A/N: This is my first Blacklist story, an AU I started writing sometime in 2015 and have been strugling with a block every once in a while. Have recenty started updating it again on another FF site, so decided to post it here too for comments, or at least to archive it and maybe it'll help me get more writing done.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Blacklist or any of its recognizable characters. No copyright infringement intended.
"Agent Keen, thank you for coming. Please have a seat." Assistant Director Harold Cooper's lips twitched into a short but pleasant smile, as he extended his hand towards the chair across from him.
Liz Keen smiled back at him and sat down, feeling slightly nervous about what she was soon to find out. She prided herself on her confidence and ability to deal with many situations, which came about mostly from a very young age and her early childhood and what she was taught by her adoptive father Sam Milhoan. He was a kind and wonderful man who saved her from misery in foster care and single-handedly raised her and loved her till the cancer took him away from her last year.
She was still coming to terms with his death. She almost left the academy to care for him when he was at his worst but Sam was adamant that she continue, despite his illness and he told her not to visit till she was done. So she did as she was told but consequently never got to say goodbye to him in person.
After succesfuly graduating from Quantico, she has proven herself on more than one assignment, especially as a consultant to the DC Metro police, when she helped profile and in the capture of more than a fair number of serial killers. But this invitation, or more like a request to join the newly formed and top secret task force within the FBI, took her completely by surprise.
While usually a heavy sleeper, which was admitedly odd for someone who got paid to get inside a killer's mind, she had trouble sleeping last night. She kept wondering what would the well respected Assistant Director for Counter-terrorism want with her, a mere rookie FBI agent?
Yes, she has received high praise from her superiors as a profiler but why would they need a very inexperienced field agent, mostly regarded by her colleagues as a paper-pusher, to go and help with a recently captured FBI's 4th Most Wanted criminal? She thought they already had all they needed to know on him, so her profile of him was completely unnecessary.
From what she read on the man, he was on the run for more than 20 years, for stealing and selling government secrets and none of the known and lesser known acronym US and foreign agencies, have ever come close to capturing him, until now.
The funny thing was that technically they still didn't capture him but he literaly walked right into one of the most guarded government agencies, identified himself and asked to speak to the man, whose office she just sat in.
She had to admit to being more than a little intrigued by this.
"Did Special Agent Ressler brief you on why you're here?" Cooper asked, breaking the brief silence.
"Yes sir, but it was mostly on the general work of the task force and he gave me a dossier he compiled on this Raymond Reddington you have in custody but…" She trailed off and frowned.
"What is it?" Cooper asked, raising an eyebrow.
"With all due respect sir, I'm not entirely sure why I was asked to join you. I got an impression from Special Agent Ressler, that he wasn't pleased to have me here, least of all because of my profiling skills, which in his words was 'a load of mumbo jumbo'."
Cooper leaned towards her and stared at her intently, waiting to see a reaction, to what he was about to say next. "So I gather he didn't tell you Reddington asked for you specifically, by name?"
Liz's eyes went wide in shock and surprise. She was definitely not expecting this.
When she finally recovered, she shook her head. "No, sir, I can't imagine why he would ask for me."
Cooper frowned, she seemed genuinely surprised. He thought she was either telling the truth, or was a damn good actress. He imagined that by being a fine profiler and expert on body language, it wouldn't be too hard for her to disguise the truth. No, Cooper has seen many dishonest people in his line of work and from what he read on her and heard from her previous employers, she was a truly honest, by-the-book person. Which is why it's even more puzzling that a kind of man like Reddington would ask for her.
"Have you ever come into contact with him, or any of his associates in the past?"
She shook her head. "Sir, you've read my file. I've never even worked on organized crime, or counter-terrorism before. I have absolutely no idea how he knows my name."
Cooper nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer. He clasped his fingers and leaned back in his chair, levelling her with a serious but kind look. "We will soon find out." He said.
"Sir?" She asked confused.
