Chapter Nine
The world as he knew it was coming apart at the seams. Jacob had held it together over the past couple of years with the same level of compartmentalisation that made him so damn good at his job. He'd buried himself in it, using the work to push aside what was probably a very natural desire for answers. Gina had encouraged it, which in retrospect should have been his first real clue. Memory gaps in their line of work could be dangerous, but her focus had remained on getting him physically healthy enough to go back into the field.
If she knew the truth or not, Jacob wasn't sure. Not that she'd admit to it anyway. Nor would Brigitte Tremblay who seemed to have dropped off the face of the planet. That woman he knew had answers. He'd like to have a few of his own on her at this point.
She could wait, though. For now there were more pressing matters.
Keen had been able to dig up some clothes from deep in her closet - a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants - for him to wear while his own clothes dried. Though with the way they fit he supposed they could have been his own too. He sat on the couch as she moved around the kitchen and his gaze traveled to every inch of the apartment he could see, hoping something might jog a memory.
Decorations lined flat surfaces, photos of Keen and a little girl that Jacob recognized from her file.
I don't know any Keens.
The pointed statement jumped to mind and sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn't quite place it, even if he heard the words in his own voice. He closed his eyes and focused. Bright lights, medical equipment, a doctor repeating her questions again and again like he should know the answer….
"You okay?"
Dark blue eyes snapped open to find Keen standing there, a steaming mug in either hand, and she looked like he might have missed the first time or two she tried to get his attention. "Yeah," he answered, his voice low and rough and she handed him one of the mugs. "Any chance you've got something stronger?"
She smirked at him and he caught a whiff of the bourbon wafting up as he took the mug.
Keen took a seat next to him on the couch, cradling her own mug and staring into it for a long moment. Finally she swallowed hard, opening her mouth as if she were going to say something, closed it again, took a sip from her mug, and pushed a breath out through her nose as she turned to meet his gaze. "What happened?"
He took a long swig of his own spiked tea. "I was hoping you might be able to tell me."
Keen settled back, but not comfortably. She folded her knees up and balanced her mug on one knee before closing her eyes. "You were… researching something."
"A job?"
"No, it was personal. A secret that Reddington was keeping."
"You telling me that I intentionally went up against Raymond Reddington?"
A strangely soft smile tilted her lips. "Several times."
"Was I suicidal or something?" he huffed, trying to keep his tone light, but he couldn't fathom a reason he would have gone toe-to-toe with the Concierge of Crime.
"You were usually trying to protect me. Or Agnes." Her gaze drifted over to a closed door that Jacob could only assume housed her sleeping daughter on the other side. "An enemy of Reddington's found out and came for you, trying to get ahold of the evidence. He stabbed you but you were… so stubborn. You wouldn't give him up."
He tilted his head in response to that. "So I was against him but I was protecting him?" Nothing about this made sense, and from the mirthless laugh Keen gave, she knew it too.
"I have a…. complicated relationship with him. Maybe it's be easier if I started at the beginning."
"Beginning of what?"
"You and me."
Jacob settled in as she started telling him about how they met, about finding out that he had lied, and then about finding out it hadn't all been a lie afterall. About how Raymond Reddington had hired him and how they had come back together.
The whole thing was like a fairy tale. One that he never would have let himself want, but now hearing that he had had it, felt more real than the lies Gina had fed him about his missing decade.
Liz woke the next morning to a tiny finger poking her repeatedly in the arm. She groaned softly, feeling the awkward angle she had fallen asleep in putting a strain on her neck that was sure to last through the day. The poking stopped momentarily, but weight on the cushion next to her was a fair warning that the reprieve wouldn't last.
"Mommy?" Agnes called out in a stage whisper, moving her poking to her face. "Mommy, who's that man?"
Liz's eyes popped open and she felt Tom shift at her side, waking up at the not-so-subtle voice of the four year old that only thought she was using her inside voice.
Agnes was perched on the couch next to her, still in her pajamas, and Liz glanced over to find Tom blinking rapidly like he did whenever he fell asleep with his contacts in. Their daughter's eyes were on him, watching and studying in a way that Liz had conceded long ago that she had inherited from her daddy. That clever little mind was trying to place who he was, if she knew him, and why they'd been sleeping on the couch.
"Hey, honey. He's a… friend," Liz managed, trying to sound casual. "We fell asleep talking last night."
Agnes' dark blue eyes turned on Tom and he seemed to have gotten his contacts under control by now. She was watching him carefully. "What's your name?"
