*My* Reddington?

Disclaimer: The Blacklist is not mine. None of these characters are mine. Not even the general storyline and some of the actual TEXT in this one isn't mine. This is the heftiest disclaimer that ever disclaimed.

Author's Note: The beginning of this episode and the end of this episode lent themselves nicely to my rearranging, but the middle section didn't need adjusting-I figure occasionally this is going to happen. So if you feel like you're just reading a transcript in the middle section, don't think I've gotten lazy. It just fit my alternative narrative without me needing to change much.

...:::...

Chapter 5: Wujing

…:::…

It wasn't the passports or the money that bothered Liz most. It was the gun.

Which is why she crept out of bed, put several phone books in a bucket of water outside, and waited for the garbage truck to begin its weekly morning symphony of screeches and bangs before firing a round from the gun.

She needed it analyzed.

Later that morning, as she sat across from Tom at their dining table, Liz found herself apologizing for having to keep secrets about her work. Apologizing to her husband for hiding things from him.

She found it ironic, and it soured the taste of her coffee.

"Just tell me something. Who was he?" Tom asked.

"He's gone. He was killed," Liz assured him.

"So it's over?"

Liz cringed internally. It was far from over. She thought about the ziplock bag with a spent round and casing in her purse. "Yes," she lied.

"Look, I love you—" Tom was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"That's Ellie," Liz said, grateful for the excuse to end the conversation. She rose from the table to answer the door.

"I just hate there are things you have to hide from me," Tom called after her.

'Pot calling the kettle black, babe,' Liz thought ruefully. "Remember, Ellie's not just bringing breakfast, she's taking you to physical therapy today—"

…:::…

The minute she got to work, she made a beeline for the ballistics lab and handed over the round for analysis, to be run against other crimes.

She knew it wasn't exactly 'by the book', but what was the point of being an FBI agent if you couldn't occasionally use government resources to confirm your husband wasn't a spy…?

…:::…

"Agent Keen, splendid. I need a woman's opinion. Charcoal? Or dark slate?" Reddington palmed a grey fedora onto his head and held another in his hand up for comparison. Liz didn't answer immediately, looking carefully around the custom milliner's shop with curiosity. She didn't know anyone who would ever buy a hat from a shop like—'No, wait,' she corrected herself, 'I know *him*.'

"In all honesty, Red, they look exactly the same to me. And I told you, you don't have to call me 'Agent Keen'," she reminded him. Reddington turned to replace one of the hats on the shelf—Liz wondered idly if it was the charcoal or slate that had been discarded—and turned back to face her, smiling.

"Please tell me you didn't call me down here just to offer my opinion between two similar hats?" she asked.

"An opportunity has come our way. Yesterday, the Chinese killed a CIA agent in Shanghai. They took his computer, which they thought could decode a message they intercepted. It couldn't. They've asked me for help."

Liz looked pointedly at the man behind the counter, ringing up and packaging the chosen hat.

"Oh, Roderick is a dear old friend," Reddington said, dismissing her silent concerns about privacy and potential exposure.

"I'm sorry. You're decoding CIA messages on behalf of the Chinese?" she asked, suspicious.

"Now, see, you make it sound like treason," Reddington said, grinning at her. "So black and white."

"While you obviously prefer shades of grey," Liz noted as the boxed hat was handed to Reddington across the counter.

"No, this is more like 'green'. The fact is, American secrets are for sale by an assortment of reputable vendors, myself included. If I don't do this, someone else will. The man who's paying me is called Wujing. Not officially sanctioned by the Chinese, but unofficially he's contracted to take out rival agents—American, British. The message likely contains the name of another agent."

"I've heard the stories about Wujing. He's a myth," Liz countered.

"That's what they said about Deep Throat and the G-spot," Reddington said conspiratorially, taking her arm and directing her toward the front of the store. Liz was glad he wasn't facing her, because she was sure her professional mask slipped terribly. "I assure you Wujing is quite real, and he's hired me. Now you have the chance to catch him. I've already forwarded them your cover."

Liz blanched. "I'm sorry, what? What cover?"

