10: Panic Dreams and Accusations
That night, she dreamed of Tom. She dreamt of him holding a baby, their baby, the idea of the life they could've had together…the lie they could've shared.
Liz…come here…come hold our little girl, he called to her, extending the little bundle out to meet her.
In her mind, Lizzie did not move. She stayed in the doorway. The biting cool of metal pressed against her lower back and she reached behind her, her fingers resting on the butt of the gun she kept in her waistband.
I wouldn't do that, Liz, Tom warned, looking up at her, the malice in his eyes magnified by those ridiculous glasses.
In her sleep, Liz was cold, clenching her jaw and her eyebrows furrowing together.
Tom wasn't holding the child any more. The room swirled around her and they were in a new location, a back alley, the stone walls around them slick with moisture. The air smelt briny. His hands were held up, and for once she saw fear splattered against his face with a satisfying clarity.
Reaching behind her, Liz pulled the gun and pointed it straight at his chest.
Her finger tightened around the trigger and the world exploded.
It was early when Elizabeth woke up in Reddington's apartment, barely 7:00am. There was a hard lump in her stomach, an angry solidity. When she looked in the mirror, her eyes stared back coldly, to the point where she hardly recognized herself. She wore shorts and a tank top, her hair mussed. There was a tap at the door and she strode across the room, pulling it open. Dembe stood before her, his face like stone.
"Raymond would like for you to join him for breakfast.."
"Where?"
"Donna's Café, five blocks west. I can drive you. He's already there."
"No thanks, I'll walk."
He let her go without complaint.
D.C. smelled stale. Like cigarettes and cold coffee grounds. The sky was ash gray and there was no breeze, the air stagnant as she breathed it in with each step. It was cool with the morning chill. Lizzie wrinkled her nose and pulled the hood of her jacket up over her head. She blended in easily with the working masses around her, tired eyed and stressed, clutching their coffee cups as they trudged to work.
By the time she had found the café, her cheeks were slightly rosy along with the very tip of her nose. There was a small wood and leather booth tucked in the back by the window, a hat sitting on the edge of the table in view of the front door. Pulling down her hood, Lizzie moved over and slid into the seat.
Red had his chin propped up on his hand, studying the lettering on the window.
"I've always appreciated font work. Typography too. I admire the art on the windows here. I never had a steady enough hand for good penmanship."
The waitress came over and Reddington ordered them both an espresso with a plate of pastries.
"Well, good morning, Lizzie," He said once the waitress left, finally turning his attention to her.
"Morning."
"Did you not sleep well?" he asked with the cock of his head. His mouth was a straight line as he pressed his lips together. Lizzie watched the way he leaned back in the booth and tapped his fingers against the table top.
"No, I didn't. to tell the truth I dreamt quite a bit last night," Elizabeth admitted before she really knew what she was doing. "About Tom."
The espresso arrived and Elizabeth was grateful of the deep, roasted scent that wafted up from the little porcelain cup. It swept out the dankness of outside. Red sipped his, cautious of how hot it was, before he answered.
"Would you like to talk about it, Lizzie?" Raymond asked, not meeting her eyes. He did not want to pressure her. He could feel the way she was opening up to him and he relished in it. He would do everything in his power to keep it that way. Instead, he picked up a light croissant and tore off a generous piece before placing it in his mouth and savoring.
"Not right now," Lizzie said, eyeing up the food. She sipped the espresso and felt the warm bitterness on her tongue.
"Fair enough." Reddington said, giving her a little smile that portrayed reassurance. He finished his croissant before speaking again. "Not to put your task force in the hot seat, Lizzie, but I'm afraid your comrades haven't been very impressive with Alexander Knapp."
"It's not my fault. I've been in the storage locker."
"I fear that's why the taskforce is floundering."
She sipped the coffee again.
"It's time to get back to work, Lizzie."
"But what about Tom?"
Raymond leaned back in the booth and worked his jaw as cocked his head. Lizzie could see his long eyelashes in the morning sunlight as it glowed through the window. She liked the way his gray shirt fit his body beneath the dark vest. The weatherproof dress coat he always wore was folded on the seat next to him.
"Lizzie…the storage locker will be there. I'm not asking you to spend all your time back at the task force, I just need your help in getting Knapp out of my hair."
"Ok."
Reddington smiled, "Perfect." He checked his watch, "Dembe should be around in about fifteen minutes."
Elizabeth looked down at her coffee and felt the smooth porcelain rim with the tip of her finger. Reddington could see the dark circles under her eyes and on her lids. His eyes lingered on her dark eyebrows and the crease between them, her brow softly furrowed in thought. Reddington's thumb twitched with the want of reaching forward and smoothing it away. Instead, Raymond settled for reaching forward and lightly laying his fingertips over the top of the woman's hand.
"Lizzie, trust me. Tom will not get away."
Biting her lip but not looking up to meet his eyes, Liz nodded.
Ressler came in to Cooper's office looking grouchy. He tossed a thick file in front of Elizabeth and sat down next to her. Cooper stood behind his desk, arms crossed as Reddington rocked softly back and forth in the director's office chair. It looked like he was texting.
