Shots Fired
Elizabeth Keen goes undercover alongside Reddington to meet an associate of his.
Things go wrong, and then they go worse.
Stand-alone short story, spin off from my coffee based series. Enjoy!
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Shots Fired
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The man was hiding something.
He seemed calm and collected on the surface, greeting Reddington with a smile and a nod, laughing along with him, clasping his arm and patting his back.
But something was off about him.
Elizabeth Keen could tell.
He was nervous underneath all that.
The animated chatter was an attempt to cover it up.
.
Scratching the side of his nose, the man turned to Elizabeth with a giant toothy smile, speaking rapidly to Reddington in...not spanish- portuguese? - she smiled back at him, playing her part dutifully.
The man surprised Elizabeth by pulling her towards him by her shoulders to deliver kisses on each of her cheeks, before holding her out to look at her, eyes sweeping her up and down in admiration.
Elizabeth maintained her smile through it all due to sheer grim determination.
The man laughed loudly, looking back to Reddington as he spoke.
They needed this man's information to catch the latest Blacklister.
Raymond Red Reddington's associates were always interesting characters.
It would all be over soon, once they had this man's information, another Blacklister would end up behind bars.
A little...overfriendliness...could be tolerated.
.
Louis (that was the name Reddington had used for the man) finally released her, and Elizabeth took a polite half-step back, smiling all the while, to restore a comfortable amount of space between the two of them.
Elizabeth now stood on the opposite side of Reddington that she had started on, closer to the coffee bar than to the tables.
The large glass windows of the store glimmered in the light behind the man speaking to them- to Reddington, really.
Elizabeth couldn't understand a word they were saying, and felt for all the world like an unnecessary third wheel.
.
Reddington had insisted that she play opposite him in the latest game of undercover work.
It was completely unnecessary.
He could have met the informant alone.
But he insisted, and when it came to capturing Blacklisters, Reddington got what he wanted from the FBI.
So there she was.
Elizabeth Keen.
Standing beside Reddington in the coffee shop, smiling through a conversation she couldn't understand.
Glorified arm-candy with a direct link to the FBI skulking across the street in a commandeered storefront.
Elizabeth could hear the slight static in her ear from the bug linking them to the FBI...who were no doubt recording everything Louis said as they furiously hunted for a translator.
Reddington had failed to mention the meeting would talk place in a language other than english.
Elizabeth Keen was not surprised.
Inconveniencing the FBI even as he helped them seemed to be one of Reddington's favorite pasttimes.
.
Elizabeth smiled pleasantly at the two of them, trying to keep her stare vacant in order to avoid drawing suspicion as she watched the interaction between the two like a hawk.
She actually had a better view from this position, Elizabeth mused, glad Louis had given her the opportunity for a better vantage point.
Her back to the coffee counter, Elizabeth could observe not only Louis (with his back to the window) as he talked animatedly to Reddington, but also the consulting criminal himself.
The meet was taking place at a "coffee bar", a joint that fit somewhere between upscale and shabby chic.
Customers in attire ranging from the classic, carefully tailored suits Reddington favored to the expensively dishevelled hippie-inspired styles that were currently in style, filtered in and out of the coffee shop at their leisure.
By standing near the unmanned portion of the coffee bar's counter, their covert little group enjoyed relative privacy, most of the normal customers were seated snugly at the various tables throughout the place.
Louis had insisted on the place and Reddington had been accommodating to his choice.
.
Unable to understand what was actually being spoken Elizabeth focused on the other forms of communication taking place.
Raymond Reddington was as composed as always. His calm façade transformed easily to match his more animated companion's attitude.
The man was a chameleon, effortlessly charming his way through whatever situations came his way.
Louis seemed a tad more relaxed...relieved almost. His toothy grin was still in place as he gestured wildly along with Reddington.
He took a small step back and that was when Elizabeth saw it.
.
The red dot.
The small red dot flickering over Reddington's suit lapel, settling on his chest.
