A/N: It's going to be a bumpy ride...Un-beta'd, all mistakes are mine. As always, I own nothing.
The room at the bank was chilly. Lizzie couldn't feel it. She stared at the documents in her hand with disbelieving eyes. Her initial reaction was utter revulsion; queasiness tied her stomach in a knot. Now she simply stared. At the birth certificate. At her shaking hands.
He was her father.
It was impossible. But her birth certificate said it was true. Unless it wasn't real. She would hardly put it past her husband-formerly-known-as-Tom to plant such a document for her to find. Fortunately, she knew someone who could verify it, and keep their mouth shut about it. She slid the manila envelope into her bag and returned the safe deposit box to the bank officer outside the door.
Aram was happy to do the small favor that she asked of him. Lizzie liked him as a colleague, he seemed genuinely kind. The only thing that gave her pause was the way he studied her when they conversed, with something that looked like sympathy in his dark brown eyes. Sometimes, Aram saw too much. That underlying sympathy was in evidence now as he sat across from her at the coffee shop near the Post Office. He slid a few printouts across the table for her to see.
"The birth certificate is real. I verified it with multiple sources both state and federal. Mr. Reddington is your father."
She gave him a wan smile of thanks. Why did it seem like he wanted to add something like "I'm sorry," before he slipped away from the table? Leaving her with her thoughts.
This was an ugly kettle of fish. Her cell phone beeped and flashed Red's number; she drew a deep breath and answered.
"Lizzie, how are you?"
"Uh…I'm great, Red. Just peachy, really."
"I have some information for you about Tom and his employer. We should meet. How about dinner? I know a wonderful restaurant in Georgetown. You'll want to change clothes though; dusty Federal suits are frowned on."
"So what am I supposed to wear?" The moment it was out of her mouth, she knew it was a mistake. She put her hand to her lips, as though she could shove the words back inside. But it was too late.
"Well, if you are asking for my preference…" his voice was almost a drawl, slowing and getting deeper with each syllable, and Lizzie fought against the urge to shudder, that same vague nausea washing over her again.
"No. I'm not. I only meant…you know what, never mind. What's the name of the place, I'll meet you there at seven."
"I'd be happy to pick you up, Lizzie."
Oh for god's sake, Lizzie took a breath and the knot in her stomach tightened.
"No, I'll meet you. It's fine."
It was almost midnight when she stumbled through the door of her house. She'd had too much wine at dinner. She shouldn't have driven home. She tripped trying to remove her high heels and collapsed face first on the couch. Her living room looked empty now that she had gotten rid of all the furniture that her fight with her ex-husband had destroyed. Lizzie was becoming fond of the minimalism of the single couch and chair. She missed her coffee table though.
The effort to push herself to a standing position almost didn't seem worth it, but she shuffled clumsily into her kitchen to grab a cold bottle of water. She was going to need some aspirin and a lot of water to fend off the hangover. Lizzie leaned against the island, cursing herself silently for drinking so much. Red had noticed it as well, actually frowning at her when she had refilled her wine glass. The restaurant had been lovely, the food sublime, but the company…it was sincerely disturbing to listen to his flirtatious banter. The most disturbing part was how hard it was to force herself not to respond.
The bottle of water slipped to the floor as she covered her face with her hands. Being in Reddington's company was usually stimulating on a strange level for Lizzie, almost like a caffeine buzz. She couldn't understand why it was still affecting her in that way, given her recent revelation. Was she just that sick, her psyche that twisted that part of her didn't care?
No. It was not going to be the case. This was going to stop right now.
"I'm finished." She felt somehow better, having declared her intent to the empty kitchen. She scooped her water off the floor and walked determinedly upstairs to her room. Tomorrow, she would go and see Cooper. She would tell him she could no longer work with Reddington. She was done with this madness.