A/N Ok this is the last instalment of Love Triangle! I wrestled with this, but I feel that this was the only right way to end it. I hope you agree, and I hope you've enjoyed it. I am so grateful for all your comments and encouragement, and my new fic 'Sinnergirl' will begin soon. As ever, I don't own The Blacklist.

In the end, Tom Keen was not difficult to locate. Red had initially expected him to have left the city as fast as possible - perhaps even the country - but no. According to his contacts, Lizzie's bastard ex-husband was right here in DC, a fact which whilst it made him easier to find, seemed like a personal affront to Red. The man had taken her right out from under Red when he was vulnerable from the shooting, highlighting his miserable inability to protect her. Red hated feeling weak above all else. Tom had subjected her to a prolonged, violent attack, the marks from which Red was forced to endure seeing blossom into deep purples and greens on her beautiful skin. He wondered about the marks he couldn't see, hidden beneath her jeans and shirts which Dembe had collected from her house. Worst of all, Tom had wormed his way into her head, manipulating her, preying on her generous spirit to the extent that she actually defended a monster who didn't deserve an ounce of her forgiveness. Red knew that he himself didn't deserve Lizzie's kindness or understanding, but Tom… Tom deserved nothing but her contempt.

Red cringed at the thought of the vulgar comments Tom had no doubt made to Lizzie about him and her relationship with him. Sugar-daddy. Slut. Lizzie's blush as she had fudged her way miserably through her account of what happened was proof enough of that. And now, Tom hadn't even had the decency to run, no, he was here, taunting Red with his presence, challenging him, and, by extension, threatening Lizzie. Red positively burned with hatred. And yet as he gathered his things he thought back to that terrible conversation with Tom in which he had told him he didn't expect to get out alive. Working for the Major, his marriage to Lizzie, the Neo-Nazi gang… Jacob Phelps had spent his whole life looking over his shoulder, and he was through running. Red understood. He almost respected it. And Lizzie. Lizzie had looked him in the eye asked him to get Tom a new identity. A fresh start.

When Red left the house that day, he left Lizzie strolling in the garden under the watchful eye of Mr Kaplan, who was under strict instructions to guard her and ensure that she didn't tire herself out, or worse, insist on going back to work before her injuries had healed. But today at least, that didn't seem likely. He watched her from a distance as she moved slowly through the wilderness at the back of the house, long grasses and wild flowers tugging at her calves. It would have been easy to hire a gardener to sort the place out, but somehow he had never been able to bring himself to impose order on the beautiful little wild patch at the back. Now it was as if every flower and vine had been grown expressly to curve around her, to offer her some peace or a small slice of beauty as she took sanctuary in the garden. As if sensing his gaze on her, she turned and offered him a small wave. He smiled and waved back, before summoning Dembe and turning away from the enchanting sight before him to begin the day's delicate business.

~BL~BL~BL~BL~BL~BL~

Tom Keen exited an anonymous dive bar in downtown DC, a bandage roughly attached to the side of his head and an un-lit cigarette dangling from his lips. As he stumbled onto the grotty street illumined by weak neon light he was met with the sight of Red and Dembe, leaning casually against a black sedan outside. He stared at them impassively for a moment, before reaching into his pocket for a lighter, and igniting the cigarette. Red felt Dembe tense next to him, and moved his arm slightly to warn him off. He then reached inside his jacket and removed a large brown envelope, which he held up.

"New identity and a one way ticket to Belize, Tom. As promised."

Tom smiled humorlessly, before turning to glance down the empty street, his right hand twitching. As if sensing his thought process, Red continued quietly:

"You could do that, Tom. You could draw, but there are two of us. And you could definitely run - you might even get as far as, oh, two blocks before Dembe here caught up with you and put you out of your misery, which he's simply itching to do by the way." Red laughed menacingly. "Truth be told he's quite indefatigable. And you've made yourself quite unpopular. In fact, now that I come to think about it he wouldn't so much end your suffering as cause you a great deal before he put an end to your miserable existence, so if I were you I'd consider your rather limited options carefully." Red paused, his eyes boring into the man in front of him. When he spoke again, his voice had softened. It was almost paternal. "Tom…It's time to go."

