"The future holds such promise. The past, so many regrets."
CHAPTER ONE
Her tenure as Kirk's hostage opened Elizabeth's eyes.
Despite providing destruction and a sense of safety in seemingly equal measure, Red wasn't at all to blame for what she deemed wrong with her life. Biology instead – who she was, who her parents were as well as what they were – was the culprit. The set of circumstances which resulted in their paths converging was not.
I know you're afraid, sweetie. You should be. Agnes will never be safe in Raymond's world.
Hindsight offered the benefit of seeing 20-20. With perfect detail, the events of that day, the day in which her daughter was born and she participated in the ultimate deception, appears in her mind's eye. She recalled the elder woman approaching her bed side, explaining the particulars of her plan that would in effect forever extricate her from Red.
How could she forget the way he availed himself, his resources, without a moment's pause in order to both restore and repair her standing in the world?
At the time, she felt trapped, backed into the corner with no escape route. Everyone was advising her to run without outlining why or presenting anything concrete as to how getting away from Red was not only an answer, but also THE answer. Between Agnes coming into the world, finding a way to move forward with Tom however ill-advised, and the question of who contracted Solomon, before her was a sense of disconnect.
The one thing she could grasp was the same variable she was told to run from.
If not for Red, she would either be in prison or dead. In spite of the many incomplete truths, that was the one, single truth deserving of consideration – of her consideration. He always advised her not to run, but to fight. Simultaneously, he promised more so than simply reassured her of his presence should the obstacles prove too much for her to tackle independently, raising a key issue.
Apart from Sam, only Red exhibited faith in her, in her capabilities to fend for herself. His confidence in her was natural, instinct serving as the roots.
Running was beneath her, she imagined him saying.
That his esteem for her wasn't coerced or a consequence of some sort distinguished Red from Kirk who from the onset manipulated events, distorted the truth in an effort to make himself appear innocent or victimized. He lacked any concept of the facts, inventing rather than reliving events. By contrast, Red offered truths in facets which would always be preferable – more valuable – she realized than none.
He was better than in part because he didn't put on heirs or make apologies for himself.
She admired Red's ability to exhibit comfort, confidence, in rather extreme circumstances.
After her retrieval from her childhood home, a decoy no less, she tried reaching out to Red only to be met with nothing. Never before had she experienced a silence so deafening. It was rather loud actually. Not even Dembe who was always gracious and a gentleman much like the man who was more so a father than a brother regarded her with kind eyes. Between the two, he was colder toward her. She could tell that Baz was unsure of how to proceed other than to continue monitoring and overseeing a protection detail.
It wasn't until he escorted her through the makeshift home Red established for Agnes and Tom following her faux death that the gravity of the preceding months hit her.
As far as I'm concerned, some things are unforgivable.
He was generous to a fault, and cruelty was her method of repaying that kindness.
He didn't deserve the brunt of her frustrations no matter how capable he was of withstanding the onslaught. More to the point, the moment she agreed to go along with Kate's plan, she wasn't the only one deprived of light or the hope stemming from it. Red himself lost that as well as trust which, given the environment he operated in, isn't a regular form of currency.
It was rare and pure and existed both in the context of their relationship and with the select few he reserved a place in his heart for.
Picturing Kate brought more discomfort to an already messy situation. As distant and cold Red was toward her, she couldn't allow herself to fully ponder what he would do – or, as it turned out, had done – to her. Nor did she blame him either.
Instead of detracting the misery, more was created.
More lives were endangered because she didn't think for herself. She let others make the decisions for her. Lizzie wanted to fix the damage, repair what she broke, but she didn't have the slightest idea of how to go about accomplishing that. In the weeks that followed, the landscape didn't offer much in the form of solutions either. Instead, she reminded herself that while not a luxury there was time – she could make amends.
The problems continued to mount.
One recovery mission evolved into two.
Her colleagues were tolerant of her presence. In the beginning, it was hard to get a good, solid read on their interactions since the routine consisted of taking the documents she prepared per the information provided by Red and delegating functions accordingly.
Speaking of Red, he flinched whenever she touched him. She got the impression that just being near her was painful not only emotionally, but also physically. He rarely looked her directly in the eyes. Instead, he looked everywhere but at her. If she didn't know better, she would presume he was scanning the perimeter which she couldn't argue with as threats were always around the corner.
To ever let one's guard down spelled trouble.
Red would give her the name of the week's blacklister followed by any other details whether they were relevant to the case at hand or not and then with Dembe depart in their Mercedes quickly. Asking to accompany him when he traveled was futile, so after the first couple of attempts she stopped, resigned to waiting for Nick's Pizza to appear on her caller ID.
