Hi everyone, this is my first blacklist fanfic, I just watched all of season 1 and got addicted! I thought for sure that Red was Lizzie's father in the first half of episode one and then I saw the chemistry between the two actors and hoped that wasn't the case. Even though they have a huge age difference, I still ship them and since my favorite actress Katherine Zeta Jones and Micheal Douglass are 25 years apart, the whole lizzington ship was quickly justified in my head. I wrote this on my phone so don't judge me if there are mistakes and please let me know what you think.
There was no way to pin point when it started, no revelation or moment of recognition, it didn't suddenly occur or become apparent but it didn't exactly come out of left field either. It was small minuscule moments, chaste stares and embraces, it was the fluid sound of his voice and the meaning behind his words, it was the small flicker of admiration in his eyes when he starred at her, seemingly undetectable because once you blinked, you missed it. The way he embraced her when she needed comforting, the wise words that escaped his lips, and the feather light kisses into her hair. It was her moments of weakness that resulted in his moments of triumph, because even after all he had done, she still turned to him.
She had spent the majority of her time hating him, wishing he never walked into her life, and blaming him for turning her world upside down, she was so focused on creating barriers between them that she didn't realize that she was becoming dependent on him. Her world revolved around him, and she couldn't remember when she had accepted that fact, when did she become okay with it? And when did she start to become dependent on it?
He was her job, that was what she did, she protected an asset and informant of the FBI, that was her duty and obligation, nothing more and nothing less. But somewhere in between the black and white world she had cultivated, a grey area continued to grow and flourish and she didn't even realize it until today. She had asked him if he was her father, and he had denied it but the question cast a shadow at the back of her mind silently wondering for months until little by little, each passing day the suspicion would get smaller and eventually diminished and then something new crawled up to the spot, something she couldn't even let entertain in her head let alone contemplate with her lips. She couldn't remember when her mind had replaced that suspicion with fear. The fear that he could actually be her father. Because her emotions were tangled in a web of different feelings and hidden truths that she couldn't even understand her self, didn't know how to categorize her feelings for him, there was this thin line drawn between them, and on each side stood two radically different paths, almost perverse because she couldn't remember when she started denying that he was related and hoping that it was the truth.
He said he never lied to her, and that gave her some relief but the uneasy feeling in her stomach made it impossible for her to breathe easily, the possibility of her paternity lingering in the air and making every emotion she felt towards him unsettling and frightening. She didn't know what to feel or how to feel because she had unresolved questions, he kept so many secrets and she still doesn't know how they are connected, and she is not sure that she wants to if it means that the truth is they are related. In the beginning she had even hoped that was the case, that the reason he knew so much about her, the reason he had financed her life, known every intricate detail about her and followed her here was because he was her biological father but now all she could do is hope that she was wrong, and have faith that he was telling the truth.
She couldn't remember when he became more than a job to her, more than a means to an end, more than protocol and procedure, when did she stop looking at him as an asset and when did she start seeing him as a man? She had dismissed the lingering suspicions, the unanswered questions and had successfully put all her feeling towards him in a small neat box, but they had outgrew the box and now they covered far to much surface to be contained until she knew indefinitely who she was to him and who he was to her. She didn't want to know the truth because either way she got burned, it was a catch 22, but either way she felt her feelings were being misplaced and she wouldn't be at ease until he made it crystal clear.
She must have been running on autopilot, because she didn't remember packing up her desk, couldn't remember getting in her car and she had no recollection of the drive she took nor how she made it in front of his safe house.
She knocked impatiently and wiggled the door knob until the rattle could be heard from the other side and the click of the lock echoed in the air, she brushed past Dembe who gave her a curious look, his eye brows knitted but nonetheless he made room for her to enter. She walked into the foyer and into the living room searching for him, she made it past the kitchen and into his study but his absence still lingered. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his fedora placed at the bottom of the staircase, lying right on top the pedestal. She moved in its direction and lightly touched his hat at she ascended the stair case.
"Miss Keene." Dembe called out, "Now might not be a good time, Mr. Reddington is preoccupied."
"This cannot wait." She hissed at him, and immediately regretted being so brass when Dembe had been nothing but kind. She continued her way up but again was interrupted.
"Miss Keene, if you just wait a while, or come back in a little bit, I'm sure Mr. Reddington will make time for you but right now..." He was making his way up the staircase, two at a time trying to catch up with her.
Lizzie ignored his warning and insistence that she come back, her own thoughts had scared her half to death and she needed closure and clarification and she needed it now.
"I'm sorry that I'm going to interrupt his afternoon nap but I'm sure..." Her voice cracked as her hands turned the door knob to his room and gasped at the sight that greeted her.
So many emotions flickered through her eyes, and she was able to reflect every single one except the last one...She could feel Dembe behind her and her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, while her eyes tried to look anywhere but the middle of his room where his bed lay.
Red looked like a deer in headlights, his face showing no other emotion then complete and utter shock though she could of sworn she saw a flicker of guilt before he reached for the sheet and covered himself up while Agent Navabi sunk deeper into the bed and tangled herself into his body and hid her face in the crook of his neck.
"You were right Dembe, this can wait." She said before turning on her heels and walking away.
She could hear Red calling for her, telling her to stay, asking her to wait for him, but she was already too far gone, for the both of them.
Samar chuckled lightly as she searched for the articles of clothing that had been thrown all over the room in the heat of lust and passion, trying to make herself look presentable and leave at his request.
"I feel like your daughter just walked in on us having sex." She said humorously while sliding her pants up.
Red sat at the end of the bed, hunched over with both elbows resting on his knees, he shot her a look.
"She isn't my daughter." He leered.