Samar takes a steadying breath before walking up to Liz's open office door. Her stomach flips as she knocks on the frame and forces herself to speak, working up to asking what she's been gathering the nerve to ask for ten minutes. "You caught Covington and the child is in recovery. Sounds like a victory." She smiles at the sight of Liz, head bent over her desk in the soft light.
Liz looks up and tosses her what looks like a forced smile. "Yeah."
Samar's a little shaken by the short, uninterested response, the forced friendliness. But she forges on. "You guys don't celebrate when you close a big case?" She pauses, gathering her final burst of courage, cocking her head to the side with a playful smile on her face. "Come on, let me buy you a drink."
There's another of Liz's forced smiles. "Thanks, but I think I'm just gonna head out," Liz replies, standing up, avoiding Samar's gaze.
The smile drops from Samar's face instantly. The rejection stings. It's not like she outright asked Liz on a date. She isn't even willing to be friends? To go chat over drinks? Samar quickly tightens the muscles in her face, using her slight anger to mask the hurt before Liz looks back up at her. When she does meet her gaze, Samar's face is a mask of stone, her eyes hard.
Liz is a profiler though. She's a pro at reading people. She can immediately tell that Samar's mind is a swirling assortment of emotions. 'All because I turned down a drink?' Liz thinks, her brow furrowing in confusion.
Samar speaks, trying to disguise the fact that she cares, letting the anger turn her voice flat, emotionless. "All you know about me is that I found Reddington, and whatever you might've read in a slim dossier. And now we're working together, with all that that implies. I'm sure you don't know what to think." She's trying to rationalize to herself and Liz at the same time, trying to make herself understand why Liz is so wary of her.
"You're wrong," Liz replies. She still looks confused, but now her expression seems to match Samar's level of frustration.
Now it's Samar's turn to be confused. She's just said exactly what Liz has to be thinking, explained exactly why Liz seems to want nothing to do with her. How can she be wrong? "I'm not wrong. You're right not to trust me." It hurts to admit that, even though she understands.
But it doesn't hurt as much as what comes next.
Liz steps toward her, her voice cold, distant. "Oh, you're right about that." Samar feels her mask slip away for a moment. She knows Liz doesn't trust her, but hearing her say it, in that tone, leaves a bruise. "You're wrong if you think you found Reddington. If he was found, it's because he wanted to be and he wanted you to find him."
Samar's instincts to defend herself kick in despite the lingering sting of Liz's words. "Or maybe I'm just good at what I do. Is that so difficult to believe?" She smirks slightly, amused with her inability to stop flirting even while feeling hurt and angry, even while being rejected.
But Liz continues as if Samar hadn't spoken. "If he wanted you here, he has a reason. That's why I don't trust you. Because I don't know what the reason is. And I'm guessing neither do you." She gazes at Samar for a couple more seconds before brushing past her to leave her office.
Samar's legs seem locked in place as she stands silently, trying to process the conversation they'd just had, the obvious dislike and distrust Liz feels toward her, the rejection. She stares straight ahead of her, not really seeing anything, lost in thought.
A minute later, she walks out of the empty room and exits the Post Office. Soon she's sitting in her dark, quiet rental car, heading back to her small, impersonal apartment, trying not to focus on the ache of loneliness and alienation deep in her chest.
TBLTBLTBLTBLTBL
The next day, Samar can sense the moment Liz steps off the elevator. She focuses intently on the computer screen in front of her, illogically afraid that Liz will be able to tell that she cried herself to sleep the night before, tears soaking into her scratchy pillowcase. She knows it isn't possible, but she's terrified of showing weakness. She can't let her teammates see how pathetic she is behind her fierce, professional facade. Not when they already don't like her.
Liz glances at Samar as she passes, her new partner seemingly hard at work already. She knows she's right not to trust Samar easily, but she can't help but feel a little guilty remembering how closed-off Samar's expression became when she'd turned down her drink offer, remembering the brief slip in Samar's mask and how hurt she'd looked in that moment.
Liz settles in at her desk with a sigh. Hadn't she said herself that Samar likely doesn't know why Reddington wants her there? If Samar's not actively hiding anything from her – and Liz guesses she's probably not – she doesn't really have a reason to distrust her. Samar is just as ensnared, just as ignorant about her place in Reddington's web as Liz.