Tom was watching her just as closely, though he looked more uncomfortable than inquisitive. Where he'd had half a dozen questions for every piece of the story Liz had told the night before, he'd fallen silent when they got to Agnes. It had been a strange moment that Liz had tried to brush past, ignoring the fact that she had no idea what her husband had thought about kids before her. Had he wanted children? Had it even crossed his mind? Tom had told her years before that that was just what married people did, but even in the midst of hating him she hadn't fully believed the flippant line from the man that would later reveal that he'd been toting around the ultrasound of the child they had never adopted. Tom had wanted children, Liz had no doubt about it. Tom had been desperate for a family, but the man he'd been before that? She had no idea.
"My name's Jacob," Tom said at last.
"From the box." She said it with such certainty for a phrase that had no meaning to either adult in the room.
Liz tilted her head. "What box, sweetie?"
"The one in the closet."
Well that wasn't what she'd expected to hear. "When did you go into my closet, Aggie?"
"When, when me and Ms Tolliver played hide and seek. There were lots of pictures."
Liz felt her world shift, pieces of information colliding and she tried to make sense of them. Did Agnes know? No, of course not. She was four. She had no way to connect the hidden photos of her daddy with the stories Liz told her. She didn't keep photos of Tom framed and out in the open where she'd have to see him every day. Have to be reminded every day. There was no way Agnes had pieced it together, but her daughter was nothing of not inquisitive.
"And I was in them?" Tom asked carefully.
"Yep!" Agnes looked back at Liz. "Can I have waffles for breakfast?"
"Honey, we're out. I'll pick some up at the store after work," Liz offered, but received only a loud pout for the effort.
Tom shifted to her left, standing and looking very stiff. The bruises he'd received from Katarina's people had started to darken and he moved gingerly. "You got flour?"
"I think so?" Liz said uncertainly, watching him as he started for the kitchen.
For just a moment, Jacob Phelps seemed to ease out of the way for her Tom as he dug through the cupboards to search for ingredients. He found what he was looking for and set them on the counter, turning to look at Liz. "Sorry. I guess I just took over your kitchen."
A smile tilted her lips and it felt so real. Looking at him like that it would have been easy to pretend he never left. "It's okay. You want to put it together while I get her ready for school?"
"Yeah, sure."
It would have been easy to pretend that the whole horror show that had been Garvey in their home had never happened. That this was just another morning where she and her husband tag teamed responsibilities to get their kid ready for the day, but she couldn't. Liz knew she couldn't pretend it had never happened. It wasn't fair to him and it wasn't fair to Agnes. She fielded the terrifyingly observant questions from her daughter as she got her ready, never quite admitting who he was and reminding her that she shouldn't go poking around in her Mommy's closet or surprise gifts might not be surprised anymore and that wasn't nearly as fun.
With Agnes getting ready in her room Liz slipped back out into kitchen to find Tom pouring batter into a frying pan. "You don't have a waffle iron, so I figured everyone likes pancakes, right?"
"Listen," she said quietly, a quick glance behind her to make sure that Agnes hadn't followed, "Agnes has been through a lot and I think it's best if we don't say anything until we get your memories back."
Tom turned toward her, surprise breaking through. "You think we can?"
"I think we should try… You seemed to be here for answers." She glanced down. "Your pancake is burning."
He grumbled a soft curse and flipped it. His gaze remained fixed on it as he spoke. "I don't even know how I lost them or who took them."
"I know a memory specialist. Let me reach out and tell her what I know." Liz reached forward, her fingers ghosting against his arm. "We'll figure this out."
Tom flipped the pancake onto a plate and turned to look at her. "Okay. I trust you. I can't explain why, but I do."
Liz's lips tugged into a hesitant smile, but the moment was interrupted by the sound of Tom's phone buzzing on the table. He exchanged the plate for the phone, brows drawing together as he read the text.
"What is it?" Liz asked hesitantly.
"A guy I know. He was running a DNA sample on Maddie Tolliver."
"I already told you: she's my mother."
"Not according to Fitz." He waved his phone in the air to indicate the message. "I gotta go. He wants to meet."
She felt her chest tighten, but forced herself to breathe through it. "Give me fifteen minutes to get Agnes down to her carpool and I'm coming with you."
"Fitz doesn't do well with strangers."
"There's no way in hell you're going alone. Not after dropping a bomb like that. I've seen too many doctored DNA tests over the years. If he doesn't think she's my mother, he gets to explain why to me himself."
