You Leave Me Here Fully Exposed…
A/N: Spoilers for 5x19 Ian Garvey. Broaching the subject of Jennifer in this chapter as it's talked about more. She won't be a big feature. I felt like I was doing Liz's grief a disservice in the last chapter and in this one so I want to get back on track with her mental health. She's about to have an in show mental break so...
**I've changed the rating as you probably noticed last chapter. Smut somewhat out of my comfort zone these days and No don't get excited but this chapter was very out of my comfort zone but you know what I did it and here it is.
If it's not your thing just skip it, its not integral to the plot but my girl needed some release to her frustration.
Song: Open Your Heart -Birdy.
Wondering how you feel…
Goddamn it. What was happening? His brain scrambled as her arms slid up his body, her arms wrapping around his neck. Her head fell into the crook of his neck. He ached to touch her, to pull her closer but his arms remained stubbornly still. As she moved against him, his fingers accidentally brushed against her thigh causing a gasp to escape her lips. His cock twitched in response, aching painfully as it strained against his trousers. She pressed her mouth into his neck, open slightly so he could feel her breath on his skin. It sent tiny shivers of pleasure down his back. He knew she could feel him between them. When she placed his hand against her hip and lower back, it threw him.
He wanted this but he couldn't be doing this. Not now, not like this. She needed this Garvey business out of her mind so she could put Tom behind her. A growl rose up in his throat but he swallowed it back down, grinding his jaw. His fingers caressed the small of her back, it was too much to resist in that moment. He pulled her roughly against him, closer so his cock rubbed deliciously against her public bone. He wanted her, there was no mistake. He was tired of hiding it, tired of the pretence and here she was scantily clad offering herself to him. He was a fool. But now? God damn, not now.
The only way he knew how to separate from her was to become irritated. Maybe sexually frustrated was more accurate. She was wet, he could see it against her shorts, he'd noticed it before when she'd swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She rocked her hips slowly into him and that was it. He forced her away, grabbing her roughly in what might have seemed in that moment like he was going to kiss her. She gasped against him sending tiny tendrils of pleasure right to the place he was trying to ignore. Her brow knitted together, her face stricken as he forced her arms away from his neck, holding them tightly before pushing her down and away. What was he doing? She was right there, wet panties and all and yet he couldn't. She was too perfect, he had already defiled her enough with so many secrets and this father business which he'd be the first to admit was a stupid idea to go a long with. But here she was practically begging him, her eyes wanton, her pupils blown with need for him. How had this even started? He'd wanted her for so long but she had never given him these signals before. For fucks sake man, just push her back and kiss her but he ground his jaw harder. The duel in his head battling for dominance. His eyes ran along her body up to her face. It nearly broke him when he saw her look of utter rejection but he had to go. He reach for his coat turning for the door. Fool.
'How are you doing today Liz?' Selma asked as she settled into her chair. Her mind automatically reverted back to Red, his hands against her hips, his growing need for her pressed against her. She closed her eyes, willing the images away. She fidgeted in her chair for a moment, trying to ease the dull ache between her legs.
'I seem to be here more than I'm at home.' She quipped, producing a smile from Selma.
'You have a lot going on right now, it's okay if you need extra support…' Her movements stilled at the word support, was Selma her only source of support. While she felt close to those she worked with, she only sometimes felt able to talk about what was going on and now with what was happening with Red, she couldn't divulge that to anyone else.
'I found Reddington's daughter, Jennifer…' She said suddenly, maybe needing to disclose this information with someone. The thoughts confusing in her mind.
'I didn't know you'd been looking?' Selma asked, her brows raising.
'I wasn't at all. I didn't want to poke that bear especially with this whole Red mess but suddenly there she was. Turns out Garvey knew her, helped her, protected her from when she was a child.' Liz offered, knowing what the next question would be.
'Wouldn't that make her your sister?' Selma enquired, watching the younger woman closely.
'Yes. If Reddington is my father but I think by now I know that's not true. I didn't tell her anything to contradict that belief, I went along with it…' She confessed, a little ashamed of her pretence but what else could she do until the situation was clearer. Jennifer didn't seem to want anything to do with her anyway.
'But?' She asked with a frown.
'I was looking at her trying to see similarities between myself and this woman, similarities between her and Reddington. I wanted her to be my sister, to have some kind of family out there… But if she is then that means he would be my father and that's just too difficult to think about right now.' She tried to explain her complicated feelings.
'Did something else happen?' Selma asked watching as she broke eye contact.
