After
There had been apart of him that had waited for the sound of the gunshot to go off, the pressure to spread, and the next thing he would have known he would have been face down on the street. He had expected her partner to do it, really, but if Liz had, Jacob wouldn't have been shocked. She wasn't a cold blooded killer, but that didn't mean that her emotions didn't run hot enough to finish what she had started.
The only sound had been the car door slamming, though, and his own footsteps on the pavement as he walked away, hands stuffed deeply in his pockets, hood up around his face, and leaving her behind. He had gone to a safe location that he wasn't entirely sure would be available, but at least it would let Bud know he was alive. His handler had probably heard that he had been killed by this point, but as soon as he knew that it wasn't true, he would set up a meet. Until then, at least Jacob could finally get a shower and, likely, a change of clothes.
He had been locked away in that boat for four months, best he could gauge by everything. It had been hell, but like always, he had found a way out. Now all he wanted was a hot shower, a change of clothes, and real food. Not that crap that Liz's bodyguard had assumed was edible.
The little bolt hole of an apartment - a safe house for The Major's operatives when things went very badly and they had to wait for orders - was bare of most things. There was a gun hidden in the floor, some cash with it. Jacob left the cash and set the gun on the counter in the bathroom, leaning in to switch the water on. It ran ice cold for a minute, and he thought he was going to have to settle for that until it began to warm. It took a few moments, but the water ran hot enough that the tiny bathroom started to fill with steam and he kicked the boots from his feet and started to peel his sweatshirt off.
The clothes were his own, likely unboxed from wherever Liz had stored their life away so that she didn't have to look at it. He dropped the sweatshirt to the floor, following it with the t shirt underneath, catching the chain around his neck in the process.
Jacob froze, the clothing falling from his fingers rather than being dropped. He stood in the bathroom, half undressed and the water pouring from the shower head, his head bent so that he could look at the ring that dangled from the chain, warm and heavier than it should be against his chest. He had to remind himself to breathe, and the air escaped him in a shaky manner, his control slipping dangerously. He had found his wedding ring shoved deep in the pocket of his jeans while he'd been chained to that boat. At the time he had been so torn between all he had tried to do to make sure that he and Liz came out of this mess alive and what had come from it. He had put the chain around his neck, the ring hidden under his shirt, and she had never seen it. It hadn't been there for her. It had been there to keep him somewhat tethered to the only reality he wished he could get back. To the life that he had been willing to live to be with her.
There was no telling how long he stood there, but all at once he reached up and pulled on the chain so hard that it snapped and broke. A frustrated sound escaped him as he reared back and three the ring as hard as he could. He didn't even watch it bounce off the dirty mirror and fall to the floor as he finished tugging the rest of his clothes off to pile into the shower.
The water was hot enough by that point to burn his skin, but he didn't flinch from it. Instead he leaned into it, the scalding water pouring down on him, soaking his hair and leaving his skin red in every place it touched, washing away the dirt and grime from his imprisonment. Jacob pulled in an unsteady breath and felt it catch, something like a sob rocking his world dangerously. He had been through hell before. That was nothing new in his life, but this time… This time was different. He'd never been held by someone he cared about. Hell, he'd never felt about anyone the way that he felt about Elizabeth Keen. It was stupid and was dangerous. He had known that from the beginning, but he had done it anyway. He wasn't sure he could have stopped himself if he'd tried. He hadn't wanted to then, and even now, what hurt the most wasn't the lingering ache from where the bullets had torn through him, or the worn spots in his wrists where the shackles had rubbed them raw, it was the way she had looked at him. He was nothing more than a monster in her eyes. One that had stolen years of her life… for what? For nothing. He hadn't even been able to do the job he had set out to do. Berlin was still out there and he would kill her if he thought it would get him closer to the man he was certain had killed his daughter. Jacob had failed on every level possible.
Another sob escaped him and Jacob let out a howl of frustration, knuckles connecting with the already broken tiles of the shower wall. It hurt and felt better all at once, and he reached around for bar of soap and started scrubbing as hard as he could. He had to forget her. He had to move past this. Elizabeth Keen was a danger that he couldn't afford if he wanted to live. She had gotten into his head like no one else had ever been able to, under his skin, and he had to forget her. If he couldn't hate her, he had to forget her.
By the time that that the soap slipped from his hands he was breathing raggedly, every third or so breath hitching and he swallowed hard, everything shaking. He reached up, running his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back and closing his eyes. He had to forget her.
After several long minutes the water started to cool down and he switched it off, leaning against the tiles to catch his breath. When he stepped out of the tub he was on autopilot as he toweled off, slipped into the fresh clothes, and searched for a razor under the sink. Somehow he managed to trim the beard he'd grown without slicing his own throat open with trembling hands, and when he looked in the mirror he almost recognized himself. He blinked hard and refused to let himself dissolve over everything. He was stronger than that. He had always been stronger than that. Jacob set his jaw and turned, his eyes catching a glint and he saw the ring on the bathroom floor, but the sound of a phone buzzing from the main room caught his attention.
Jacob closed his eyes, pulled in a breath, and steadied himself. That would be Bud. He'd tell him where to go to meet him for his next assignment. Slowly he stepped over the ring and out into the room, picking up the phone. "Yeah?"
"You sound well for a dead man," a voice that he would never have expected sounded on the other end and Jacob felt his entire body tense. How the hell had he gotten this number?
"What do you want, Reddington?"
"To conclude our business. I don't leave loose ends."
"I didn't just survive four months of torture to let you kill me," Jacob growled.
The older man chuckled. "I'm not going to kill you, Tom, but I do expect you to disappear. I won't have you anywhere near Lizzy. Dembe will text you the location and I expect you to meet me there for what you need. If you don't come, I will assume that you plan something I won't approve of and there will be nowhere you can hide. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal," he bit out and the line went dead in his ear. He just about threw the phone the phone across the room, but barely restrained himself, instead pulling all the pain inward and burying it deeply. A mask of calm slipped into place and Jacob crossed the space, bent over, and picked up his wedding ring. He wasn't doing himself or Liz any good by staying. He would meet Reddington and use whatever he gave him to get up to New York undetected. Bud would give him a new assignment and he would be gone from Liz's life forever.
He loosed a steadier breath than he had expected as he checked the clasp on the necklace. Only one rung was broken, so he slipped it on and fastened it to the next one, tucking it under his shirt. He might not be able to stop loving her right away, no matter what she had done, but maybe he could at least give them both a chance to find their way back to something like their old lives before they had met. He thought he owed her that much at least.
Notes: So, apparently I decided to drag my own feels through the wringer today. I thought I'd share. :)