A/N: Lizzington - No daddygate - English is not my mother tongue, I tried my best though.
There will be topics you might feel uncomfortable - vomitting, excrements things like that. Also, there will be a lot of hurt and dark things - be aware of that.
This is a multi-chapter story and I am currently working on it.
By the way: There will be no sexual content - the M-rating is for everything I mentioned above. But definitely Lizzington. :)

She had been a means to an end.
He´d never intended to see that little girl ever again. The girl he had nearly killed by setting a fire to a man's house he was told needed to disappear. They had betrayed him by not telling him about the child. They had wanted her dead too.
But when the flames had burned his shirt and jacket into his back he had known, that his whole life was burned too by saving a child's one.
Raymond remembered his wife's scared look. He remembered his young daughter's cries when he had told both that he needed to bring the unknown girl to a safe place. He would be back in a week at the latest he had told them, because it was Christmas then and he didn't wanted them scared about his whereabouts at such a time. He had whispered into his wife's ears that he would bring the presents then, which were securely hidden in their car's trunk. Sometimes he could even smell her perfume, mingled with the smell of smoke and burned flesh.
He'd took the small kid in his arms and had told her that everything would be okay. He would save her and bring her to a lovely man who would cherish her so very much.
Her small voice barely reached his ears when she had spoken into his shirt that she didn't want to be without him. She needed him.
For 300 miles he had cried about those quiet words. Had tried to entertain her while tears ran down his cheeks. It had bonded them so strongly that his heart still aches when he remembers her tears strained smile.
It was the first time he met Mr. Kaplan then. A former comrade of his had once told him that if he was ever in need of unofficial help he should call Mr. Kaplan. He couldn't remember if he had been surprised that Mr. Kaplan was a woman.
She had treated the girl's wrist while her other hand had a death grip on his pants.
"My name is Elizabeth Milhoan, Ma'am", she had answered Mr. Kaplan's question about her name. She had spoken carefully and slowly, trying to pronounce her name the right way. Red's eyes closed on their own accord. He had never wanted to know her name. He would never forget her name and cries. "But I like Liz better" She had kept talking and sniffing and had looked up to him, waiting for any response of the man she held on for dear life.
"I think that is a very beautiful name, sweetheart" he had acknowledge sweetly and she had smiled so shyly as if no one has ever complimented on her name. "And I think I like Lizzie even better."
And then he had never wanted her to let go of him. She was so innocent and yet she was in the middle of such a chaotic and dangerous war.
Mr. Kaplan had insisted on treating his severe wounds too. He remembered how she had sat on his lap, had cried with him when Mr. Kaplan had extracted the fabric from his wounds, cleaned them. He had hoped it wouldn't damage her to make such an experience.
It took so much time until they could drive again. Mr. Kaplan had explained his medication, her medication and that he shouldn't drive and needed to rest. He had wanted to ignore it but Lizzie couldn't take any more driving. So Raymond had asked, for the very first time, if Mr. Kaplan knew any place safe where they could stay, only for a night.
She had brought them to a house then, had given them clothes – and he had wondered for a moment how she even came to get them. Shirts and simple jeans for them and food. But neither he nor Lizzie felt like eating.
When he thought back to that night his heart would ache. How Lizzie had seemingly tried to crawl into him. How tight she had gripped the shirt.
He had woken to such a cruel pain. Lizzie had been laying on top of his chest and his back had seemed to be on fire all over again.
She had said she was sorry for hurting him and he had explained that there was nothing she had to be sorry about.
The last part of their trip had gone on easier. They had talked, not much but a little and he had told her about the man she would meet – Sam.
But Lizzie had been wary and never acknowledged anything he had said about her new father.
Sam had been great. Surprised, shocked but had kept himself in check for the little girl. As if he had always expected Raymond to show up with a little girl, asking him to give her a home.
He had stayed for four days and it was longer than he should have.
She had bonded with Sam but not as much as she did with him. She would grasp his hand whenever possible, would be at his side when he woke up in the morning – it hurt him.
"Will you stay, please?" she had asked quietly. He had held her in his arms, trying to say goodbye. "I will be very good."
He had sat her on her new bed then, his hands on her small knees.
"I can't stay with you, Sweetheart" he had started to explain. "I need to go back to my family and Sam will be here and be your new family, ok?" She shook her head, stubborn. "You need to forget me, Elizabeth. I can't be in your life anymore." He had stood then and had expected her tears and cries but not the silence. She had stretched her arms for him but he didn't move.
"You need to forget me."
Her arms fell to her sides.
"I will miss you Mr. Red."
And when he had been back with his family, his car left behind because he never thought about to refuel, he had walked into an empty home. Blood and death.
For a moment he had thought to drive back to Sam. To take his Lizzie and … he realised that he couldn't go back. If they had killed his family, they would want him dead too.
It was the last night he had cried. As if he had spent all his tears that night. For his wife, daughter, his Lizzie.
It took him five years to get the information about his family being in witness protections.
