*My* Reddington?

Disclaimer: The Blacklist is not mine. None of these characters are mine. Not even the general storyline and some of the actual TEXT in this one isn't mine. This is the heftiest disclaimer that ever disclaimed.

Author's Note: This is one hell of a plot bunny that came up in a gutterbug chat today. What would happen if Liz had been the one who watched Reddington for years without his knowledge? How would the show be different? What could stay the same? Would it still be compelling if the unrequited love was all on the side of the younger female character? ...I decided to do some mental gymnastics and find out.

Fair warning: This chapter is plotty, because the Pilot episode was plotty, and this is the Pilot. Like, very, very similar. I've got lots of differences planned, but the beginning of this show was necessarily thick with exposition, so this fic has to be, too.

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Chapter 1: The Pilot Part 1

...:::...

Liz's cell phone rang jarringly on her bedside table, waking up the dog and causing him to jump uncomfortably across her body to Tom's side of the bed. Liz groaned and reached for the phone. "Hello?" she said sleepily.

"Keen, wake up, get your ass out of bed, and get dressed. You're going to want to get in here."

"Ressler? What time is it?" Liz asked, blinking her eyes against the morning sunlight streaming in through the window. "I'm not even supposed to be coming in tod—"

"Reddington turned himself in."

Liz's eyes flew open, and she sat up in bed, wide awake. "Reddington? Raymond Reddington? *My* Reddington?"

"Yes, dammit, 'your' Reddington; what other Reddington do you think I'd be calling you about? Get down here, I think you could be helpful. And really, he's more like 'my' Reddington, considering I'm the field agent assigned to hi—"

"I'll be there in twenty—" Liz interrupted, then hung up the phone, flinging it back onto the nightstand as she launched herself out of bed and dashed toward the bathroom. "Babe? I'm gonna need to take the car…!"

Elizabeth Keen had been a profiler with the FBI for several years now. She'd played minor parts in several big cases, and was generally accepted as a hard worker, if a little bit difficult to get along with personally. She'd been quickly picked up by Donald Ressler, the senior agent on Raymond Reddington's case, since her senior thesis had been written about his target. Ressler didn't mind her often bitchy professional demeanor, since his attitude left something to be desired most days, too.

Ressler had quickly discovered no one knew Raymond Reddington like Elizabeth Keen. She could dig up intel on him and often predict his movements and motivations better than any other source Ressler had access to, so it was only a matter of time before she was vetted and brought on board at the Post Office, a black site location with a small team designed to track down high value targets and potentially house them if one could be captured and brought in alive.

And Reddington had just turned himself in.

Why?

She hadn't seen this coming, which was an uncomfortable feeling for her. She knew things were shaky in his empire at the moment, but she didn't know it had gotten bad enough that… That what? Was he using the FBI as protection? Was this a trick? Was he looking to gather intel from within? Did he know about—? No. It had been years and nothing had come of it. If he knew… surely he would have come for her sooner. Liz gave a frustrated sigh at her inability to form a solid theory as she pulled the front door closed and locked it behind her.

Tom smiled up at her from a few steps down as she turned around. "What?" she asked suspiciously.

"We both woke up seven minutes ago, I'm pretty sure my pants are on backwards, I can barely see straight, and you are somehow dressed, composed, and more beautiful than the day I met you. What was that phone call this morning? Why are you bouncing off the walls and glowing like it's Christmas morning?"

Liz attempted a serene smile, though she was getting antsier by the second, and her heart was pounding. "You're sweet… but you know I can't talk about it, and really—I gotta go." She leaned in for a quick kiss, and pulled away, frowning. "What am I forgetting?"

"You got your badge?"Tom asked.

"Of course I've got my badge, I can't get in to work without my bad—"

Tom smiled knowingly. "Last adoption meeting. One o'clock."

Liz sighed, closing her eyes briefly. She didn't want to think about any of this right now. "Right. Right. Of course. I won't forget."

"You're going to be there? Last meeting. You promised me you weren't going to let this job come between us and having a family," Tom reminded her.

