Set in season two but started before it began. I wrote this with the idea Tom might not be dead but without knowing how or why. It comes from the same place as all my fics; from Liz's emotion reflecting upon her circumstance. I always think she will feel confusion, anger ... sometimes outrage. while I have an idea for a second chapter (some phrases and lines) it is still a work in progress. comments very welcome but I'm posting for fun!
Let It Go
There came a moment when Liz was considering her life, it's evolution from what she had considered to be normal, till now. So many things had happened, so many difficult, so many troublesome things. She reflects on the evaporation of her reality; Sam's death, Tom's betrayal, her steady FBI job falling away to leave her in this perplexing abyss.
There would have been a time when she would have been angry. There would have been a time when she'd have rebelled against the changes and difficulties thrust upon her. But as she sits, as she thinks, she must acknowledge that she's softened. Without everything she's ever had. Despite everything she has lost; she has Red. He is unwavering. What was at first an appreciation. What became a quiet, concealed affection; has grown until she feels like the attraction consumes her. She attempts to keep it within her grasp but it slips and she knows it's only a matter of time before she must tell him, or before her actions make her admission redundant.
Is she an open book? She's kept secrets from him of late and while he was left wondering what they were, he was in no doubt of their existence.
Weeks pass and Liz is on the verge of saying something. Of doing something so he knows how she feels; so he is propelled into telling her if he feels the same or at the very least, if he feels something.
Maybe Red is already sending signals. Maybe he's already made it abundantly clear. But having been so taken in before, she is hesitant to read into signs, reluctant to believe anything that's less that 100% transparent. Some would call it paranoia but Liz likes to think she's just being cautious.
Then one day Liz goes to Red at Fredrick's house. It's almost a debrief, but more like she wants to touch base with him. They've taken a Blacklister down, despite her ferocious reputation she proved to be somewhat inept and the op went like clockwork. Not something they can regularly claim. So having completed the paperwork Liz stops by, because she wants to, because she thinks it's a good enough reason.
"Lizzie", he greets her in the library. He's on his feet, readying himself for departure but still gentlemanly as he addresses her. She gives him a swift account of events and he listens, smiles, nods. Liz likes his smile, likes his little tells. Each incidental movement seemingly essential to his character, to him.
They exchange pleasantries while he continues to move. She's aware of it, while not being aware of it, if that is possible. Something in her subconscious knows he's leaving before her tells her he's about to go. Dembe hovers by the door as Red finally departs. Liz is wrong footed; she is surprised and unable to speak. But there is something in Dembe's eyes, mild pity, a truth yet to be spoken, that sets a stone in her heart. The appointment Red is leaving for is more pleasure than business, but Liz is still to learn that.
When the pattern of appointments, of meetings, of dates, becomes regular and when all at the Blacksite become aware of Red's new friend, Liz has no option but to face facts. When the object of your affection develops an affection of their own, things become complicated. Do you hide how you feel? Do you declare it? What are the chances of it working out? Surely it must be statistically higher that her chance with Red!? Criminal informant and FBI handler seems like an unlikey combo. Whoever he's now courting must be a better match than her. And given that undeniable fact, it seems wrong to stand in their way. This isn't quite loving someone and setting them free, it's more like recognising when you're defeated and accepting it graciously.
For the next few weeks she's acutely aware of his periods of absence. As the seconds tick by it becomes impossible not to imagine him with her. His charm wooing, his attention, his warmth, all he has to offer winning her over. Each day that passes further separates her from any possibility of a relationship with Red. The Lizzington ship has sailed and she is still on terra firma.
While trying to avoid any stalkerish tendencies she continues to observe him and gradually her desires, her narrow but firm hopes are obliterated. Raymond Reddington has found someone and it is not Elizabeth Keen.
Many weeks later nothing has changed. Liz is getting on with it because that's what you do in situations such as this. She does her best to conceal how she feels, to show nothing outwardly of her desire or her disappointment. All things considered it's a good effort; she projects mild disinterest all the while monitoring his appearance, his mood, and his extended periods of absence. It makes her glum beyond measure; she knows she has to let this go, to move beyond, for her own peace of mind, if not her own sanity.
The following Friday they are again in the Blacksite. The team worked for days to evidence gather, to locate and to plan for the latest name on Red's list. 117 was a tough takedown and Cooper was a step away from incandescent rage at the damage they'd injured. While the op hadn't been deadly, 117 proved tenacious and it was good fortune more than anything else that let them escape relatively intact. At first Liz thinks everyone will lose their weekend, but in the wee small hours she looks up to an almost empty war room. Those who Cooper has dismissed silently skulked off until they are among the very few that remain. As if alerted by her own realisation, Red glances up too. He hadn't meant to stay so long, hadn't meant to get lost in their reflections or in her company. But their time together has been limited of late. He feels a twinge of regret thinking it has something to do with his lady friend, but casts it aside with the thought it has more to do with the natural ebb and flow of their working arrangement. There is no need to over romanticise the friendship they have, but the mere thought leaves him with more questions to ponder. Why does he consider things in those terms, why is he quantifying their feels, the time they have together, any of it? Slowly he rises from his seat, they are still deep in conversation but Liz knows it's drawing to a close; she's been extending it within the realm of feasibility thus far.
In one fluid movement Red lifts his jacket and slips it on. He takes his leave and Liz mimics ease, all the while feeling sadness, feeling regret. She thinks he doesn't see it but as he departs she assumes her best goodbye old friend smile. It's the kind of smile you offer when all you want to do is cry. It's the kind of smile you muster when you gather all your strength and attempt to feel happy, when you feel anything but. It's not bitter, but it's not convincing anyone. It doesn't convince Red when he sees it; it tells him a very different story.