He looked at his watch and back at her. "You are sheduled to meet with Reddington soon. Agent Ressler will accompany you to one of his safe houses."
"Safe house?" She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I thought he was held in a federal detention facility?"
"Let's just say, that Reddington gave us an offer we couldn't refuse. He was moved out of detention to a safe house, a few days ago. In exchange for this offer, among other things, he asked for your… company and a few of his closest, most trusted associates for his security detail."
He removed a stack of files from his drawer and placed two of them on the desk, motioning for her to take a look. She took a file and after perusing it for a short moment, read aloud some facts on the subjects. "Dembe, Sudanese, former South Sudan freedom fighter, Reddingon's bodyguard in the past and from what I can see a very close friend of his."
She took the second file and flipped through it, "Luli Zeng, has a Ph.D in economics from Stanford, a financial genius suspected of moving and handling Reddington's money, SEC considered her untouchable for many years and she actually evaded capture, until now."
She frowned. "They were both invisible for years and now they allowed to be captured, just because Reddington asked for them?"
"As a profiler, you must find all of this very intriguing, as you were also invited to join this merry group of his loyal associates and friends, even though you've apparently never met before."
"To be perfectly candid, sir, and I'm sorry to phrase it like this but I'm confused as hell!"
Cooper laughed at that and replied, "You and me both, Agent Keen. Hopefully all will become much clearer when you two have a little chat and you profile him yourself."
She gave him a relieved smile, no longer thinking she was regarded as a suspect because of being asked for by Reddington.
Before she had a chance to retort, there was a soft but insistent knock on the door.
"Yes, come in." Cooper commanded to the sudden intruder.
The door opened and Ressler poked his head in, his expression slightly apologetic.
"Excuse me for interrupting, sir but we need to leave." He nodded at Liz, who gave him a strained smile. She was still nervous, after their earlier slightly intimidating talk, which felt more like an interrogation to her.
"Reddington again?" Cooper asked, raising an eyebrow at Ressler.
Ressler nodded, let out a frustrated sigh and said, "I think it would be wise to relieve Agent Jones of guard duty as soon as possible. He might get an idea to get rid of our special informant. So we should go there earlier than planned, if Agent Keen is ready?"
Cooper gave a short nod in agreement. "Yes, Reddington is an expert on pushing buttons. Agent Keen, are you okay to go with Agent Ressler?"
"If you wouldn't mind making a short stop at my apartment for a change of clothes and a cup of coffee? I've been here since 6 a.m. and I really need a short break." She replied and looked at Ressler pleasantly, who to her relief smiled in understanding.
"Yeah sure, but if I were you I'd get something stronger instead. Trust me, after meeting with the great Raymond Reddington, you're gonna wish you had!" He replied.
Liz nodded, deciding not to comment further on his apparent animosity and stood up, extending her hand to shake Cooper's.
"Thank you, sir. For this opportunity to work with you."
Cooper smirked. "You're welcome, Agent Keen but unfortunately it is Raymond Reddington who gave you this opportunity. Nevertheless, I am sure you will be of great help to us on this task force."
"Is he really that bad? Reddington, I mean?" She asked Ressler after they left Cooper's office and headed outside to their government issued black SUV. She read about him and heard parts of the story from Cooper but she was interested in further thoughts from her current partner.
Ressler shook his head. "You have no idea. The file is only the tip of the iceberg! I have worked on his case and capture for 5 years. He might have offered to help us for the time being and asked for you specifically for some unknown reason but don't let that charming bastard fool you into thinking he's turned into a saint, or that you're somehow special. This is all a means to an end for him and when he's done playing the good guy, he'll be back to his old tricks."
Liz nodded and remained quiet, as they drove off in the direction of her apartment building.
Close to an hour later and a quick stop at one of the local coffee shops, they were approaching Reddington's latest safe house. From what she learned, this one was one of the known places he frequently visited, yet stayed at only two nights at a time, due to security reasons. It was a fairly large house that apparently belonged to a long time friend of Reddington's, an unsuccesful author Frederick Hampstead, who has been dead for several years but left the place to him.