Reddington explained briefly, steamrolling over Liz's protests about betraying the life of an American agent. "And the best part is, he isn't even in China. He's right here in your own backyard." He turned to look back at the man behind the counter. "Roderick, I changed my mind. I'll take both."

…:::…

During the briefing at the Post Office about the proposed mission, Ressler spoke up several times, voicing his reticence about moving on Reddington's intel. "And besides," he finally said. "Keen is not prepared to do this. She's never been undercover before—"

"I'm sorry, but I'm standing right here, and can speak for myself," Liz interrupted, bristling. "Not to mention the fact that Reddington insists on my involvement. He's already sent them a cover that's linked to my face. This won't work if anyone else shows up."

Ressler shook his head. "I don't think you understand. He's asking you to spy on a notorious spy killer while pretending to be an expert in cryptography, which you know nothing about."

Liz nodded. "He's testing me. You want him to keep talking to me? I need to pass this test."

…:::…

Wujing's operation was run out of an old building that housed a radio station just five miles from the Post Office. Meera briefed Liz on the tech she'd need to decode the message the Chinese were looking for, as well as how to get the message out—all she'd need was a satellite connection. If she didn't have that, a remote mirroring program could be used to allow a tech on the outside to have control of the system. Last but not least, they tagged her with a plastic polymer tracking device that looked like a nicotine patch applied high on her left shoulder, just under the collar of her shirt, and sent her on her way. Reddington assured the team he could talk his way out of anything, in case his tracking chip became an issue.

Sure enough, when he and Liz were scanned with a wand, he gave a laugh and said, "DARPA tracking chip, 8mm tag. I was taken by Somali pirates last March; spent three weeks in a shipping container. The first two were a nightmare. The third was actually quite pleasant. Even so, that won't happen again." When the security guard hesitated, Reddington offered, "If you have a clean razor blade and some morphine, I'll remove it." The security guard assured him that wasn't necessary, and Liz again felt a swell of admiration for the man who could so smoothly lie his way out of anything. She wondered idly what he'd lied to her about so far.

Halfway through the long elevator ride to Wujing's base of operations, Reddington and Liz realized why no one was worried about the chip. "How far down do you think we're going?" Liz asked quietly.

"Far enough," Reddington replied disconcertedly.

When the elevator finally stopped moving, Wujing met them at the door and ushered them inside, greeting Reddington with, "My friend…"

"Don't be cheeky, Wujing, you don't have any friends," Reddington replied before motioning to Liz. "My associate, Ms. Givins."

Liz attempted to give her complete attention to Wujing as he greeted her as well, but she couldn't help but notice that Reddington stared blatantly when Wujing took her hand in both of his and stood a little bit closer than she would have liked.

"You've made some changes," Reddington said, looking around the bunker.

"We had to increase security," Wujing agreed.

"I can imagine—four American agents killed in the past year and a half. You've been busy. I presume nothing gets in or out, no radio or satellite transmissions?" Reddington didn't look in Liz's direction, but she appreciated that he had her back, confirming for her that she'd need to use the remote mirroring program Meera had given her as a Plan B.

Liz took a few moments to set up her equipment, trying to find a way to plug in the remote mirroring device. Reddington approached and stood at her shoulder, his arm casually over the back of her chair, and asked, "Are we ready yet?"

Liz replied, "Almost," while typing 'NO SATELLITE SIGNAL'.

Reddington bobbed his head, looking up at Wujing's senior cryptographer. "Do you get home much, Jin Sun?"

"Not for two years," the man replied, shaking his head regretfully.

"Oh, that must be hard. It certainly would be for me. I don't even have a phone. I insist on delivering all of my messages in person," Reddington said, smoothing his thumb along Liz's shoulder blade, a signal that he was talking to her, and not Jin Sun. Liz understood, and typed her reply, 'NO TIME TO DELIVER IN PERSON. AGENT WILL BE KILLED.'

"What province are you from?" Reddington continued, easily making small talk.

"From Yunnan."

"Oh, beautiful part of the country. I spent a month in silent meditation at a monastery just outside of Kunming."

'MUST ACCESS JIN'S COMPUTER. SUGGESTIONS?'

