Hanging on the telephone

(AU 220 Quon Zhang)

A/N: Another episode that prompted me to write an explanation and I really thought that maybe Liz had a plan to play Tom, the way he played her, in order to find out who he was actually working for, because obviously torture on the boat didn't work. When I started writing this thing after 2x20 I had angst in mind but as it got longer I could not stay serious. Frankly all that angst on the show was killing me so it got a bit fluffy towards the end.

Summary:AU 220 Quon Zhang, What if Liz had a plan that involved Tom Keen, when she went to him in the rain and what if Red did manage to get her on the phone before that? Basically a fix-it for that episode.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Blacklist, or any of its recognizable characters. No copyright infringement intended.

Liz sat in her car, the rain was falling, a proper downpour and it was gloomy, which she thought fit her mood perfectly.

"Are you in love with her?"

"I'm not gonna tell you what happened, Lizzie."

He didn't deny it. She provoked him and he told her some of the truth (nothing new there) but he didn't deny her suspicion. Liz wasn't sure if she should be relieved or terrified at the implication.

Was this connection between them only because she reminded him of her mother? And what was so goddamn terrible that he couldn't tell her what really happened on the night of the fire?

Just as her hand grabbed the door handle, her phone vibrated with Nick's Pizza flashing on the display.

'Speak of the devil.'

She shook her head and pressed down on the red button. A few seconds passed till it flashed again.

'Persistent son of a bitch.'

Even though she thought he probably deserved it after once again keeping things from her, she didn't like ignoring him, especially as he was hurt. The truth was she was worried about him but she can't get sidetracked. For this thing with "Tom" to work, Reddington must be out of the way. He must think she doesn't care, that she hates him for originally inserting Tom into her life, even if his intentions were noble.

The plan was constructed in her head, one sleepless night weeks ago, after Tom was exonerated but before Reddington got shot. It required from to her to completely lose herself. Play a character. To be somebody else.

'Everyone must see you as weak and silly, you must make uncharacteristic mistakes. Play stupid so that your target finds you like that and puts down their defenses and reveal something they would never do if they thought you dangerous.'

Tom, or Jacob, or whatever the hell his real name is, doesn't seem to suspect a thing. Neither does Reddington. But Red is much smarter than him and won't reveal the whole truth to her, no matter how much she pushed his buttons.

She only regrets that in her plan, she mustn't show her concern for Red's well being. She mustn't show that he's become an irreplaceable fixture in her messed up life.

She sighed and stared at Tom-Jacob's safe house through the rain-soaked window. She hated this. But she would have to think of this as going undercover, playing a lover to an assassin. A man she suspected was involved with the Cabal. A man who also played a role, played her.

Her phone vibrated shortly, signaling she received a text. Thinking she missed a call from the Post office, she looked down and frowned as she read it. It couldn't even be considered a message, as it consisted of only one word.

No.

She stared at it in surprise. The sender was unknown but she knew it came from him. He must have switched phones again. Who else could it be? And what was the question?

She willed herself to leave her phone in the car and just do what she planned, go to Jacob.

But she couldn't. She needed to know if he was okay and what this message meant, so she typed up her reply and hit send.

What was the question?

A couple of minutes passed and she thought he gave up.

Lizzie.

She rolled her eyes. She could see him getting annoyed at her, that muscle under his eye twitching. Hear his voice in that disapproving tone.

But she would not give him the satisfaction of an easy way out. No matter how much she hated pushing him away.

Well?She sent back.

Where are you? He asked instead.

Deflecting? How very... you. Two can play this game, Mr. Kershaw.

Lizzie.

She stared at the letters that made the name he called her. The name somehow seemed less significant to her when he didn't speak it out loud, in that special way, as Liz liked to think, reserved only for her.

My name is not an answer to everything. Although I guess it's not really my name, is it?

It has been for many years. Where are you?

Did you name me?

Again she waited a couple of minutes. Either he was thinking what to reveal, or he was slow, as unaccustomed to texting. She thought that even if he wasn't on the run, he would still use the old style, burner-like phones, instead of smartphones. He was old-fashioned like that. And she remembered he told her once that he fancied himself a bit of a Luddite, not liking much of today's technology and preferring the old-school methods and face-to-face interactions. But naturally only when it wasn't too personal, like in this case. Maybe he would spill more secrets to her if they weren't communicating in person. Funny, she never saw him as a coward.

No.

She exhaled in frustration. So much for revealing more.

Is that your final answer? And btw what was the original no an answer to?

Do not abbreviate words, it makes you sound stupid and you're not.

She stared at the screen in disbelief. He was chiding her.

Those are called text acronyms or shorthand and will you answer me?

I will, if you do.

In my car.She answered.

I was not in love with her.

