Take What You Need, Say Your Goodbyes
A/N: Spoilers for 5x15. Probably what you've been waiting for but don't expect too much from these two right now. Mentions of 'These Movings Parts...' So read that first. Why am I more nervous about posting this chapter than any of the others?!
Song is: Beautiful Crime - Tamer which came from this vid: /4LnDQAuXHlA
Part Two: We Can't Go Back For Nothing…
During her last conversation with Fulton, she'd told her she'd been 'a daughter' but as she sat in her car waiting for her appointment with Selma she wasn't sure what that meant. The disconnection from him that she felt was deeply rooted, he hadn't raised her, the memory of the fire was another confusing element. She'd replayed it a lot over the past twenty four hours. Part of her wanted to believe he was her father, part of her - the confused, mixed up part of her did not. How could she have shot him, almost fatally if he had taken her by the hand and led her out of the burning house. What did she want if he wasn't her father, what did that mean in depths of herself she kept hidden from everyone else. The small part of their relationship she only allowed herself to think about in the middle of the night when she yearned for his presence.
She thought back to the times she had snuggled close to him while she'd been recovering, the times she craved his arms around her - to soothe the darkness overwhelming her. She closed her eyes against the feelings it stirred within her, her fingers gripping the steering wheel that much tighter. The feelings she could barely even admit to herself. She wanted it to be easy like it was then, to not think about what it meant or didn't. Just being content in his arms was enough. That much she could admit, anything further had to be quelled.
'So what would you like to talk about today?' Selma asked as she took her seat. Her note book closed in her lap, her hands folded resting on top.
Elizabeth shrugged the moodiness within her barely contained. She'd sat straight down in her chair, her pale face somber but she had kept her coat wrapped around her, needing its comfort and security. She hugged her arms around herself, her eyes downcast.
'You're feeling uncertain this morning?' Selma observed cautiously not wanting to put words into the other woman's mouth. Elizabeth gave her a small smile, a frown on her brow. 'What's going through your mind right now?' Selma prompted, beginning a conversation. Elizabeth was still, quiet but as Selma spoke, her face contorted. She scrambled for something other than what was actually causing her concern.
'I'm working with Detective Singleton later,' She offered quietly, 'Reddington confronted him in his bedroom early this morning. We had a meeting with Cooper. I've just come from seeing Reddington.' She reiterated blankly.
'Can you tell me what happened?' Selma asked, trying to open up the conversation but unsure whether the Agent was allowed to.
'I asked him to go easy on Singleton. He brought up my coma and how I wouldn't be a credible witness on the stand.' She volunteered softly, her arms still wrapped around her.
'How did that make you feel?' Selma asked watching as Elizabeth squirmed in her seat. She turned to look out the window, shrugging one shoulder slightly.
'I don't like it…. I'm sorry, I'm not feeling myself this morning.' She murmured softly, a lump forming in her throat.
'It's okay to feel upset. It's bound to bring up difficult feelings and memories.' Selma told her gently.
'He was blunt… Almost cold… But not wrong… I do know I wouldn't make a credible witness but I was a witness…' She paused, turning back towards the Doctor, a frown on her brow. 'It's like he's forgotten…' She looked down taking the edge of her coat between her fingers, playing with the last button.
'Forgotten you were there?' Selma asked for clarification, her brow creasing.
'All of it… My recovery, the time we spent together. It's like it doesn't matter to him now. He's over it, it's ignored so it never happened.' She wasn't sure she wanted to go there, but her mouth didn't seem to want to stop. 'I'd just like him to acknowledge that it actually meant something to him…' She finished biting the inside of her lip to stop anything else slipping out.
'Have you brought it up to him recently?' Selma watched Elizabeth shake her head.
'What would I even say at this point? I feel so angry with him but I also don't want to be. I want him to…' She stopped herself, looking down. 'I want to stop feeling like this but I don't know how without him making some effort.' She finished, raising her eyes to meet Selma's.
'What were you going to say before when you stopped yourself?' Selma asked as Elizabeth took in a deep breath avoiding her gaze. She bit her lip, her hands clasped together in her lap.
She shrugged for a moment, her gaze wandering, 'I want him to be like he was before, when we lived together, when he was taking care of me…'
'Can you explain a little about how that was for you?' Selma asked, gaging her response.
'I… I felt… Taken care of… Loved, I guess… He was different then. I was different then…' She stammered slowly, choosing her words carefully.
