Stages of Trust

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters herein.

Chapter 1: Tissue Paper

She was wrong about him. She was wrong about everything.

She was drowning.

This time Liz Keen couldn't depend on Reddington to hold her hand and give her a safe harbor. She'd accused him of making it all up, after all. Told him to go to hell. Tried to sever their connection completely, but he wouldn't be so easily shaken.

She thought she had Tom.

She once thought she had Red.

Now she has no one. And she only has herself to blame.

"You look as though it's the end of the world, Lizzie."

Startled from her dark thoughts, Liz turned to the new occupant of her bench. His green eyes, like always, were directed on something peripheral to her. She thought, 'Speak of the devil, and the devil will come.' Then, 'Why is he here?'

Still not glancing at her, Reddington somehow knew what was on her mind. He sighed, redirecting his attention to a couple walking their child through the park. The little girl was laughing, swinging between her parents hands. A picture perfect family, at least on the surface. Red understood just how much could be buried beneath.

"If you're wondering, I came here to make sure you were okay," he said, still not looking at her.

Shaking her head, Liz furrowed her brow at the enigmatic criminal. "Why? After what I accused you of, why would you even bother?" She ran her hand through her hair in agitation, and the burn mark on her wrist caught her eye as it passed. Focusing on the old scar, she frowned, holding her wrist in her lap and rubbing the raised flesh with her thumb. "I'm a mess, Red." Her voice thickened as she continued, "This scar... You asked me about it before, but I didn't tell you the whole story. Do you want to know how I got it?"

He turned to her for the first time, sharp gaze roaming over the pain in her expression. "Yes," he said, because he wanted to know everything about her. Even the things that might further deteriorate the perfect image of her in his mind.

Her lips trembled for a moment as she fought tears at the memory, but she quickly brought herself under control. "I, um... I was fourteen, like I said before. Fourteen is an awkward age for a young girl. Developmentally, there are hormones... Boys enter the picture. But I-." She halted, gathering her thoughts. "I kept to myself as a child. I didn't allow anyone to get too close to me. I didn't have many friends. But there was this guy at school. Cute, athletic... Not really all that smart, but that didn't matter back then." She shrugged. "Someone I trusted told him that I had a crush on him. I was standing in the hallway, so I overheard the whole conversation. And he told her to let me know not to bother him. He thought I was a freak." A tear slipped down her cheek at the remembrance. She paused to draw a deep breath. "When I went home that day after school, I took a book of my foster father's matches out of the drawer. I went to my room and just... stared at myself in the mirror for awhile. I started to think that maybe he was right. So I gathered all my beauty supplies into a pile on the dresser and lit a match." Liz sniffed, shaking her head again. "I wasn't thinking. The flames were so high, and I panicked. I grabbed my pillow and started to try to beat it out, but I couldn't smother it. Then the pillow caught, and the shock made me fall into the dresser. I put my hand down on the handle of my curling iron, already so hot... The pain woke me up, kind of, and I ran to the bathroom for a bucket and some water." She stopped, gaze back in the real world, watching something on the playground. In the pregnant pause, her eyes drained of sadness and adopted a haunted look. "I finally put the fire out, but the damage was done. My foster family sent me away afterwards.

"Everything I touch, Red, I ruin." She started to cry in earnest. "Or maybe it's already ruined when it gets to me; I don't know anymore. Maybe I'm some kind of magnet for misfortune."

"No!"

Her eyes caught his at the vehemence in the word. His visage was stern as he grasped her wrist tightly, almost painfully.

"Don't you ever think that way, Lizzie." It was a command, meant to be followed. She began to get angry.

"Why the hell not?" She tried to free her hand from his grip, but it was too tight. "Let me go, Reddington!"

"Not until you show a little sense!" he hissed. Tugging her arm, he pulled her body to his in an awkward hug. Liz fought him until she was forced to admit he was much stronger than she was. When the fight left her and she sagged against him, Red said, "Cry it out, Lizzie. I've got you now."

And at his words she did, dissolving into broken sobs that shuddered through her frame like a current. She buried her face into his expensive vest, arms that were hanging limply winding up his back to draw him closer. His own hands worked soothingly over her back and hair.

They stayed that way on the park bench for nearly a half hour. Liz's tears had dried up, and she spent ten minutes just soaking in the only comfort she was sure to receive. When she lifted mascara-streaked eyes to Reddington's face, she saw calm. And when he dipped his head to place a kiss on her forehead, her eyes drifted closed.

"Why?" she asked softly, not wanting to destroy the serenity of the moment. "Why do you care?"

Red's hand wove through her brown hair, pushing the loose strands stuck in the tracks of her tears behind her ear. "I just do," he murmured. "Can we leave it at that?"

"I need answers," Liz whispered. "I need for something to make sense." His thumb caressed one final tear from her cheek as she beseeched him. "Please."

He studied her devastated blue eyes silently. He knew he was hurting her as much as he was helping her by keeping her in the dark, but he wouldn't be pressured into confessing his sins. But if he told her the only thing he could in this situation, he ran the risk of scaring her away.

"I can save you from the bad guys, Lizzie," he said slowly, testing the words as they fell between them. "I can provide you a shoulder to cry on when your world crumbles." His eyes softened a degree as he said, "I can protect your heart if you ask it of me. I'll do all this and more gladly, but I won't tell you why." He offered a small smile, stroking down her cheek with his knuckles before cupping it in his palm. Liz's brows had narrowed again; certainly another protest was coming soon. "You have all the clues you need to divine my motivation for caring, if you tear away bias and preconceived notions and just think about it from a fresh perspective."

Liz lowered her eyes to her lap, newly confused. "If I can figure it out myself, why can't you just tell me?"

"There's so much I wish I could tell you, Sweetheart, but I don't for your own protection." Liz started to interrupt, but he brought his finger to her lips, shushing her. "There will come a day when you know everything. For now, let's not add to your stress. Just know that I care very deeply for your wellbeing and leave it at that."

It wasn't satisfying, but she was too emotionally drained to argue with him. Besides, hadn't she been regretting the rift between them? After discovering the truth about Tom, Liz knew that Red had been honest with her the whole time - trying to protect her by shepherding her in the right direction. Who's to say she wouldn't be dead now, killed by her own husband, if Red hadn't come into her life? It was a question that would never have an answer, thus it didn't merit much consideration. But questions aside, it was clear to her now more than ever that this man - this criminal; this monster - truly cared. She could rely on him.

"I'm sorry for doubting you," Liz told him, heavy lids falling over tired eyes. She leaned into his embrace. "I was blinded by my own delusions." A bitter laugh. "A happy life and a career that was just taking off. I wanted so badly for it to be real."

"I know," Red responded, squeezing her tighter. He rubbed his cheek on her sweet-scented hair, kissed the top of her head. "I know, Sweetheart."

He drew away, holding her eyes and trying to convey the sincerity of his next statement. His hands clasped hers on her lap. "You have me."

Liz believed him.

Author's Note: I wrote this after episode 5, I believe. After the whole Sam reveal as the man who raised her, (and the nudges toward Red being her father, which I'm not inclined to believe just yet,) this should be considered AU. Thanks for reading.