This is an AU story filled with introspection that popped into my head. It's a little melancholy to begin with (and maybe ongoing) – don't say I didn't warn you xx I guess I wonder if Lizzie would feel alone and maybe a little abandoned if Red leaves for longer than we imagine. What if it's all too much change and she digs her heels in?
I've written a couple of other fanfics under a different username but wanted this to stand alone for now xx
She woke chilled and alone. Somehow the early morning always caught her unaware. With the harsh light of dawn come the memories of her life, her broken marriage and her shattered dreams.
She lays still, the peace of the night dissolving in the light of the day. At first it's always gradual but then the levee breaks and her sorrow rushes in.
He left 10 months ago. Her husband 8. She wonders where the time went, knowing she's coasted these months. But as the pain reaches its bitter crescendo and tears escape the corners of her eyes, she welcomes the numbness that replaces it. She knows it's wrong but it's better to feel nothing than to feel everything. It's the numbness that makes the days liveable, it's the lack of feeling that lets her work, move and exist. It may only be a shadow of a life but it's all she's got and it's all she's capable of.
Slowly she rises from her bed, making her way into the day. She puts on a good show. There's maybe only one person alive who could see past her false visage, but that person is missing from her life. She has a personal and professional need to find him and yet he evades her. He is purposely leaving her alone. She knows in her head why he's doing this but her hollow heart can't understand. The longer he stays away the more adrift she feels.
She hasn't told anyone how she feels but if she had to put it into words she'd say that she was now living a life without music. Once there was richness and beauty and now there is only emptiness and desolation. The worst of it for her is that she didn't appreciate, didn't know, what she had. The last time they spoke she was so busy looking for answers she neglected to thank him, forgot to express any warmth, any emotion besides confusion and bewilderment at her past and their dangerous present.
So she goes back to the Post Office and continues the futile task of searching for Raymond Reddington. 10 months of looking, 10 months of false leads and crushing disappointment. 10 months of waiting, wanting him to come back into her life.
Weekly she subjected to the mental and emotion prodding of an FBI psychiatrist. She isn't alone, the whole team (what's left of it anyway) were subjected to this following the turbulent events 10 months ago. Within weeks she and Ressler were the only ones still being seen. Now, months later, she alone continues. She knows it's because she hasn't opened up, hasn't made progress but it's just another humiliation, another isolation.
"Agent Keen" Dr Jacobs says, greeting her warmly. She's got to hand it to him, he never lets his frustration show, even in the face of her blatant hostility. Over the months she's become less hostile but no more forthcoming. Sometimes she thinks it's because there's nothing to tell and sometimes it's because she doesn't know where to begin.
"Elizabeth, let's pick up where we left off last week, shall we? You were telling me about your relationship with Raymond Reddington" The doctor begins.
Elizabeth would laugh out loud if that weren't something she'd forgotten how to do. She can't help the look of incredulity that touches her eyes, her lips. She's never answered anything more than basic questions about Red and he's alluding to more. She doesn't respond. She briefly wonders how long she can keep this up before she's suspended or dismissed from the bureau altogether. She knows it's probably inevitable.
She's changed over the months, Red leaving was the catalyst and the truth about Tom was the nail in the coffin. She was fooled into believing he loved her; she married him, shared a bed, shared every intimacy, shared her nightmares and dreams of a family. It mocks her now, the past. Red knew all this, knew about Tom and their sham of a marriage. He knew she'd been played and he knew why, and she remains in the dark about much of her own life even now that its fallen apart.
Dr Jacobs speaks again, dragging her painfully into the moment, "perhaps you'd like to tell me something about Reddington that I don't know. How he got to know so much about you. What caused you to open up to him Elizabeth?"
Her head is full of thoughts of Tom and her cheeks burn with the shame. She's flustered by the question about Red and the supposed intimacy implied there. It's this that causes her to snap and finally give an answer about more than the superficial, "I didn't open up to him, Red has a persistent inquisitiveness that wears a person down".
To his credit the doctor doesn't so much as blink in surprise when he finally gets an answer from his most reluctant patient.
"How so Elizabeth?" He tries to encourage but knows the less he says the better.
Elizabeth looks out of the window. She watches the world and the distant sky passing by for sometime before she speaks, "he gives me space." She begins then pauses, "not always physical ... but when we're talking he allows a silence that he means for me to fill. At first I wasn't sure what it all meant but I learned what to do over time". She stops again, her trance like stare into the distant continuing. "He listens, and when it's necessary he listens to the silence and hears the story there too."
She stops then, numb and lost. She thinks Toms leaving was a betrayal but Red's was like a death. One she hasn't grieved for and for which she can find no cause. Maybe that's why his departure hit her harder. She's says little of significance the rest of the session. She wonders if she ever will again.
As she leaves, the doctor says he'll see her again the next week. She smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes and his frown continues long after she's shut the door and returned to her duties.
Dr Jacobs updates his records on Elizabeth Keen. He wonders just how well she's coping with her life. There are so many questions he has for her but she seems to have so few answers. He wonders why she didn't change her name after her husband's departure and the subsequent uncontested dissolution of their marriage. He wonders why she continues to work at the Post Office given that her education and FBI training mean she'd be more suited, more comfortable perhaps, elsewhere. Most of all he wonders if she'll ever realise or acknowledge the feelings she had obviously developed, and now so readily suppresses, for Raymond Reddington.
Back at the Post Office Elizabeth works steadily alongside Meera Malik and Donald Ressler following up countless leads. In spite of any reluctance on her part, and despite all lack of effort from her and Donald the three of them have grown closer, bonding over the mystery of Reds disappearance and their joint determination to track him down.
Frequently the other two leave to track down a lead or on a Reddington related mission, unfortunately she hadn't yet been cleared for such active duty. She still hadn't grown accustomed to the frustrating hopelessness that sets in during their absence. She works longer and harder during such times, trying to justify her place in the team.
No matter how deep they dig they never seem to get any closer. When the long work day ends they frequently make their way to some bar or to Meera's apartment, continuing their conversations about leads or potential Blacklisters that might be withholding information. Elizabeth thinks Donald could be the key, since he's hunted Red for years. But he's convinced she has the answers, since it was her Reddington summoned when he surrendered to the FBI. Each night ends with the same frantic silence.
Life continues much as it has for the last 10, now almost 11 months. Elizabeth works long hours and makes her compulsory weekly trips to Dr Jacobs. She not as closed off to him as she was, the little she let slip proved cathartic, yet still she's reluctant to divulge the depth of her feeling. Mostly she's aware that she trusted a man, her husband, a wolf in sheep's clothing and she doesn't want to have to explain how she could also have trusted another man, so dangerous that he doesn't bother with a disguise. Nor can she explain why the absence of such a man has caused her this all consuming misery.
If he were ever to return, what then? She can't trust him. 'Criminals are notorious liars', she hears him say, the sound of his voice in her head acting like a jolt of electricity. No, she can't trust him. She's already been taken in by someone she cared about. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. She's searching for a man who doesn't want to be found. A man who, if she finds him, she doesn't want. The irony of the situation is not lost on her.