'You were able to lean on him, emotionally?'
'Yeah… He didn't care if I raged at him, he didn't care if I threw things at him. He helped me regardless, loved me regardless. Sometimes I just… I want to feel his arms around me, I want to feel close to him again like it was then…' She admitted quietly, her cheeks colouring. She watched Selma for a moment, something dawned on her face. A realisation that Elizabeth didn't want to acknowledge.
'Was it like that when you were on the run?' Selma asked, aware of Elizabeth's reluctance.
'Not exactly but there was a closeness that I couldn't explain at the time…' She admitted quietly not meeting Selma's gaze.
'Can you now?' Selma asked, watching Elizabeth's avoidance.
'Not in words I don't think…' She clammed up, not wanting to go any further. She let out a breath.
'You didn't know about the DNA test then, was there ever any suggestion of something else?' Selma broached carefully, watching Elizabeth's internal struggle breaking through the surface as she squirmed in her seat.
'I'm not sure what you mean…' Elizabeth lied badly, avoiding eye contact. She continued to look anywhere but at the Doctor in front of her.
'I mean, was there ever a time when you felt there might be more to your relationship, rather than it being paternal. Could it have been romantic?' Selma asked gently, she watched the colour drain from Elizabeth's face.
'No….' Elizabeth couldn't meet her eye, she looked out the window, her fingers playing with the edge of her coat.
'No, not then or not whilst you were recovering?' Selma asked, waiting patiently for Elizabeth to fill the silence.
'No not then… He was too much of a gentleman, he wouldn't ever make that kind of move, let alone touch me. He always lets me take the lead. At most he's only ever initiated holding my hand.' She sat up straighter, swallowing. Her stomach a bundle of nerves.
'And when you were recovering?' Selma probed and Elizabeth squirmed, she shrugged looking away.
'I don't know how he feels so I couldn't say. He never did anything inappropriate or even signalled anything of that kind.' She ground out, an edge to her tone.
'How do you feel?' Selma asked trying gently to get Elizabeth to open up.
'Confused…' Elizabeth evaded, not meeting Selma's eye.
'Confused about your feelings for him?' Selma asked trying to catch her eye but Elizabeth looked down at her hands, her cheeks flushed.
'Why would I be confused about that? He's my father, isn't he?' Elizabeth suddenly said, almost snapping but avoiding the question.
'If the DNA test proves correct but I think you have doubts. He didn't raise you as we've discussed. You were thrown into working with this man, a man who has thus far avoided the truth. He claimed he wasn't your father, is that right?' When Elizabeth nodded she continued. 'So for several years now you believed he wasn't, whether you were married at the time or not. Thrown together in such high stress situations can lead to feelings of attachment developing maybe even deeper feelings. Whether that was present before, you found out the was your father, only you can say…' Elizabeth sheepishly raised her eyes to meet the brown of Selma's, her eyes glistened with unshed tears as Selma, reasoned and justified any possible feelings she might have. She felt grateful in that moment, for this woman who had seen her through so much. She swallowed thickly,
'I don't know how I feel or what to feel… Only that I'm tired of being angry at him.' She confessed slowly.
'Have you thought about retaking the DNA test?' Selma suggested, trying to catch Elizabeth's eye.
'What good would that do right now? If he were interested in me like that he wouldn't have gone along with it, especially not for this long.' She stated blanching slightly. If she retook it with fresh DNA would she be disappointed if he was her father or if he wasn't? She bounced her foot against the floor in agitation, taking the corner of the cushion between her fingers for something to play with. Her thoughts turned introspective, did she even want to know?
'Do you think about him like that?' Selma interrupted her thoughts watching her freeze for a moment. She felt like pleading the fifth but this wasn't a court room, this was Selma and she was asking whether she had ever thought about Red intimately. If she lied, Selma would know and even if she didn't she would be breaking that hard earned trust they'd worked so hard to build. She felt panic tighten across her chest. She couldn't admit what she thought about in the darkness of her room. Silence stretched on as she wracked her brain to think of something, anything but the truth at this point.
'Liz…' Selma nudged softly, her eyes reaching Elizabeth's guilty ones. Guilty. Did she feel guilty for thinking these things? For the stirring of something in the pit of her belly when he held her close.
'Yes…' She croaked out softly, tears pricking in the corners of her eyes.