Tom turned back to face him. He took one last puff of the cigarette before throwing it down on the floor and stubbing it out with his heel. Then he nodded. As he approached the car, Dembe brought a large hand down between his shoulders, pinning him roughly against the car. Feeling under Tom's jacket, Dembe removed a Beretta from the waist band of his pants. Red straightened his hat before opening the car door for him, and he entered without another word. They drove for many miles in silence, out of the city, tall buildings yawning in the lowering sun and eventually giving way to grassland. Red stared straight ahead, his lips slightly pursed. Tom stole a glance towards the front of the car, and was met with a dark stare in the mirror from Reddington's hulking bodyguard. He turned back to look out of the window.

As dusk fell, the car drew slowly to a stop, a small road stretching out ahead and arching redwoods advancing thickly on either side. Tom considered the scene from the window and then turned to Red.

"I'm not going to Belize, am I?"

Red looked out of the window for a moment and then turned back to him.

"No, you're not" he said softly. "But then you knew that before you got in the car."

Tom nodded. Reddington seemed to know him better than he knew himself. The moment his hand closed over Liz's mouth that night he had known on some level that it was over. And Jacob Phelps knew better than to hope. There's no such thing as redemption, not really.

After a moment Red took a cell phone from his pocket and tossed it on the seat between them. "Call her. Tell her you're starting a new life. Tell her everything's going to be ok."

Tom looked at him in utter disbelief. "You've got to be kidding."

"I assure you I'm quite serious. You'll do it for her, Tom." Red's voice was low and even. Commanding.

Tom looked down at the phone for a second, working his jaw. He looked back at Red before finally grabbing the phone and starting to dial.

"Liz….Yes it's me, don't hang up. I just called to say I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant any of it….. I'm on my way to the airport now. Reddington came through – I'm going to Belize, Liz. I'm gonna get that boat. Everything's gonna be fine. You'll never see me again…I love you."

Red snatched the phone from him and hung up, replacing it in his pocket. He pulled a pistol from the folds of his jacket and motioned it slightly towards the door. "Get out of the car."

~BL~BL~BL~BL~BL~BL~

When Red returned it was nightfall. He saw the light in Lizzie's bedroom window shining into the darkened grounds of the house, cutting a path through the blackness. As he approached the front door he cast a momentary shadow, his fedora projecting a distorted image on the gravel. He closed the front door behind him and looked up to see that Lizzie had appeared at the top of the stairs. He smiled gently and removed his hat.

"Good evening Lizzie. I trust you had a relaxing day."

She came downstairs and he motioned for her to follow him into the sitting room.

"I did thanks. I have to admit, it feels good to escape. This is such a beautiful place. Peaceful, I guess."

Red smiled warmly at her. "I'm glad. The grounds, the air, the fact that there's no hum of vehicles or commerce for miles around. It's balm for the soul."

Moving to the drinks cabinet he looked over his shoulder at her. "Will you join me Lizzie? What can I get you?"

"Actually I would like to talk to you about something. But I'd better avoid the scotch – Mr Kaplan would be very unhappy, she's got me on some pretty crazy painkillers. She's kind of scary" Liz laughed softly.

Red tried to return her smile but it came out as more of a grimace. He couldn't bear the thought of her in pain.

"Agreed, Kate is formidable. But as with all my employees, your welfare is her top priority."

Liz blushed slightly, before giving him a quizzical smile.

Red stepped towards her, drink in hand. "Now, what did you want to discuss with me?"

She bit her lip. "Tom called me."

Red's face twitched slightly and after a moment he knocked his drink back in one go, replacing the glass on the table. "I see." He looked down at her face, so open and trusting. She waited for him to comment further, but when Red said nothing she continued:

"He's gone, out of the country, out of my life. He… He told me what you did for him – that you helped him start a new life. I know that can't have been easy for you to do. Again you saved this man you hate, for me." As she spoke she took a step closer to him, her eyes locked onto his. After a moment Red looked away, unable to hold her gaze. "You truly are a good man." She said softly. "And I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to see that. Thank you, Ray." She slipped her arms around him and he felt her press the softest kiss into his neck.

Red thought unwillingly then of the moment before he had put a bullet in Tom Keen's head. From his position on his knees, the younger man had looked him in the eye and said that he would never be rid of him. At the time he had put it down to the bravado of a man about to die. But now he understood what Tom had meant. Tom Keen's demise would be a dark secret he would have to carry – another secret he would have to keep from Lizzie at all costs. Now as he held her close and looked down into her soft blue eyes the aching sweetness of the moment was shot through with a bitter thought. He was a sin-eater. His soul would only grow darker, a cavernous pit surrounded by fire that would surely burn her the nearer she came to it. Slowly and tenderly he tilted her chin up and kissed her for the first time, certain of nothing other than this: they would burn together.