Author's Note: Yeah, I'm back with another fanfiction. Unlike my other ventures, I can assure my readers that I will try to keep updates on this as frequent as possible. I am unsure of how long this will end up being, but I write each chapter out by hand before typing it up so I can try to work out errors. This story does not have a beta, so all errors are my own.
The title of this fic is based on "Angel With a Shotgun" by the Cab and I recommend giving it a listen. I will be posting separate oneshots of an explicit nature set in this universe, so be on the lookout for those. Anyway, on with the story.
Here With Me
Dim sunlight accompanied the harsh alarm that jolted Liz to consciousness. She sat upright in bed and instinctively reached for the handgun under the pillow. Heart pounding, she repeatedly hit the snooze button on the clock at her bedside. The covers were pushed down as she extracted herself from the plush warmth offered by the bed. Staying into a hotel suite was an improvement from the motels she frequented for the past months. Setting the gun on the dresser below the TV, brown hair fell over her shoulder as she opened one of the drawers. She pulled her deep purple camisole over her head and set to her morning routine. With so much uncertainty in her life, she had found that there was some comfort to continuing her routine. She buttoned her slacks as a familiar ringtone broke the momentary silence.
"He'll call back if he really needs anything," she murmured, knowing the caller far too well.
Liz mused at how her perceptions of Red had changed over the course of a single year. Gone were the moments of guessing his every move, trying to search for reasoning behind each action. She had changed since she was with Mobile Psych, even more since she lived in Baltimore. She had trouble recognizing the woman in pictures only taken two years prior, when she and Tom were both smiling. Her morals were clear, directing her to view cases in different lights. The task force, for all the good it hoped to do, conflicted with her personal ethics. There was a bottom line that never factored in the good that suspects did for the public. Sighing, she went to the wardrobe and pulled a blouse off its hanger. She put the blouse on, buttoned it, and pulled a sweater over her head. The argyle pattern complemented the color of the top and covered her forearms, allowing her to roll up her sleeves. Similarly patterned socks were hidden in a pair of ankle boots before Liz crossed her suite.
The vibration in the pocket of her slacks alerted her to a phone call and she accepted the waiting call. Ressler's clipped tones filled her ear and she fought a wince.
"Keen, we got a lead. They asked for you personally," he said.
Liz gritted her teeth, plastered a smile on her face, and responded, "Just heading out now. I'll be there in ten."
The other agent sighed. "Try getting here in five."
She ended the call with measured finality and pocketed her phone and room key. Clouded apprehension tugged at the back of her mind as she grabbed her coat off the back of a chair. The suspicion that joined the growing uncertainty, though near constants, concerned Liz. When paranoia is a constant, perhaps choosing a different career path gains importance she thought as a look of measured disgust crossed her face. She knew better than most the sheer amount of risk inherent in one's life. Scanning the room once more, Liz turned off the lights as she made her way to the door. Brisk air greeted her she pulled the door closed behind her, walking into the Washington day.
Liz pushed the remaining apprehension and suspicion to the back of her mind as she parked her car. The issued Charger, identical to cars issued to detectives, blended in with the typical Washington traffic and saved her the cost of purchasing her own car. The current atmosphere created something dangerous and unrelenting, much like the hardest cases with Mobile Psych. Her forehead met the top of her steering wheel and she took the keys out of the ignition. Thoughts raced in her head as she unbuckled her seat belt and pushed the door open. Liz spent moments questioning the largely predictable direction of her thoughts. Her father, a mystery for most of her life, was closer than she imagined.
"The Warrior Gene," she mused, her tone foreign to her own ears.
Her life had turned upside down and lost any resemblance of what she once knew. There was once a time when she knew herself and knew Sam, the man that had raised her with no assistance. Liz leaned against her car door before her lips parted in a sigh. No matter how often the thought of taking leave crossed her mind, she knew it wasn't a possibility. The job had consumed her life and upended the one that she had known. With another sigh, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and straightened. The Post Office loomed above her, hard and unforgiving in a way that harkened back to high school. The faintest hint of a chuckle escaped her as she clipped her badge to the collar of her blouse.