Realization struck her as Louis's eyes flickered from her back to Reddington, resolutely ignoring the telltale red dot, which should have obvious in front of his eyes, yet reaching for another half step back-
-time seemed to slow as Elizabeth reacted, and everything happened at once.
.
Her lunging for Reddington, a low sideswiping tackle, setting him off-balance and bringing him down with her- Elizabeth thankful for childhood summers spent playing football with less than friendly neighborhood kids.
She may have shouted "Get down!", but the sound of shattering glass and screaming drowned the warning out.
They landed hard on the ground, one of her shoulders connecting with the smooth stained concrete floor, partly under Reddington, partially over him.
Pain in her shoulder, no, the other shoulder.
Not the one that hit the floor.
Glass probably.
It was littering the floor around them.
.
People were screaming, and the bug in her ear was screeching at her as well- Ressler bellowing, demanding to know what was happening, shouting orders for the swat squad to prepare to head in- Elizabeth shouting back that they were fine, that there was a shooter, sniper, on or in the building opposite them- pulling herself away from Reddington, one hand pressing against her ear, trying to focus on everything at once.
Louis was gone, she spun to look for him, staying low.
.
Reddington was pushing her now; ushering her behind the counter holding the cream and sugar and stirring sticks.
"Don't let them blow our cover." He demanded, settling into place beside her, safe for the moment behind the counter.
She relayed the message through the earpiece.
"I repeat, do not come in- do not break cover.
We're fine, Reddington is unhurt.
They were aiming at him."
Elizabeth's mind was still whirring at what felt like a mile a minute, her eyes flashing around the coffee shop, now mostly cleared, a few customers crumpled on the ground terrified, maybe crying, but unhurt.
There had only been one shot.
.
"Get out of there-" Ressler was demanding, too loudly, causing the earbud to crackle with static.
"We're checking the building now-" Meera's voice cut over his, calm and businesslike.
Elizabeth envied the CIA agent's ability to remain entirely collected in the moment.
.
"You're hurt."
The voice to her side was matter of fact, causing Elizabeth to glance back to the man beside her.
Reddington was staring at her, Elizabeth realized he had been for a good few moments.
It explained why he hadn't been the flurry of activity she had been expecting in a situation like this.
"You're bleeding."
He had announced it loud enough for Ressler to hear over the bug, Elizabeth realized in irritation.
The earpiece filled with static again,
"Keen, I'm sending people in-"
"I'm fine, Ressler." Elizabeth snapped back, making a mental note that someone needed to explain volume control to Agent Ressler in the future.
"It's just a scratch. The glass from the windows- HEY!"
Elizabeth jerked away from the sudden stab of pain that shot through her arm as Reddington's probing fingers made contact.
She glared at him, but the white hot jolt of pain made Elizabeth pause to reevaluate her own condition.
.
Maybe it wasn't just a scratch.
And there definitely was blood staining the sleeve of her blouse.
A tiny twinge of sadness, that had been a nice blouse.
"I'm fine." Elizabeth repeated sternly, pulling her arm defiantly away from Reddington's grasp.
Mad at him for hovering over her -this was all his fault, criminal mastermind her ass- and mad at Ressler for the nonstop barrage of questions and demands he was barking at her through the earpiece.
Elizabeth just needed a minute to think...
.
Luli Zeng appeared, slinking in from the back of the store, gun in hand.
Her eyes swept the scene, alighting on Reddington, who waved her over.
Confused customers scuttled away from the gun wielding woman in fright.
So that's what he had been waiting for, his security team.
At Luli's nod, Reddington rose to his feet, brushing off his coat and reaching out to assist her...but Elizabeth had already scrambled to her own feet, glancing back behind them and out of the, now shattered, front windows to the building across the street.
Had they caught the shooter? She wondered, her system still buzzing with adrenaline. Elizabeth felt an odd combination of simultaneously unstoppable yet utterly useless...primed to fight but with no enemy in sight.