Liz swallowed, looking down at her hands playing with the edge of her coat. 'Yes…' She paused, unable to find the words. 'I know he's attracted to me. I know logically he cares about me, I even know he loves me.' She shook her head swallowing the lump threatening her voice. 'I keep allowing him to hurt me, I put myself out there and he just pushes me away and I don't know if that's because he's actually my father or if he's just scared to take that step with me…' Her voice broke, 'I can't do it anymore, it has to be strictly business…'
'Do you think you can do that?'
'What choice do I have until I can prove he's not my father. Either way it's making me miserable and more angry with him. He's made it clear what's more important and it isn't me…' She sniffed, holding herself together.
She wasn't looking forward to their meeting, she'd sat in the car for twenty minutes trying to gather up the nerve to face him. She had to find it somewhere within to pull herself together, put on her game face and ignore this physical attraction. Two sides duelled inside her. The grief and rage she felt over Tom's murder, the fact he was keeping the reason why a secret and purposely diverting her efforts to find out the truth. Then this physical attraction that had suddenly been awoken. It unsettled her, almost frighteningly so because she knew the strength of it had the power to override any rational thought. The power of the attraction itself had the power to disarm her. It was knee buckling, it made her head swim. It disoriented her to a point where her brain fogged up and it just left her wanting more. She knew it could override her ability to function, obliterate any conscious thought where her revenge was concerned. Part of her was afraid that if he realised that, he would use it to his advantage but he seemed too dumbstruck in the face of his own attraction towards her to even realise it's power. She had loved Tom, despite everything but this? This was something else. She could admit that to herself but it felt like a betrayal. She knew Tom would be disappointed, probably even angry but she couldn't help her body's betrayal in the face of his proximity. She had to face that things between them had changed when he had cared for her. He had been there consistently and if it wasn't for this damn bag perhaps there wouldn't be this giant wedge between them now.
All she had to do was play along and she did, masterfully. It was going well, bantering about J. Edgar Hoover's apartment and she was in it for the most part. She kept her distance as he sat on the couch which helped keep her senses in check until he brought up Garvey.
'I wouldn't admit this in mixed company, but J. Edgar and I have a surprising amount in common. For instance, we both always get our man. He got Tolson. I got Garvey. Or I will, by this time tomorrow.' He almost seemed proud, like he wanted a pat on the back from her. He turned to face her, his arm along the back of the couch with his legs crossed.
She stepped closer, 'Is this why you wanted to see me?' She asked, her eyebrows raised. How could it possibly be anything else when he was pretending nothing had happened.
'Mosadek has ordered Garvey to bring me the duffel bag…' She placed her hands in her pockets as he looked up at her. 'Garvey thinks he's going to give it to me and walk away. I wanted you here to tell you I've made other arrangements.' He informed her confidently, his eyes fixed on hers.
'To get your man and the bag.' She raised her chin, it suddenly dawning on her this whole charade was about the bag. She nodded back at him, her brows still raised.
'To get our man and keep my privacy.' He confirmed, his voice holding a tone. His chin raised obstinately.
'Hoover believed knowledge is power. He used his to hurt a lot of good people. You're using yours to hurt me.' She told him, suddenly feeling defiant and irritated.
'That is ridiculous.' He stuck his jaw out, wilfully ignoring her pain. He knew he was hurting her but the very simple fact was that he had to keep the contents of the bag from her at any cost. Her feelings or his for that matter meant nothing in this context.
'Tom died for a reason. You know why, and you won't tell me!' Her voice rose with exasperation, bending her body towards him. Her brows knitted together, she still maintained a healthy distance.
'I won't tell you something that's none of your business. It was none of Tom's business. You may feel entitled to know what it is…' He told her as she shook her head, straightening. 'Because he died trying to figure out what it was, but you're not. A fact which I have patiently tried to get you to understand…' She felt thoroughly chastised, swallowing.
'Be hurt. Blame me. Howl at the moon for all I care. But this is my problem, not yours.' He finished, gesturing towards himself with his hand and lifting his chin.
They'd received intel from the bug she'd placed on Jennifer's jacket informing them that Reddington's meeting with Garvey would be a trap. She'd called to warn him, apparently interrupting a game of Oregon Trail and he'd refused to listen even going so far as to hang up on her. She hadn't gotten over the morning's meeting and now this. She was pissed, pissed at him and pissed at the tingling between her thighs that wouldn't abate. She'd sat in a meeting with him and the team, mostly silent. She watched the events play out with a decidedly stubborn Reddington. He had something planned she was sure of it but what she couldn't say. He wouldn't listen to any of them and he practically ignored her. She sat next to him resisting the urge to squirm under such close quarters in Cooper's office.
