The Ocean Between Us

A/N: Thank you to everyone who was kind enough to leave a review. Your encouragement is immensely appreciated! I'm sorry for not updating last week but RL and writer's block got in the way:/ I hope this – longest yet – chapter makes up for it!

Writing this I was listening to the amazing song by Susie Suh "Here with Me", which I first heard in episode 1x03 Wujing. If you don't remember it, I highly recommend you listen to it. It's beautiful, fits Lizzington so well and has become a sort of a leading tune to this story for me.

Finally, a huge shout-out and thank you as always to the amazing inmate23 for her encouragement and feedback!

Re-cap: After giving Red the Fulcrum, Liz had an unexpected visit from Tom and they struck a tentative cease-fire, sort of. Red met with his newest nemesis face to face, who turned out to be an unexpectedly familiar person. Plus, there's a new blacklister on the block and Liz has a lot of uncomfortable questions for Red.

Disclaimer: As always, not mine. Just borrowing those two, promise to return them whole and unscathed;)

Chapter 6

Nobody knows why

Nobody knows how

This feeling begins just like a spark

Tossing and turning inside of your heart

Exploding in the dark

~ Susie Suh and Robot Koch, "Here with Me"

"Dembe!"

Liz called in warning just as a bullet whizzed past her head and she ducked lower behind the crate. Blood pounded in her ears as she realized that they were the only two left standing from the team that had entered the derelict magazine only ten minutes ago.

This was supposed to be just a routine search in one of the magazines in the city's outskirts to try and smoke out a drug-dealing gang but Red had been insufferable about Dembe accompanying her to 'see how it should not be done'. She suspected some ulterior motive on his side but they were on a schedule and she let it go. Besides, she liked Dembe. He was good company.

Her eyes darted around the warehouse to see Dembe help protect one of the downed officers in his mad run to get to where she was taking cover. Sweat plastered curls to her neck and forehead and she ran a hand through them as she reassessed the situation around her. Three officers were down, Ressler had been shot in the arm and caught in crossfire on the other side of the magazine, and it was only she and Dembe left there with ammo running low and four or maybe more shooters hell-bent on making ceviche out of them.

She fired another round of shots to cover Dembe as he flung himself the last couple of yards to land shoulder to shoulder with her.

"Are you all right?"

"Perfect. Having a blast. You?"

He gave her a small smile and nodded. Then he handed her a spare magazine and took out another one to re-load his own gun. "I got rid of two more, there is one to our left on that catwalk with a machine gun and two other positioned to his left and right with semi automatics," he informed her matter-of-factly.

"Wow, Red will be so disappointed he missed this," she remarked pushing the magazine into her gun.

Dembe gave her a sideways look. "Don't joke like this, Liz. When Raymond finds out, he's going to blow a fuse."

"I'd like to see that," she replied with a vindictive smile at the imagery and took a deep breath.

She actually would like to see the man upset because that would mean they were getting out of here in one piece. So that she could still be angry with him. Tom had insinuated that Red knew more about the shooting than he was letting on. While she trusted Tom as far as she could kick him, she also knew Red. Knew him and wasn't surprised in the least he was keeping things from her. That was what he did. But she was running out of patience and getting bone-tired of all the secrecy, half-truths and manipulations she had been subject to as of late.

She gritted her teeth and forced herself to return to the situation at hand. Coming up slightly over the crate, she pulled the safety on her gun with Dembe doing the same. Gunpowder burned her eyes as they both fired over the crate, expending several more rounds before ducking back down. She released a breath she didn't realize she had been holding and for a split second things went calm. She forced a hand through her hair and turned to continue firing but stopped as she heard Ressler scream for everyone to get down. Dembe was suddenly in front of her putting his arms around her when a rush of heat and energy threw them both from their position and into the brick wall behind, and then everything went black.

~o~O~o~

Red shot out of the city car towards Dembe, who was waiting for him aside from the police cars and police tapes.

