Note: I don't own the Blacklist. Also, although there is nothing explicit I feel I should warn readers that this chapter has suggestions and elements of non-con.
Liz's heart began to pound as she looked at him. She had always been able to see Tom Keen, or some element of him, in his eyes. But now they were scarily vacant. He continued cheerily "We're going to have dinner Liz, Chinese – your favourite. We'll make some time for us - open some wine, have a chat, see where the mood takes us…" As he spoke he produced a cell phone from his pocket – her phone. "But before we eat, I just need to make a quick call." He kissed the top of her head before standing and walking away.
Red sat in an armchair flipping through the latest batch of accounts and reports when the door opened and Dembe walked in, holding out a phone wordlessly, his expression grim. Red took the phone and looked at the number. He smiled and held the phone to his ear. "Lizzie!" His smile faded as he looked up again at Dembe, who was shaking his head.
"Sorry, Liz isn't available at the moment. I thought it was time we had a chat."
Red tensed, a lump of iron seeming to form in his stomach. Where was she. Why did he have her phone. He motioned to Dembe and mouthed 'get to the motel' – the bodyguard was out of the door in a heartbeat.
"Tom… what can I do for you?"
"You can stop screwing my wife."
Red thought he might be sick then and there. What was going on? He needed to get him talking, figure this out. He responded as jovially as he could:
"Oh if I had a dollar for every time I heard that I'd be a richer man than I am!" But then his voice hardened. "But I am not, as you so indelicately put it, screwing her, and furthermore she is no longer your wife, so let me ask again: What do you want from me?"
There was a pause. "I want you to suffer like I have. To know what it feels like to lose her." Tom said quietly. "I want you to sit there in whatever fancy house you're staying in knowing that she's with me. I want you to know she'll never be yours, Reddington."
Red closed his eyes.
"I know that you love her Tom" he said gently. "That's how I know you won't hurt her." He hoped with every fibre of his being that he was right.
When Tom's response came his voice sounded uneven, almost hysterical. "Why would I hurt her? She's my wife! You're the only one who hurts her!" Red felt the swirl of guilt twisting uncomfortably inside. He certainly wasn't the only person who had hurt her, but he was a front-runner. When he spoke, he kept his voice calm and practical.
"Tom, it's not too late to stop this. Leave now, and I can get you out of the country with a new identity, plenty of money… how about Belize, Tom? A lovely beach front property. You can start over."
Tom laughed hollowly.
"We both know it's over for me, Reddington. I'm not getting out of this alive. If the Germans don't get me, you will. Now if you'll excuse me, I plan to spend one last night with my wife." He hung up.
Red sat speechless with the phone in his hand. He knew the most dangerous men were those who felt they had nothing to lose. It occurred to him bleakly that the man known as Tom Keen had functioned perfectly well as a ghost and impostor his whole life, but it was real life – real love -that had pushed him over the edge. Red knew something about that. He started dialing and put the phone back to his ear:
"Yes… I need everything you have on Jacob Phelps, AKA Tom Keen. I want to know everywhere he's been over the last few weeks, aliases, places he's rented, travel, receipts…I need everything. Get it to me within the hour. And I can't emphasize this enough - the life of someone very important to me is at stake here. If I lose her, you will also lose those who are dearest to you. Our fates are now intertwined. Have I made myself clear." Red hung up without waiting for the answer.
At the warehouse, Liz did her best to work her hands out of the plastic ties, but Tom had done them up cruelly tight. She quickly gave up trying to free herself. If she was going to get out of this, she would have to use her head. She flinched when Tom returned, take-out bags in hand from her go-to Chinese restaurant. He set the bags down and tossed her phone on the table, before pulling up a chair and sitting in front of her.
"I just had your buddy Reddington on the phone" he said casually. "I suppose you're expecting him to come for you" he said, his tone turning sour. "Think again Liz. I've spent most of my life learning to cover my tracks. He won't find us. Not tonight." Tom laughed quietly. "In fact, he didn't seem too bothered when I told him to stop screwing you. Maybe he doesn't care as much as you think." Tom paused, gauging her reaction. "You know, he offered me a new life – new identity, money. Isn't that a fine thing." He shrugged as he spoke, giving her vacant smile.
