A/N: Beginning to return to the show storyline. It's not absolute canon for obvious reasons but it'll follow as closely as I can manage. I won't be including the Tom/Liz romantic bits though cuz Keenler. Thank you for the follows/favorites/reviews that continue to trickle in. I appreciate you taking a risk on Lane and Red and I'm glad you're still on the journey with us!

36: Power Play

It had been an exceptionally long day. When Liz got home, all she wanted to do was veg on the couch with an old movie and a beer. She dropped her keys in the table top dish next to the door. The apartment still didn't feel like home. She didn't think it ever would. Though, to be fair, she wasn't sure anywhere could at this point in her life.

She was reaching for the entry way lamp when she heard the movement just before a hand clamped over her mouth and she was pushed against the wall. She gasped, her heart pounding, before she recognized the silhouette. Was this it? Was he here to kill her finally despite Red's insistence the Cabal had to vote on it first? Maybe with her gone, the rest of the team would be safe.

"What are you doing?" she gasped.

"Shh. Shh," Tom muttered. His face was sad in the darkness. Were those cuts on his face? Just for a moment he looked like her Tom. "I had nowhere else to go."

"Are you here to kill me?" she asked, her voice small. If he'd just let go of her, she could reach her pistol. At least then she'd stand a fighting chance.

"What? No. Of course not," he said, as if stunned and hurt by the suggestion.

She didn't find his wounded act all that convincing, all things considered. He loosened his grip on her but didn't move out of her personal space. She reached up and pulled her hat from her head.

"Then why are you here?"

"I can't be a part of SF8, Liz. I can't. They're plotting to systematically take you all out. They're watching and planning. I don't want to be a part of that. I can't," he pleaded. "I need your help getting out."

"And how exactly am I supposed to help?" She asked, heart pounding, head racing.

He must be insane if he thinks I'll help him, she thought.

"I need the passports. The ones you confiscated."

"Yeah, right," she snorted.

"I'm serious, Liz," he begged.

"What you're asking me to do," she said slowly. She shook her head in disbelief. "I appreciate that you turned yourself in. You came back for me. You were trying to help me." She pushed away from him.

"Liz, I'm in danger. I need the passports."

"I can't," she interrupted. "I just can't."

"Liz, please," he yelled desperately as she flipped on the lamp. "Turning myself in to save you, saved me. And not because the judge let me go. I've been running since I was fourteen. It's all I've done. And in that moment when the judge let me go? I thought, 'maybe there's a world where I won't have to run.' Where I could just….This kill squad wants you dead. If I leave, they'll hunt me too. So please. I need your help. I need the passports."

"They're not just passports," she said. It was hard to look at him when he was like this. Sympathy and contempt battle inside of her. "You put them in a box under the floor in our home. They represent everything I'm trying to forget."

"I know," he said, frustrated. Despairingly. "I wouldn't ask unless it was important."

"They're locked up in evidence."

He was playing her. Playing to her emotions. Whatever else this man was, he was a consummate liar, she reminded herself.

"That's exactly why they should still be clean."

"I'm not going to walk into evidence and steal them for you. Why would I do that?"

"You want me gone? Do this and you'll never see me again."

Back to bargaining. Sometimes he was so text book in his technique. How had she failed to see it before?

"You need to leave," she said, anger winning out as she pushed past him to open the door. "Go! Now!"

She spun toward the opening and came face to face with Red. His eyes turned deadly cold in a blink. He positioned his body in front of Lane, his weapon drawn and trained on Tom before Liz's brain processed it all.

"No," she said, drawing her own weapon, eyes focused on Red. Dembe's gun was out just as quickly, aimed on her. It startled and hurt her. She'd grown to like and respect Dembe but he was first and foremost Red's protector and it would serve her well to remember that. They stood there for a tense moment.

"Get out," Red growled.

He was unquestionably deadly. It was rare that he showed this side any more but Liz was awed by it. He wasn't all charm and logic and brilliance. Under it all, he was an assassin. Ruthless and lethal.