She'd been with Cooper when she saw him, standing over Singleton's body. She heard his voice first, signalling a flash of panic as the memory of Tom's death played in her mind. If he saw her he made no move to betray it. She'd turned back to Cooper, keeping her features still as she told him who the man was. Cooper had quickly taken her arm and ushered her to the car, pent up grief and rage prickling under her skin as she watched the man go about his work from the safety of the SUV. Cooper was talking as he drove them back to the Post Office but she barely heard a word he'd said. She jumped when he touched her arm signalling their arrival, she hadn't remembered half of the journey. He'd asked then if she was okay and she stared at him blankly, nodding vaguely.
She excused herself when they stepped into the bullpen, making her way toward the bathroom hoping to God, Samar wasn't in there. She closed the door behind her, leaning heavily against it her body shaking. Her mind raced but she couldn't seem to formulate a single thought. Her head banged back against the door, making a loud thumping sound as panic began to fill her chest. Ian Garvey. That was his name, the man who had murdered Tom and left her in a coma. She clung to it, saying his name in her mind like a mantra. He had been standing mere feet from her and she had done nothing. She inhaled sharply, a phantom pain spreading out across her skull emanating from the scar he'd left her with. She inhaled again, short and sharp, a panicked breath as she struggled for control. With shaky fingers she reached for her phone calling the only person who could calm this panic.
'Hello?' Selma answered, it was late and she was between patients.
'I…I… Know… Who k…Killed Tom….' Elizabeth gasped, a lump in her throat and tears finally forming in the corners of her eyes. She inhaled sharply, panting while struggling to form any further word.
'Liz?' Selma asked concern in her voice as she listened to the panting woman on the other end of the line. 'I'm here, can you tell me what happened?' Selma asked waiting and listening to Elizabeth's uncontrolled breathing, and distressed moans.
'S…Singleton… Was…' She rasped out, screwing her eyes up as tears streamed down her face. She saw his body in her mind, the image distorting with that of Tom on the floor and Garvey leaning over him.
'Listen to my voice okay? Try and take a slow breath in…' Selma told her as she listened to Elizabeth's staccato breaths through the phone's connection. 'Everything is going to be okay, you're safe. Remember the techniques we talked about to calm your breathing…' Elizabeth couldn't think, her eyes scanning the stall for five things she could see. Were there even five things in the stall? Her brain scrambled but the gasps became longer and the tightness in her chest eased a little.
'Are you there, Liz?' Selma asked not hearing the desperate panting anymore.
'Yes…' She croaked out, her body shaking as she clung to the phone, one arm against the wall for support. She took a deep breath, the tightness easing further. 'I know…' She breathed out, 'who killed Tom. I saw him…' Elizabeth explained as the tears renewed. 'Singleton was murdered, probably by him…' She let out a sob, squeezing her eyes shut.
'Was he arrested?' Selma asked with concern.
'No. Because it can't ever be that simple, can it? Why can't it just be over?' She sobbed into the phone.
She'd turned her phone off when she reached the safety of her apartment. She was on high alert, the panic fluttered in her chest renewing her tears as she showered, trying in vain to wash away the images behind her eyes. Had Garvey seen her, she thought then, an after thought in of the madness of the day. He knew where she lived after all.
She fell into bed without having dinner, taking two fingers of whisky and downing it before placing the empty glass on the nightstand. She shoved her gun under the pillow. Maybe the whisky would help block out the images and lull her to sleep. She tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable with the heavy weight against her chest that wanted to suffocate her. She heard the click of the front door, her heart stopping as ice cold of fear crept up her spine. She reached for her gun under the pillow, aiming it at the bedroom door as the handle turned. She clicked off the safety, ready to fire as the door was pushed open. He was backlit against the soft light in the living room. A silhouette in the doorway, signature fedora on his head.
'Don't you knock? I could've shot you.' She bit out into the darkness of the room. 'What are you doing here?' She groused, flicking on the lamp beside the bed.
'Cooper said you'd disappeared and you weren't answering your phone. He was worried… He told me what happened.' He took in her appearance, her dishevelled curling hair against her bare shoulders, the thin straps of her tank top disappearing beneath her dark curls. Her bloodshot puffy eyes and her pale gaunt face, and the whisky glass beside her.
'Cooper was worried or you were?' She ground out roughly blinking against the sudden brightness.
'Cooper… I said I would come by and see if you were here.' He informed her, watching her eyes become glassy.
'So you weren't…' She bit back, swiping at an errant tear. Her eyes flicked to the empty glass wishing she'd had the foresight to bring in the bottle.
