Chapter Nine

"You're spending quite a bit of time in DC lately."

Scottie looked up from the papers she was going over. "Is there a question there?" she asked, passing one paper over to him. "This one needs your signature as well."

"Who are you going to see?"

"Is that really any of your business?"

Howard ran his pen along the paper and all but tossed it back at her. "Is it?"

A slow, sly smile stretched Scottie's lips. "Is that a hint of jealousy in your voice, Howard?"

He snorted. "I would think you'd recognize mistrust by this point."

She hummed softly in response, flipping through her file. "Did you sign off on the operation in Dresden?"

"Who have you been going to see, Scottie?" her husband pressed and she knew that look in his eyes. They weren't going to get anything done until he was satisfied, and if she was reading him right, that wouldn't be easy. Their truce was a tentative one, built on necessity and a mutual wish to keep their son safe.

"Agnes," she says at last.

He blinked at her. "What?"

Scottie shot him a withering look. "Agnes. Our granddaughter?"

"I know who she is," Howard grumbled. "Why?"

"I would think that would be relatively obvious."

"Putting yourself in front of Liz Keen and risking everything we're setting up? Seems selfish and shortsighted."

"Dresden, Howard," she pressed.

"Yes. It's waiting for your signature and the team will be wheels up."

"Thank you. And no, it's not short sighted, but as always I appreciate the extension of trust you never bother to extend these days."

"Then you'd like to share your plan?"

Scottie rolled her eyes and dug for the Dresden file. "I know this might not match up to the chess game you view life as, but Liz is our daughter-in-law. I would like a chance to get to know her. To get to know Agnes."

"And this has nothing to do with you hedging your bets once Tom finds out that we're keeping his wife from him?"

That caught her attention. If that was Howard's first suspension then odds were that he was doing the same. "We agreed this had to be done to protect him."

"We did."

"He'll understand."

Howard snorted. "Is that the lie you're telling yourself? He's a grown man, Scottie, and we've taken the decision out of his hand. Do I think it's the right call to keep him alive? Yes, you know I do, but that doesn't mean he won't be angry." He caught her gaze. "There will be a fallout. We both know that."

She watched as he turned back to his papers and a question clawed at her. "Do you think he'll forgive us?"

"I hope so." Howard loosed a breath. "I've had a tail on him since…..2015, I'd say. I wasn't certain it was him, but my PI received a tip about a crime scene in '14 and finally tracked him down when he resurfaced in DC to help Liz. He sent me photos and I couldn't believe it was him."

Scottie set her files down, her entire focus on him as he explained how Pendergast had worked to get closer, nearly caught too many times to count. Finally - and Howard said that with a mirthless laugh - an opportunity opened up when Tom was shot and admitted into the hospital. He was able to confirm that he was Christopher beyond a shadow of a doubt. The DNA matched.

"Why are you telling me this?" Scottie asked quietly, catching his gaze.

"Because things had already begun to shift in Halcyon and I knew that I likely could only be adding to the dangers in his already very dangerous life. I kept my distance until I couldn't."

"Until you needed him to get to me."

"You know, he said something similar to me."

"You did use him, Howard."

"And I saved his life. If you believe it or not, Scottie, everything I've done has been for him."

"I believe that you believe that."

"Be careful, Scottie," he warned and turned back to his paperwork.

Matias Solomon considered himself a creative man. When the situation wasn't laid out in a way that he could take advantage of it he would shift the players, manipulate the board, until he could find the momentum moving in the direction that he needed it. He'd done it for the Cabal over the years, with Reddington and Elizabeth Keen, for Scottie when he had made sure that the Keen wedding happened on the best day for him to wavy a shiny fake bomb in front of the Task Force to distract them and move into place to take Elizabeth and her daughter. He had always been good at it. This particular play, though, was a repeat of one he'd pulled years ago under the Cabal's paycheck. The good news is that he could count the number of people that even knew that op had happened on one hand, so a repeat wouldn't put it at risk.

It was a carefully laid out plan, and one that had taken time to set the pieces into place for. The first step was to throw a wrench into an important shipment incoming at the docks and then be the only one that could fix it for them. That was easy enough as long as everything fell into place, and it went smoothly through the disruption. The real problem was that he hadn't been certain that an old contact would come through for him, but he'd received the message on his burner phone right on schedule.

Matias Solomon squinted against the midday sun reflecting off the water as he walked along the docks, his hands shoved into his coat pockets to keep the chill away and his polished shoes clicking against the wood. He set his gaze on a nervous looking man at the end of the pier who was working at a tablet like his life depended on it. He looked up, spotting Solomon as he approached, and he loosed a shaky breath. "You must be Mr Harrison," he greeted, a slight accent evident in his voice. "Vernon said that you were the man to call."