When they reached the stairwell in the large hallway, a tall, well dressed and handsome dark-skinned man, who Liz recognised as Reddington's bodyguard Dembe, gave them a nod in greeting. He obviously knew Agent Ressler from before, staring at him with a stony expression but when his eyes came upon her, his expression instantly softened.
"Elizabeth," The man spoke in a soft, pleasant and welcoming voice.
Liz stopped walking at a safe distance from him, her mouth opening in surprise. "I'm sorry, have we met before?"
Ressler glared at him, trying but failing to intimidate him.
Dembe ignored Ressler completely and genuinely smiled at Liz. "I must apologize for startling you. Raymond spoke very highly of you so many times that I feel as though we are old friends, meeting again after being apart for many years."
She was momentarily in shock at this revelation and the implication that Reddington apparently talked about her to others, as if he knew her for years, in fact so well that the man in front of her immediately recognized her. Liz managed to smile back nervously at the outwardly pleasant man of imposing presence.
Unconsciously saving Liz from responding, Ressler cleared his throat and glaring at Dembe, he said, "No offence Dembe but Agent Keen hasn't come here to chit-chat with you. Is the devil free for an audience?"
Liz cringed at the hostility in Ressler's tone, thinking it very unwise to antagonize and anger Dembe, someone who could easily take him down, or kill him with his bare hands. She marveled at Dembe's self-control, as he simply frowned at Ressler, crossing his arms in a defensive posture. He was obviously used to Ressler's behavior.
She recovered from her initial shock and offered her hand to him in a friendly gesture, thinking it best to have an ally in someone who didn't find her threatening and imediately accepted her, even though she was technically an enemy.
Upon meeting her, Agent Ressler did the exactly opposite, he treated her unfairly and was very unfriendly to her, because he thought she had some kind of an association with Reddington.
Even though he softened up slightly towards her in the past few hours, she didn't think he came to trust her yet.
Dembe smiled again and shook her hand with a firm grip. "He will be very pleased to see you." He said and started walking up the stairs, motioning with his hand, to follow him to see Reddington, who was spending most of his time, in his favorite part of the house, which the old owner used as a library.
Liz thanked him when they reached the room and Ressler asked in a sarcastic tone, "Is he decent?" Before Dembe even had a chance to glare at him, the door suddenly opened and they came face to face with the infamous Raymond Reddington.
He extended his hands as if he was about to embrace them and exclaimed, "Welcome!"
Liz was stunned by his imposing presence and his striking outward appearance. He was dressed impeccably, from his pristine white dress shirt, black vest, with black slacks, sans the undoubtably black jacket, to finish off the perfectly tailored, three-piece suit ensamble, which he was as Ressler told her, known to wear and a pair of expensive Italian shoes.
"My dear Donald, as you can gather from Agent Keen's openly admiring stare, I'm well and quite handsomely dressed," he said and winked at Liz, who reddened slightly and inwardly cursed, as her eyes uncosciously strayed to his lips for a brief moment.
He quickly leveled Ressler with an amused look, "but decent? Never." He shook his head and laughed, as if it was some private joke between them.
It probably was, or at least to Reddington who played a game of cat and mouse with Agent Ressler for five years. Ressler didn't find it funny at all. Liz noticed he was seething.
To Liz, Reddington's laugh sounded very fake, as well as the expression of aloofness on his aged, yet still handsome face.
"Ah, Lizzie! What a pleasure! Please, do come in!" He greeted her pleasantly, cocking his head to the side, and Liz thought she saw a sparkle in his green eyes. Excitement and something she couldn't yet define. Affection? No, she must be wrong. It was the lighting, she concluded.
"Thank you." Liz managed to reply politely and smiled nervously, before schooling her expression into one of cool and professional detachment.
