She looked at herself in the mirror, evaluating.
Even her face had changed, now, late in her pregnancy, had become softer and fuller. Despite the war that raged within, she looked healthier than she had in months, imbued with a rosy glow and all her corners rounded off.
She fussed over her makeup, sitting at the little dressing table in her thin black robe; she wanted to look as pretty as possible, to paint a picture in his mind that he will keep forever. She felt a small flutter of nerves in her stomach, and quashed it firmly. This would be… Everything she had been waiting for.
A small click and a slight draft alerted her to the door behind her; looking back at the mirror, she saw with some surprise it was Reddington. She had honestly not expected him to make an appearance today, after their numerous disagreements about Tom, the baby, the wedding.
"You're here for the wedding," she said, turning to see his face, trying to keep the question out of her voice, trying not to sound pleased. She had to stay calm, even, prepared.
"No, Lizzie," he replied, shaking his head, and his voice sounded broken. It gave her a little pang, right under her heart. "Please, don't do this. Tom is not the man you think he is. He's a criminal."
She almost laughed at that; not because the statement was outrageous, but because he seemed to honestly think that she would still care. After everything.
"He's changed," she said automatically. The irony was, it might even be true.
"Men like Tom don't change."
"Men like Tom?" she asked, turning back to the mirror to touch up her lips. "Don't you mean men like you?"
She watched his reflection twist its mouth in instinctual pain, and wished this antagonism could be behind them, once and for all.
"If that's how you see it," he answered heavily. "Then, yes. As long as you agree with me." His hands twitched as if he wanted to reach out — he didn't. "Please, Lizzie," he said again, and it was almost more than she could take.
"I've already made up my mind," she said, keeping her tone cool. "If you don't want to be here, then leave."
He closed his eyes briefly, and his head bowed in defeat. In the mirror, he turned back to the door.
"But I wish," she said impulsively, and he stopped with his back to her and his hand on the doorknob, "that you'd stay."
His whole body tensed; the fact that she could see the lines of his body change told her how unhappy he really was. But he didn't say anything, just left the room quietly, closing the door noiselessly behind him.
She stood at the end of the aisle, and her heart fluttered. Her friends, her family really, all there at the other end, waiting for her — Samar and Ressler, honest and stalwart; Aram, sweet and true; Cooper, the kindly, occasionally stern father figure. And between them, in front of the altar and the friendly minister, Tom. Her fiancé.
He looked genuinely happy, his eyes shining and his face beaming at her. His hair was growing in again, thicker and scruffy, the way she used to love it. Her baby rolled slowly within, stretching. She thought the little peanut was starting to get cramped in there — just as well to get all this fuss out of the way before he decided it was time to come out.
As the organ music clamoured on, she walked down the aisle, a real smile on her face. It was as if she could see it all happening from outside herself, and it was a beautiful moment. The afternoon sun shone through the windows, golden and white. The happiness in the air, the sense of peace in the small church.
Tom took her hand as she reached his side, and squeezed reassuringly. She smiled into his eyes, and saw nothing but what looked like love. It really was perfect.
The minister started to speak, and she let the traditional words flow over her, one hand clutching her flowers, the other still held fast in Tom's sweaty palm. A few moments in, she heard the faintest of clicks, and saw him enter silently out of the corner of her eye. Reddington, she thought with amusement. No matter what he said, he couldn't stay out of any piece of action; couldn't stand not knowing, no matter what it cost him.
Things were coming together now. Tom was repeating his vows, smiling at her, glowing in a halo of light from the window. She smiled back, brimming with nervous anticipation.
"I do," Tom said firmly, fervently, like he could make it all real with that one statement.
Cooper was beaming — it made her wonder, a little. Wonder if they just wanted her to be happy, or if there was more going on than she knew. Because, really…
"Elizabeth," said the minister, drawing her attention. "Do you, Elizabeth Scott Keen…"
She repeated the words as if in a dream — maybe it was a dream, of a time long past, of another life, another Liz. A strong kick from her baby provided a welcome jolt of reality, and reminded her of what she was here to do.
"…to love and to cherish, as long as you both shall live?" The minister wound up, smiling at her expectantly.
She smiled back — he was such a lovely man, really — and pulled her hand from Tom's grasp to reach up and touch his face gently, ever so gently. His eyes were so warm and loving as he looked at her; she could believe it was all real. She really hoped it was.