"It was a wonderful escape from the distractions of everyday life. I can't imagine the distractions one might encounter down here." Again he swiped comfortingly with his thumb along her back. "Can you?" he asked, leaning down toward Liz.

Liz arranged her face into a careful, barely annoyed, mostly bored expression, and she didn't look at Reddington while she replied, "No. I can't," while typing, 'YES. DISTRACT THEM.'

"Excellent," Reddington said, walking away from where Liz sat. "I think we're almost ready." He stopped in front of a bank of monitors showing the street above. "This should be fun," he muttered under his breath. "What the hell is that?" he said suddenly, raising his voice. "I swear, if I run into the same trouble I had with you in Hong Kong… In all the years you and I have known each other, I've never put you in a position like this. You know how I conduct my business. I don't need this kind of crap. You assured me this place was secure."

"It is," Wujing responded, indignant and confused.

Liz moved toward Jin SUn's computer, slowly, as the men in the room converged on Reddington's position, all eyes on him or the monitors.

"Then what the hell is that?!" Reddington cried, flinging an angry arm in the direction of the video feed that showed the surveillance vans outside. "That van. It was there when we arrived, and it's still there. That's the FBI. With all the scans and wands and this elevator you've built that goes down to Middle Earth, and you don't even bother to sweep the street around your building? This is nonsense."

"Calm down, old friend—" Wujing started.

"You're under surveillance!" Reddington continued without pause.

Wujing's patience began to wear thin. "If the FBI was outside, it's because you led them here."

Reddington stared at Wujing with intensity, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet and controlled. "I've been moving comfortably though the world for the past twenty years without a trace, and now some two-bit spy killer is going to put my life and business in jeopardy?"

Liz, having placed the device where she needed it to be, had retreated back to her laptop, and was marveling at the way Reddington's low whisper could instill more fear and respect than the way he'd been shouting just a second before. She made a mental note to avoid having him ever use that tone of voice with her if it could possibly be helped.

On the monitor, the men near the van began to pack up their gear, and the vehicle pulled away from the curb.

"There. You see?" Wujing said. "Nothing. Now can we continue?"

"If you're through putting Ms. Givins and I at risk—"

"Reddington—" Wujing said warningly.

"—it's frankly unprofessional—"

"Enough!" Wujing barked.

Reddington stopped and raised his hands as if in surrender. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry, I've had a rough day." He looked at Liz where she'd returned to her seat, then back at Wujing. "Shall we do this?"

Liz started the mirroring program, and soon the message was decoded, and the target's name appeared on the screen. She mentally crossed her fingers that Ressler and the rest of the team were already working on securing his safety.

Wujing handed an envelope to Reddington, thanking him for his help. Reddington pocketed the envelope and turned to Liz. "Get your things. It's time to go." As he passed her, she cut her eyes down to the remote mirroring device still in Jin Sun's computer. "Leave it," he murmured as he brushed past her.

Alarms began to chime just as Reddington and Liz made it to the elevator. "Stop!" Wujing called after them. He walked after them, shaking his head regretfully. "You were right. Maybe that was the FBI outside. In fact, maybe they're not just outside. Maybe they're right here in this room."

Reddington turned around and glared across the room at Wujing. "Think hard before you accuse anybody of anything," he said in the same threateningly quiet voice as earlier.

"A few minutes ago, contact was made from this room to an FBI server. A message I worked so hard to intercept was sent to the Americans. Well, all my instincts said it was her, and I trust my instincts. You're smart. The one responsible was smart, but our systems are smarter. Any contact with a government server is flagged for review, so… I know who betrayed us."

Liz took a deep breath, her heart pounding. She opened her mouth to speak—how could she take this all on her and spin it so Reddington would come out of this clean and unharmed?—but before she could, Wujing whirled on Jin Sun and slammed his fist viciously into the other man's nose.

As Wujing continued to beat his cryptographer, the members of his security team holding the man down as he protested his innocence, Liz took a step forward. Reddington grabbed her arm and pulled her harshly back to his side. "Be quiet," he ordered under his breath.

