masha seemed a half-hearted grievance within her. Flailing, that's what I'm doing. I'm flailing.

"I don't like that you call me Masha, and I know we knew each other from before...I know you were there sometimes, that my mother made you believe I was your daughter, but I-" She just wanted to make sense of what she remembered. Even after reading her mother's journal, she could hardly comprehend the sheer intricacies of her past in connection to Katarina and Kirk and Red. It's a puzzle missing all the corners and the very middle and without the corners or the center... How was she ever supposed to piece it together and see the whole picture?

"It's just as hard for me to hear you call me anything but 'father'." His face seemed pained, but relaxed at the same time, like his grief was as much a part of him as his longing for the past and the happiness those memories had brought him. Except, part of his attitude felt disingenuous when the impetus to know her seemed also to save his own life. "I don't think I can separate the past with what we now know. To me, you will always be my little girl, whether you accept it or not. I lived it, Masha. For a short while...I lived a life in which I was your father."

"I know," She snaps at him, her jaw clenching as drops her hands and grips the railing at the foot of his bed. Her thoughts are suddenly filled with memories of Sam and their life; of boats and camping and laughter and how precious her childhood had been because of him. Did I forget you? Would you have understood? Of course he would have, and he would have known exactly what to say to make this all better...to make it clearer. "I get it, alright?" She bows her head and forces herself to take a deep breath, hoping it would make her feel calmer.

"I'm guessing you didn't just come here to tell me that you feel conflicted about your name." She lifts her eyes from her knuckles and stares at him. His lips are quirked, his eyes softened, as if to coax her courage out from within her.

"No," She says, after a moment's hesitation. There was a part of her that didn't want to ask him anything. Part of her didn't want to know. Part of her needed today to have never happened. She swallows and, despite her need to look unaffected in front of him, she takes another deep breath. "You were going to give Red the antidote when we got there. You had it in your hand...you-" She finally meets his eyes, and she studies the blue in them. Now that she wasn't seeing what she so desperately wanted to see...his eyes were paler than her own. "You were going to help him...why?"

He's quietly studying her, and maybe she's imagining it but it looks like he's holding his breath. For half a second she believes he isn't going to give her anything, that he's going to withhold things now that he knew she wasn't his daughter. There was nothing between them for him to gain. But he surprises her and, instead of clamming up, sighs, "I already told you. I was going to help him because we had a deal, and because he told me what I...needed to know."

"What you needed to know? You tortured him for information." She pushes away from the end of his bed, crosses her arms in front of her, and begins pacing before him; her steps are thoughtful, but there's an energy coursing through, nervousness and dread leaking out of places she swore she'd sealed tight, as she weighs everything she knows about Red and how he operates. About secrets, lies, and the things we tell ourselves. "So what is this? You think you broke him?" A laugh punches out from the back of her throat; butter and arrogant at the thought of Kirk prying anything useful from Red's lips.

"He told you exactly what he wanted you to hear and nothing else." It's a familiar and resounding answer from her own thoughts, from too many tastings of that particular medicine, and the silence that sits in the room after makes her wonder if she's given away something she can't get back.

"That may be," She sees him shrug in the reflection in the glass and Liz finds herself crossing her arms tighter, frustration building up within her. "But I tortured him because I thought he was the reason for my grief all these years, for my pain..."

When she turns to face him again, her eyes drop to where his hands link together over his stomach. It's not uncharacteristic of him to appear so poised. Even under duress when she had shot him and brought that plane down he was patient and calculative; waiting to see how things played out.

"I was going to kill him, let him suffocate, as it were, but just as I was about to do it, he gave me the information that would ultimately save his life."

"And that was..?" She feels a plunge in her stomach just then, as if the answer was going to topple her and clear away the shadows she's thrown up around her like walls to keep out the light of the truth. He gives her a soft smile, the kind that knows too much and seems floored by the avenues that knowledge opened up. She suddenly finds herself wanting to take the question back.

"Undeniable proof that he isn't your father." She stands there staring at him, mouth slightly agape. There's a small thrill of fear in the back of her throat, the kind she got the first few times when Tom would stare too long at Agnes, the kind she got when she watched Red walk into the room and glance at the empty crib the day before they got Agnes back. It was the kind of terrible breathlessness that came in the silence after she accused him, terrified, of lying to her about her father's death, about his relationship with her mother, and his consistent I have never lied to you. It had been more than she could say for herself.

"And, what, it's over just like that?" She wanted to dance away from whatever Red told him in order to survive. There was a fine line that she and Red had drawn in the sand the day they spoke of her pregnancy, and though she was absolutely certain that such a line had already blown away, she wasn't eager for it to be thrown in her face by a man who was still a stranger. He knew nothing of her life. He knew nothing of the things Red has gone through in the last few years, let alone the last twenty or so. And while she can't boast of her own knowledge of the particulars, there is enough knowledge to make her defensive.

"Well, there were the medical perks to think about." His eyes are alight with humor, and Liz can feel the edges of her own crinkle in suspicion. He's teasing me. But then it slides away and Liz finds herself staring at the expression of the man that had brought her to the Summer Palace, that had tried to coax her into remembering and embracing a past only he recalled. "Besides, I know what it's like to a live without the opportunity to watch your daughter grow. I can think of no finer vengeance than what you've done to him."

Like I said before, so so so sorry for the wait! I already have the next chapter somewhat finished since I cut this one in half, but I'm revising a bit of it, so that should be up by Tuesday or Wednesday. It's the chapter that wouldn't end hah Thanks for reading :)