AN: I've done it again. A new fic. I don't think I'll ever finish anything ever again, sorry! I do hope you'll like this, I have most of it mapped out already, at least in my head. It'll be a little dark in the beginning, but there will be smut and loads of fluff also and y'all know I love angst, so that will be in there too. Special thanks to Jammequin for proofreading and so quickly too.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Blacklist if I did, Fakob aka Tom would've been dead for a long, long time now

Chapter 1

He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. It almost broke him, seeing her standing out there, alive. She looked at him, but he couldn't bring himself to go to her. He was barely functioning at the rush of emotions that flooded his body. Not too long ago he had held her lifeless hand in his, kissed her forehead, eyelids, cheeks; had barely resisted kissing her soft lips. He had tried making his peace with her death, thought he would never see her again, that it was his fault he would never see her again, but there she was. Standing on the sidewalk, with blood flowing gently through her veins, because, no, she wasn't dead. It wasn't that she had cheated death, she had cheated him. She had wanted to get away from him so badly, that she even faked her own death. Now he couldn't do anything but roll up the car window and motion for Dembe to drive away. His own thoughts sickened him. It sickened him to the point where he was sure his friend would need to pull over, so he could empty his stomach onto the pavement. It sickened him, the feeling of betrayal that ran through him; the anger, the pure rage. It sickened him, that he was feeling this way, because…

Because she was alive.

LizzingtonLizzingtonLizzington

She hadn't managed to pull her gaze away from his sad eyes, willing him to step out of the car. Wasn't he happy to see her? At least a little? Her heart ached when he suddenly rolled up the window and drove off, without a word, without any kind of acknowledgment towards her. It was clear to her then that he wouldn't be the one coming to her this time. It would need to be her; she would need to be the one trying to save their… friendship? Relationship? What were they even?

After explaining to Tom that she needed some time alone with her daughter, some time away, so she could just calm down a little, Liz packed a couple of things in an overnight bag, making sure she had enough diapers for her baby girl. It was rather late that evening, the disassembling of the crib had taken longer than expected, when she found herself standing in front of his safe house. She knocked hesitantly and quickly brushed some hair behind her ear, her other arm cradling a sleeping Agnes.

It was Dembe that opened the door and she was somewhat relieved that she would still have some time to prepare for the confrontation that she was sure was going to happen once she faced him.

The man in front of her gave her a smile, his features soft as he took in the two of them. Much to her surprise, he gave her a warm hug, stroking over her baby's hair.

"I'm glad to see you are well, Elizabeth," he said.

"Thank you, Dembe," she replied, wondering why it was so much easier to say these words to the tall bodyguard. "Look, uhm… I have all this stuff in the car… a crib too and… I was… do you think he would…"

He smiled widely at her. "Why don't you give your precious girl to me and go on in. I will take care of everything. He is on the first floor, down the hall."

"Thank you," she said again and carefully handed over her infant. She trusted the man, even though she was still surprised he was a father, and grandfather for that matter.

She slowly walked up the stairs, knowing she was stalling, but she couldn't stop the dread she was feeling. She was unsure of how he would react to her barging into his borrowed home late at night. All too soon for her liking, she was standing at his door. Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand on the doorknob, her free hand knocking softly, before she turned the handle and opened the door. Waiting for a reply would've killed her, she knew.

He was sitting in an arm chair, facing a stone wall, a tumbler of scotch in his hand. The bottle was almost half empty already and she wondered if he had drunk all of it that night.

"Red?" She called out, cursing herself for the slight tremor in her voice. She watched him freeze and then straighten in his chair.

From where she was standing, she could see his jaw clenching. He was angry and hurt, she knew that he was, but she was here to make it better. She hated fighting with this enigma of a man.

"Can we… can we talk?"

"Since when is it of interest to you what I want and don't want?" He asked coldly.

"Please, Red. I know you're angry -"

"Angry?!" He sprung up from his chair, his eyes were dark and his lips curled into a snarl. "You have no idea! I'm… livid, Elizabeth," he spat. "You should go. For your own good."

If he was trying to frightened her, he wasn't succeeding. She was positive he would never lay a hand on her. He was however making her uneasy, with his behavior. Normally he would never act that way towards her, but it was different circumstances now.

"I know I hurt you," she started. "I know. But I'm here to apologize for that and to -"

"Apologize?" He laughed cruelly. "That must be a first for you. Do you really think that your empty words would mean anything to me? Spare me."

She shook her head. "I just want to explain. I need you to understand that I had to get away."

"You needed to get away from the monster? What exactly do you want to explain? The way you betrayed me? How you managed to convince, what I thought was one of my most loyal associates, to help you pull that stunt? Did you all have a nice laugh at my blindness? Tell me, Elizabeth, how did you come up with this plan? Was it in bed, with your husband, after he fucked you?" He was standing right in front of her by now, his breathing labored, his nostrils flaring. She had never seen him that angry before; he was almost vibrating with anger.

She stood still, not wanting to aggravate him any more than she had to. She hadn't seen him out of control yet, not with her anyway. "I didn't only come here to explain what I did, to seek your understanding at least. I'm also… I… I do want to apologize for my actions, but I also… I need you to know that I wanted to protect Agnes."

His eyes momentarily softened at the mention of the innocent baby's name, before they hardened again. "The child created in a moment of love and passion?"

"Was it like that?" She asked, catching him by surprise. "The main reason I'm here is to tell you…" She took a deep breath and tried steadying herself. "She's yours. Agnes is yours."