'I knew you would be fine…' He told her simply, his mask fully in place. He took a step towards her stopping when she said,
'Well here I am and clearly I'm fine so you can go and report back.' She held up her hand, halting any further steps towards her.
'How much have you drunk?' He asked, his face impassive as he watched the cracks in her facade widen.
'Not enough to deal with this.' She waved a hand between them, clenching her jaw. 'You can go…' She dismissed him but he remained rooted to the spot. She let out a sigh, 'What do you want?' He frowned, as she evaded his gaze her hand dropping to mattress.
She swung her bare legs over the edge of the bed, an image of the two of them in the same positions popped into her head, only her legs weren't obeying her commands then and she didn't feel this rage inside her. She stared down at her legs, part of her would welcome the grief back if it meant this rage against him would dissipate. Tears slid down her cheeks and it was then he sat down next to her. She jumped slightly, she hadn't heard his approach. Concerned etched his features as she looked up at him, her own features falling as her body crumpled against him. He reached for her hand, linking her fingers between his own. Her chest tightened, the familiar panic renewing and all she could think was that she wanted his arms around her. She wanted that feeling of safety back, she wanted that feeling of being loved back. She unlinked their hands pulling his arm around her as she clung to him, fistfuls of his coat in her balled up hands, she pulled him closer letting out a sob. Just hold me. She silently begged, her eyes squeezed shut, just love me. The words echoed through her mind as she sobbed against him, his arms holding her awkwardly in the position they were sat in. She pulled her knees up to her chest, folding herself further into his body. Somewhere in the depths of her mind she wanted to disappear, she wanted him to eclipse her, to disappear into him and never resurface. She tucked her head against his chest, into her drawn up knees.
When her anguished sobs became softer and her body stilled, his grip loosened. He ran his fingers lightly up her arm, brushing the hair away from her face and lifting her face towards his own. She blinked up at him, her face wet with tears. Without words he gently pushed her down towards the bed, tucking her feet beneath the covers. As he pulled them up she grabbed his hand, her eyes pleading with him as she pulled on his arm making her intent clear. For a moment he stood over her, his uncertainty shining back at her. She tugged again on his hand, moving over slightly.
'Please' She pleaded hoarsely her voice cracking when he didn't move. She sat up, her arm resting against the mattress propping her up as she tugged again. Tears sprang to her eyes again as he stood motionless. Her heart breaking with rejection as he stared at her stoney faced. She let her hand drop from his, laying down. She pulled her in knees up to her chest, turning her back to him. She curled up into a foetal position, her hair splayed out behind her against the white of the sheet.
He ground his jaw, shrugging off his coat and kicking off his shoes. He placed his hat on the night stand before she felt his weight indent into the bed. She gasped softly turning to face him, her eyes wide as he flicked off the lamp. Her stomach flopped as his hand reached out for her, pulling her gently towards him. She curled up into his side, the familiarity of the weight of his arms around her small waist. She pulled his other hand towards her, scooting closer as he tightened his hold. Remembering she liked to feel secure. Warmth spread through her chest, snaking it's way down her spine. She wondered briefly if she'd ever felt warm since his arms had left her. His fingers brushed over the bare skin of her waist, where her top and shorts had parted and she let out an involuntary soft gasp. He stiffened slightly before relaxing into her. His fingers tracing patterns against the bare skin of her upper arm with his other hand.
'If I hadn't gone to Alaska. Do you think things would be different between us?' She whispered in the darkness. Her fingers traced across his jaw, her nose pressed into his neck. She breathed him in willing all of the shit between them to disappear, if only for tonight. He tightened his grip, pulling her closer into his side. His fingers against her ribs.
'I don't know…' he murmured softly, looking down at her then. Their eyes meeting before hers flicked to his lips. Her breathing quickened, her heart fluttering inside her chest as she wondered what he would do if she kissed him right then. Would she have her answer if he didn't push her away? She blinked, his hand leaving her arm to brush the hair away from her face. Her belly flipped as his fingers traced her jawline before running down her shoulder back to her arm. It was then she leaned in, brushing her lips against the corner of his mouth in the lightest of touches. The intent was there and if he had moved into it their lips would have met but he was still, staring up at the ceiling. She rested her head against his chest listening to quickened pace of his heartbeat betraying him. She closed her eyes sinking into him, feeling his warmth, his security and his love in that moment.