She hoped they caught the bastard.
.
"We'll deal with all that later." Reddington stated, noting her hesitation and moving towards her, one hand settling firmly around the elbow of Elizabeth's apparently injured arm.
Elizabeth tried to pull away from him, scowling.
That was completely unnecessary.
She was fine.
But Reddington's grip was deceptively vice-like, she couldn't slip him, and trying any harder hurt her arm...
Elizabeth felt the first twinge of concern then.
How badly was her arm hurt? She had not felt it earlier, but something was obviously wrong.
Had she been hit?
Reddington's other hand somehow found its way to her lower back as he shepherded her out of the coffee shop, trailing a few paces behind Luli.
Elizabeth tried to ignore him, ignore all the contact; focusing instead on the voices in her earbud.
Not on the hand cradling her elbow.
Focusing on placing one foot in front of the other...not on how Reddington was looming at her shoulder, a half step behind her.
Definitely not focusing on the feeling of his other hand, flush against her lower back, fingers spread as he half guided, half pushed her along in front of him.
It was better to focus on something else.
.
It was easier to ignore Raymond Reddington, to deny how utterly aware Elizabeth was of him in that moment, when she was shouting back at Ressler through the earpiece.
"We're leaving through the back entrance."
"We've got an ambulance two blocks-"
"I'm fine." More or less... "Did they catch the shooter-"
Static for a moment and then Meera Malik's voice came through again.
"Negative. Whoever it was, they were here and gone in a matter of minutes. Set up fast and got out."
The black sedan was idling in the alley behind the building, Dembe making his way quickly around the trunk to meet them, opening the door for Elizabeth as Luli slid into the front passenger seat.
.
Climbing into the car was more awkward than Keen would have liked to admit.
Reddington still maintained his completely unnecessary controlling grip on Elizabeth's elbow, appearing unwilling to release her even as she entered the vehicle.
His other hand ghosting along at her back as she bent to enter the car; Elizabeth, finally freeing her elbow only to lose her balance, whipped her still-fully functioning arm away from her earpiece in order to catch herself against the seat, recovering quickly as she seated herself...scooting away from Reddington who had followed her into the car without delay.
Of course nothing could ever go as planned when it came to the Blacklist.
A simple meet with an informant turning into an assassination attempt.
They should not have been surprised.
But the shooter had gotten away...
.
"Where are you now, Keen? The police are arriving." Ressler had finally stopped shouting, his demands returning to a normal volume.
"We're in Reddington's car, his security is here. The contact- Louis, he's gone, he was gone, did you find him?"
Was Louis involved with all this? Was it a set up?
Reddington was beside her again.
Hovering. Elizabeth thought in annoyance, ignoring him as the car began moving.
Trying to focus on communicating with the rest of the FBI team, trying not to forget any important details, anything they could use.
.
Reddington hovering wasn't helping, and Elizabeth moved further away from him, trying to give him space.
Whatever space she vacated Reddington quickly claimed, shifting along with her. Elizabeth shot him a glare of annoyance, she didn't have time for this and-
-and his hand was touching her neck.
"What the HELL?!-" Elizabeth exclaimed, whipping towards him, but he moved swiftly.
Reddington had a grasp at the base of her skull before Elizabeth could react and push him away, his grip firm, harsh, forcing her to look at him.
Reddington was far too close, leaning over her, beyond too close, and Elizabeth was frozen in place.
Her heart guttered out and her stomach gave a sickening drop of realization.
She may have just saved Raymond Reddington's life, but in that moment, Elizabeth Keen was completely at his mercy.
Was he going to-
Reddington's face was impassive as his other hand reached up, cupping her cheek and then moving to her ear, yanking the earbud out without ceremony.
Elizabeth stayed frozen, speechless, watching Reddington in shock as he slid calmly back into his seat beside her, his arm remaining wrapped around her shoulder.
….