Tom stares at her and she thought she saw an old, familiar smile pull ever so slightly at the corners of his mouth. It was small and subtle, and one she used to see when she dug in on an issue that he found amusing. "Get the kid ready to go and we'll take a drive."
She nodded and pulled in a deep breath. Hopefully Ressler was willing to do one more favour and cover for her at work.
Tom's contact was named Alexander Fitz. He described him as a quirky man that St Regis used from time to time when they needed his specialized skillset. It had taken a little prodding and a promise that Liz wasn't looking to arrest Fitz for any crimes he may or may not have committed over the years while in St Regis' employ, but he finally explained that Fitz was their go-to man when it came to DNA research and tracking. Running and confirming DNA tests was the easy part of his job. He was also responsible for scrubbing the identities of operatives in the field so that if they were injured or caught that they wouldn't show up in the system in connection with their employer. Instead, Fitz worked his magic and they became someone else entirely.
He worked out of a small lab of his own creation in the basement level of his apartment just shy of Bunker Hill in Boston. Tom had told Liz to step to the side as he knocked on the front door and waved at the Ring camera. There was a long pause before the lock clicked open to allow him in. He motioned for her to follow and locked the door behind them. He led her through the home like it wasn't his first time there, winding through the narrow hall and to a bookshelf that he pressed just right to reveal a hidden stairway.
"You have got to be kidding me," Liz huffed, half laughing.
Tom just smirked and motioned for her to stay close as they made their way down the stairs.
"I heard you're on the outs with the boss lady," Fitz announced as the doors to his lab slid open to allow them through.
"You know how she can be," Tom offered casually.
"Yeah, but I'm not sleeping with her. I'd be afraid she would—" Fitz stopped mid-sentence as he stared at Liz. "Still don't let strangers into my lab, Jake, you know that."
"Alex Fitz, Liz Keen. Look. You're not strangers anymore. What'dya find for me?"
"Liz Keen? The mark you wanted me to run against Tolliver?"
Liz turned an accusing look on her not so dead husband and he looked like he was working very hard to maintain eye contact with Alex Fitz. "You said in your message that Tolliver wasn't Katarina Rostova?"
That pulled Fitz's focus around. "No," he said pointedly. "I said she wasn't Keen's mother. The woman you're calling Tolliver was a match for Katarina Rostova." He turned, digging through piles of junk on a nearby table until he found the file he was looking for and handed it over.
Tom flipped it open and, to his credit, shifted it so that Liz could get a look. The file was in Russian and she could only pick out a collection of words, but there were photos that accompanied it. A younger Maddie Tolliver stared up at them, and while she resembled the woman that had finally broken through Liz's memories at least in part, she was not the same.
A cold weight settled into her chest and she jerked up to look at Fitz. "Are you sure? Could you be wrong?"
His face screwed up and he turned to Tom. "You hearing her, Jake? She's questioning my work. You want me to walk you through my process, sweetheart? Might be a bit over your head, but I'll dumb it down for you."
The chill turned instantly to fire and Liz took an aggressive step forward. "Call me sweetheart again, you little—"
"Woh woh woh!" Tom shouted, stepping between them. "Fitz, don't be an asshole. Liz, I can vouch for his work. He's good."
"He could have been bought off." Tom looked at her like she'd lost her mind, but she kept going. "I want to see the chain of custody for the evidence. Where was it picked up, how was it delivered, how many people touched it between here and there and -?"
"Chain of custody?" Fitz demanded and turned an accusing look on Tom. "You brought a cop? Hell, Jake, I'd heard the rumours a few years ago, but when you popped back up I thought they were fake….. This her?"
"I don't know what that means," Tom snapped back and turned towards Liz, his voice tight. "I don't know what the hell's wrong with you, but Fitz is the best in the business. If he says this woman isn't your mother, she's not. You wanted to come along. You pushed. This isn't on him."
She turned on her heel without warning and stormed back up the stairs, ignoring him shouting after her, and didn't stop until she'd flown through the front door and out into the street. Only then did the tears come and Liz couldn't breathe. She tried, but all she could do was choke and sob and finally she squatted down on the sidewalk near where they'd parked to hope that it would pass. It was too much. It was all too much.
"Hey." Tom's voice was softer this time, but she didn't dare look back. Instead she squeezed her eyes shut and desperately tried to regain a semblance of control. She heard his boots on the concrete behind her and felt a hesitant hand on her arm as he squatted down to join her. "I'm… not sure what just happened," he confessed. "I don't…."
