Chapter Ten: Moving Forward

One of the many perks of working out of a black site with an organization that had even more ways around the bureaucratic red tape than the Task Force did was that things moved quickly. The moment Ressler agreed to Tom's plan, everything fell into motion. The Grey Matters team had set up the transport they would need, Nez assuring them that they did have operatives trained to make it look like a real escape.

Everything was in place. They just had to wait for the transport vehicle, and that left Liz with time to fill.

She stepped out of her office where Agnes was still snoozing in the couch, glancing at her phone as she did. Nothing from Tom. She could only hope that whatever happened he would be able to reign his emotions in enough to focus on this. It had started and there was no stopping it now. Tom had warned her after McCready had nearly killed him in their home. No matter how far he moved from it, St Regis could always find him. And those behind it had proven they would. She hated dangling him out like bait, but if they wanted to end the threat, they had to act.

Liz's gaze swept the war room to find the woman that had made sure the danger came to their door. Gina Zanetakos was sitting in an empty chair, still cuffed, and flashing her guard a charming smile. He stood straight and still, doing his best to ignore her, but even from a distance Liz could see she bothered him. She was good. There was no question about that. The question had to do with the level of trust they could put into her.

The blonde's dark gaze swiveled around on Liz and her chatter stopped abruptly. There was something familiar in that look that studied and assessed, and it took a moment for Liz to admit to herself that it reminded her of Tom years ago. Before Agnes. Before their reconciliation and his struggle to find something more beyond just what his mentor had encouraged him to become. That look was hard around the edges and dangerous. She knew why the guard was uncomfortable.

Liz let a slow smile tilt her own lips as she motioned. "I have this."

"Agent Keen…"

"It's fine," she said, her tone not leaving any more room for an argument.

After another moment of indecision he nodded, accepting the order and leaving her alone with her husband's ex…. something. Lover? Friend? Complicated didn't begin to cover it.

Brown eyes fixed on her. "Are you here to threaten me again?"

"Do I have a reason to?"

A low, rough laugh escaped the blonde Russian woman. "I'm not the threat you should be worrying about."

Liz held her gaze firmly, matching it as she pulled a chair around to sit opposite from her. "Give me one reason to trust you."

"You need me."

"You admitted they changed every protocol the moment you left and Tom knows plenty about the people after you." Her gaze hardened just a little. "Try again."

Gina snorted, the smile returning. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

The other woman leaned forward. "Jacob wants to walk away with what he thinks are the best parts of St Regis, but no one - not him, not the little boys club that is trying to push me out, not anyone - can get to the files left behind by the Major without me. They need me to open it."

"So what? They thought beating the hell out of you would do the trick?"

"They wanted to break me. They didn't get the chance."

Liz loosed a breath, sitting back a little. "That's why Tom wanted to go to you."

Gina flashed a grin. "Did you think it was out of some kind of affection?"

Yes, and she still did. As much as Liz loathed Gina, she knew that her husband would always care about her. They'd grown up together and they'd protected each other. He wanted to protect her, and if her giving the signal for her thugs to shoot him down hadn't been enough to break that, nothing would. He had always been absurdly loyal in his own way. Liz had to accept that he would always care for this woman, but he didn't love her. He had never loved her like he loved Liz. That was one thing she was certain on.

And she knew that was why Gina hated her in return.

"He needs me to get the intel from St Regis. I need him to get out of this alive. It's just business." Gian's gaze scanned the room. "What's the deal with these parents he found?"

Liz shook her head. "If it's all just business, there's no reason for you to know." She stood and started back towards the offices.

"Hey!" Gina shouted after her. "I did what you asked. The least you can do is take these off." She rattled her cuffs. "It's not like I'm getting out of here with half a dozen people ready to shoot me."

Liz snorted, but didn't bother with an answer.

Howard had hoped for some time to regroup before his son discovered that they had been gone and why. They had just locked the Phelps' in a holding cell when the alert had come through that the helicopter was landing at the base. There was no question who was on it or why, but by the time that Howard had finished securing them Tom was nowhere to be seen. Scottie had told him. She had tried to convey why the search had been so important and he had just…. left.

The helicopter was still on the pad outside the base and a quick run through digital inventories told him that there were no vehicles missing. He wouldn't go far on foot, and he didn't. Howard found his son not too far from the ground-level entrance to the base, crouched down at the base of a tree and leaned back against it. His head was tilted so that his gaze was fixed on something above him, or maybe nothing above him. He wasn't quick to react even as Howard cleared his throat to make sure his presence was known.

"Moments like these make me wish I hadn't quit smoking," he said after a long moment, his voice rough.

"I didn't know you smoked," Howard answered softly as he made his way over.

"Yeah. Between ops. It was more of a stress thing." He motioned a little, his words clipped and he heaved a deep sigh. "Sam - Liz's adopted dad - had lung cancer at the end. She hates the stuff, so I haven't touched it in years now."