Reddington hummed to himself absent-mindedly, calm as could be.
...
Like nothing had happened.
...
The whole incident took less than a minute, less than thirty seconds.
But it left Elizabeth feeling as though she had been punched in the gut, the wind knocked out of her.
...
She had been more scared in those few seconds than-
Elizabeth didn't want to think about it.
.
About how the man sitting flush beside her, whose arm was draped across her shoulder-his fingers rubbing soothing circles into the base of her neck, now- had frightened her more than everything that had transpired in the coffee shop.
What the hell?
"You can't just-" Elizabeth began to bluster, furious and frightened all at the same time, trying to shrug Reddington's arm off of her shoulders, to pull away from him.
A pointless exercise.
There was nowhere to go, she was boxed in, with the window on one side and Reddington on the other.
"Oh, do relax, Lizzie." Reddington shushed her, settling back into his seat further, tugging her along with him.
His fingers stroked along her neck in a steady rhythm.
"I'll keep the FBI as informed as they need to be."
"Get off of me!" Elizabeth spat at him, squirming to get away from him- freezing as pain shot up through her arm, catching her breath in her throat.
.
His arm was heavy around her shoulders, pinning her in place, pulling her against him, a painful pressure on her injury (Had she been shot? She wasn't sure anymore) if Elizabeth tried to move at all.
"Just rest, Lizzie," Reddington stated calmly, giving her opposite shoulder a gentle squeeze before returning to brushing his fingers up and down the side of her neck.
Fat chance of that happening, leaning against him like this.
Elizabeth would rather get shot at again.
Before Elizabeth could snap something back, Reddington continued dryly.
"I'd hate for you to hurt yourself."
Elizabeth was at a loss for words, shocked. Appalled.
Was that a threat?
.
It felt like a threat, trapped as she was.
Elizabeth could neither shift away from him nor turn to confront him face to face, as Reddington slipped her earpiece into his own ear, seizing command of the situation whether she liked it or not.
.
"Stop shouting, Agent Ressler. Everything is under control."
Each brush of his fingers along the line of her neck was a reminder to Elizabeth of who was in charge for the moment.
Why had she saved his life, again?
.
"Yes, someone did take a shot at me. But everything is fine now."
No it wasn't. This was not fine.
"No, it's not totally unexpected. Not in my line of work. Though it was quite uncivilized."
His voice was steady as ever, no one would have guessed Raymond Reddington had just barely escaped an assassination attempt.
.
Elizabeth Keen was furious.
She had just saved his life, and what was he doing?
She could not believe him.
A "thank you" may have been too much to expect, but a little consideration?
Him not acting like a total ass?
A little space even?
.
Elizabeth's right arm was aching something fierce now...obviously injured.
How she wasn't sure, but the pain seemed determined to gain her attention, eating away at Elizabeth's remaining patience.
"Give me back the earpiece." She growled at him.
Elizabeth would have moved to take it from Reddington if not for the restraining arm around her shoulders.
"Shhh.." he hushed her, barely glancing her way. "Don't interrupt, Lizzie."
Fuck you, Elizabeth mentally shouted back at him, burning up with indignation. She hoped her injured shoulder was at least ruining one of his fucking suits- childish, Elizabeth knew- but if he insisted on sitting that fucking close...
Reddington continued to ignore her, and her obvious discomfort with their current arrangement, chuckling lightly at whatever had been said over the earpiece next.
"Aren't you always whining that I should talk directly to you?"
.
His fingers drummed against the back of her neck, making Elizabeth's skin crawl, and Reddington glanced towards her, offering a relaxed smile.
Elizabeth was beginning to understand Agent Ressler's undying distrust for Raymond Reddington.
.
"That isn't necessary."
Whatever they were talking about, Elizabeth was not in the mood to believe him...Reddington was probably being obstructionist, as always.
Elizabeth had had enough of one-sided conversations for the day. First the unexpected portuguese, and now only being able to hear Reddington's cryptic half of the conversation.