"So here's what we found," Ressler said, watching as Elizabeth flipped open the file. Orazio's blank face looked back, first from the front, then from the side. She flipped past it and found a new face. This one was a scrawny man, thin, with shaggy dark hair and thick rimmed glasses that were stylish, but still nerdy.
"Grayson Moss?" Liz asked, reading the identification plaque that was held in front of him. She looked up at Ressler. "This picture was taken three years ago."
"High grade computer hacker with some experience in illegal money transfer. Orazio said that Moss was in charge of surveillance and prep for locations. Orazio would wait for the word from Moss and once the coast was clear, his shipments could be delivered."
As Ressler spoke, Lizzie glanced at Reddington. He was looking up, staring at the file with cold eyes while the phone sat ignored on the desk. His face was like stone, expressionless but still cold. Lizzie realized Reddington knew Moss. As if feeling her gaze, Raymond looked up, blinked, then turned his attention to Ressler as the agent continued to speak.
"If you look at the next picture," Cooper said as Donald, leaned forward and flipped the page for Lizzie, "Orazio led us to his place. It's completely cleaned. No fingerprints, no hairs, the only thing that suggested someone lived there was the spoiled food in the fridge and old bills in the trash."
"Were you able to find anything that connected him to Orazio or Knapp? Where is he?"
"We don't know," Ressler said, "We still have forensics there. We were able to find laptops and computers. Our tech guys are going through files and codes, pulling everything they can. Aram's there now."
Lizzie thumbed through the rest of the photographs and documents.
Ressler continued, "As far as Moss goes, we don't know. We're trying to find him."
"We were actually going to the location now," Cooper said, "How have you two been coming along?"
Reddington spoke without looking back at Lizzie. "I was just about to ask you if I could borrow Agent Keen one more time tonight. I have some business I need to follow up with. A possible financial provider for Knapp. Name is Carter Ferguson"
Lizzie remembered the tanned man with the wide white smile that had eyed her up when she was at that rooftop ball.
"What makes you think we're just going to keep letting you use one of our own for your little errands, without any explanation of what you're doing or where you are?" Ressler demanded suddenly, standing up and pointing at Reddington. "The entire time you've been here you just swoop in and use these agents as your own personal puppets."
Lizzie didn't like the cool strength behind Raymond's eyes as he regarded Donald. The tension muted in the room.
"Harold, would you please reassure your overzealous agent here?" Reddington blinked and turned his attention to the director. "If you two have forgotten, you still have a chip imbedded in my neck and I'm sure Agent Keen has been trained enough to hold her own. The fact that you underestimate her is quite concerning, in my point of view."
Harold was quiet, his eyes darting about between the two agents and master criminal that sat in his office. "Keen needs to be back with the task force, she has missed enough days."
"I haven't been missing days, sir," Elizabeth said, chirping up. She liked how strong her voice sounded, no-nonsense and concise. "Reddington and I have been working with this lead he has. I need a few more days or a week to stay undercover."
The lie coated her tongue easily.
"I want all the information filed and documented before you leave, Agent Keen," Harold Cooper finally said after a few moments of silent deliberation. Ressler threw his arms up and huffed angrily.
It did not go unnoticed by the director.
"Agent Ressler, you will go to the site with Aram, set up surveillance there, have a team stake it out once the those computers are moved out. I want eyes on that place in case anyone comes in or out. You'll be in charge of any advancement that is drawn from Moss's files."
The idea of authority quieted Ressler, yet he still watched Elizabeth quietly.
"Elizabeth, I expect that report to be on my desk before you leave, is that understood?"
"Yes sir."
After the meeting, Reddington quickly slipped out before Lizzie had a chance to question him about Moss. He barely had a chance to disappear in the elevator before Ressler latched on to Lizzie's arm.
"We need to talk," he seethed, pulling her into the small office space they shared. The blinds were drawn and the door shut behind them. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Excuse me?"
Donald extended his arms, his eyebrows arched high on his forehead. "What are you doing with him? It's been a few days Lizzie, and at most I've received a few texts. What the hell?"
Lizzie crossed her arms and felt the burning sensation of defensiveness start to churn inside her. She tried to bite it back, tried to be calm with him. She let him continue.
"We don't know what you're doing, we don't know where you are. Good lord, Keen, you even look different. What the hell? You look like you haven't slept in weeks!"
"Look, Ressler, I understand your concern but-"
Donald raised his hand, "Unless you're going to give me an explanation, I don't want to hear it. I'm not interested in excuses. Why is he so interested in you? Do you have some sort of…relationship going on? Some daddy/ daughter complex?"
"That's enough, Don," Liz retorted, her voice low and even, like the quiet growl of a lioness.
The man shook his head and gave an incredulous huff, his face twisted in an unbelieving and sarcastic smile. His hands flopped down to his sides and his head dipped, looking at his shoes.
"Look…there's nothing going on between me and Reddington, and to even suggest that is totally inappropriate and uncalled for, understood?"
Donald met Lizzie's eyes and he nodded. "Ok, I'm sorry I said that, it was in a moment of anger."