He kept talking to Sam, he never asked but Sam would always talk about Liz – his butterball – and he would cherish everything that is told.
Sam had told him how Liz had asked about her former family. Her life before she came to live with Sam. She couldn't remember Red.
It hurt.
One time it was Lizzie who had picked up and without thinking he had hung up on her. It had startled him so much to hear her voice.
By accident he saw her again when she was working in Baltimore.
He had learned from Sam that she wanted to become a cop and he had to admit that it really suited her. And after Baltimore she went to Quantico. FBI.
For the first time he used his resources to look up on her life. He learned about her struggles, how she had trouble to connect with people. He learned about a man called Thomas Keen. And it changed everything.
Because he could also remember how he had pulled some strings to get passports, documents, even a gun for a man with the exact same face. He could remember people's faces so good by now.
And then he came up with that weird plan in his mind. He could use the FBI to get his business going – to eliminate all those enemies he had listed up in his mind and most of all he could protect his Lizzie like he used to a long time ago.
He could use her for his own agenda and protect her while doing so. What a great way to get what he wanted and on a side note to vanish his guilty feelings about a girl he had once nearly killed.
But when he put his plan into action he never really thought he would fall in love with her along the way. But he did, when he finally stopped to see the little four year old girl but the woman in front of him, that strong willed and beautiful woman.
And sometimes he had entertained the thought that she would feel attracted to him too. When she began to stand or sit closer to him. Would visit him without real reason. The mere chance that she could feel something romantically for him changed him somehow.
But he also noticed how dangerous it was for her to be around him. To get close to her. And it interfered with his need to protect her.
And then he had her nearly killed again and there had been no way he could have saved her then. She would have died – he would have been dead if it hadn't been for Dembe.
He had to get rid of the man they called Concierge of Crime and he needed Liz to forget him all over again, just like her four year old safe had to.
It seemed ages ago when he had slurred to Dembe he would never act on his feelings for her. It would destroy her even more to know that she was loved by a man as destructive and manipulative as him.
Now, he slurred into an empty room that he would never see her again because it will break her to see him crippled and weak, even vulnerable like he was.
It broke him and maybe already killed what was left of the man he once wanted her to see in him.

He is dead they had told her. Those minutes it took Cooper to add "officially" were gruesome and heartbreaking. She had felt that cruel pain and it confused her and somehow killed her too.
It has been his plan all the way. Cooper had wanted to see her reaction, had wanted to find out how much she really cared for a man she used to call a monster.
But her reaction had been so obvious that it had gotten her a two hour talk with Cooper about her professionalism and how dare she would start to care about a man like Reddington.
"Do you love him, Agent Keen?" he had asked bluntly. And she had answered in the very same manner.
"I don't know. What would you feel if someone would go through hell for you?" She had tried to wipe off the tears from her face angrily. "He saved my life and yours and Ressler's and everyone's. I can't make me feel any less for him."
It had been the very first time she had ever acknowledge feelings for a man she wasn't sure she knew. And it scared her. Because she was indeed attracted to him in some strange way.
"I´d like to tell you that your personal feeling don't matter but I can't to that" he had continued with a pained look on his face. "Officially."
He never explained to her what that meant exactly and had begun then to explain what the next steps would be.
Reddington wanted himself to be dead too. And she didn't understood that. It just…didn't made sense at that point. So she nodded and he kept talking how Dembe was now leading the business of Raymond Reddington. How he was the sole heir of all the belongings Reddington had had.
She wasn't mentioned in his testimony.
Dembe would tell them the names and do all the business meetings. Like before but without Red being an active part.
For a long moment Liz stared into space and thought to ask for her resignation. She was pulled into this mess called blacklist because of Red. She had no real motivation to work on it without him. But the investigator, the cop in her told her how egoistic that was.
She had nodded her understanding of the words spoken to her even though she had missed half of it. But they needed to wait for Dembe to get better and eventually for Red too. Only then she had realised that between all the chaos and heartbreak she had never thought about his condition. She had simply assumed that he got out safe.
Cooper showed her the pictures of the hospital, the reports about the condition Raymond Reddington and Dembe Zuma was in she had wanted to scream.
She had been with him when the car had crashed into theirs. But Dembe had been okay as far as she remembered. Blood on his face, and some fingers had been bend in a strange angle.
But Red… Red. It was all she really remembered. All the blood around him and all he had cared for had been her.
Her eyes flew over the photographs and the report.
Broken wrist and nose, bruises and scratches all over his body.
Damaged vortexes. […]No control over lower-body […] limbs. […] paralysed. […] Expected to recover with rehab. […]
And she had thought it couldn't be worse but she saw his back and for a long time after that she had fallen into a dark place.
Cooper had never asked what had her so shocked – he'd only assumed.
She had been suspended two days later and they officially dismissed her a week after that. She became a confidential informant just like Red had been.
Because at the end of the day Dembe Zuma told the FBI that he would only talk to Elizabeth Keen.