The meeting between Reddington, Garvey and Mosadek was set for the following morning. She had slipped out early stating she needed to try to convince Reddington not to go through with the meeting and gone home, hoping to sink into a hot bath and go to bed. First she had to deal with changing her locks so she wouldn't have anymore uninvited guests.
She'd just sunk into the depths of her hot bath when her phone began vibrating against the tile floor. Nick's Pizza. She huffed rolling her eyes. In no mood for the conversation she knew was looming.
'What?' She snapped, 'I'm trying to relax and I don't want to talk about work unless you've changed your mind about this meeting?'
'I'm outside, I can't get in. Did you change the locks?' He ignored her question, seemingly genuinely confused.
'Yes… Because boundaries remember?' She spoke as if he were a child and she needed to explain carefully. She was in no mood to mince her words or placate to him.
'Well are you going to let me in?' He huffed from the hall, impatiently.
'Are you going to finish what you started this morning?' She asked flippantly, her thighs tingling at the mere suggestion. There was silence, she heard his breath hitch, quickening as she waited.
'I have no earthly idea what you mean.' He stated indignantly, if not somewhat breathless.
'No of course you don't…' she muttered sarcastically, raising her arm to rest against the side of the tub.
'Are you going to let me in or not?' He asked, annoyance brokering his tone.
'No… Goodnight.' She snapped the phone shut half expecting him to break in. She lay still for a moment, listening to the sounds outside the apartment. When satisfied all was quiet, she sank beneath the water.
She took time to dry her hair, combing through the long strands blowdrying it section by section. She wouldn't have time to mess with it in the morning. Since hearing his voice, the tingle between her legs was back with a vengeance, mixing with the dampness in her fresh underwear. She felt irritated, he knew damn well what she was talking about. The very fact he had come over and then expected her to ignore it as well. She could do that when they were with others but not when he came over and it was just the two of them. It was better this way, change the locks and he would have to respect her space.
She sank between the cool sheets, enjoying the feel against her skin. She flipped off the light and lay back, staring up at the dark ceiling. She missed the Red she'd known in that first year. The one that could make her blush, was suggestive and flirted just to see her blush deepen. The one that knew when she was jealous, the one that bolstered her, the one that looked at her with such reverence. That Red wouldn't have refused her. That Red would've pinned her up against the wall and kissed her laboriously. Ugh. Why was she even thinking about this. It was his voice, that deep sexy guttural voice that set her nerve endings on fire. She thought back to that first year with him. She'd often gaped at him back then, unused to the kind of attention he gave her. He'd say something suggestive and she would just look at him open mouthed. She was sure he enjoyed it. One of the first cases they'd had, they'd met in a hat shop to discuss the latest case. He looked impeccable and smelt even better. He'd swaggered about the store wafting his scent around her. Had she really been that oblivious? She'd told him the man in question was a myth and he'd retorted deadpan that 'That's what they said about Deep Throat and the G-Spot'. He'd rolled his tongue around his mouth in that way he did. Shit. She closed her eyes summoning the image, warmth pooling between her thighs as she saw him standing before her.
She slipped out of her panties, her fingers sliding into the wet folds that awaited her, her labia swollen, her clit firm and ready. Damn him. She slipped two fingers inside, easing in and out, hooking them gently into the soft tissue at the front, she moved them slowly. She knew her own body, she knew how to work it but she was missing his weight between her thighs. She wanted his tongue circling her clit, his fingers inside her. Hell she wanted more than that, she wanted to feel him stretch her, fill her, rocking against her. She wanted his hands on her, exploring her body, in her hair. She knew how much he loved her hair. Sometimes she would try to explain to Tom what she wanted and get frustrated when he did't get it right, she'd wait for him to go to fall asleep and then finish what he started. She imagined Red wouldn't have that problem. She'd watched him enough times, the way he was with women, the way he kissed them, touched them. It made her feel damn near territorial but she'd never understood why. Her subconscious knew, she now realised. She worked her fingers, using her other hand to circle her clit. She was already close, the conjured images in her mind working their magic. Then she remembered that morning, pressed up against that firm bulge in his trousers, the way the growl began in his throat. She arched into her fingers, baring down against the mattress. God she wanted him. She remembered the way her hips bucked against him, the way he had grabbed her hips. She clamped down hard against her fingers as her orgasm began to unfold, she sped up her circling hand plunging her fingers back inside herself. The pressure mounting as she slipped over the edge, pulsing hard against her working hand. She softly tapped the side of her clit, eeking out every last ounce of pleasure as she rode out the waves.