"Are you all right?" he asked, letting concern take over his features for a moment.

"I am fine. So is Agent Keen."

Red nodded. "What happened, Dembe?"

"Just your run-of-the-mill shootout," came from behind the closest ambulance and then Liz was ducking under the tape and coming up to them.

It didn't escape Red that she was walking with a slight limp and a big bruise was starting to bloom on the right side of her face. He ground his teeth. He had fed the FBI one of the less significant blacklisters, a disloyal greedy cockroach that had overstepped his bounds, wanting to keep Lizzie as far away as possible from the Fulcrum and Connelly, but apparently he had underestimated the Bureau's incompetence to handle even a simple drug bust.

Then she was standing in front of him, and his irritation gave way to concern. Her expression was unreadable to him – he had given up trying to decipher them long ago. He was off the mark so often that there really was no point.

"If it hadn't been for Dembe, I'd have looked much worse," she said, gifting the taller man with a grateful smile.

Dembe simply nodded, as if it was the most normal thing to do to throw himself between her and an explosion, and moved away to give them some space.

Liz followed Dembe's retreating figure to the car, trying to stretch out the moment as long as possible before she had to face Reddington. She hadn't seen him since she gave him the Fulcrum over a week ago. He had been communicating only through brief phone calls verging on curt, and then finally today he had sent Dembe, like a babysitter. If it hadn't been her sympathy for the man and her conviction that they could use his skills, she would have sent him away in an instant, if only to spite Red.

"I thought that you had up and left, now that you have the Fulcrum. That was what you came here for in the first place, wasn't it?" she asked belligerently, feeling a sudden urge to get to him and make the slightest crack in his serene countenance.

"The Fulcrum was one of the reasons, yes," he admitted, his voice calm. "But not the only one."

"The other being my safety and well-being," she supplanted angrily. "You keep saying that, implying that, but how can I ever trust your words if every single one of your actions is also underpinned by some game you're currently playing, a new manipulation or another business. Like the shooting last week."

There was a small muscle tick under his right eye, a clear sign that what she had said was unexpected and he was processing it.

She kept pushing. "You think I haven't noticed you hardly involved yourself in this case? That I haven't realized you pulled some small fish blacklister to take my and the FBI's attention away from what you're really doing?"

"Josiah Stompe is no small fish, he owns the drug business in DC."

"Owned. It wasn't the smartest move to hide away behind the propane tank as it exploded," she remarked and pinned him down with a steely gaze. "I know you're investigating the shooting on your own but apparently you don't trust me enough to involve me."

"Lizzie, this is not about trust."

"Yes, I know, it's about my safety," she spat the last word out. "It's always about my safety. You use this like some kind of a shield whenever you need a comfortable justification for once again treating me like a child, too young and inexperienced to handle the truth. Well, I'm done with it. If you don't tell me the truth, I'll find it out on my own."

He pursed his lips, seemingly indulging her when he asked, "What do you want to know?"

"What do you know about the shooting?"

"Nothing concrete enough to share yet."

"Does it have anything to do with the Fulcrum?"

"Possibly."

She steeled her jaw, deciding to change her tactics and trying to get him off-balance. "What were you doing in my house the night of the fire?"

"How did you know my father?"

There was no reply. She clenched her teeth. "Why have you chosen me as your contact? Why am I so important? So special?"

"Lizzie, you cannot expect me to answer any of those questions." His voice was flat but there was something piercing about his gaze, ingraining his words with much more meaning than any tone ever could. "I would burn the world for you but I can't tell you the truth. I won't do anything that would put you in harm's way."

"Like when you kept me under hypnosis to learn about the Fulcrum when Braxton took me?"

Red opened and closed his mouth. She had hit the right spot.

"You are so full of it."