He nodded once and turned at Ressler. "You too Donald, if you must. Agent Jones left earlier, he apparently had some matter of urgency to attend to, so I'm afraid you'll have to deal with me on your own." He smirked.
Ressler knew all of that as he heard back from Agent Jones and the man was adamant that Ressler had to come and replace him as soon as possible, othewise he would give into the urge and throttle Reddington. Ressler was well aware of Reddingon's ability to get every single agent tasked to him on the verge of madness.
Frankly the general consensus was that the man was an insufferable jerk, who enjoyed riling them up and nobody wanted to work as his detail or handler. They would prefer to be transfered to one of the worst regarded FBI's field offices, in some relatively unknown country, instead of protecting someone they considered an asshole and a traitor to their country. Ressler completely agreed with them but was still forced to work with him.
Even though he didn't completely trust Agent Keen, he hoped that she'd find a way to avoid the same fate. She looked as smart, as she was beautiful and it would be a real shame for her to waste her career, babysitting a vile man like Reddington.
"Please, have a seat," The man in question gestured for them to follow him inside. "Would you like a drink, Lizzie? The previous owner has left me a lovely wine selection, as well. I know Donald will decline, he's on duty after all." Ressler ignored him, opting to stare at his phone, seemingly fascinated with something.
She shook her head, with a polite, "It's Agent Keen and no thank you," and sat down on the comfortable couch, although as far away as possible from Reddington, who poured himself a tumbler of what appeared to be scotch and swiftly downed half of it.
He then sat down on the other side of the couch, his posture appeared very relaxed for someone who was on the run and in danger, for half of his life. He quietly sipped from the tumbler and stared through the window, the sunset outside was casting some light into the dimly lit library room, the scene was nicely accompanied with the picturesque view from the garden outside.
Liz had to admit that if it was anyone else in her company, instead of a known criminal mastermind, she'd almost find the scene quite romantic. All you needed to complete it was some cheesy love song, playing in the background.
Ressler broke the sudden silence, which Liz found strangely comfortable, with a fake cough. "Got a text from HQ, we have a lead on one of my cases, so I'll have to leave you two to chat for a while," He turned to Liz, "You gonna be okay for an hour or two?"
"I think Agent Keen is perfectly capable of handling herself, Donald." Reddington replied seriously, still staring at the scenery outside.
Liz smiled at him and said, "Thank you, Agent Ressler, I'll be fine." She was actually relieved he was leaving, as she found it more relaxing to delve into the mind of Raymond Reddington, without Ressler's agitated presence.
Ressler merely nodded in return and quickly left, closing the door very loudly.
"Donald does not have an acquired taste," Reddington's voice startled her slightly and her eyes moved away from the scene to watch in curiosity and fascination how the soft light fell on his handsome face. She would never admit it out loud but this scene, him and his voice made her start to feel things which would be considered very inappropriate by her colleagues.
"Ever since we've been acquainted, the man has never set foot in a restaurant, other than to suddenly jump out of the bushes and run inside to capture a fugitive," At that he smirked and continued, "He hasn't even taken his fiance to eat there. I've suggested it to him in many of our short meetings over the years, even offered to pay for it but the man is unbelievably stubborn! No wonder the poor girl left him." He shook his head and took a sip of his scotch, savouring it and after a moment, Liz decided that he was finished with that particular story.
"So Mr. Reddington, are you going to tell me why you asked for me?" She asked, while he still stared at the scenery.
He looked back at her and let out a short laugh. "That sounds so informal, Lizzie! I'd prefer it if you would call me Red. All my friends do and if I may say so, this could be the beginning of a beautiful- "
She shook her head in disbelief. "Friendship? Don't be delusional, Reddington. You are a criminal and I am a government agent. That is all there is. Besides, I find it highly unlikely for you to have any close friends."
Why did she suddenly feel this inexplicable annoyance at his mere presence?
His smile faltered for a second but it was long enough for her to notice, as well as the nervous twitch under his eye.
