Just Thought You Should Know
Disclaimer: Not mine, I make no money from them, I just love them.
Author's Notes: Prompt from the Lizzington Shippers Facebook page. :) For the record, this is being posted the week after 2x15 aired, three days before 2x16 Tom Keen. Just so you know where my head is at in regards to the canon storyline.
…:::…
Liz stood at the window in the apartment at the Audrey, looking out over the Potomac. Reddington had paused halfway through the living room, giving her space to look over his offering for the first time, his hat held lightly in his hands in front of him. She'd finally agreed to look at it. Not accept it; just look.
"I hired Tom."
Reddington's voice was oddly casual, as if he were announcing his intent to order the salmon at a restaurant.
Liz turned around to look at him, her face confused, but not angry. The objective part of his brain told him to wait thirty seconds—that would change.
"What do you mean, you hired him?"
"As surveillance. To follow you. To watch you. Over five years ago, before you met him. I hired him through an intermediary. I bought a good-looking, non-threatening, intelligent man around your age who could pass as an acquaintance and give me reports on you and your well-being. Your safety. Your career. All without getting actually involved."
Liz swallowed, hard, and clenched her teeth. Reddington noticed her chest rising and falling with more movement as her breaths came faster and deeper.
And he had been right—the confusion on her face had given way to anger.
"Berlin hired Tom," Liz whispered, giving voice to the three words pounding over and over in her head.
"We both did," Reddington said, raising an eyebrow and attempting to keep his voice light. He tilted his head to one side and gave a half smile. "Apparently Berlin's offer was better."
Reddington watched Liz carefully. She hadn't moved from her position on the other side of the room. Reddington felt hollow and cold. Figuring it couldn't get any worse, he plunged ahead, his eyes bleak. His voice had lost some of its careful buoyancy.
"I never met the man hired to become Tom Keen; I didn't even know the alias. I got information from him; that was all. Sam told me you were engaged. He told me when you got married; even showed me pictures. I didn't like your husband's glasses, and I thought 'Tom' was a bland sort of name; nothing particularly romantic about the way it feels in your mouth…" Reddington stopped talking, but his jaw continued to move for a moment. He bobbed his head, and restarted after sighing. "Around the time of your engagement, the information I had been receiving started getting better, more detailed. And then after your wedding it stopped entirely. It took me several months to figure out that Tom Keen had been mine… and that he'd turned; been recruited by an adversary. Had inserted himself… far deeper into your life than he was ever supposed to…" Reddington took a single step forward, looking at Liz earnestly and apologetically, shaking his head for emphasis. He took a deep breath and let it out through his mouth in a rush. "As soon as I could get my business and affairs in order, set things in motion… I turned myself in to the FBI, and told you that you could not trust your husband."
"You lied to me," Liz said, her voice dangerously low and cold. Reddington had expected emotion, shouting, and some form of violence, but the eerie calm in the room gave him more of a gnawing sense of dread than he could have imagined.
"No, I never did," Reddington was quick to answer, taking another step forward and shaking his head again. "I don't lie to you. I've never lied to you."
"You said you didn't know anything about him."
"I said I didn't know much more than you," Reddington corrected her. "That he'd been hired to insert himself into your life. That's true. Berlin hired him to get close to you. I hired him to look; not touch."
Reddington regretted his choice of words as Liz flinched. He swallowed and tried to redirect the conversation. "I didn't know who had turned him. I didn't even meet him until after… Sam's death." Reddington considered mentioning the conversation over coffee at the hospital; the first time he'd ever spoken to Tom Keen. He'd known who Tom was, and Tom had obviously known exactly who Reddington was. It had been one of the more surreal conversations of Reddington's life.
One thing at a time, he figured, and stayed silent.
"Why didn't you tell me this before? Why the hell are you telling me this now?" Liz asked, her voice louder, with a small measure of uncertainty in it. She was still glaring, horrified, across the room at Reddington like he was the Devil in a three piece suit, sent to torment her.
"I've been thinking about telling you for some time, Lizzie. I just…" The hand not holding his hat smoothed down the front of his vest absent-mindedly. "…I don't know what changed today," Reddington admitted. "I suppose… it was time to stop thinking and just do it."
"I agree to look at the apartment, and you choose this moment to tell me? Do you really think this information is going to make me want to accept anything from you?" Liz shouted, her voice steadily gaining strength and volume as she spoke.