She read it several times. She would never admit it out loud but she was relieved.

So he wasn't in love with her mother but he knew her.

He was Naval intelligence and she was KGB. Were both of her parents foreign agents? Were they part of his assignment? His mission? Was her father the target because of the Fulcrum?

Before she decided to try and ask him, her phone vibrated again with a new text.

Are you safe, Lizzie?

You can't just say that and expect me to change the subject she wrote but then decided to take pity on him, as she knew he was really worried about her.

Yes. Don't worry.

I always worry.

She closed her eyes. Feeling them fill with tears. She could not help getting emotional over his concern.

How could she think he was only using her all of this time. After the run in with the Kings, she knew they had a tight bond, she realized the extent of his care for her (he said her name when he thought he'd die, for God's sake!) and the extent of the risk she would take to save him. She knew he valued her life, more than his own and that made him even more tragic in her eyes.

You shouldn't.She sent back.

Is he nearby?

She knew who "he" was. She didn't know why she thought he wouldn't have someone tail her. In these circumstances it would be especially necessary.

Yes.She typed, deciding to forgo the mystery and see what he made of it.

I will not tell you to be careful, Lizzie. Despite recent appearances I do not and will not trust that man. I do however trust you.

She smiled while reading.

Thank you, Red.Not waiting for an answer, she decided to add.

I'm sorry for what I said about your apartment. It was rude of me. It has a certain charm, like you. Although I'm not sorry about ransacking it as I wanted to provoke you and it worked, you finally gave me some of the answers.

Close to five minutes passed with no answer and she was getting worried that she made a mistake.

Just as she was considering sending another apology, her phone vibrated again.

I apologize for the wait. That was a long answer and it's hard typing and squinting to read the very small letters on this phone. I had to get my glasses.

She smirked at the sudden image of him sitting relaxed with his glasses on and looking at case files.

You wear glasses? Why have I never seen you with them? Were you afraid I'd find you adorable?

Lizzie. Do not make fun of my glasses!

She laughed as she knew he was the one making light of the thing, giving her an opportunity to mock diffuse this long tension between them.

When she didn't answer for a long time, she got another text from him.

Lizzie, are you still with me? I despise this texting or whatever. I hope you will appreciate that I'm trying.

I do.

No matter how much I find it lacking or impersonal, at this moment it is easier for me to communicate with you. Dembe was right again!

She laughed at his last line. So it was Dembe that suggested he text her?

I hope you understand that some things must remain a secret, for now. Would you consider waiting for me?

She thought about what he asked of her. Will she wait for his answers and not search for them herself?

I understand if you no longer trust me but consider this - we were always a great team. Please give me the privilege of working with you again and I promise you at the right moment, you will have your answers.

I trust you Red. I know now that I am an important piece in your chess game, or whatever the hell you call it but you will have to change the rules, or reveal your moves to me if you want us to win. We need to be on equal ground.

And yes I'm still angry with you about Tom. I need some time to get over it.

This time she got his text quicker.

I will honor your wishes. I will not pressure you, just advise that time is of the essence.

Yes, no pressure at all! She thought and read further.

I have grown accustomed to your view on blacklisters. It's a shame you rarely make use of your profiling skills these days.

I seem to remember I screwed up with that serial killer. You were closer to the profile. She wrote back.

Ah but you forget that together we were right!

She shook her head at the words he repeated from that time they met in the coffee shop to talk about the Fulcrum.

She couldn't deny that she missed their meetings, his often ridiculous anecdotes, about his travels, or adventures on the run. She missed the lighter tone of his voice, the one he used to use only with her, his occasional, yet very intentional touches.

They were getting closer before Berlin happened. Before she imprisoned Tom and lied to Red all that time. She felt ashamed for some of her actions and felt indirectly responsible for the harbormaster's murder. But she no longer felt guilty, because it was Tom who murdered him and then made it look like he did it for her. He was a sociopath, sick, pathological liar and obviously deluded, if he thought that she would fall for him again.

He called her a bitch that one time. She might be a bitch, but a cunning one. She will play him to reveal his real employer to her and finally get some answers.

That was the essence of her plan. Maybe she should include Red? After all, the harbourmaster's murder happened because she underestimated Tom and thought she could handle it without him.

Together we were right. Red's words kept repeating like a mantra in her head. She looked down at her phone, noticing that almost ten minutes had passed since the last text.

Lizzie?! She read on the screen.

She decided she had enough of impersonal and pressed number 7 on her speed dial.

"Lizzie." He breathed out, in a worried tone. "Is everything okay?"

"It is now." She said. "I would like to meet."

She heard him let out a breath in relief. "Are you sure? You said you needed time-"

"I'm sure. There's something I need to discuss. It must be in person. When are you free?"