She glared back at him, mutinous...if looks could kill Reddington would be a dead man twelve times over.
.
"Lizzie's safe with me. She will need medical attention when we arrive. She seems to have had a run in with a bullet. Nothing serious, perhaps a bit painful. "
Something he seemed to have no trouble capitalizing on.
"Just a scratch, like she said."
Ruthless fucking bastard.
.
Elizabeth tried to shift away from him once more, twisting towards the window, ignoring the pain shooting through her shoulder at the movement.
This was ridiculous.
"She's comfortable for the moment."
Liar. Elizabeth felt like laughing. What world was he living in?
.
Without warning the pressure of Reddington's fingers against her neck changed.
Elizabeth felt his thumb stretching out, tracing its way up her neckline, burying into her hair and-
Elizabeth shivered against her will- frozen in place, mortified.
The hell was Reddington playing at?
She could feel his eyes on her as he spoke through the earpiece to Ressler and the other FBI agents, all of whom were blissfully unaware of what Reddington was doing- how the rest of his fingers were following after his thumb, tracing up her neck and twisting, burrowing into the hair at the nape of her neck-
"Stop it." Elizabeth hissed, low and furious, finally breaking out of whatever paralysis had gripped her.
.
Her face was burning, unable to meet his eyes, humiliated by the situation.
.
Elizabeth Keen was two seconds away from flying at him, injury be damned.
Embarrassment be damned.
Let the FBI hear.
This was harassment!
.
If Reddington didn't-
-but he did.
.
His hand dropped immediately at Elizabeth's vehement demand.
She could feel Reddington's eyes flick instantly away from her, his head turning to stare out his own window.
His fingers slipping down her neck to rest at the joining of her shoulder, their continued presence still unwelcome, but far preferable to what he had been- where they had been.
.
Elizabeth's skin felt electric under Reddington's touch, buzzing and heated...and her head felt heavy...dizzy.
This was too much.
All of it.
.
Her arm had begun to throb intermittently with pain, the feeling gathering strength with each passing moment.
Elizabeth felt like crying; from frustration, from irritation, from anger, from nerves, from humiliation.
She fought down the burning feeling of tears, focussing on that battle.
Elizabeth could control that at least. She could keep it together, she was strong.
It was important to keep up appearances. To try and look calm, to look unaffected, even if she was on the verge of breaking inside.
If Elizabeth knew anything, it was how to act like everything was fine...even when things were falling apart.
.
She just focused on breathing steadily in and out, tracing her scar, listening to the half of the conversation with the FBI she could hear.
Reddington had been talking easily with the earbud the entire ride, chatting away but saying very little of interest.
"We'll meet you at back at the Post Office." he laughed then, causing Elizabeth to flinch slightly, mentally kicking herself for the involuntary reaction.
Even the small movement sent a burst of burning pain up her arm...the feeling growing more insistent.
If Reddington noticed he gave no sign of it, continuing his conversation indifferently.
.
"Dembe isn't risking the chance of us being followed. God knows you lot wouldn't recognize a tail.
We arrive when we arrive, and not a moment sooner."
.
He pulled the earpiece from his ear, pocketing it and sighing heavily, leaning back into the seat beside her.
A moments pause and then Reddington spoke again, directing himself to Dembe this time, "Music please, something calming. We've all had a rough morning."
.
Classical music swelled up around them, blanketing the eery silence that had filled the car after Reddington has ceased to communicate with the FBI.
Dembe continued to drive, and Luli Zeng kept her eyes staring straight ahead, as she had the entire trip, still as a statue.
Elizabeth felt isolated. Surrounded as she was...sitting in the car with three criminals, Elizabeth Keen felt miserably alone.
They might work together, but she was not one of them.
.
Elizabeth closed her eyes.
She focussed on feeling of the car driving, tracking each turn they made.
.
She wondered what the other members of the FBI team were doing right then.