Liz gave her husband a confused look. "Wait, were you serious about that whole adopting a kid thing? Because I've got stuff going on—ow!" She smiled as Tom pinched her arm lightly through her coat. "I'll be there," she insisted. "Okay, I gotta go. I'll see you this afternoon!" she called over her shoulder as she ran down the steps toward their car.

…:::…

Liz smoothed her hair and straightened her jacket before the elevator doors opened to let her into the main area of the Post Office. She generally squirreled herself away at a desk in the back, always attached to her cell phone and a computer in case Ressler—from God-knows-which international locale—happened to call her, in need of direction as he chased Reddington across the globe. Today, she made her way directly into the middle of the room, where Ressler stood with the Assistant Director, Harold Cooper, and most of the rest of the Post Office site staff. Everyone stood looking at the video feed on the large screen above them.

Liz stopped halfway through the room when she saw him. The camera was directed down on him from above. He was shackled—shackled—to a chair, inside what she mentally referred to as the PO BOX. He was in a vest. No tie. That wasn't like him. She assumed he'd had one on when he came in; they must have taken it from him when they searched him. She wondered what else he'd had in his possession that they'd confiscated, and where it all was right now. She hoped they were being careful with his hat; there would be hell to pay if it wasn't returned in mint condition.

Her heart sped up again as she gazed at the screen. They were in the same building. This was a live feed, and while she wasn't technically looking directly at him… she felt a squeeze in her chest. She'd followed this man's life for years… and he'd just walked in to her Post Office. She had tracked him from a desk fifty feet to her left, and now he was here. She was simultaneously elated and terrified.

Suddenly the room echoed with his voice. While Liz had heard it before, knowing she was hearing his words as he spoke them made her stomach twist. She loved his voice. She moved up to edge of the crowd behind Ressler and Cooper.

"It's been over an hour, honestly… I don't mean to be rude, but what kind of a show are you running here, Harold? You have an incredibly valuable source of information available, and you're not even attempting communication right now." Reddington shook his head.

Cooper leaned over the microphone, pushing the button to pipe his voice into Reddington's holding cell. "We sent an agent in; you refused to even acknowledge his presence."

Reddington's expression was contrite as he looked up at the camera. "Oh, dear. If I hurt Agent Ressler's feelings earlier by refusing to speak with him…" Reddington trailed off, took a deep breath, and gave a sharp laugh. "Well, frankly, if that's the case, then I'm ecstatic, because not only did the man try to kill me several years ago in Brussels, but he failed. Now, I'm a man who holds a grudge, but I don't take kindly to incompetence, either. Find me someone else to deal with. And choose carefully."

Cooper leaned back, sighing in frustration. "He says he'll only speak to one person. Who should that be?" he asked, vaguely in Ressler's direction, but loud enough that the crowd of staff all heard him clearly.

"Elizabeth Keen."

Cooper turned around, looking behind him for the female voice that had interrupted the silence. "Who the hell is Elizabeth Keen?"

Liz stepped forward. "I am, sir."

…:::…

After a stressful hour of answering questions and carefully making a case for her value to Cooper while Ressler sat to her left and remained mostly silent (Liz felt he was going to take a long time to lick his wounds over being so thoroughly shut down in front of his peers by Reddington), Liz was led somewhat reluctantly into the part of the facility that overlooked the Box. She looked down through the bank of windows at the man in the chair, red metal support beams forming a diamond around him.

She never thought she'd have this chance. She never thought she'd ever seen him in person again. And now they were allowing her one-on-one access to him.

One-on-one… with a surveillance feed. But she could overlook that.

Liz exhaled loudly, preparing herself.

"If you need anything, we're right here," Cooper said. She nodded, and stepped forward.

Liz walked through the door at the top of the stairs and reached a hand out toward the railing. Reddington looked up to see who they'd chosen to offer, who they'd chosen to make him deal with, and an appreciative Mona Lisa smile softened his features.