"Tomorrow? I will give you the exact time, after Dembe decides on how much aimless walking we'll be doing!"

She smiled. "I'm sure he's only worried about your mobility. After all you're not getting any younger!" She teased.

By the tone of his laugh, she guessed he shook his head in amusement. "Oh, sweetheart, I can assure you everything is in working order, just needs a bit of tune up!"

She laughed. "Oh I'd love to see you ordered around by Dembe or Mr Kaplan!"

"I'm starting to regret this. Having Dembe and Kaplan conspire against me is hard enough but you..." He sounded very amused. "They do not order me around! I simply comply with their wishes for my well being."

"Sure." She rolled her eyes in amusement, even though he couldn't see her.

"Having said that I would give you certain allowances, if you wish for us to walk together? I've always enjoyed our walks."

She smiled at his answer.

"Yes, I would like that. You suggest a meeting place this time? Don't want you to get shot again!" She joked but he obviously heard some guilt in her voice.

"Lizzie, you are not to blame. I knew the risk and decided to go anyway." He assured her softly.

"Thank you. Before you go, could you answer me one thing?"

"I told you..."

"Yes, yes! All will be revealed at the right time but at least tell me the name of your cat? It's been bugging me ever since I saw her!"

Instead of an answer she heard a short laugh on his end. It was a sincere sound of happiness and it made her feel much better for the future.

"Cat." He said.

"Yes, what's its name?"

"I just told you." He sounded amused.

"It's called Cat?!" She laughed. "That's not very original?"

He laughed back. "You will have to ask Dembe. She is his companion."

"Dembe!"

"Yes, he found her in our basement. Poor thing was freezing and hungry and sneaked into our building. He noticed her one day and took her in, warmed her up, fed her and started calling her Cat. He assured me it was a practical decision and as our... business venture was not safe for us, let alone pets, he would eventually call the local ASPCA. I warned him not to get too attached but naturally he did. I do understand the appeal. It appears dangerous and cunning on the outside but is soft and cuddly on the inside."

"Red, did you just compare me to a cat?"

"Aren't you presumptuous? I was actually thinking of myself. What is that? Dembe agrees with me. Ugh... No, I will not put you on speakerphone, Dembe! I'm having a private conversation with Lizzie!"

She heard some shuffling noises and whispering, one side sounded very annoyed. She couldn't hear anything that was said. Red probably covered the phone with his hand for privacy.

She laughed, enjoying their banter. She looked at the the phone and her eyes went wide in shock when she noticed the time. They've been talking for more than two hours. That must be a record. Well technically they started texting each other first, so it's around an hour and a half of talking.

"Yes, that is fine with me. No, now is not the time," She heard Red say to someone, she assumed Dembe.

"Red?" She cut in.

"Ah Lizzie, Dembe, apologizes for interrupting our conversation. I apologize too, as I must end this call soon..."

"Oh yes, I'm sorry for keeping you. You must have more important..."

"No, Lizzie, you misunderstood me. Nothing is more important and I have truly enjoyed our texting and talk but I must go now. Dembe insists I do some exercises with him before bed."

She smiled at his answer. "I'm sure he's not as bad as you make him seem."

He let out one of his head-shaking laughs. "You have no idea! Oh and by the way, he will drop by tomorrow with a new phone for you. If you'd like to text occasionally, it would be safer."

"Don't tell me you fell in love with texting?"

"No, you could say I've grown accustomed to its necessity."

"Yes, just like I've grown accustomed to you. Goodnight and please tell Dembe I said hi." She waited a beat and not receiving an answer, she hung up.

He was probably still thinking about her comment, while Dembe made him do light exercises.

She will never know that Dembe decided to skip the obligatory exercise and gave him a firm lecture on not telling everything to Elizabeth. Dembe hated to see him distressed and thought that was not good for keeping up with his recovery.

"Technically I did not lie to her, Dembe and you interrupted me. You gave her that name, it is not my fault the poor thing picked something else."

Dembe glared at him, from his relaxed spot on the sofa. A book lay opened in his lap. He closed it and set it aside on the table.

"Really, Raymond?" He looked at the cat, who purred lazily on the said table and said, "Lizzie," The cat suddenly raised her head, at which he continued, "come here." The cat jumped down from the table and straight into his lap, where she settled and continued to purr happily, while he petted her gently.

Red made a face and gesticulated with his hands in a "who, me?" gesture. "What would you have me do, Dembe? I couldn't exactly tell her, 'Oh and by the way, Lizzie, she actually answers to Lizzie. It's so funny how that came to be. You see, this happened because I may or may not have called out your name a few times, in my pain medication-induced sleep and the silly ball of fur adopted it.'" He sighed.

The only answer he got from Dembe was an eye roll and a shake of his head.