Just a little sad piece of work for all those Lizzington lovers out there.
Trigger Warning for mentions of morbid subject; suicide. If even the concept of suicide is triggering to you, avoid this story all together! Stay safe!
Elizabeth Keen knew that he would eventually catch up to her. No matter how fast she moved, no matter where she went, neither hell nor high water would stop Raymond Reddington from being within arm's grasp.
"Room for one; three days. Under Mellissa Mallard." She was curt with the front desk attendant, whose greasy hair matched the greasy motel.
"Two hundred." He spoke through a mouth-full of chips, patting the table.
Elizabeth pulled the wad of cash from her pocket and started counting. Two-hundred barely made a dent in the emergency stash. She had been planning for weeks, every day or two hitting a few ATM's around town to withdraw a random amount to add to a growing pile. She knew she wouldn't need all this cash, but it helped knowing she was untraceable.
She was granted a room key; farthest room from the stairs on the top floor. She left quick, looking over her shoulder the entire way to her room. There wasn't a Dembe or Red to be seen. She hustled into her room, tossing her bag onto the bed for sitting at the small, dirty table in front of the curtained window.
She pulled out a cell phone, not her phone, but a phone. An old off-brand piece, made untraceable thanks to a little bit of work. She glanced at the time before tossing the phone on the dusty tabletop. A few minutes from one in the morning. People from work wouldn't know she was missing for seven hours, give or take, depending if she got an emergency call. But even with that possibility, they'd only call the cell phone that she hid on a bus that was on a one way trip to Vegas.
Liz eyed her bag, eventually deciding that she would unpack it. She took her time making her way over to it, unzipping the top to reveal a rather barren interior. One by one, she pulled out her items. Bottle of soda from the ancient vending machine outside the front office, bottle of vodka, and her handgun. It was all she needed. She placed it all on the table, the chair creaking louder than before when she plopped herself down.
The grey wool sweater that hung off her body was made for moments like this. It hugged her. It made her feel as if she was being comforted. It made her want to write a note. She would not write a note. Instead, she lit a cigarette, a habit she thought she lost when she graduated high school. Her drag was long and her exhale was slow. She grabbed a glass off the table, blew out the dust, and poured herself a gracious shot of vodka.
She tossed the shot back and she started to cry.
It hadn't worked out how she expected. A simple life, a happy marriage, a beautiful child, and a job helping people. The American dream, as some would call it. But she knew that the game was rigged from the start. Elizabeth had been dealt shit hand after shit hand of cards that started with a house fire and ended with a criminal who lured her so-called husband to show his true colours. It was all crumbling apart. It was enough.
As she took her second shot, the phone began to ring. It was him. No one would have been able to find her number but him. She promised herself she wouldn't answer, but she couldn't help her hand as it inched towards the silver device. With the final haul of a cigarette in her lungs, she gave into her heart's desire.
She answered, despite the anger towards herself. Before she could speak, a voice barked at her.
"Elizabeth Scott Keen." Red was actually yelling, and used her full name, no less.
"You found me." She sighed. She smiled, briefly, for the moment. The tables were turned; Red was angry and she was stoic. Amusing, if not for the circumstance.
"I found your number. And by the looks Dembe is giving me, I won't physically find you without a fight. Untraceable cell phone?" He was short with her. Liz had a feeling that, if she was in the same room as him, he would be violently shaking her by the shoulders.
"Untraceable cell phone."
"Is it worth it? Leave everything negative behind now so you can't have the positive in the future?" She heard footsteps on the other line; Red was pacing.
"You can't put it that way, Red." She whispered, rubbing her eyes with a yawn.
"What way can I put it?"
"You can't." She half-yelled, unamused with his tone.
A brief and rare pause came from Red's side of the line. Liz was ready to hang up the phone, it was clear he had nothing to say. She lit another cigarette, just to have it hang lifelessly between her lips as he spoke his next words.
"Don't you dare leave me, Lizzie." Raymond Reddington was pleading and Liz felt guilty. She knew no one would approve, or understand, her choice. But Red was a special case. He sacrificed his freedom, his leisure trips to Paris and Italy whenever his heart desired, for her. But she wouldn't have put money on him begging her to stay.
"That isn't going to work, Red. I'm sorry this is hurting you, but I've made up my mind." Liz poured herself another drink, this time adding a half flat soda retrieved from the vending machine in the hallway.
"If I can't change your mind, then just talk to me. Tell me why, tell me a story, read me the bible. I just want to hear your voice." She heard the misery in his low, scratchy voice.
"My entire life has been a lie. Tom never loved me. Or maybe he did, but his job came before sparing my life. I don't know who my real parents are, the only father figure I had is dead by your hand. You know all of the answers to the questions I have, but refuse to tell me. You know about the fire, Red. And at this point, I don't care to know. Not anymore. I've had enough. I'm making my choice to do this, and I'm content with it, because for the first time in my life something is happening on my own terms."
She heard Red huff, then the distinct rustle of clothing.
"I know it's all been piling up, Lizzie, but that's no reason. You need to get away from it for a little while, some time to think about it. I'll take you anywhere you want to go for however long you let me. Trust me to show you that your life is precious."
"Precious or not, I don't want it anymore." She abandoned the chair for the bed, which after a quick inspection, seemed clean as can be aside from a top layer of dust she could easily swipe off.
"Just tell me where you are, Lizzie. I'll come to you. No gimmicks. No tricks. I just want to see you."
"No Dembe to force me down? No medication? No Donald?"
"Nothing and no one, I promise. Just you and me. Do this for me, Lizzy."
This time, the pause came from Liz. Red moistened his mouth, the moment seemingly suspended in time. His palms were sweaty and he couldn't seem to stop his pacing around his home, aimlessly wandering for an answer to all of this.
"Okay."
I thought about making it all one story, but I was like. Nah.
xoxoPN