AN: This is AU, obviously, but I find that I like these "end of the world, trying to survive" kind of fics. They allow for much more leeway with the characters. So I hope you'll give this a chance, and let me know what you think. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to The Blacklist

In the beginning, the terrorists only hit the nation's most populated areas; Los Angeles, New York, Chicago, Philadelphia; killing millions and millions. Not allowing the US to strike back, nor allowing them to catch their breath.

Eventually it was quiet for a time, and it finally allowed what remained of the cities to begin picking up the pieces. To mourn the dead. To begin rebuilding. To form a game plan. To start to question why the terrorists hadn't struck Washington DC when they had the chance.

But the quiet hadn't lasted long.

The President assured them that the military had found the parties responsible for the attacks and had eliminated them. Had promised that it wouldn't happen again. Had promised with a fake smile that they were finally safe.

Lies. All lies.

OOOOOO

Three months after the last attack on Philadelphia, Elizabeth Keen was once again working late inside the depths of the PO. She had been working tirelessly with other agencies (the ones that were left, at least), and with Red, trying to identify rogue terrorist cells, because they'd been assured that the big ones had been eliminated.

Something wasn't adding up.

Liz stared at the latest readings on the screen in front of her with furrowed eyebrows, confused about what she was seeing. She turned to Red to ask him if she was imagining things, but he was sitting in the chair behind her, fast asleep. She should have known. It had been quiet for far too long.

She sighed and glanced at the clock and saw that it was after 1:00 AM. She couldn't really be angry at him for sleeping, seeing as they were the only two people left inside the building, and he really didn't have to be there.

She had formed an uneasy alliance with the secretive man, but she still didn't trust him. He was withholding information from her and the FBI and it made her angry. Of course, he had been there for her when her marriage had fallen apart, had held her when she couldn't hold the tears in any longer, but she still didn't have many warm feelings towards Raymond Reddington.

Everything had fallen apart once he'd entered her life; personally and for the nation.

Realistically, she knew it wasn't ALL his fault, but he was the easiest to blame, and he let her rant and rave at him without fighting back. It wasn't all that fair to him, but she felt he deserved at least some of her ire. She was living in a hotel, homeless, fatherless, and husbandless; she didn't have anyone else besides him.

That scared her the most.

Sighing again, she reached out and nudged his shoulder with her hand. He snorted quietly, but didn't wake up. Liz rolled her eyes and slapped his scruffy face softly a few times. "Reddington, wake up."

His eyes flew open, almost panicked. "Wha-, Lizzie, what's wrong?"

She shook her head, annoyed, and turned back to the computer. "I need you to look at this readout. Something's off, but I don't have enough experience reading these things to know for sure what it is."

Red stretched his arms over his head and yawned widely, his unbuttoned vest falling to his sides, revealing his white, slightly wrinkled shirtsleeves and loosened tie. Liz, of course, didn't notice any of it.

He finally stood up and joined her in front of the monitor. She pointed a finger at the screen, showing him the part she didn't understand. Red pursed his lips and scrutinized the screen for a few moments, mumbling quietly under his breath.

She counted out thirty full seconds and he still hadn't moved an inch. She tapped her foot impatiently. "Well?"

She could see his lips moving at a rapid pace now, his features radiating concern.

"Reddington, answer me." She read the information again from over his shoulder and still couldn't make heads or tails of it.

Finally, he straightened and grabbed her arm, then started to pull her away from the workstation. He didn't even take the time to grab his coat or fedora. "We have to get out of here. Now."

She let him drag her to the elevator, but stood her ground and shook his hand off once they stopped to wait for it to open. "What the hell, Red?"

"Lizzie, I don't have time to answer questions. Just know this, Washington DC, along with many other cities are going to be rubble rather quickly. We have to get out of here. Now." His soft, strained voice scared her more than if he was actually yelling.