"I was out," Tom said. "Remember? You're the one who brought me back in."

"Get out," Red repeated, lowering his weapon.

Dembe's followed immediately. Liz breathed a bit easier, holstering her own weapon. Tom pushed past her. He eyeballed Red as he passed him. Red glared after him until he was out of sight. He motioned to Dembe with his chin to follow Tom. Red snatched the hat off his head, clearly pissed, as he and Lane entered. Liz shut the door behind them.

"Perhaps I haven't made myself clear," he snarled decisively, narrowing his eyes.

"I came home and Tom was here," Liz replied defensively. Why did he always make her defensive? "So much for state of the art security."

"He's back in your life."

"He's not in my life," she retorted, affronted.

"I understand what it's like to be drawn to something that is unhealthy. To a part of yourself you're afraid of. But I want you to remember how your life really was with him and imagine all that it could be without him."

"I don't have to imagine," she said, not breaking his glare.

"And the damn security system only works if you arm it." He stepped away from her and flung himself into a chair.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said dryly, rolling her eyes at Lane, who just winked at her from behind Red.

"Good. I have a case."

X X X

The next morning, Red removed the stitches from Laney's finger before sending her off to her brother's for Beth's first communion, giving her strict instructions to check in. He didn't like being away from her but under the circumstances, she was probably safer right now with Dan. When he got the call from Roger Hobbs to meet, he knew it had been the right decision. Things were coming to a head, even if no one else sensed it.

Roger was waiting in the parking garage when Red and Dembe pulled up. Red got out of the car feeling a little out of sorts. Pulling on his hat, he wondered vaguely if the district would ever warm up or if it'd stay cold until June. What he wouldn't give to be on a beach with Laney somewhere. Bali, perhaps.

"Hello, Roger," he said, sauntering up to the man dressed all in black.

"The Director called for a vote," Roger said without preamble.

"When?"

"Tomorrow. I've been quietly lobbying on your behalf," Roger murmured.

"I appreciate that," Red said in an equally quiet tone.

"No you don't. You expect it," Roger replied. Red smiled a bit at that. Once upon a time they'd been great friends.

"Where do things stand?"

"I've spoken to Mitcham. He's with us. That means Brazil and South Korea are as well." Red nodded at that. Just as he expected. "That likely positions Jasper as the deciding vote. If we can't secure his vote, the Director will have a majority to act against you."

"Then Jasper will have to be persuaded."

"These are powerful men. They don't respond to threats."

"No," Red agreed. "With powerful men, one must appeal to their vanity."

"Listen to me, Red," Roger said earnestly. "The Fulcrum. If you have it. If you can prove you have it. Do it now. Your life depends on it."

"Set the meeting," Red said.

He gave Roger a jovial smile and patted him on the shoulder, not displaying his concern for the other man to see. A warning from Hobbs was a dire one. He wasn't given to overstating things. Red slid into the car grimly. How the hell was he going to convince Lizzie to give him the Fulcrum without giving into her demands?

He had to hand it to her. She was dogged and stubborn. And while that might make him proud at any other time, it was damned inconvenient when it was impeding his efforts. The opportunity presented itself when she reached out a couple hours later. Dembe handed him the phone.

"Elizabeth," Dembe said.

"Lizzie," Red answered.

"I need you to put me in touch with someone who brokers shelf corporations," she said, all business.

"Good. I need the Fulcrum," he replied. There was no time for subtlety today.

"Our ghost has a name," she said, barely missing a beat. She was wary now. "Vanessa Cruz. If I can find the person who brokered…."

"Agent Keen," he interrupted. Time to take the gloves off. He hated it but it was necessary. "I'm loathe to play tit for tat but unfortunately, due to present circumstances, I must insist on the Fulcrum. I'm afraid it's become an immediate matter of life and death."

"I know how much it means to you," she said, patronizingly.