"Shut up," she managed and tilted so that she was leaned into him. His arms went around her in an instinctive manner and while he was stiff, he held her close. She turned to bury her face in the front of his shirt and held on.
"She's fine. Just got some bad news," she heard him tell a passerbyer and the person left them alone. After a long moment she felt his hand go to her hair, stroking it gently.
Liz pulled back a little and motioned for the car. She handed him the keys and he unlocked it, circling around to the driver's side and slipping inside. They sat there for a long moment, Liz still trying to catch her breath.
"You okay?" Tom finally ventured.
She cleared her throat, even if she didn't think it did much good. "I've been… my mother left me with my adopted father when I was four."
"Sam, right? You said his name was Sam?"
"Yeah, and he was great, but I've always… needed to know them. I thought Reddington was my father more than once. Even found a DNA test that proved it, but it turned out to be fake or… at least not him. I met my mother's husband too, but the DNA test that said he was my father was forged. I killed him."
"Your mother's husband?"
"No. My real father. I shot him when I was a kid. I'll never meet him again, never get to know him but I… had hoped…" She sucked in a shaky breath. "I needed it to be true when Maddy told me she'd come looking for me. That she chose me after everything. After losing everything, I needed…." She buried her face in her hands again and felt Tom reach out, his hand on her leg. She let one hand drop to cover his and held on for dear life.
"I'm sorry," he breathed. "What I said in there… Guess I was the ass, huh?"
"Yeah," she chuckled mirthlessly.
"I don't know what to tell you other than… you don't need her. Or him. I don't have to remember knowing you to see how strong you are. You don't need anyone."
"You," she managed, looking up at him through blurred vision and she saw him smile. "I need you."
"No. I've been gone, what? I guess more than two years now, huh? And you're still here. Still standing. You don't need me."
She squeezed his hand and this time the laugh felt more real. "Fine. I don't need you, but I want you."
"Why? I'm not the man you lost."
"Yeah you are."
He didn't look convinced. "You know facts, but you don't know me. I don't even know me. I'm just… I play parts. It's my job, and I'm really good at my job. I'm not even sure there is anything more to me than that."
Liz watched him for a long moment, trying to find the words to express how wrong he was. Tom didn't always have the words to express how deeply he felt, but the effort he gave in showing it was beyond what most people would ever know. There was a day she would have believed that he was nothing more than a shell of a man that was filled up by whatever part he was playing, but then he'd given up everything she thought was important to him - everything that had been important once - for her. He'd walked through those courtroom doors and what she thought and what she had watched played out collided in a confusing and tangled mess. From that moment forward he spent every moment proving his loyalty and she'd never known any other person to put her first in the way he had. He was right. She could survive without him, but she couldn't live. For that she needed him.
"You may not know you, but I do," she promised as she pulled his hand up to her lips and pressed a kiss to it. She found him staring at her with that awe-struck expression that she had to admit she'd missed. She'd asked him about it once and he'd ducked his head, cheeks a little flushed, and admitted that sometimes he had trouble believing how lucky he was. It was that same look now, and she wondered if she was giving him the same look. "Did your friend tell you anything else?"
"He didn't have a chance. I came after you right after you left. Anyway, Fitz isn't gonna stick his neck too far out for me. I think I burned some bridges when I left St Regis."
"Again."
"Apparently."
She tried for a smile. "We're going to need resources. Between your mystery employer and my fake mother we're going to get blindsided if we don't figure something out. Maddy didn't want me going to my team about this. She said it was too dangerous."
"For her, maybe. Sounds like, if she didn't want you to, maybe that's exactly where you should go. You trust them?"
"I do. And I'm tired of being told what to do with my own life."
"Let's get back to DC then. "
"Yeah." She ran her sleeve across her eyes, trying to dry them and turned to him as he started the car. "Tom… this is probably going to get dangerous."
"You giving me an out?"
"I don't want you to go, but if you want it… now's the time. Before we get in too deep."
"I think we're in this together." She nodded and he gave her a small, real smile. "Taking our lives back, right?"
"About damn time."
TBC
Notes: Insert dramatic music here.
Sooooooooo. A lot to unpack in this chapter. A lot.
Anyone have any theories as to what it means?
Next Time: Liz re-introduces Tom to her team and Red and Cooper discuss where it's all heading.