Were they worried about her, alone with Reddington? Or was it not even a consideration?
Was the FBI taking his goodwill for granted, like she had been?
.
Her hands clasped tightly in her lap, Elizabeth's fingers rubbed nervous circles against her scar, tracing the pattern over and over as she counted slowly in her head backwards from twenty.
She felt Reddington stir against her, his fingers resuming a soft back and forth stroking motion against her shoulder.
He was watching her again, Elizabeth could feel his eyes on her.
.
She couldn't look at him
She was afraid to meet Reddington's eyes.
Elizabeth was frightened that her carefully constructed façade of calm indifference would snap and reveal just how unsettled she was by this, by him, by everything.
She couldn't do that.
She could not show him that.
.
Elizabeth opened her eyes, staring hard at the seat in front of her.
Ignoring Reddington's gaze, tracing her scar in silence.
Counting in her head, listening to the music around them.
Ignoring the warmth of Reddington's side pressed into her.
Ignoring the weight of his arm over her shoulder, a gentle pressure now, almost reassuring.
Trying desperately to ignore the slow, featherlight strokes of his thumb against her shoulder- up the side of her neck and back.
.
Elizabeth did not want to be where she was.
She wanted to be home.
She wanted Tom.
She wanted Reddington to disappear.
To have never turned himself in in the first place.
This shouldn't be her job. This shouldn't be happening.
She sat and stewed in her thoughts- angry and resentful- swirling them around herself, cloaking herself like a shield.
.
Elizabeth was so tired.
Tired of fighting against the criminals on the Blacklist.
Tired of fighting with Reddington, with AD Cooper, with Agent Ressler.
Tired of fighting with Tom.
Tired of fighting with herself.
Elizabeth was tired.
She was cold.
She was in pain.
Her arm was one giant ache now, throbbing steadily with each beat of her heart.
Elizabeth wanted to be anywhere but where she was.
.
She just wanted to sleep.
To close her eyes, and lean against the arm wrapped comfortingly around her shoulders.
But she couldn't.
That was all a lie.
The arm around her shoulders was not Tom's.
The fingers stroking soothingly against the side of her neck were not her husband's.
They belonged were Raymond Reddington's.
A criminal.
A traitor.
A killer.
Elizabeth couldn't trust Reddington.
She had just saved his life, but she couldn't trust him.
.
So Elizabeth sat in silence, listening to the music swell and fade around her, feeling her eyelids grow heavier with each blink.
Dreading her current situation, eager to arrive at the Post Office, knowing that the next few hours would be long and difficult.
.
Focus on the future. Elizabeth retreated into herself, planning it out. It was good to have a plan.
There would be a debriefing. Paperwork.
It might be hours before she could go home.
But she could get away from Reddington.
Soon.
They just had to reach the Post Office.
xx
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Authors Note:
Guys. GUYS. GUISE!
I was trying to write a chapter for the my story Coffee Time...but then it got away from me and turned into this giant project instead.
Much more dramatic and creepy and long than the Coffee Time shorts.
But very good, no?
I wanted to try my hand at something with a bit more action in it, while still focussing on Elizabeth and her thoughts.
Also, some more intense Elizabeth/Reddington interactions.
What is he playing at? Hmmm?
Very Lizzington, treading that fine line between the two of them.
Did Reddington cross it?
Does he care? (What did Reddington say about lines in the sand...something about them disappearing?)
**And this is just part 1!
There was only supposed to be one part...but things happen, and now there is a part 2 in the works.
I wrote most of it while editing this first part. (Funny how things escalate, huh?)
It will be shorter than this chapter, but it will wrap things up nicely...for now at least.
The second part will have a bit more of Reddington, but a pretty decent chunk of it is devoted to Ressler and Elizabeth interacting...So Ressler fans can look forward to that!
Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!
I'd like to thank all the wonderful people who have left such encouraging reviews on my other stories!
I appreciate every review!