As the elevator doors opened, they stepped inside and she turned to him again. "There's no way you're right. The military would have already detected the threat and stopped it. They learned their lesson after the last-"

He cut her off, his brows narrowed and agitation practically rolling off of him in waves. "Your government doesn't ever learn its lesson. They're so confident that they eliminated the threat. They will never admit they were wrong, and therein lies the danger. Do you want to be caught in the barrage, or would you rather stay here and face the possible consequences of their false confidence?"

She opened her mouth to argue, but shut it once she realized he was right. "I'm going to at least call Cooper and have him alert the military."

Red laughed humorlessly as he grabbed her elbow again and steered her towards his car. "Do whatever you like, but they won't listen to you."

She pulled her phone out to call, but growled in agitation when she saw that it didn't have any service. As they slid into the backseat of his car, she turned to him. "Do you have cell service?"

He pulled his burner phone out of his pants pocket and shook his head. "Looks like its already begun," he said grimly, then leaned forward and patted Dembe on the shoulder. "Take us to the shelter, Dembe."

She looked at Red incredulously. "But we have to warn people. Ressler, Meera, Cooper, the damn Government!"

"Lizzie," he said tiredly. "There's no time. I'm sorry."

"No. I can't accept that. I won't. Let me out." She tried to open the door, but it was locked. "Let me out, dammit!"

"I'm sorry, Lizzie."

OOOOOO

ONE YEAR LATER

Liz groaned tiredly as a sliver of sunlight settled over her eyes, waking her up just in time for another day of hell. She was tired. The bone deep, life-weary kind of tired that never went away no matter how much sleep she got. She turned away from the curtainless window and pulled her scratchy pillow over her head. Maybe she would be able to get a few more minutes of sleep before the wake-up siren sounded. But instead of sleep, she found her thoughts drifting back over the last year. Again.

The year everything changed.

The year where she was no longer Elizabeth Keen.

The year where she became "Lillian".

The year where she became "Jack Robertson's" "wife".

The year where she became just another face among thousands desperately fighting to stay alive.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a light tap on her bedroom door; but instead of answering, she burrowed deeper into the uncomfortable twin mattress and ignored whoever it was. Probably Red, or "Jack" as people around the camp knew him as. Or maybe Red had grown tired of dragging her out of bed every morning and sent Dembe this time.

She didn't care either way. It wasn't like she had a choice anymore. She was expected to work if she wanted to eat and have a roof over her head. No matter the cost to her body or psyche, and no matter how pathetic the food and shelter were.

Liz usually tried to avoid thinking about why they were in this situation. She tried to forget that everyone she knew or loved was most likely dead. That she literally didn't know anyone else on the planet besides Red and Dembe. That she was expected to keep up a facade that she was married to Red in front of others when she could hardly stand to be in his presence in private.

Yes, he had saved her life, but he was still Raymond Reddington. Infuriating, secretive, outlandish and a shameless flirt. And he still refused to tell her anything about her past; which frustrated her to no end. He hadn't changed all that much since everything went to hell, but she wasn't the same person. Not even close. It felt like her previous thirty-two years of life had been a dream, and that her situation now had always been her reality. She had a hard time even recalling her married years with Tom.

She hated her life and she hated herself. She knew she was most likely depressed, but it wasn't like there was medication readily available in this new world. So she pressed on and pretended the best she could. She was certain Red knew how unhappy she was, but they didn't talk unless it was necessary, so he never brought it up, and she certainly never raised the subject.

Another knock sounded at her door, harder this time, but she still didn't answer. Let whoever it was come in and bodily drag her out of her cocoon. Why not? It might be the highlight of her day.

She let her thoughts drift again; unable to stop herself.

It had been Red's idea to pretend they were married. The days, weeks, months after the terrorist attacks had been harrowing and dangerous, and he had saved her life more than once. He eventually convinced her to go along with pretending to be married after they joined with a group of people heading towards a camp that had been rumored to be a safe haven. The men in that group had been foul and disgusting, making lewd remarks about her body and insinuations that made the hairs on her neck stand up. So she made a point to attach herself to Red's side and refer to him as her husband from then on. The men had backed off after that.

