Tom glared at the phone in his hand, waiting for the glowing digital numbers to change from 11:59 to 12:00. In that moment he hated the device with every fiber of his being. He knew it wasn't rational, despising an inanimate object, but that didn't stop him from fantasizing about hurling the mobile phone into the far wall of his hospital room, or better still, crushing it with his bare hand. No, satisfying as it might be, it wouldn't solve his real problem. Besides, it would rude to destroy a phone didn't exactly belong to him.
When he'd regained consciousness twelve hours earlier he'd known in less than five minutes that he was going to commit petty larceny. He's awoken from his coma to a room full of flowers, from mixed arrangements, roses and tulips, but he eyes had immediately zoned in on the bouquet of red Kalaunchoe. The card contained a Chinese proverb and had been left unsigned. That didn't matter because he already knew who the flowers were from. Kalaunchoe are the food plant of caterpillars that metamorphoses into RED Pierrot butterflies. Tom had thought he'd seen the last of this flower three years ago. No, that wasn't true, he'd HOPED he'd seen the last of them, but in his heart he'd always known he was living on borrowed time. Speaking of which, the phone's clock now read 12:00. Tom punched the numbers that had been encoded in the proverb. The call was answered on the first ring.
"Hello, Tom." Reddington's voice was congenial as ever. That false note of pleasantry was one of things Tom hated most about his former employer.
"I don't work for you anymore." Tom thought it best to come straight to the point. He had no idea how frequently the night shift nurses made their rounds and he didn't want to be discovered with a stolen cell phone.
"And yet, you did return my call." Of course Tom had responded to Red's message, he wasn't an idiot. Reddington didn't react well to being ignored. The international criminal never lost his temper, that would be unprofessional, but he hadn't gotten to his current position in the criminal underworld by taking 'no' for an answer.
"Yes, because I have a message for you: Stay out of my life." He'd said something similar to Reddington three and half years ago, right after he proposed to Liz. He hadn't been directly contacted by Reddington after that, but a bouquet of Kalaunchoe had been waiting in their honeymoon suite. Reddington had never planned to cut Tom free of their deal, he had just been waiting for right moment to reel him back in.
"YOUR life? I think you mean MY life, the life I gave you with the expectation that I'd receive a return on my investment. Do you have any idea how much time and money it takes to build a legend like yours, an identity that can hold up under the scrutiny of say…an adoption agency? I must say that was quite a gamble on your part, Tom. Elizabeth must really want that child. I'm curious, which is she hoping for, a boy or a girl?"
Tom wasn't surprised the Reddington knew about the adoption, considering he generally trafficked in information far more confidential. When Tom stopped reporting to Reddington, he had undoubtedly assigned another watcher within the hour. Whoever it was, they were good. Tom had only sensed the surveillance half a dozen times over the past three years. As long as watching was all they were doing, Tom tolerated their presence. He assumed whoever had taken his place had been given the same primary objective as he had: Protect Elizabeth. The surveillance was always secondary to the target's survival. Anyone working for Reddington would know the cost of failing him. A part of Tom appreciated knowing the Elizabeth was always safe walking the streets of D.C. Now things were different. The rules of the game had apparently changed when Red turned himself in. It appeared Elizabeth's safety was no longer a priority to Reddington, and that was unacceptable.
"Tomorrow you will go the Assistant Director Cooper and you will ask for a new handler. We both know there are plenty of other rookie agents you can use to accomplish whatever the hell you are trying to accomplish. I'll even help you if you'd like, but you are going to stay away from my wife."
Tom still didn't know what plan Reddington had for Elizabeth, and he wasn't waiting to find out. His wife would not become collateral damage to whatever scheme Reddington had cooked up.
"Am I supposed to be frightened of a man nearly beaten to death in his own home by a man twice his age?"
Tom could have pointed out that Ranko Zamani was hardly your average middle-aged man, but defending himself would just sound weak.
"Don't push me, Red. You know what I'm capable of." It had been less than ten years ago that Tom had been working for an elite black ops branch of the NSA so secret that his original identity had been completely scrubbed from the face of the earth. He'd been an extremely high performing government weapon, right up until they'd ordered him decommissioned.
"What you WERE capable of. You've lost your edge while you were playing house. The only reason I let you stay under this long was that I assumed you'd come to your senses. You don't really want to be Tom Keen for the rest of your life, do you?" Tom seriously considered the question. Permanently becoming Tom Keen had never been part of his original plan.
When Reddington had found him four years ago, he'd offered Tom a deal that seemed almost too good to be true. The international criminal had offered to persuade Tom's former bosses to call off the hunt and provide Tom with a completed new identity. All he'd asked in return was five years watching and protecting a young FBI trainee. Tom hadn't known why Reddington was so fixated on Elizabeth. An FBI agent could obviously be a valuable source of information, but he didn't understand why Red would spent years waiting for this one young woman, when he could, and probably had turned a dozen seasoned only connection Tom had ever been able to dig up was the Liz's undergraduate thesis. She'd majored in Criminology and five pages of her paper were dedicated to Raymond Reddington.
As the weeks passed Tom found himself more and more intrigued by the puzzle his assignment presented. He'd been pleased when, after three months of electronic surveillance, Reddington had requested Tom infiltrate Elizabeth life on a more personal level. Tom's first step had been convincing Liz's neighbor to sublet his apartment. In the end Tom wound up paying twice the normal rent, but it was worth it for the access it allowed him to his target.