Reddington felt a sudden flash of defensiveness. "You know, if you really want to blame somebody for you receiving this information, I can bring Dembe in here—?" Reddington said, leaning haphazardly to one side, shaking his head, and flinging one arm in the direction of the front door, where Dembe waited outside.
"Next to you, Tom has been the single most destructive thing in my life, and you're responsible for that," Liz accused, rounding the dining table toward Reddington. She stopped several yards from him, her right third and fourth fingers pressing into her scar until her knuckles turned white.
"He was only ever intended to be a level of protection for you—"
"Protection?" Liz spat the word at him.
"Yes," Reddington said firmly. "And that's why I didn't want to tell you this, Lizzie, because I knew—I knew—as soon as you had this information, you'd send me away. You'd have me locked up. However you did it, you would make sure I couldn't reach you; personally, or through any of my influence. And if you don't allow me to be in your life, I can't protect you. And that's what I do, Lizzie. Sometimes it seems like every action I take is in the pursuit of your protection—"
Liz picked up a decorative glass bowl from the side table she was standing next to, and hurled it against the exposed brick of the fireplace, where it shattered spectacularly. That's more like it, Reddington thought distractedly, one eyebrow arching.
The front door opened, and Liz and Red both looked over to find Dembe in the entryway, his hand on his weapon at his hip. His eyes skipped from one to the other, concerned.
"We're okay, Dembe, thank you, if you wouldn't mind waiting just a—" Reddington said, waving a hand at the other man as he turned back to Liz.
"No, Dembe, we're not okay," Liz interrupted with finality. "You were actually both just leaving."
Reddington's hands dropped to his sides, and his expression was tormented as he looked at the woman in front of him. "Lizzie, please consider—"
"Stop," Liz demanded, her voice low and cold again. "You've been a curse on my life from the very start."
Reddington took another step toward her. "I understand you want me to go—"
"Then go," she said, her expression hard.
"I can't yet—"
"Reddington, leave."
"I need to tell you—"
Liz's controlled, angry face broke slightly, and she winced, biting her bottom lip in an effort to stay silent. Reddington caught the reflection of unshed tears in her eyes, and she shook her head at him; a desperate plea for him to stop. Swallowing thickly, she managed in a barely composed voice, "Whatever you think you need to tell me… I can't hear anything else from you tonight…"
Reddington opened his mouth to speak.
Liz stabbed a warning finger in Reddington's direction. "Not another word," she demanded, her voice breaking.
Reddington slowly took the three remaining steps needed to close the distance between them. Liz angrily stood her ground. Standing inches from her, he stared down into her eyes for a long moment before raising his left hand toward the side of her face. She flinched slightly, pulling back to glance at his hand, which froze in mid-air. Liz looked back up into his eyes with a note of confusion. Barely touching her, his thumb smoothed over her cheek, and he dropped his hand to rest gently on the side of her neck. He lowered his head, tilting it to one side, and moved as if to kiss her. He stopped, so close he could feel her breath on his lips. He inhaled deeply and opened his mouth to speak, his lips forming silent words he wasn't allowed to voice. After several excruciating seconds of immobility, he shook his head and leaned his brow against hers with an agonized expression as he tried to find the courage to walk away from her. Finally, with a single, sharp exhalation, he turned abruptly, palming his hat onto his head as he strode toward the door.
Reddington motioned for Dembe to precede him as he approached, and the other man did so without speaking. Reddington passed over the threshold, and without looking up at Liz, he murmured, "I just thought you should know," as he pulled the door to the apartment closed behind him.
…:::…
Oh my lord, another one-shot. What are those Lizzington Shippers on Facebook DOING to me? This isn't like me AT ALL.
Review! Please! Tell me how mean I am that I didn't give you a kiss! *laughs evilly*
**Edited to add: Okay, so the current thing in the Lizzington FB group is a prompt every day, and you have to write a story only one sentence long. After the first prompt I just HAD to sit down and expand my sentence into a story, and that's where we got Chapter 1. Now, I don't know how long this will last (I don't know what the prompts are in advance, or how busy I'll get over the next few days), but we'll see how many of the ten prompts in ten days I can weave into this fic. So... apparently NOT a one-shot.
Original prompt, day 1: "First Kiss."
My original sentence: Liz didn't move, but her breathing was as fast and shallow as his as he pulled back and laid his forehead against hers with a pained expression—trying to screw up the courage to walk away from her—before he finally turned away abruptly, palming his hat onto his head, and murmuring, "I just thought you should know," over his shoulder as he followed Dembe out the door.