She decides she needs to make it up to Samar somehow, be the bigger person and welcome her. Cooper trusted Samar enough to bring her onto the task force. She's just letting her paranoia get the best of her, that's all.
TBLTBLTBLTBLTBL
Samar distances herself, focusing only on the work. No playful banter with Aram, no small talk with anyone. If the team doesn't want to socialize with her, she'll make it easy, make sure it seems like she wants to keep things all about the job too. She keeps her professional mask firmly in place as they go about the day.
And Liz can tell. It's the lack of emotion, the lack of personality, that tips her off. Samar is trying so hard to keep distance between herself and the team that it's become obvious, but only to Liz, who can expertly read the hints of tension in the set of Samar's shoulders and the firm line of her jaw. That tension hadn't been there on her other days at the Post Office. She'd been relaxed, confident in her abilities, comfortable in her own skin. Now she's none of those things. Liz doesn't want to assume, but she has a feeling this has to do with her rude brush-off the night before.
By early evening, Reddington hasn't yet brought them a new case and Samar's finished up her reports and follow-ups from Covington, so she gathers her jacket and bag and heads to the elevator. She glances at Liz's office, noticing the soft glow of the lamp slanting through the blinds. She decides not to say goodnight to her teammates, in keeping with her day's mission of personal detachment. Someone must have left just before her, since the elevator isn't waiting on their level. She waits for it to come back and steps inside, leaning against the wall with a sigh and closing her eyes, letting her mask slip off for the day. She's about to head home; she can be as pathetic as she wants to be when she's alone.
But Liz had been keeping an eye on Samar from her office, waiting for her to leave. When she notices Samar waiting for the elevator she hurriedly grabs her belongings, switches off her lamp, and rushes to catch up. Liz ducks into the elevator at the last second and notices the exhausted expression on Samar's face before she opens her eyes, startled at the sudden presence of someone else.
"Oh. Hey. Heading home?" Samar asks, pretending to be uninterested, hoping her mask hadn't been completely gone when Liz joined her.
"Well, headed somewhere that's not here," Liz replies with a smile. She can't keep quiet about the sadness she sees in Samar's eyes. "You okay? You seemed different today."
Samar forces a smile. "Fine. Just tired," she lies, her voice tight, controlled.
Liz frowns. "You know I'm a profiler, right? You're not fooling me."
"It's nothing, really."
Liz gazes at her, scrutinizing her expression. "I'm sorry for what I said last night, Samar. I was rude and unfriendly, and it was uncalled for."
"No it wasn't. I understand why you don't trust me," Samar replied, keeping her voice under control.
"I want to trust you. I do. Cooper trusts you. And I'm fairly certain that you have no idea what Reddington wants with you. There's no reason for me to have treated you the way that I have. So I'm sorry." The elevator opens and Samar begins walking toward her car, dragging her eyes away from Liz's face.
Liz follows her off the elevator, placing a hand on Samar's shoulder to stop her. Samar turns, her eyes filled with hesitation. Liz doesn't know why she suddenly feels like maybe she can be honest with this woman. She recognizes a little of her loneliness, her out-of-placeness, her sadness, in Samar's expression. "My life has been…falling apart around me and I'm having trouble trusting all people lately, so please don't take it personally," Liz explains.
Samar hears the subtle urgency in Liz's voice and holds her gaze, trying to study her eyes, gauge her sincerity. She swallows the lump in her throat and nods. "I appreciate the apology, Elizabeth. But really, it's fine. We don't need to be friends just because we're working together." She begins to turn away but Liz places her hand on her shoulder again, stopping her.
"I'd like to be," Liz rushes out, desperately not wanting Samar to leave, worried that her rude behavior has ruined Samar's relationship with the entire team. Samar looks surprised, but she's trying to hide it behind her usual mask. "Come on, let me buy you a drink," Liz offers with a friendly smirk, repeating Samar's words that had sparked this entire exchange in the first place.
Samar's eyes light up and she can't help but return Liz's smile. "Sure."
Liz's grin widens. It's genuine, Samar can tell. Her dimples are standing out and her eyes are crinkling at the corners. "Great! Our go-to bar is down the street," Liz replies, gesturing to her left.
Samar follows her from the parking garage, out into the chill of the autumn evening. 'Things are looking up,' she thinks, the smile lingering on her face.