"I'm sure he did," Solomon said easily, "but I'm not here to waste my time. I need to speak with the person in charge of your shipments to handle the situation appropriately."

"You'll work with me." The words were sharp and two sets of dark eyes met, a silent battle for power between them. If that's how he wanted to play it.

"Fine," Solomon aid with a shrug, "best of luck untangling the mess you've made."

He turned, mentally counting, and he couldn't help the small smirk when he heard the voice behind him call out. "Wait." He stopped, listening. "She's out of country. This needs to be resolved by the time that she comes back in or she will kill me."

"Not my problem," Solomon said smoothly.

"I'll double the original offer."

The taller man turned, the movement explosive, and suddenly he was in the the drug peddler's face. "I was assured that I would be working directly with your boss. If I fix this, that arrangement will need to be honoured."

"If you fix this, it will."

There it was. His opening, and he took it. He was in.

She had worked so hard to get out of the hospital and go home that she hadn't considered that it wouldn't feel like home without him. His things were still there, at least what he hadn't had on him when they had been taken to the hospital. His clothes were in the drawers in their room, a pair of glasses on the bathroom counter. She found the book he had been reading set by his side of the bed and his blood had soaked so deeply into the carpet in the living room that it would never come out. Everywhere she turned she found Tom's ghost in the home they had shared.

The first thing she had done was to pack up anything that would set her over the edge without warning, starting with Tom's record player that one of their attackers had set to play as he had tried to kill him. She found herself seated on the floor and going through each record, memories attached to them. She could see that smile, those long fingers picking through them as he talked about each and every artist like he'd known them personally. He loved it. It was so very, very him, and in the end they had turned it into something that had caused her pain. They had used something that he loved against them in the most disgusting of ways.

It wasn't the only thing that had caused her to pause, but it was the first. It took her hours to work through that, but once she had all the records stored away she stood, leaning heavily on her cane, and moved to the next item. Bit by bit, item by item, she packed nearly everything away. It all reminded her of him.

She had had help. The Task Force came over and so did Reddington and Dembe. They rolled the carpet and they fit things out of sight, even if not out of mind. It didn't help as much as she had hoped it would, and with each passing day and night that became more evident. She missed his smile, his laugh, and the way that he could lighten her mood no matter how terrible the day might have been. She woke at night reaching for him and found herself thinking she heard him during the day. Liz was miserable in body, mind, and soul, and Agnes was soaking it in.

The little girl's moods were proving impossible to keep up with. One moment she would want nothing more than to cling to her mother and then the next she would want nothing to do with her. She liked to draw. It was one of the few things that would calm her down out of a rage, and her Uncle Aram had supplied her with a whole box of crayons of every different colour imaginable. Liz found herself sitting on the couch and watching her scribble and scribble, the soft sound pulling her in and for just a few minutes her mind might stop spinning.

It never lasted, though, and Liz found herself at a loss at how to fix it. She couldn't pull herself out of the depression and it was eating her alive. She pushed it off as long as she could, but it struck her late one night as she came flying out of bed, her husband's name on her lips, and found the the bed empty as it always was. She couldn't stay there anymore, but she couldn't take Agnes where she needed to go, not in good conscience.

The idea of leaving her daughter behind made her chest ache. She lay on her back, fingers curled around the bedsheets, and desperate to breathe through it. Finally, after several long and painful moments she reached for her phone at her bedside and hit a name that had been making it up her speed dial list over the last months.

It rang and rang, but the voice that finally answered sounded much too awake for three in the morning. "Elizabeth, is everything alright?"

"Scottie," Liz greeted softly. "Hi. I know it's late…"

"When I told you that you could call at any time, I meant that."

Liz felt her lips tug just a little at the gentle reminder, but she couldn't find her voice. Not for what needed to be asked. It was too hard, too heavy, and it made her feel too damn weak.

"Liz?"

"Yeah," she managed, her voice catching. "I need your help. Can you come to DC?"

"I can be there first thing in the morning," she promised, and Liz found herself nodding wordlessly. She thought Scottie might have said something else and maybe she even answered, but what that was she couldn't say. She barely managed to hang the phone up before the first tear escaped down her cheek, the second and third and fourth quick to follow, and before she knew it she was sobbing into into her hands.

"Mama?"

Liz jerked up, blinking in the dark room to find a pair of blue eyes, the same shade as Tom's had been, staring widely at her. Agnes stood by her bed, dressed in her pink pjs and with her little stuffed dog in tow, and she was watching her curiously. Liz swallowed hard. "Hey, baby. Did I wake you up?"