Squaring her shoulders, she entered the access code to call the elevator. The black site was practically a second home, one of the most stable homes in the past few months. Liz shook her head at the thought even as the truth ate at her. Tom had laid waste to the remaining sense of normalcy she allowed herself and destroyed two years of her life. Normalcy came in the form of a wanted criminal and the dangerous criminals he tracked. The doors of the elevator closed once she stepped inside, the sickly yellow light illuminating the car. Liz clasped her hands behind her back and cast her gaze up to the ceiling as she waited for the elevator to stop. The car shuddered and jostled as the metal gates rose, revealing the agents of the task force.
"You're late, Agent Keen," Cooper said.
Liz bristled at the tone before she responded, "Won't happen again, sir. Ressler called saying we had a lead?"
Ressler stepped forward, hands clasped in front of him. "Actually, the lead came through Aram. There's been development of sorts in Manhattan. Reddington wants you to join him at the Essex House."
Suspicious, she looked between the agents and pulled her phone out of her back pocket. Opening the message she had received, Liz scanned the words and realized that the message contained information for a flight that evening from Dulles to LaGuardia. Liz pushed a hand through her hair and slid her phone back into her pocket once she had fully read the message. The prospect of having to follow a lead in New York was thrilling. While she loved Washington, New York was one of her favorite cities.
Setting her gaze on Cooper once more, she quirked a brow and asked, "Is there anything else you need from me?"
Her biggest use to the task force, though she doubted any of her colleagues would mention it, was the fact that Red was her partner. The implication of her phrasing was once shocking, yet there was no use in denying the truth. She was only a profiler and her field training had only be used on various occasions. Liz had a period of usefulness that was considerably numbered.
"Some paperwork needs filing before you catch your flight," Cooper replied in seemingly even tones.
Liz shifted her bag on her shoulder and gave a quick nod before heading to her office. She felt Aram's gaze at the back and the faintest beginnings of a smile settled at the corners of her mouth. She and Aram worked well together, covering for one another on occasion and supporting each other. Ressler, whether or not he wanted to be more, merely existed as a colleague and barely as a partner. Red is more of a steadfast partner she thought. The hint of truth was undeniable and she opened the door of her office.
She leaned against the door to push it shut, effectively blocking out the rest of the task force from causing a disturbance. Liz's gaze landed on the small stack of files and paperwork cluttering the center of her desk. The presence of a file was new, although she had welcomed their appearance. She had learned that files divulged far more information than simple interrogations. Nothing was left to chance when files revealed every piece of information the task force required. These thoughts and musings circulated through her mind as she crossed the small distance to her desk. Remaining suspicion tugged at the back of her mind as she pushed the chair back with her foot.
"Just get this done and you can pack," she reminded herself as she sat in the chair.
She opened the file and her lips parted in surprise. Aram had provided her with information beyond her clearance level. She looked over the first page and swiftly closed the file before placing it in her back. She looked over the other pieces of paperwork and recalled the individual cases. The medical history and blood work that remained in her hotel room held more than she ever considered. Her birth father's identity had remained a mystery for the greater portion of her life. Shaking her head, she pushed her chair back and rose. She placed the paperwork in folders before picking up her bag and exiting her office.
Traffic around DuPont Circle never ceased to amaze her. Driving around traffic circles was simplistic, yet people always found the single way to complicate even the most basic of directions. Her fingers flexed against the steering wheel as she followed the street to the hotel. A permanent lodging grew inviting with each passing day. Hudson's absence had her missing solid companionship, but she knew that she had Reddington when she grew lonely Still she thought a pet has certain benefits. She loved the morning runs with Hudson, admiring the solace provided by the scarcity of people on her regular route. Tom was the only part of her life that she considered easy to replace.
"Bastard," she said under her breath as she pulled into the hotel parking lot.
Reaching into her back pocket, Liz pulled out her room key. Determination etched itself into her face as she shifted her bag onto her shoulder. She knew that going to New York with Reddington gave the task force necessary leads on criminals with specific sets of skills. So many issues hid under the surface of the social veneer of cities and communities. People committed atrocious crimes for little more than a personal attack. She pushed those thoughts out of her mind as she opened the door to her hotel room. She leaned against the wall once she crossed the threshold and closed the door with her foot.
"Lizzie, you have a plane to catch," Red commented, his voice breaking the fleeting silence.
Author's Note: So, that's it for the first chapter. I am participating in National Novel Writing Month, but I will endeavor to be consistent with these updates. Please read and review. Don't be shy about constructive criticism, it actually helps me.