Complacent

Somewhere along the way he had become complacent. Maybe it was the lack of communication from handlers, the way that they had chosen a profession that he'd always been interested in for his cover, or the fact that he'd finally stopped trying to lie to himself about the fact that he'd fallen for the woman he had married. It really didn't matter why he'd become complacent, just that he had. Now it was very likely going to get either him, Liz, or both killed.

"Sit."

The day has been all the over the place from fantastic to disaster and then skyrocketing to a miracle. They'd been told that they could be on the waiting list for a year or more following the wrap up of all of their paperwork and interviews. When Liz had had to cancel last second, Tom had been sure they were doomed to, at the very least, a longer wait. Their caseworker had been fantastic though. There was a little girl that would likely be the right fit and while there was still more paperwork to be filed and a final house visit, she was hopeful. Tom had been more excited than a man undercover had a right to be, getting decorations and champagne and cooking one of his wife's favourite meals. He and Liz were going to have a family. For the first time in years, he felt like his life could be a little bit normal.

And then he'd come home. He had gotten everything set up and dinner on the table when he had realized he was no longer alone. Yes, Tom Keen had become complacent, and he was going to have the cuts and bruises to prove it.

Tom's jaw tightened a bit as Zamani motioned to the chair closest the the dining room entrance. His back would be to the door. Not that that would matter. He still wasn't sure the terrorist knew who he was or if he was just the unlucky husband of an FBI agent working a case that he knew nothing about. There was a girl, Liz was worried about her, and it was classified. That's all he knew. If Zamani knew who he was or who he worked for, Tom had no idea.

The butt of the gun slammed hard into his face, sending him stumbling and his glasses flying. He caught himself briefly on the back of the chair, head spinning, but fought the reaction to defend himself. His cover was everything. It was more than just getting intel, and it was so much more than Berlin expected from him. It would keep Liz safe in the end. He could take a beating here if it meant he could keep his life intact after. As long as Zamani didn't know. As long as he didn't even suspect.

"Reddington thinks you're more than you appear to be," Zamani sniffed. "Why is that?"

"Who?" Tom managed and the second blow took him to the floor. The dining room shifted in and out, hidden behind the colours that danced across his vision. He found himself on his hands and knees, blood dripping from his nose as he tried to focus. Raymond Reddington sent this man which meant he could be after Lizzy as well. He had to think. He didn't seem to have much time for that, though, as a foot slammed into his ribs, rolling him over and leaving him sputtering and gasping on his back.

"Sit," Zamani repeated and Tom found himself being hauled up by his shirt collar and shoved into the chair. He remained there, dazed and trying to breathe. Blood was still dripping from his nose and his eyesight was more blurred than usual without his glasses. He blinked against it, and before he knew it he was being strapped to the dining chair and the terrorist leaned in, studying his captive's unfocused expression. "I would like to know, Mr Keen, how your wife's team knew I was here. Did you tell them? Are you their informant? What they know if my plan?"

He leaned in, a knife in his hand and Tom leaned back away from the sharp blade. "Informant? I'm a teacher. I teach fourth graders. I don't know what your plan is. I don't even know who you are," the younger man ground out. He did, even if it was in the vaguest of senses. As far as he'd been aware, this man had died years before. Apparently that bit of intelligence was wrong.

Zamani studied him as if trying to find the truth that he was so certain was buried there. He moved suddenly, gripping at dark hair and jerking his head back hard. Tom's headache only intensified at the movement and he tried to keep his expression closer to frighten than calculating. The terrorist had taken advantage of his dazed state to tie him up, and he was lingering too close to try to free himself. He looked like a man that was looking for blood. "I don't know anything," Tom tried again and Zamani slammed him forward, face colliding with the wooden table.

"I think you don't," his tormentor agreed, "but your wife is another story. She knows, and she will tell me or she will watch you bleed out in your own home." He leaned close to Tom's ear then and his voice dropped. "And then, perhaps, I'll kill her too."