Jin Sun's head was slammed back against his work station and ground into the desk next to his laptop as Wujing shouted at him in Mandarin. When the bleeding man's head was finally released, he looked up at Liz and Reddington, a betrayed look on his face. One shaking hand moved forward and brushed over the remote mirroring device, still plugged into the side of his computer.

Liz felt her stomach drop and looked sideways at Reddington. She noticed his tell—a small twitch under his left eye—just before he grabbed a gun from the nearest security guard, shoving him to the side. Reddington swung the weapon forward and shot Jin Sun three times in the chest without hesitation. He immediately flipped the gun around and offered it, grip first, to the guard he'd taken it from.

"As entertaining as all this has been, we really do need to leave now," Reddington said in a bored tone. "The next sound you hear is going to be the FBI knocking on your door, and I, for one, am not going to be here."

Wujing drew his own weapon and pointed it squarely at Reddington's chest. "You kill one of my people? I should kill you."

Liz immediately stepped in front of Reddington. "The moment he sent that message, he became worthless to you," she said evenly. "You would have beaten him for another twenty minutes and then killed him yourself."

"You're a cryptographer, a contractor—why do you care what happens to him?" Wujing asked, not lowering his gun.

"He pays me to decode things; he also pays me to stand in front of him when people start waving guns around," Liz answered. "You hired us to do a job. It's done. Now let's get out of here."

...:::…

Wujing offered to get them all out of the country, but Reddington politely declined, requesting they be dropped off along a city street instead to make their own arrangements.

As they stood on the sidewalk, watching Wujing's black SUV turn the corner out of sight, Reddington spoke up. "I fear I've disappointed you. The deal was for us to actually catch the criminals on the Blacklist, and now Wujing is as good as halfway to Beijing."

"I don't think so," Liz said, a smile tugging at her lips.

Reddington looked at her quizzically, and she reached up, stretching the neckline of her shirt so far that her entire bare shoulder was revealed. Reddington noted the lack of a nicotine patch and raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to one side. "Nicely done, Agent Keen."

Liz released her shirt and looked back at Reddington as Dembe pulled up in a dark sedan, and Luli got out to open the door for them. "Liz…" she offered again.

When they reached Reddington's hotel, Luli and Dembe exited the car and took up positions nearby, leaving Liz and Reddington alone in the backseat.

"Luli can stay with me. Dembe will take you anywhere you need to go," Reddington said in a low voice.

"Thank you," Liz said. She waited for Reddington to exit the car, but he made no move to reach for his door handle. Liz suddenly wondered if she was expected to be the one to leave.

Reddington finally broke the silence. "I don't pay you to stand in front of me."

Liz swallowed. Yeah, she had figured she was going to have to answer a few questions about that. She sighed, and said, "Red… I believe I will always do whatever I feel I have to do to keep you alive."

"Are you this… protective… of all your criminal informants?" he asked after a beat.

Liz looked up and met his gaze. "No."

"Have we met before?" Reddington narrowed his eyes at Liz, searching her face as if trying to recognize her all over again.

Liz ached to explain. "I wish the answer was as simple as the question seems."

"I understand you requested this. To be the one I talk to. Why?" Reddington raised his eyebrows. "Why involve yourself in this? You're married, you have a life, people who care about you."

"And now I also have you," Liz replied simply.

…:::…

Ressler gave a quick knock before letting himself into Cooper's office, a report in hand. "You were right," he said, handing the file to the director. "Keen's hiding something. I put a flag on her. Any tests, reports, or files—anything she requests gets sent to us first. She brought a bullet and shell casing into Ballistics. At her level, the results were classified, but that's the full report."

Cooper scanned the report. "This isn't just classified. Any briefings on this homicide include the Secretary of Homeland Security. Who else knows about this?"

…:::…

Exhausted by the events of the day, and frustrated by the classified results she'd received on the ballistics report, Liz had to plaster a fake smile on her face and take a deep breath before opening the door to her apartment. By the looks of the crowd of people visible in the front window, apparently they were having a party.

While she appreciated their friends coming together to support Tom, Liz felt very far away from everyone there. None of them knew she'd watched a man get beaten and shot earlier that day. None of them knew what she'd found under her floor boards.

And none of them knew about Raymond Reddington.

…:::…

TBC.