"Am I going to get an answer from you?" She insisted.
His expression remained serious, while he finished off his drink and set the tumbler on the table.
"Your husband." He simply said.
She frowned in confusion and waited for clarification but he didn't continue.
"Tom? In case you didn't know we've been separated for months and I'm waiting for the annulment to come through."
He nodded and went on. "I'm well aware. I must say that was the best decision you've made."
"What do you mean?"
"Tom Keen is not who you think he is."
She nodded, laughing bitterly. "Oh, I know he's a lying cheating bastard. That's why we're seperated."
He shook his head and went on. "Tom Keen is not his real name. It's an alias. I know him as Jacob Phelps."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"He's an asset, a professional assassin, an agent for hire. I dealt with him once through an intermediary but he doublecrossed me."
She stared at him in shock, then laughed in disbelief. "Are you out of your mind? Tom is a school teacher, he teaches kids in fourth grade!"
"That was a front to gain your confidence. Who better than an innocent looking school teacher."
She took a moment to absorb his words. "Wait, are you telling me I was his target?"
Reddington chewed on the inside of his mouth before responding. "Yes."
"But why? We married three years ago, I wasn't even an FBI agent then so there was nothing to gain. There was nothing special about me."
He shook his head as he said. "Oh, I think you're very special!" Liz saw that twinkle in his eyes again, the one she associated with the lighting earlier.
He sighed as he continued, his expression growing more serious. "And that's the problem."
She stared at him. "What are you saying?"
"I hired Jacob Phelps to- "
"You hired him to spy on me, to marry me!" She interrupted him and stood up, her eyes glaring at him in anger. She started pacing the room, trying to regain some composure.
"No wonder you know me! You are nothing but a sick stalker!"
"No, Lizzie!" He exclaimed in an unusualy desperate voice.
She ignored him and hurried towards the door, wanting to get as far away from the man that seemingly violated her life. Her hand grabbed the door knob but hesitated to leave. The sudden curiosity and her profiler instinct, overruled her fear for the moment.
Reddingon stood up after her, walking towards her. He raised his hand in the air, wanting to touch her shoulder in comfort but decided against it. He might get hit. Maybe she would let him explain when she calmed down.
She turned around, her expression contorted in anger. "So you asked after me because your employee stopped reporting about me? You needed to see your obsession in person!"
He shook his head. "No, Lizzie… That's not it at all! Would you please let me explain- "
"No, I think you've said enough! You son of a bitch, you ruined my life!"
He decided to chance it and came closer but she misread him and backed away as far as the door. Her hand unconsciously strayed to her holster, but she found it empty. Of course, the agent guarding the perimeter took her gun before they entered the house. She glanced around the room, trying to find something she could use as a weapon. Her eyes quickly landed on the pen on the table.
He saw her looking at him in fear and stopped his movement, raising his hands in surrender.
"You have nothing to fear, Lizzie." He said, his hands went down, while his eyes followed her frantic movements. "Never from me." His voice sounded lower, soothing, as if he was speaking to a frightened child.
He sighed and his hand went to scratch the back of his neck in an involuntary nervous reaction.
She looked back at him, confused. Of course, when she thought about it, it was all quite ridiculous. If he was obsessed with her, why would he hurt her now? And why wasn't she calling for outside help if she was afraid?
She tried to read him again, his body language. He appeared concerned, contrite. He didn't look threatening and she was surprised to see some moisture glistening in the corner of his eyes. She took a deep breath and calmed down.
Sam used to tell her that sometimes she had a bad habit of overreacting to certain things and could get volatile.
Maybe she should try to listen, maybe there was a plausible explanation as he suggested. But what could possibly justify arranging a fake husband for someone?
"Alright, I'm listening." She said, moving away from him, to sit back down on the sofa. Feeling she was in for a long and distressing conversation, that wine she was offered earlier, suddenly sounded very appealing to her.