"Can't blame her for hating it if it killed her father."

Tom snorted, his expression darkening. "Reddington killed him before the cancer could."

If there was anything more or if Howard had just hit a sore spot, he wasn't sure, but Tom didn't show any signs of getting up, so he looked for a place to take a seat with him. He found a small spot and sank down, knowing his body would protest in a painful way when he tried to get back up, but it'd be worth it. Having him there made everything worth it.

Dark blue eyes blinked slowly, the hard look fading from them. "Scottie told me what you found."

Howard hummed softly and a rough, almost pained chuckle left his son. "I thought… It sounds crazy, but not when you look at everything that's happened."

"What does?" Howard prompted, not quite sure what he was getting at.

"That someone set this up. That someone… faked the DNA tests, that they wanted us to believe that I'm your son." Howard thought he saw his son's eyes glass over, and when Tom blinked and a tear escaped down his cheek he wondered just how often he had considered the possibility.

It did sound insane, even Howard had to admit that, but he knew enough about what Red and Katarina had put Tom's wife through when it came to DNA tests and fathers and lies to know that the Keens must have come to expect the wildest outcome from whatever new threat they faced. They prepared for the worst.

He cleared his throat and reached out, fingers touching one of Tom's bent knees. "Hey." He waited until the younger man met his gaze. "I didn't need a test. Your mother didn't either, even if she was too stubborn to admit it at first. We knew you."

Tom pulled in a deep, heavy breath, but it caught in his throat. Howard squeezed his knee just a little tighter. "It's in your eyes, your laugh. Little mannerisms that you've never quite lost. The moment I saw you I knew. Tests can be faked, but you… You're our Christopher. Our boy. That can't be faked. You have a daughter. Heaven forbid you didn't see her for the next thirty years of her life, you'd know her the moment you found her, wouldn't you?"

Tom nodded slowly. "Yeah," he admitted softly and tried for a smile as he reached up, his hand covering Howard's briefly. They sat there for just a moment, and he saw just a little of the overwhelming stress that had taken over his son ease from his shoulders and Tom's fingers tightened against his knuckles. "Thanks, Dad."

Howard's lips tugged at the corners. "We can get them back. Those memories, I mean. The technology we have with Whitehall's procedures can be adjusted to-"

"I don't want to."

That startled the older man. "Why on earth not?"

Tom swallowed and met Howard's eyes again. It looked like a struggle to hold that gaze. "Did you know that St Regis went after Agnes?"

There was a moment of numbness before Howard felt like he'd taken a blow to the middle, his attempt to show his son just how certain he was by using his own daughter as an example setting badly in the wake of the news. No one had told him them. How had no one told them? It clicked then. "The missed calls…"

"Liz was trying to get ahold of you when the threat showed up. She finally gave up and called Nez. By the time she and Solomon got there they were about to take off with my daughter." His voice was hard, the pain just barely audible.

"Is she alright?"

"Terrified, but yeah. They got to her in time, but Candy wasn't as lucky. She's dead, Howard."

The words weighed down on him and he leaned forward, shifting his weight on the hard ground. "Tom…."

"Listen, we can't change the past. Not the fact that you guys weren't there or that the Cabal took me away like they did. None of that can be fixed, but what's going on with St Regis… that's happening now. Right now. We're luring the people in charge out and we're going to deal with them in whatever way we have to. I need to know that you're with me. Here. Now. Not stuck thirty years ago."

Howard stared for a long moment, taking it all in. Everything that had happened since that terrible day at the beach had ripped at his very sanity, and after everything they had been through and everything that they had fought for, at least some of the damage remained. Even with his son there, even with being able to choose to trust Scottie again, all of it tore at him in those late hours and drove him to find a way to fix it. To somehow restore what had been taken from them all. He should be able to. With everything he'd accomplished in his life, surely he could do that for his family.

But he couldn't, and trying had nearly cost him his granddaughter. Trying might cost him his son again.

"Yeah," Howard managed, his voice catching in his throat. "I'm with you."

Tom nodded slowly. "I'm holding you to that, Dad."

"Do, son. Please do."

The boy he'd lost so long ago gave him a small, real smile and unfolded himself from his place, standing slowly and grimacing as he did. He reached down, though, and offered his father a hand up. "I'm getting too old for all of this," Howard chuckled.

Tom's smile didn't slip away as he dug into his pocket, fishing out his cell phone that appeared to be buzzing. "Hey, Liz. What's the update?" Howard couldn't hear his daughter-in-law on the other end, but he saw Tom's expression shift. "Right. Yeah. We'll be back into town soon." He ended the call. "We're in play. Will you-"

He nodded firmly. He promised he would be there, and he didn't dare give that up so soon.

