Lizzie's eyes searched the room, as though he would pop out from behind her at any moment.
"Lizzie." He said, a long, agonizing pause following her name. She had just asked him the most important question of her life and he'd given her the answer she wasn't sure she wanted to hear. Some hope began to grow inside of her that, at the very least, he would tell her who her father was. Instead, it was like he struck her.
"Be careful of your husband." he finished. She couldn't even respond. They had discussed this, they had been getting better. She had drawn her line in the sand and he wasn't meant to cross it.
But he did cross it…at a time most serious, most vital to them both. This was likely to be the last contact they had for quite some time. He had spent it answering her one question and then leaving with his parting remarks.
Her mouth parted, trying to think of something to say, but there was nothing. He was gone.
"This…your obsession with me?" The night in front of the painting came flying back to her. All of the evidence had pointed towards Red setting Tom up. Every bit of it. The money, Grey, Gina herself. "Go to hell."
She moved around from the table where she had been looking over her dad's possessions…her possessions and sat on the couch, her head resting on her hands.
Why would he do this to her again after all of the ground they had been recovering. She had almost begun to consider Red a friend, strange as that might have looked to anyone else that engaged in conversation with the two on a regular basis.
Oh hell, she thought to herself, five minutes ago, you thought he was your father.
It was an explanation that had made the most sense to her at the time. Why would he care so much, otherwise?
Clearly, that was a question that would have to wait until Red decided to return to them. In the meanwhile, he'd left her with even more to struggle with.
"I don't need your protection" the flashing lights of the police cars surrounding them the night of Frederick Barnes' death had made it almost impossible for her to read Red's reactions to that torrid conversation. "At work, you and I are partners, but that's where this relationship needs to end."
She laughed aloud. How he had read her that night. Known how easily she'd cave to his kindness, his respect and distance. He had been manipulating her back into his good graces for weeks and she knew it.
And to what end? For him to ruin everything with one last shot at her husband over the phone, only to disappear into the night afterward?
She thought about this, long and hard. She imagined that if her life was a television show, a quiet alternative rock song would be playing in the background of this emotional turmoil she now found herself in. Perhaps a montage of shots including herself, Red and whatever Tom was up to at this moment.
What was Tom up to at this moment?
She rose from her contemplative spot on the couch to roam freely among the boxes of things that had taken over their house in the last few weeks.
Slowly, she placed a hand on the rail of the staircase, paranoia already setting in. Is he up there, now? Waiting for me? She shook her head, trying to free herself of the thoughts that Red had once again placed into her mind.
"Be careful of your husband." His voice had been gravel, never more serious in all of the other talks they'd ever had.
One foot began the ascent to the second floor, but it felt like the back was glued to the spot. What are you so frightened of? Nothing, she tried to convince herself. I'm not frightened of anything, I just don't want to go back to this paranoia…the sleepless nights, the fear of the man I love. The man who had been there for her through everything. Had gone out to visit Sam in his final moments. Who had comforted her at the gravesite, who had ordered Chinese and sat with the lamp, who had been stabbed, who was scared for her, for her job, for their future, who she wanted to adopt a child with, who so badly wanted to be a man for her, when she was the agent and he was the teacher.
She shook her head, as though trying to clear these webs that were stringing across her mind, making it impossible for her to think straight. With that, the second foot left the ground floor, and after that it was easier.
When she reached the bedroom, she slowly glanced around the corner, still a bit frightened of the boogey man who may or may not have resided within.
What she was the flashing led of the television, playing across Tom's stern features. He was still upset.
She couldn't blame him.
When he noticed her in the entryway to the room, though, the anger dissipated almost immediately and he patted a seat for her next to him on the bed. "Join me?"
Her heart was pounding in her chest, but she walked towards him anyways. Red had known…known that Tom was off-limits. He had refrained from the comments, refrained from the abuse for the first time in their relationship since the night she'd drawn her line in the sand, but not now. Not when it was most important.
She realized all at once that this was why she was really beginning to believe Red that something wasn't right for the very first time. Sure, she had had doubts before, who wouldn't with the mountain of evidence that had been stacking up against Tom. But never before had the feeling settled in her gut so firmly, so surely that Tom was guilty. She couldn't know for sure what it was that Tom was guilty of, if it was irreparable, if their marriage was a sham. All she knew is that he was up to something and Lizzie was going to go crazy with the unknowns until Red returned.
And what about him returning? True…it's not like Red had been forthcoming with information before, "I can only lead you to the truth." He wasn't going to tell her anything without weeks' worth of mind games first.
All of this went through her head while Tom watched her, puzzled. "Is something wrong, Liz?" His smile was still there, but it had begun to die, just a bit, replaced with the concern that had been present that entire evening.
"No, no, sorry. I'm just still a little shook up from this afternoon." She placed her hand to her forehead with that word still hanging in the air, realizing that she was still covered in blood. "I think I should probably take a shower first, actually. What are you watching?" She moved over to the foot of the bed and sat down beside his legs, resting a foot on his calf.
"TV Land, there's not a lot else on right now." Liz glanced towards the television and saw the grainy black and white sitcom before them.
Ricky Ricardo was talking on the telephone, something about being tired of seeing the same woman, night after night. Lucy stood behind her, face filled with abject terror.
"I've seen this one before," Liz spoke out loud. "This is the one where Lucy's been reading that murder mystery and she gets paranoid that Ricky's trying to kill her—" she trailed off, suddenly feeling sick at the sight of the otherwise amusing sitcom. Sam had watched Lucy with her when she was a child, but that wasn't the reason for her sudden sullen mood. It suddenly hit too close to home. "Mind turning the channel?"
Tom looked at her, his brow pinched in confusion, but he acquiesced. The next channel over also carried black and white fare. Liz also knew what this one was, even quicker than the last. "Suspicion."
"Hitchcock's great, isn't he? All that great suspense, layered on top of each other," he was smiling again, now content that they could have a normal conversation about something they both had some interest in, "we haven't watched a Hitchcock movie in a long time."
No, they hadn't, but now wasn't going to be the time, either. Clearly fate was trying to tell her something, because this plot was even more applicable to her own life than the last. Liz rose from the bed and made her way to the shower. She gave Tom one last backwards glance, "Be out in a few, hon. If you want to watch something else, maybe we can go to the video store and rest another Hitchcock flick." Maybe something lighter, she thought to herself, like The Birds, or Psycho.
Nope, check that on the second one. Even if it wasn't about a husband plotting to kill his wife, she didn't want to spend the evening stealing glances at Tom, wondering if he had a stuffed bird collection somewhere that he hadn't been sharing with her.
Before Tom could respond, the door clicked shut and Liz was gone.
Tom settled back into the pillows of the bed, raising the remote once more towards the television. That dejected feeling came flying back to him, almost immediately.
He thought everything was back to the way it once was, but clearly something had happened. Liz didn't trust him again.
Tom thought back on all of the horrible decisions he had made in his life and settled in on the one good thing he had going for him. If only he could find some way, but no out presented itself. Once again, he flicked the channel, but the images on the screen couldn't permeate his sullen mood.
A/N: I just had this idea cross my mind and I really wanted to put it up before tonight's episode. Unfortunately, I have to go to the movies and I won't be back in time to finish it, so I got as much as I could done. Anyways, there will be a second chapter, maybe more based on what we find out.
Sorry I didn't have time to spell check either!