"I don't," she said simply, to no one in particular.
"Oh, Liz, I'm so… wait, what?" Tom was staring at her now, unsure.
She smiled again, and patted his cheek sympathetically.
"I don't," she repeated, clear and loud. "I don't take you, Tom. Jacob. Whoever. I wouldn't marry you again if you were the single last scumbag left alive."
She smiled sweetly at them all, all their stunned and ridiculous faces. Only Samar looked like she was struggling to hide a smile. She didn't dare look at Reddington.
Tom was looking at her as if she'd grown a second head.
"Liz, I-I don't understand. We… We're getting married here!"
"No," she answered, still smiling — she didn't think she'd be able to stop any time soon. "No, we are not. We're not getting married. You won't be getting anywhere near my child. And if you come near either of us again, I'll see to it that you are finally arrested for your numerous crimes."
The noise of engines, of doors slamming and people shouting started to seep through the church walls and windows. No one took any notice; no one but Reddington, who glanced over his shoulder at the door, and then at his watch.
"I-I don't understand," Tom repeated, looking blank.
She patted his face once more. "Now you know," she answered, her smile becoming fierce, her eyes gone dark.
"What?" he demanded, starting to go from confused to angry. He'd always had a short fuse.
"What it feels like," she said, stepping back. "Just exactly what it feels like to find out that everything you believe about your life is a lie. Does it feel strange, Tom? Confusing? Like someone's punched you in the gut and left you gasping?"
"I don't… Yes," he blurted, running a hand through his hair. "Liz, what the hell?"
"Now you know," she repeated. "Now you know how I felt when you walked out the door of our house and never came back. How I felt when all the hideous things people were telling me about you turned out to be true. A little bit of how I felt when you beat me and left me bleeding on the floor of our home."
"I don't believe it," he said, reaching for her — she evaded his grasp neatly. "You're not that good an actress. You love me, dammit."
She laughed; she couldn't help it. "I guess you're wrong about that," she said, "because I had you fooled, didn't I? You really believe that, that I could look past everything you did, and love you again? Never."
"So, what," he said bitterly, eyes angry and damp. "This whole thing, all of it, was what? Revenge?"
"Yes," she answered. "That's right. And it's everything I thought it would be — it might be cold, but it is damn sweet. I am going to treasure that look on your face for a long time. And I hope that you remember this moment for the rest of your miserable life."
The sound of shouting voices became louder, and became peppered with gunshots. She glanced at Reddington, who looked as inscrutable as ever — he nodded slightly.
"I think your ride's here, Tom," she said coolly. "Everyone else — I wouldn't stick around."
And she walked away. Down the aisle and toward the rest of her life. As she passed him, Reddington stood and followed her out the door quietly, guarding her back, as always.
"I think," he said, as she paused in the vestibule, "that we should go out the back, Lizzie." His voice was as dry as a desert, but otherwise gave no hint of what he might be thinking.
"I came in with him," she returned as they turned down the hallway that ran along the side of the nave. "Would you give me a lift?"
They came to the rear entrance and he reached ahead to push the door open for her.
"It would be my pleasure," he replied. "Just wait here by the door; I'll ring Dembe."
She leaned carefully against the wall beside the door; she was tired, tired so easily these days, but didn't want to damage the dress. It was only on loan, after all.
Flipping shut his phone, Reddington came and rested beside her. "He'll just be a minute," Reddington said. "Lizzie-"
"I don't really want to talk," she interrupted him smoothly. "Please?"
He raised an eyebrow thoughtfully, but nodded. And he managed it too, surprising her. Ushered her into the back of his town car, then sat beside her on the drive to her apartment building without saying a word. When Dembe stopped the car, he turned to her.
"Do you need anything?" he asked, managing to sound only casually interested.
She smiled back, rubbing her stomach absently, full of peaceful contentment at last. Then she surprised them both by putting her arms around him, holding him close for just one warm moment.
"Not right now," she answered, patting his cheek. "But maybe, next week, you'd like to have dinner with me?"
"I… what?" He looked genuinely stunned, perplexed; his words, for once, had escaped him.
She laughed. It seemed to be her day for surprises, on all fronts. "Have dinner with me," she repeated. "I've missed you. And we can… talk."
She squeezed his hand affectionately, and then got out of the car and walked toward her door, smiling, strong.
Things, she thought happily, are finally going to change.