Masterson remembered the day that McCready had brought Phelps in. He'd been young. That was what had stood out first. Round-faced but half starved under the layers of clothes he'd tried to hide from the New York winter under. He hadn't spoken to anyone on the campus, though that was hardly unusual. None of them were particularly chatty and he had looked like he had met some of the same dangerous obstacles as so many that came through the school.

Funny, he could remember when he showed up, but Masterson had no clue what happened to the kid for the first week or two he spent in the program. That had been until he'd landed in a fight with him.

He couldn't recall what had been said or who had started it, but the scrappy kid had taken a swing and it had escalated quickly. Justin might have walked away with a broken nose, but he'd made Phelps pay for it. Cracked ribs, fractured jaw, and several other injuries that had landed him in the infirmary. McCready hadn't been happy until Phelps found another chance to retaliate, and somehow it had become a running competition between them. Looking back it was surprising one of them hadn't killed the other over the years.

Masterson really wasn't sure if he was fond of the little punk or hated him, but none of that mattered now. The survival of St Regis did. McCready was gone and Gina had all but destroyed the organization, running to Phelps the moment she found herself overwhelmed by those left behind. He and that precious little family he'd built wouldn't get out alive, and that would be on her.

Escaping the feds had been a synch, to the point that Masterson wondered if it had been too easy. Phelps was clever, but he wondered if the other man was reckless enough to let him go. Not to gain trust, certainly, and he had to have known that they would take him down with Zanetakos. McCready couldn't protect them from the grave.

Masterson pressed his palm against the reader leading into the offices and it buzzed, allowing him through. It opened up into a hallway and he offered a wink to the guard on the other side, the bulkier man looking hard pressed not to add to his bruises at the gesture.

"You do know how to push buttons."

"Part of my charm," Masterson offered to the figure standing where the hall bent to the left. He was older, lean, and there had always been something just a little off in his eyes, especially when he smiled.

"You have no charm, Masterson. Nothing real, at any rate," the man chuckled.

"You're an asshole, Franks. When did you get into town?"

"Just now."

Masterson tilted his head just a little. "Takes a lot to bring you back Stateside these days."

Victor Franks' smirk didn't fade as he motioned at him. "Who tried to rearrange your face?"

"Phelps' girl, actually. The fed."

He hummed softly, turning to start down the hall. "You met her, then? McCready never would admit to anything."

Masterson shrugged. "Jacob Phelps going rogue for his mark who works for the FBI isn't something he wanted to broadcast. She's cute."

"Don't even think it," Franks grumbled. "He's working with Zanetakos then?"

"Yeah. Do you know if we get the kid?"

"His people got there before we could."

They hit the end of the hall and pushed through a set of double doors to find two other men in the large, finely decorated room. Michel Geffroy, a man of average build and a forgettable face, looked up first, followed by Anton Tallert who was leaned against McCready's old desk. "You look like shit," he directed at Masterson.

"So everyone keeps telling me."

"Phelps' girl packs a punch," Franks offered and Geffroy snorted.

"I kept thinking there had to be more than just a pretty face to pull him away…"

Masterson opened his mouth, but Franks cut him off. "This has gone on long enough. Phelps and Zanetakos have aligned with the feds and Halcyon Aegis. We need them brought in alive long enough to get into McCready's files before they do irreversible damage."

"We never should have let him live when he left," Tallert grumbled.

"That was in McCready, then Zanetakos. It's our turn. We won't make the same mistake."

TBC

Notes: I hate to do this, and by my little two week skips I had hoped to avoid it, but I need to take a mini hiatus on this fic. I'm determined to finish it. I have another one that's eating my brain, but I won't even plot point in until I'm done with this one. (For those interested... it's another Tom Lives AU where Red tries to save him and tries to alter his memories prior to the attack to keep him from telling Liz The Secret, but everything goes wrong and he loses a decade's wroth of memories... yeah. It's driving me crazy). But nope, not that one. I'm really making very deliberate writing choices right now that I hope, eventually, might lead me to LA. I want to move when my lease is up in August and I need a spec script of a current show for my writing portfolio, so it's a no-brainer for me to write a Blacklist spec script. It's throwing me, though, because I NEVER write two big writing projects for the same show at the same time. I really feel like I need to focus on the spec script, and if I do I'll be able to knock it out pretty quick. It's the fact that I'm diverting my attention that's killing everything all at once.

Please follow this story. I do not plan to leave it unfinished. I just would really love to write for a living, and doing that requires certain sacrifices and some rearranging of time. I'm really very, very sorry about this, but hopefully it'll be for the best of both stories.

If you want to reach out while I'm on my (hopefully very mini) hiatus, catch me at takadasaiko6 at g mail dot com

I would love to hear from you guys, and if anyone wants to read the Blacklist spec script just let me know! I'd be happy to send it to you when it gets to sharable status. Honestly, it's just another fanfic XD

Next Time: Tom and Gina discuss their odds against St Regis while Katarina makes a play to try to gain some control in the situation.