"I don't think you do," he said with an ironic chuckle.

"And you know how much it means to me to know what part I play in all of this. But you told me it's a blackmail file and I'm a federal agent. I can't just hand over information to you that might give you leverage over people who, for all I know, run our government."

"Those people launched a missile strike on the Factory to kill us in order to keep their secret a secret," he pointed out, frustrated.

"This is about Tom, isn't it?"

"No," he said with a dry chuff. "This is simply about me trying to survive. I'm perfectly happy to put you in touch with someone who deals in shelf corporations? But I need the Fulcrum. Think about it, Lizzie," he said before disconnecting. It was the only hand he had. He'd have to let it play out.

"You could just tell her," Dembe said in his soft voice, taking back the phone.

"That's not going to happen. I believe we have a meeting to attend, Dembe."

He stared out the window as Dembe drove, resisting the urge to fidget. He'd learned to school his nervous habits long ago but that didn't mean he still didn't get the urge. All he could do was let this ride for a bit. Give Lizzie the time to come back to him with her counter offer. In the meantime, if he could get Jasper on his side, he wouldn't need Lizzie's cooperation. That seemed to be his best bet for now and what he would focus on. When they arrived at the meeting spot, Roger was already waiting.

"I assume Jasper agreed to this little meeting?" Red asked

"He should be here momentarily. Do you know how you want to play this?"

"Leave it to me," he said with a stiff smile, stepping from the room. He didn't have to wait long until he heard Jasper's no-nonsense voice.

"What's so urgent?" the voice demanded. He was accustomed to his power and position and getting his way.

"I wanted to talk to you about Raymond Reddington," Hobbs said.

"The vote's not until tomorrow afternoon." The edge in Jasper's tone suggested he was suspicious. As he should be.

"The vote's all but taken. Not officially but I've spent the last six hours speaking with all the major players."

"You're back channeling," Jasper accused.

"You're damn right," Hobbs retorted. "If Reddington has the Fulcrum, his death triggers a protocol for release. We will be exposed."

"Why am I here?" Jasper demanded.

"You're the swing vote, Kenneth. You're the one who will make this decision."

"You know I lean towards the Director," Jasper said. "Why should I change that position now?"

That was Red's in.

"Because, Mr. Jasper," he said entering. "You strike me as a man who would prefer to pitch rather than catch."

The stunned look on Jasper's face was worth the wait. He swung his accusatory gaze to Hobbs.

"What the hell have you done?" Jasper demanded of Hobbs.

"Just. Hear him out," Hobbs placated. "That's all I ask."

"Roger is quite right," Red said, his tone purposely soothing. "The Director's latest stratagem is hubris. It has very little to do with me and everything to do with the consolidation of his power. If he succeeds, you'll become nothing more than his trusted servant. He needs to go. He will go. Tomorrow. After the meeting. After you win this vote with everything that your head and your heart tell you are true."

"You're talking about assassination," Jasper said.

"Yes, Mr. Jasper," Red agreed. "Ambition's debt must be paid."

"Julius Caesar."

"One of my favorites. The play, not so much the man. The man was a bit full of himself. He did have a brilliant military mind but he couldn't smell a plot to save his life. Intentional pun."

"And why is that?" Jasper asked.

"Pride. The subtlest and yet most deadly of the seven sins. Like the Director. He couldn't be saved."

"Which part do you play in all this? Cassius?"

"Ah, no," Red said, his voice masterful and enthralling. "I'm the Rubicon. You simply need to determine which side of history you want to end up on. Who are you, Mr. Jasper? The subordinate who remains slavishly obedient to his master? Or the presumptive leader of an organization that will be far more powerful than it has ever been?"

Red had him. He could see the gleam in his eyes as the older man smiled. Tension and power coursed through the room like an incoming tide. He held out his hand just enough that Jasper would have to reach for it if he wanted to make the deal. It was subtle but telling. A power play. The other man grasped his hand. The deal was done.