Today, her fear for him amplified with concurrent operations and his taking point in Slovenija, more specifically a villa managed by one of Kirk's subsidiaries that would be pristine for hiding a child. To be on the sideline for an event as critical as recovering Agnes was incredibly difficult, but why run the risk of increasing the torment for either of them by arguing?
The two of us have overcome so much.
We can do this – you and I.
What of betrayal? Was that something they could overcome?
She once described him as the bane of her existence, and that was true up to a point. Beneath the confident exterior was a man as broken as her, vulnerable and struggling to find his footing, to claim or reclaim balance, in a world that transformed him into a harder person. She wondered if there was a kind of recognition when meeting his reflection in the mirror.
Could they move forward?
Progression all around hinged on Agnes's survival.
Simultaneously, as the tension escalated between herself and Red, her standing with Tom deteriorated. It was risky in every sense to offer 'better days' as a description. Their rather tenuous standing could be chalked up to both worrying about Agnes's welfare except that was only part of the story. Compounding the concern was having all of those old warnings on repeat.
In increments, they started to manifest.
He's reckless, dangerous. He's not worthy of being your husband, and he sure as hell isn't worthy of raising that child.
You were wrong about him once. What makes you so sure you're not wrong this time?
Maybe she could reach a point of acceptance once, but that wasn't the case now. With her child's life at risk, there was no room for mistakes. Who knew that better than either herself or Kate? After awhile, you come to realize convincing yourself that a particular stance is valid doesn't then make it true.
Misdirection guised as hope for more simply isn't enough.
It's far from that in fact.
At some point, everything warrants consideration, even the aspects one is more inclined to deny or ignore out of fearing their confrontation. Why? Because the world isn't one-dimensional. It isn't even two-dimensional. It's multifaceted, and the acquisition of more requires reciprocity as opposed to finding comfort in fixed points.
It wasn't enough that he not expect but demand total truth from her while deflecting the consequences of decisions he made, recovery operations of his own that failed, onto Red, and she didn't hesitate to challenge him in either that regard or what precipitated her tenure in Cuba.
The so-called chains they sought a reprieve from weren't crafted by Red. Rather they were crafted by self-deception, a whim to actualize a fantasy no matter the cost.
I'm walking in a park with my husband. In between us is our little girl. I'm holding her hand in mine, and I never let go.
Could anything of her and Tom's creation ever blossom into the normalcy she craved?
I understand what it's like to be drawn to something that is unhealthy, to a part of yourself that you are afraid of.
She was certain that Tom cared for Agnes. The uncertainty was whether he loved her. She wanted to believe that he did, but the margins of that actually being the case were slim. Unlike her, he had no concept of love. It was something he had to feel his way through, she concluded. It was a factor she could accept if not for compromising her own sense of integrity in the process by choosing Tom, letting him in.
Never mind the ramifications on womankind.
What kind of example was she setting for her daughter?
What was she teaching her about relationships, what to look for in a partner and ultimately seek or aspire for? As important as it is to sacrifice, doing so isn't worthwhile when your hopes and ambitions are left unsatisfied, your life and sense of self fractured.
Do you really want your child to pay the price for that mistake for the rest of his or her life?
Everything was a lie! My life was a lie! Every feeling, every memory...
She may have been in the dark for so long about many things, but on one she was resolute.
A Red-less future wasn't in the cards, not for her or for Agnes.
Of the two men in her life, one evoked a sense of obligation and entitlement whereas the other personified the contrast, an unparalleled selflessness tempered by insecurity and a desire to prove he was worthy. In reality, it was her that felt undeserving of him.
Therein was the ultimatum.
All she asked of the man whose last name she kept was a morsel, an indicator, that co-existence was in the offering. Despite the frequency in which she must have disappointed Red, he always came through for her without demanding anything in return.
From her vantage point, the choice was an easy one.
It was simple and clean – linear. Of course Tom didn't share her stance, postulating that only a fool would continue to trust Red. He then spoke of Scottie, connecting with her, and being extended an invitation to join her contingency on the opposite coast.
"I'd rather be a fool and pursue what I want on my own terms than anyone's puppet."
With minimal deliberation on his part, Tom gathered his things and organized them between a pair of duffel bags. She closed her eyes as he approached her, swallowing as his lips met her forehead for what she hoped was the last time.
"Goodbye, Liz."
Soon after, she heard the door draw close. Again, she was alone.
What was she supposed to feel?
All she could do was pace back and forth, worrying the scar on her palm and looking between the floor, the walls, and her cell phone deposited on the corner desk. Per ritual, Morgan dropped by, leaving several dishes for lunch and dinner, but she couldn't eat.
Hearing his voice and being reunited with her daughter.
That's what mattered.
Four hours later, the call came.