Thanks to his prior surveillance, he'd known Elizabeth only did her laundry every third Wednesday, when nearly every piece of clothing she owned was dirty. When the day came Tom sabotaged the two of the building's three washing machines. He had put his half his clothes in the third and waited until he heard Elizabeth's footsteps before starting to add in the rest of his load. Elizabeth had come in with her extremely full basket and cursed under her breath. Tom had turned, pretended to realize her predicament and generously offered her use of the last working machine.
His plan had gone off perfectly. He'd introduced himself, they'd chatted for a few minutes, and just like that Tom had gone from stranger to friendly acquaintance. He'd returned to his apartment moderately pleased with himself, until he'd realized he'd forgotten a small detail. He had planned to pretend to be gay.
As a rule gay men are less threatening to woman than straight men, and Tom had felt it was a simple and quick way to put Elizabeth more at ease. He'd planned to casually mention 'his boyfriend' when the opportunity presented itself, but when the moment came, it completely slipped his mind. He'd dismissed the failure, and resolved to remedy his error upon their next encounter.
Their second meeting took place in a nearby coffee shop. Tom had watched from across the street as Elizabeth entered the building, waited ten minutes and then followed her inside. She'd caught sight of him waiting in line and waved him over. They'd sat together, drinking coffee and talking. He'd made a joke and she laughed. It shouldn't have been anything earth-shattering, he'd made women laugh before, but somehow this was different. When Elizabeth laughed, it was like stepping into a warm house after being out in below zero temperature.
When she finally had to run to class, he'd lingered in the shop. Tom had told himself that Elizabeth's perception of his sexuality didn't really matter. She obviously enjoyed his company and that was the important thing. Looking back, Tom probably should have known where this was headed, but self-deception is a powerful thing.
Three weeks later Elizabeth had asked him out. He could have stopped it even then, just apologized and told her he was gay. It may have been awkward for a few weeks, but she would have gotten over it. Instead he'd said 'Yes'. The casual dating eventually became a relationship, with ultimately led to him waking up in Elizabeth's bed wondering what the hell he was going to do.
Oddly enough it wasn't all the lying that was problem. It should have been, as deceiving Raymond Reddington was notoriously bad for one's health, but it wasn't. No, it was the moments of truth that were killing him. It was arguing over what movie to see on a Saturday night. It was working together to capture a pigeon that flew into the apartment window. It was any Elizabeth teasing him about his unnaturally spikey hair. Those increasingly frequent moments started feeling more real than his meets with Reddington. He knew he couldn't continue to live both lives, so he had chosen. He'd yet to regret that decision.
"Yes, I do."
"If you really feel that way, then I'm afraid this extended sabbatical of yours must come to an end. You will honor the terms of our arrangement or I will expose you. In fact, I've already begun."
Retaliation, three years later than he'd expected it, but it had finally come.
"What did you do?" Tom tried to remain calm. Red couldn't have burned Tom too badly if he wanted to continue to blackmail him.
"Elizabeth is now in possession of a photograph of the two of us sitting on the same park bench. The photo by itself incriminates me far more than it incriminates you, however if others of a more revealing nature were to come to light…well I'd imagine you'd be sleeping on the couch for quite some time." Tom's head was spinning. Reddington had recorded their meetings? For what purpose? It made no sense…unless Tom's defection hadn't been as much of a surprise to Reddington as he had let on. It was something to consider, but not right now.
"I won't betray my wife." Tom didn't care if it cost him everything he had, he wouldn't leave her exposed to Reddington.
"Don't think of it as a betrayal, think of it as safeguarding your life together. Really, Tom, this isn't as difficult a choice as you're making it out to be. All I'm asking is that you protect Elizabeth. As her husband I wouldn't think you'd find that a terrible imposition." Reddington's barb found its mark. When Zamani had attacked him, he'd been completely unprepared. Tom had been helpless as the terrorist threatened his wife. If she'd died, it would have been his fault. That wouldn't happen again. He'd take Reddington up on his offer. He'd protect Elizabeth from anyone would posed a threat…including Reddington.
"Same SOP?" There was a short pause before Red replied; leading Tom to question whether he'd sold his acquiescence with the right amount of exhausted defeat.
"No. When the deal goes through I'll be free in only the broadest interpretation of the word. I'll need a week or two to observe their surveillance and learn its weakness. The timing should coincide perfectly with your recovery. I must say, I'm impressed at how quickly you've come to your senses, especially given our last conversation."
"You've made it very clear that I don't have a choice." Reddington thought he'd gone soft, living the civilian lifestyle? Let him. Nothing was more advantageous than having an enemy who underestimated you.
"There are always choices. I'll be in touch." Reddington terminated the conversation before Tom had a chance to respond. Classic Reddington: having to end the discussion on his terms. It actually reminded Tom a little of Liz. Tom shook his head at his errant thought. He must be more tired than he realized if he was seeing parallels between the woman he loved and the man he wanted dead.
Tom cleared the call history and slid the phone under his bed. With luck it would be discovered tomorrow morning and its owner would assume it had fallen out of her pocket while she was making rounds. He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to claim him.
His last thoughts before he drifted off were of that photograph. How had Reddington known that Tom had gone off script? And if he had known all along, why hadn't he said anything? Why had Reddington let it go on? Why…..?