"I understand, Don," Keen's eyes softened and she sat down behind her desk.
"There's been some…issues…between Tom and I. When Red and I haven't been making contacts, I've been trying to deal with that. It's been hard, and yes, I have lost sleep."
The crack in her voice was not intentional and it stung once she realized how genuine her hurt really was. Ressler's face softened and the anger dripped away and concern took its place.
"Want to talk about it?"
"He…he left me." Lizzie bit her lip and busied herself with booting up the computer on her desk. The sigh that left her nose was quiet, but tired.
"Want me to arrest him?" Ressler suggested. Truth be told, he now felt like an ass for the outburst. He could see the hurt on her face and in the way her shoulders slumped forward. He wished there was something he could do to help, but in the moment the man only felt awkward.
Lizzie gave him a small smile but shook her head.
"I'll let you get to your report then," Ressler said as he headed to the door. "Keen, if you need anything, give me a shout, ok?"
"Alright."
Liz completely faked her way through the report. She gathered what she could about Carter after what she remembered when she was with Red. She matched the rest up with her own assumptions and impressions. Whatever she couldn't think of or remember, she left it up to the fact that more contact needed to be made.
That afternoon, she was sitting in her kitchen when there was a knock at the door. She opened it up to Red and didn't say anything until he followed her to the kitchen. Reddington helped himself to the coatrack and hung up his suit coat and hat.
"How did the file go?"
"Pretty good. I should start writing novels after I retire," Liz answered, sitting back up at the island and flicking her eyes over the laptop screen. Red noticed she was shopping online.
Red wanted to move up behind her and rub the stress from her shoulders. He could smell her perfume from here.
"Did you bring me a dress for tonight or should I pull out one of my own?" she asked without looking up from her shopping. She was looking at a long wine colored sweater.
"Cocktail party, something a little less elegant. I assume you have a little black dress hidden somewhere in your closet?"
"I can pull something out."
Lizzie proceeded to checkout and quickly filled out her credit card information before she turned around on the stool. Red was standing in front of her, about a foot away, his eyes level with hers when she sat up on the wooden stool. He was wearing the same clothes, dark colored shirt and vest, his hands at his sides, leaning back slightly and regarding her.
"How do you know Grayson Moss?" she asked, crossing her arms.
Reddington didn't answer right away, instead he stepped over and grabbed a stool, pulling it out and settling down next to her. Lizzie turned to watch him.
"Grayson had dipped his hands into my accounts once or twice."
"Where is he?"
Red looked at her, saw that spark in her eyes and decided it was beautiful.
"After tonight, I will answer you."
She rolled her eyes and slammed down the top of the computer. "Of course you will." The annoyance wasn't hidden and when she brushed past Reddington to get to the coffee maker, he caught her arm.
"Lizzie, I will tell you," The heat of his hand matched the warmth of his voice, even if it was low. His fingers loosened and Lizzie found it hard to move. She felt the soft stroke of his thumb along the sensitive skin of her forearm. "I'm sorry," he said, indicating the way he gripped her. "I shouldn't have done that."
He withdrew and Lizzie realized that she wished he hadn't.
"Do you want some coffee, Red?"
He nodded.
Two mugs sat in front of them, as well as some creamer and sugar. Lizzie would sip from her cup, run her fingers along the countertop. Sometimes, she would run her tongue along her teeth. She was in thought. Red could almost hear the gears turning inside her head. Lizzie didn't like the quiet, she always felt as though Reddington used it to his advantage, letting it press against her until she felt compelled to speak. This time, she couldn't stand the tension.
"Red, last night I dreamt about Tom."
Reddington nodded after taking a sip, "You said so this morning."
"He was holding a baby…" Liz continued…her voice very quiet. "A baby girl."
"Lizzie…"
"He kept wanting me to hold it…I couldn't." She thought of the past, together when they would talk about adoption, daydreaming about children. "I'd wanted a baby girl."
Red stood and moved behind her. He reached out with steady hands and laid them on her shoulders, the man's thumbs circling through the tired muscles. He watched as her head dipped forwards and her body tense.
"Lizzie…it's ok. It was just a dream, Sweetheart."
"I could've had a child with him, Red…I could have brought a child into this mess…"
"Shh…Lizzie come here." He pulled her shoulders, making sure that her back pressed against his chest. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his hands circling around her upper arms. Raymond was grateful when he felt her relax and lean against him. Her head tilted back and he indulged himself in resting his chin on her hairline. Reddington gave her another small kiss. "It was just a dream."
Lizzie felt the hum of his voice resonate through his chest and into her back. The skin that his hands touched felt warm and his lips shot a heat all the way down to her toes. Lizzie closed her eyes and lost herself in the smell of his perfume and the slow tenderness of his touch. She could faintly hear Ressler's accusing voice in the back of her head.
Do you have some sort of…relationship…going on?
She quieted his words by reaching over and entwining her fingers with Red's gratefully.
"Thank you, Ray…" Lizzie murmured.
Ray… he loved the way it sounded coming from her.
"Shhh…It's ok…It's ok, Lizzie."