Agnes nodded and suddenly she was crawling into bed with her mother and into her lap. She wrapped her arms around her neck, fitting her chin against her shoulder. "Don't be sad, Mama."

A fresh wave of pain hit and Liz clung hard, feeling the tears hot as they escaped. "I miss him, baby," she admitted softly. "I miss him too much."

Her little girl didn't say anything, but adjusted her grip to settle in, making it clear that she had no intention of leaving the spot. Finally, when Liz was cried out all over again and Agnes was asleep against her chest, she slipped down, settling against the pillows behind her. She was doing the right thing for her daughter. She had to give her a chance, and right then, Liz didn't think she could do that.

She didn't sleep much more and she was up at the break of dawn, getting things together. There was a chance Scottie would say no, but Liz didn't think she would. It was her job to get a read on people, and despite everything that happened, it was one thing she could still do. Her mother-in-law had plenty of secrets, it was true, but that had become part of the norm. What mattered was that the time they had spent together had been enough to convince Liz that she had loved her son and that she would protect Tom's child with her life. It was complicated and it hurt to know that Tom would never have a chance to understand that his mother cared, but in the end Liz knew that the daughter of Raymond Reddington had no place to hedge a complicated parent-child relationship.

It was mid morning before the knock came at the door and Liz found herself struggling to get off the couch. The first attempt left he tilting back, her balance not quite right, but between determination and the cane she was using the second try got her to her feet. Agnes barely bothered to look at her as she picked her way towards the door. She opened it to find Scottie Hargrave standing there looking as put together as she ever did. "Hey, come on in."

Scottie gave a tight smile as she entered. "I came as soon as I could."

Liz managed a small sound of acknowledgement as she limped her way back into the apartment, leaning heavily on the cane.

"Hi, Grandma Scottie. I'm making pictures," Agnes declared from her place on the floor with her colouring crayons and papers all around her, and she held one up for emphasis.

"That's beautiful, Agnes. What is it?" her grandmother asked as Liz sank back down to the couch.

The little girl offered a shrug before jumping back into her project, and her mother found herself staring blankly, her voice hollow as she forced the words out. "I have to go. I can't…." She pulled in what she hoped would be a steadying breath. "He's everywhere here. I can't find a way past what happened if I stay."

Scottie nodded slowly. "Where do you think you'll go?"

"Somewhere where no one knows me. Where they couldn't find me if they wanted to. I need to find out where I go from here."

"So this is goodbye," the older woman said quietly, her gaze flickering to the packed boxes and everything Liz hadn't been able to touch.

"For now. I…." Her voice dropped, broken and quiet. "I can't take Agnes where I'm going." Blue eyes shifted to focus on her daughter. She was close enough to hear the conversation, but far too absorbed in her art to pay attention.

"I know that you're grieving for him too, and I know that you're trying to handle everything with Tom's father, but…."

"Liz," Scottie stopped her, reaching out and taking her hand, "it's alright. I meant what I said when I told you I was here to help."

She pulled in a steadying breath. "I never thought I'd come to the place where I…. it's different than Cuba. Tom had her. We always wanted at least one parent with her so that…." She stopped, trying to find a way to explain what was running through her mind without hurting the woman that had lost her son for the second time, but there wasn't any way around it. "We wanted to make sure she never grew up like us. Wondering where she comes from."

"She won't," Scottie swore, and thankfully she didn't seem to take it as a personal assault. "She won't question it for a moment, and the moment you're ready-"

"Thank you." Liz swallowed hard and squeezed her hand.

"Every mother wants to give her child the best chance they can have," Scottie said quietly, her gaze focused on Agnes, but there was a strain there that Liz knew. "To keep them safe, protect them in any way we can." She turned and met Liz's gaze. "That's what you're doing now, Liz, and no one can fault you for it."

"She can," Liz breathed.

"But she won't. I promise that she'll know that her mother loves her more than anything. I won't let her grow up the way her father did."

Liz managed a nod. "Thank you."

This wasn't forever. She wouldn't be Reddington. The moment that she knew she could, the moment she was able to come to terms with what happened, Liz would bring Agnes home.

"You about done?"

Tom staggered a little, trying to pull in enough oxygen for the exertion and he shook his head. "Still got a little more left."

Nez shot him a look. "That why you're setting off alarms?" she asked and motioned to the watch that had been screaming at him for at least sixty seconds at that point.

"Gotta stretch myself."

She snorted but gave, falling back into a fight stance. Tom shifted, steadying himself, and evened out his breathing as best as he could. He had another round I him, maybe even two, he was sure of it.