He didn't think it through. If he had, he would have known better, but Tom jerked his head around, slamming into the Serbian hard enough to knock him back. His vision swam dangerously for a moment, but he turned a dark glare on the other man. "Stay away from my wife."

Zamani chuckled. "Perhaps Reddington was right about you. Does she know?"

"Stay away from her, you son of a-"

The blow wasn't unexpected, but it still snapped his head around and Tom had to struggle to stay conscious as Zamani stretched duck tape across his mouth. "Agent Keen will be home soon, by the looks of it. What a good husband you've been, taking care of all the details. Shame."

His right eye was half swollen and Tom felt himself slipping. The restraints kept him in place, and he knew that Zamani was right. Liz would walk in and there was nothing he could do to protect her. So much for the fantasy he'd been living.

"Quiet now, or I'll simple shoot her and that'll be it," the terrorist warned as the front door opened and Tom heard his wife call his name. He remained still, everything hurting and her excitement over what was supposed to be a happy announcement hurt even more.

She strode past him, chattering and absorbed in a way that had so quickly worked its way past all his walls. He'd never meant to love her, but she hadn't left him much choice.

Then she turned, nearly dropping the glass of champagne. "Tom?"

The questions and threats all swirled in and around the room, mixing with Lizzy's desperate attempts to tell him it would all be okay. He might survive it, but it wasn't okay. It was far from okay. After two years of peace - no Berlin, very few orders, and a chance to build a life with this woman that at least didn't feel as tainted as it might be - a man had come into their home and attacked them. Reddington was behind it. He was sure, and if the Concierge of Crime knew who he was, well, then the beating was from him too. As was anything that followed.

He was getting Tom out of his way.

Those were the thoughts that bubbled to the forefront as he felt reality slipping further and further away. Liz was in his ear, begging him to stay awake. The evening was supposed to be perfect, but he had grown complacent, and that complacency was going to cost him his life and leave his wife defenceless against enemies she couldn't possibly see coming.

The first time he woke he felt like he was swimming, struggling to break the surface and pull in a breath of much needed air. Everything was hazy and, very slowly, Liz came into focus.

She was bent over the bed asleep, hair sprawled on every direction, and she was grasping his hand in hers. She was alright. Neither Zamani nor Reddington had hurt her and she was there. He tried to move his fingers in hers, but found everything sluggish to respond. Instead, he slipped quietly back to sleep, Lizzy holding him steady.

When his eyes fluttered open the next time, she was sitting up and watching him. She tried for a smile and he could see how tired she was. "Hey," he whispered, his throat dry and he coughed against it.

"Hey yourself," she answered back and reached over our of his line of sight, returning with a glass of water and straw. She moved it closer and it burned down his throat. He must have had a tube down it until recently.

"You okay?" he asked drowsily as she moved to put it back and Liz snorted a laugh.

"Yeah, but I'm not the one a crazy man tried to kill at our dining table." She lifted his hand up to her lips and pressed a kiss to it. "How're you feeling?"

"Kind of hazy," he admitted softly.

"They have you on some pretty heavy painkillers."

"Any questions you need answers to?" he teased, and finally she smiled for him like she meant it. It still held a lot of worry, and part of him wondered if she'd take him up on it. A very small part - one probably coaxed forward by those painkillers - almost wanted her to.

"You hiding things from me?" she teased back and leaned forward, his lips warm against his.

"I may have forgotten where I hid your birthday present," he confessed softly and she laughed, squeezing his hand.

"You're such a dork."

"I know. Love you," he whispered, feeling himself start to fade again.

"You too," she promised. "Get some sleep. I'm not going anywhere."

He nodded and settled in. Now wasn't the time. Someday, he hoped, but for now her life had been turned upside down enough. He didn't need to add to it. He didn't dare risk losing her.

Notes: I had been wanting to shift through how on earth Tom got so badly beaten in the pilot episode. He's obviously very good at what he does, so the fact that he got his ass handed to him has been bothering me for some time now. Apparently this is my answer.

I'm wanting to continue this little series of one-shots. If you guys want to see anything in particular, feel free to let me know! I'm basing them all through the show, but trying to keep it in line with cannon. :)