Liz steeled herself, squashing down the feelings of mortification erupting at the thought of Tom accusing Red of sleeping with her. Of Red bargaining for her. Tom had always claimed to be able to spot her tells. She was going to have to give the best performance of her life. She took a deep breath.
"This isn't about him, Tom. This is between us. Everything happened so fast… we didn't get a chance to talk properly about us, our marriage." She saw Tom's eyes brighten a little. "I meant what I said, Tom. I know it wasn't all pretend. We loved each other. And, I think, we still do. These past weeks with you… I've learnt so much about you – the real you, I mean. I wish I'd known that guy before."
Tom smiled and raised his eyebrows incredulously. He almost looked like her husband.
"You've had a difficult life, and I'm sure you've done terrible things. But that isn't who you are. This isn't who you are…Jacob" she said gently, holding out her bound wrists.
He looked conflicted. "How can I believe you still feel anything for me?"
She tilted her head and gave him a smile – that smile – the one which he had always craved, the one which said I love you unconditionally. It was the smile which had always made it through to Jacob, and not just Tom. He looked at her affectionately for a moment, before standing up. "You must be starving – let's eat."
He scooped her into his arms and placed her at the table. He smelled the same. Like Tom. It suddenly occurred to her that he had never carried her before. Not even on their wedding day. After she was seated, he took her hands carefully in his, and cut the cable tie holding her wrists with a pocket knife. Watching her closely, he decanted the food onto their plates, before opening the bottle of wine on the table and pouring them each a glass. "To us" he said tightly before taking a gulp. Liz took a small sip before setting the glass back on the table.
Whilst Tom tucked into the dinner, she struggled to get anything down. She felt sick to her core. "Have a spring roll" he said, conversationally – "you always loved to hog them." Liz smiled. From her position at the table she could see the bed – their bed – in the corner, dark and threatening. She had little doubt what his intentions were. She was surprised to find that, alongside her overwhelming fear, she felt desperately sorry for him. All the times they had made love, for years, he had known it was a lie. She swallowed.
"Tom?" He looked at her intently. "I need to know – why did you push so hard for us to have a child?"
He looked down for a second, and then back at her. "I didn't want it at first. But I loved you. And you wanted a child." He paused. "And then… I wanted a chance to have a real life. To be a better parent than mine were. To put something good out there for the first time in my life." Liz had no doubt that every word was true, which made what she had to do next so hard. This was her chance to get the upper hand.
"It's not too late Tom. We can still do this. No lies, no aliases, just us." She whispered. For a second he looked so unsure, almost like a child. But then the mask was back in place.
"You're telling me the moment I come over there to kiss you you're not going to try and head-butt me?" he said smiling sadly. She shook her head slowly, staring into his eyes. "Despite everything, I still love you Tom."
He stood and walked towards her, bent down and searched her face with his eyes. After a moment, he lent forward and touched his lips to hers. She didn't move, or tense up. He slipped his hand behind her head, deepening the kiss, and she responded then, teasing his tongue with her own. He broke away from her and laughed gently, as happy and carefree as he had ever been when they were married. He pushed her jacket from her shoulders and tossed it aside, before sweeping her into him arms, carrying her and sitting her on the bed, kissing her forehead.
"Tom…" she said gently, extending her legs in front of her, indicating the ties on her ankles.
"God I'm sorry babe, let me help you." Tom cut the ties and rolled her onto the bed, kissing her neck, his hand slipping between the folds of her blouse.
Liz felt bile rise in her throat, and tried desperately to keep focused. She was untied now; she just needed to hang on for the right moment. It was no different from the rest of their marriage really, she thought. A fake romance. Except now she knew it. Now she wasn't an unknowing participant. She was an unwilling one. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest she was sure he would hear it. As Tom buried his face in her neck and hair, she reached slowly behind her until her fingers met one of their matching lamps from the night stand. Steeling herself, she brought the base down on his head and hard as she could.
To be continued...