They moved from place to place for weeks, moving from group to group, but she never stopped pretending; never gave anyone a chance to get her alone. But she was still aloof with him and didn't let him touch her unless it was absolutely necessary. If the other people noticed, they never said anything; for which she was grateful.

After four months of searching, four months of starvation, four months of desperation, they finally found somewhere moderately safe. Which was were they found themselves now. It wasn't ideal, but without Red's resources and money, they didn't have many options, so they stayed put. They'd been there for almost six months; it felt more like ten years.

She heard her bedroom door crack open, but she still didn't move or open her eyes. She listened closely to the quiet breathing and sighed quietly when she realized it was Red. She didn't feel like fighting today.

"Lizzie, it's time to get up," he said tiredly. She could tell he had only poked his head in. He had been less and less affectionate with her over the months as she pushed him away. In a way she resented him for it, but that wasn't reasonable or fair, really. She was cold and ungrateful, but she couldn't seem to make herself show any weakness in front of him...even if she wanted to break down and sob in his arms and let him comfort her.

Liz held her breath as she waiting for him to decide what to do. Their little hut only consisted of her bedroom and a kind of living area with a fire pit in the middle of the floor. Red and Dembe slept in that room on the floor, letting her have her privacy, which she was grateful for. They rarely had visitors, and when they did, Red moved his few possessions into her room to keep up appearances. No one in the camp was any wiser about their situation, and she hoped it stayed that way.

The door opened wider and he stepped in and closed it behind him. She rolled her eyes; it seemed he wasn't going to leave her alone. She heard shuffling paper and narrowed her eyebrows in confusion. Paper supplies were extremely limited and were only used when absolutely necessary. Now she was intrigued.

"Lizzie, I know you're awake. You're not snoring." There was a slight hint of amusement in his voice. She hadn't heard that in a while.

She sat up and turned towards him, giving up all pretense of sleeping. "I don't snore."

His mouth quirked for a moment. "I think you could wake the dead if that were possible."

She frowned further, angered by his deliberate goading. Instead of giving him the satisfaction by lashing out, she eyed the papers in his hand. "What's that?"

He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked down at the paper again. She couldn't help but notice that he had already dressed for the day in an old pair of dark blue jeans and a red and black plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She refused to admire how the muscles in his forearms flexed as he shuffled the papers between his hands.

He would have to go to his "job" soon, judging by the position of the sun. She would have to too, which meant long hours bent over a tub of dirty, soapy water washing clothes. Ugh. Red's job wasn't much better though, he had been assigned firewood duty today.

Liz cleared her throat expectantly as she reached up to try to tame her wild, flyaway hair into a bun. "Red?"

He was still chewing on the inside of his cheek as he looked up at her with wary eyes. She wondered why she was the only one he allowed himself to show any emotion to. She wasn't sure what to make of it.

"You're not going to like this."

She finally managed to arrange her hair and stood up from the mattress onto cold, stiff feet; her back protested severely, but she kept her face neutral. "There are a lot of things I don't like Red. At the moment, it's you coming into my room without permission then refusing to tell me what the problem is. Spit it out, for hell's sake."

He sniffed and looked at the paper again, then began to read from it:

It has hereby been voted by the Council that all married couples

must procreate and provide our community with at least one child

within the next eighteen months. This decision has been made because

of our dwindling membership and the premature deaths of many after

the tragic accident in the forest. If you do not wish to comply or are

unable to, you will be removed from the community and not allowed

back in. I hope you will all come to understand our decision in time.

Sincerely,

Your Community Council

Liz stood in shocked silence as she tried to comprehend what she'd heard. She had been rubbing her sore lower back as she listened, but now her hand was forgotten as she stared at Red with her mouth slightly ajar. He still hadn't looked up from the paper.

She finally found her voice after what seemed like hours.

"They want us to do what?!"