Nez moved, faking to one side and swinging around to the other. Tom saw it happening, but no matter how quickly his mind registered it, his body couldn't react fast enough. He heard her make a small sound of surprise, but it was too late to pull back, her leg slamming into his side and sending him falling to the floor hard. He lay there a moment as he struggled to breathe through the pain, and finally forced himself to roll and begin the climb to his feet.

"Hey, easy. You okay?" his partner asked, but he waved off her attempts to help.

"Yeah. It's fine. Not like anyone's gonna pull a punch in a real fight."

She snorted, but didn't move far. Tom wrapped a careful arm around his middle, but was happily surprised to find himself more or less steady on his feet, even if it hurt like hell. "Okay. Found the limit today," he muttered.

"Finally we agree."

The door to the gym opened and Dumont didn't pause as he came in, his gaze sweeping between Tom and Nez. "Scottie just landed."

"She and Howard weren't due in until tomorrow," Nez argued.

"Yeah, well, plans changed apparently." His dark eyes fixed on Tom. "If we wanna keep your extras under wraps you may want to-"

"Right," Tom cut him off, starting for the door. The only reason he had managed to get as far as he had was because neither Scottie or Howard had put their foot down on it. The moment they decided to go into overprotective mode they could close all sorts of doors to keep him from being able to work his way back into fighting shape. If they had their way, he'd never be back in the field again, but Liz needed him. She would need him when she woke up.

"Tom?"

Tom stopped halfway down the hall, purposefully loosing his grip on his sore side so that he didn't draw attention to it as he turned. "Hey, Scottie. Didn't expect you in today."

"I have a surprise that couldn't wait." If she noticed that he was dressed for a workout or probably looked like he'd run a marathon, she didn't say. She was smiling as she turned, motioning behind her. "Don't be shy. You know who this is?"

Tom found himself staring at a little girl that came around Scottie, still clinging to the hemline of her dress with one hand and she had a death grip on a stuffed dog in another. She looked up at him, curious and a little apprehensive, but he would have known her anywhere. "Agnes," he breathed out his daughter's name.

Scottie's smile didn't fade. "Who is that, Agnes? Do you know?"

Agnes looked up at her grandmother. "From the pictures? Daddy."

"That's right. Why don't you say hi? He's waited a long time to see you."

Tom sank to one knee on the floor, putting himself closer to her height. She'd grown so much, but it had been months…. No, it had been over a year. He hadn't seen his family in over a year now.

She toddled up and stopped about an arm length away, dark blue eyes roaming over him, taking him in. He watched her tilt her head to the side and it was everything he could do to remain still and let her explore at her speed. She didn't remember him. There was no way she could, but maybe somehow she might know him.

After a long moment he blinked, feeling something warm escaping down his cheek and Agnes reached one small hand forward to wipe at it and Tom broke into a smile. "Hey," he managed.

"Hi."

His breath was shaky as he released it, but she was holding his gaze. She wasn't afraid, just a little unsure. He knew the feeling. "You mind if I give you a hug, kiddo?"

There was a beat of silence as she considered it before she finally nodded. "Okay."

He didn't hesitate, didn't dare let himself second guess as he pulled his daughter in close. She didn't hug him back, but she didn't squirm either, and he pressed a kiss against her dark hair. "You're so pretty, Agnes. Just like your mom. I've missed you so much."

She made a small sound and he finally released her, his eyes locking with Scottie's. "How? Howard-"

"Howard never has been ready to rock the boat with Raymond. I, on the other hand, have no issue with it." His mother flashed him a grin before softening the smile for Agnes. "How about we see if Daddy will help us set up a room right next to his?"

"Okay," Agnes said, and just like that she was walking over to Scottie, taking her hand. Tom tried not to let it sting too badly. He loved her and she was with him and safe. That's what mattered. Everything else would work its way in in time.

Notes: The plot bunny for this story first started gnawing on me during Winter Hiatus and at least part of the first chapter was written at some point then. One of the many things I had to tackle in the planning for the story in fully, once 5B started, was how to deal with Agnes, Scottie, and the terrifying 'wrap up' of Redemption in canon. In general I approach my canon divergent AU's with the idea of 'if this is going to change, it has to have a reason that stems from the original change'. Howard staying out of prison may have been my one exception because, honestly, canon made zero sense on the timeline there. Tom just wouldn't have had time to handle all of that and build this trusting, fantastic, loving relationship with his mother up. I did know that I wanted to have Scottie bring Agnes back to the bunker and come live with Tom though, so the build up to this took some working and reworking. This chapter broke my heart like crazy, but I'm pretty happy with the way it got here. I hope you guys like it too :)

Next Time: Howard meets Agnes, Solomon and Nez take a step in getting closer to Garvey, and Agnes tells her daddy a secret.