The box slid back, mechanical beeps signaling the movement as it went. Liz walked slowly toward the chair they'd sat in front of Reddington, working hard to keep her face placid and pleasant.

"And you are?" Reddington said, looking her up and down.

"Agent Keen," she answered, sitting and crossing her legs.

"What a pleasure," he said perfunctorily. He seemed slightly bored, and ready to progress with his schedule of activities now that he had a suitable audience. "I suppose you want to know why I'm here?"

"We can get to that," Liz said. She smiled, trying to throw him off a little. She paused, regarding him. "You cut your hair. You look much less… deviant."

Reddington narrowed his eyes, curious as to how this young woman knew of his most recent hairstyle—ah, no, of course. Those wretched Most Wanted posters. He wished he could burn them all. He pursed his lips, and asked, "So why you, Agent Keen? Why did they involve you in this mess?"

Her smile broadened. "I think you'll find I'm… special."

Reddington raised an eyebrow. "Well, you're certainly pretty…" He tilted his head to one side, his expression hardening some. "They must think I can be easily manipulated by an attractive female agent. They obviously don't know me very well."

"Maybe not. But I know you very well."

Reddington gave her a curious look, as if he wished he had time to discuss her assertion more thoroughly, but instead rolled his eyes and began, "Within the hour Ranko Zamani is going to abduct the daughter of…"

Liz watched him talk, knowing that she didn't need to pay attention to the finer details, since this conversation was being recorded from about eight different angles. He looked good. Healthy. The hair was short—it was a bit of a shock, if she was honest—but it suited him, and he was thinner than he'd been in recent years.

There had been no recognition in his eyes when she'd sat down in front of him, no flash of familiarity when she spoke or said her name. He didn't remember her. He didn't know any of it.

She wasn't entirely sure whether she was relieved, or disappointed. She settled on the opinion that she could be both.

Reddington finished by admitting that he'd been the one to get Zamani into the country, and added, "I know you probably don't believe me—"

"I'll always believe you," Liz said firmly.

Reddington gave a short, harsh laugh. "But I'm a criminal. Criminals are notorious liars."

"Are you lying about Zamani? About the girl?" Liz asked evenly.

"No."

"Okay then." Liz stood up and motioned to the guards to start the sequence to close Reddington back up in his Box. A small part of her screamed that she should sit back down, that this interaction wasn't nearly enough, and that there was no guarantee she'd get another chance, but she swallowed and looked down at Reddington, still strapped, hands and legs, to his chair. She managed a smile that she hoped was non-threatening, but slightly conspiratorial. "We've got work to do. And you know… in future… you don't have to make this difficult. If there's anyone who can give you a second chance… it's me."

...:::…

"What were you doing in there? Flirting with him?" Ressler asked angrily as Liz joined him and Cooper again.

"I was establishing value, just like he was by giving us that information about Zamani and the girl," Liz said, pointing at Reddington.

"You didn't have to—"

"I made myself interesting," she interrupted. "Now he's intrigued, a little off-balance, and I bet he's willing to talk to me again."

"This is ridiculous, if anyone should be in there talking to him, it should be me. I've been the case agent on this guy for five years, I should—"

"Yeah, and five years has gotten you what?" Liz snapped, a territorial flame licking through her. She'd made contact, and she'd be damned if Ressler was going to elbow her out of this now.

Ressler's glare was slightly wounded, but mostly just pissed off. A small part of Liz hoped this wouldn't put a damper on their workplace friendship, but really—she couldn't allow anyone else to talk to Reddington. She was sure he didn't recognize her… but there was always the possibility that he had all of the information, and just didn't associate it with her. So she had to remain his contact in the FBI. At least until she found out how much he knew.

…:::…

TBC.

...:::...

The second half of The Pilot will be posted tomorrow! It just needs some clean up. Also? I have no idea how many of these I'm going to do. I doubt I can do every episode without getting bored or going insane or having my husband serve me with divorce papers. Maybe I'll skip around and just do my favorites? The important ones? I don't know. I have no idea.