She'd stood in the middle of Pete's Tavern, convinced she was about to find out the truth when Red burst in, his gun trained on Garvey, suddenly she was protecting the man she had wanted to kill for better part of three years.
'…And I'll shoot you.' Reddington finished threatening Garvey, not even glancing at anyone else in the room.
'No, he won't….' She had turned pointing her gun at Red. In that moment she didn't care about the others, 'Because if he does, I'll shoot him…' Her voice broke, her eyes filling with tears as she held her gun trained on him. 'You're right. I am unwilling to accept that I am not entitled to know why my husband died…' He glanced at her briefly, his lips pursed before turning back to Garvey.
'I am hurt. I do blame you. And pulling this trigger, something I desperately do not want to do, is me howling at the moon! Which is definitely your problem, not mine…' Her voice broke before she swallowed down her emotions, her voice firm. She turned back to Garvey, 'Tell the story. Tell it!'
'Stop! Wait! My hands are up. No gun…' Jennifer interrupted, jumping in front of Garvey with her hands raised. She spoke directly to Reddington, Liz's chest filled with either panic or emotion she wasn't sure then. Red hadn't looked at her, his only focus was Garvey until Jennifer admitted he was her father. Liz turned her focus back to Red, her gun trained grappling with the rising tide that was about to overwhelm her.
He knew she realised later that she wouldn't shoot him, the shot came from Garvey as Dembe pulled Jennifer away from him. She reacted the only way she'd been trained to, she shot Garvey twice, a third coming from Dembe and he went down to the sounds of Jennifer screaming. When she turned back from Garvey's body, she watched Red disappearing out the back, wounded himself.
They were both quiet during the ride to the hospital, Liz could barely look at Jennifer. Her own grief welling up inside of her. She was sorry for this woman but not for what she'd done. Her only regret being that if he died now, she wouldn't find out what he knew.
As they wheeled him through the ED, she jumped onto the gurney,
'Garvey. It's your last chance, Garvey. Tell me about that duffel bag. I'll take care of Reddington. I promise…' She leant closer as he removed his oxygen mask, his breath bubbling sickeningly. 'Reddington… Is… An imposter…' He stuttered out against her ear. She was pushed off the gurney when he'd lost his pulse, her mind fragmented as his final words echoed around her. She'd stood with Jennifer, shocked and confused but unable to make sense of it.
The silence in her apartment was deafening. The slow drip of the kitchen tap seemed to echo around her. She was sat on the couch, still in her coat reeling from the days events. He'd been shot but Garvey's revelation had left a sickening pit in her stomach. Her first instinct had been to check on him but she'd stopped herself after they'd told her Garvey was dead. She felt numb, her edges muted as Jennifer wailed next to her. Her sister? Could she call her that yet? The woman angry with her but clinging to her all the same.
She'd managed to extricate herself after dropping Jennifer at home and then drove back to the city in a daze. Her thoughts being that she should call to check he was okay but she made no move to do so.
It wasn't cold in her apartment but she felt frozen to the bone, her makeup smeared with blood and tears. She shifted slowly, her hand shaking as she reached for the bottle. She poured a little out, watching the amber liquid swirl in the glass then poured a little more. She took a large gulp, feeling the liquid warm her insides as she reached for her phone.
'Elizabeth?' Dembe answered and she felt her heart constrict, nerves swirling along with the alcohol in her belly.
'Tell me he's okay?' She asked, her voice a little shaky. She closed her eyes, her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and throat.
'He's fine, just a flesh wound. Garvey caught his shoulder.' He told her soothingly as she let her breath go, her chest easing slightly. 'He's awake, he'll want to speak to you, one moment.' He asked, her vision dimmed for a moment, panic filling her chest. She didn't want to speak to him. What would she even say. Her thoughts were muddled, anxiety ridden and grief stricken.
There was a rustling and then his voice was filling her ears, 'Elizabeth' he breathed, slightly weakened by his injuries. She opened her mouth to speak but her words wouldn't come, her throat closing around the lump. Garvey's last words echoing around her.
'Is Garvey dead?' He paused waiting, '…Are you still there?' He asked, his voice a little stronger. She clicked the phone off. Closing her eyes against the onslaught of emotions welling up inside her and for the first time in days she let it out. She curled up on the couch and let the tears come.