"That…was different. I was-"

"No!" she objected angrily. "I don't want to hear it, I don't want you to spin another tale and talk your way out of this. Not this time. I just want to know," she continued in a more silent tone. "Because right now, I'm feeling blind and deaf. I'm like an uprooted tree, with no roots and no solid ground beneath my feet. Do you know what happens to uprooted trees? They wither and die and I'm dying right now because I can't go on like this any longer! You string me along with the promise of answers that you never give. You say you want to protect me from some dark, mysterious forces that threaten my life but all I see in your actions is you using me for your shady businesses and self-interest! You protecting yourself above anything else!"

"Lizzie-"

"The only way you can prove to me it's not like that is to tell me the truth," she said through her teeth. "Will you?"

His eyes were bright, holding a tortured but resigned look that told her his reply even before he spoke. When he did, his voice was low and somber, "I can't."

In her anger, she didn't hear the broken tone in his voice or the desperate anguish in his eyes. Hot, stinging tears were starting to blur her vision and she didn't want to disintegrate in front of him, she needed to get away.

"I don't want to have anything to do with you anymore. Not ever," she said, starting to choke up on tears but not letting them fall. She turned away.

The cutting, scorching wave of emotion, the one that would crash over her when she truly let her own words sink in, would only be properly dealt with once she was alone. Away from him. To hear him say he would burn the world for her sent a chill through her and if she had been any less angry at him at that point, her reaction would have been quite different. But she pushed that away. She needed to be angry with him, needed her anger to get her through this, to finally get the answers she was looking for. Otherwise she would forgive him and they wouldn't move an inch. He would never think of her as an equal, as a worthy partner. She needed to prove to him she could deal without him.

She texted the one other person that could give her answers.

~o~O~o~

"Do you have the passports?"

"First prove to me that you really know something and then we talk passports."

"I see Reddington's rubbing off on you." Tom let out a long-suffering sigh but gave in under her sharp gaze. "Your father was a member of a clandestine organization that was initially set up to bring about the end of the cold war. What started out as an idealistic idea, soon turned into a gang of high-powered kingpins under the lead of a new director. When your father saw what the organization had become under new leadership, he wanted to get out. To protect himself and his family, he stole a black ops file with evidence of the group's key dealings. But that didn't go as planned. He was killed before he could get out."

"You told me my father was still alive."

"I was trying to mess with you." He hung his head. "I'm sorry for that."

"What of Reddington's involvement?" she asked coldly.

"He was there the night of the fire. The night your parents died," he added for emphasis. "That is all I could find out."

She clenched her teeth and threw the passports in his face. "Here. Now you can get out of my life and crawl back into the hole where you came from."

"Or I can stay and help you find out more and deal with this, Liz," he offered. "Reddington is not a man you can trust."

She let out a humorless laugh. "And you are?"

"If it proves anything to you, I will give you these passports back right now."

She shot him an incredulous look. "Do you really think I'm so naïve as to fall for your act again?"

"No," he replied softly. "I think you're smart and brave and strong but you're also lost and need answers. Reddington won't give them to you but with my help you can get them yourself. You need me, Liz."

She steeled her jaw, both of them knowing he was right. "Get out."

"You know where to find me."

When he left, she found the passports lying on her coffee table.

~o~O~o~

She had no idea how long after he had left she sat in complete darkness, staring at one point on the wall. Afternoon had turned into dusk and dusk into night. She felt no hunger, no thirst, just an overpowering numbness. She had gotten a few answers but they led to so many more questions. Painful questions.

Suddenly she was on her feet. She grabbed a hoodie and a pair of training shoes and was off, no phone, no iPod, no gun, just a heavy weight in her heart. Her head was spinning and she thought she might choke. She ran until her legs started to ache and her lungs were on fire. When the first drops of rain came down on the city, she didn't stop. The hard-driving April rain slapped against her chest, face and hair as if it wanted to physically turn her away but she kept pushing forward. Rain started to come down in column after column, each drenching her more than the previous one. She took a moment to relish the feel of cold drops on her skin and made her way down the steps to a boulevard on the bank of the Potomac. She stepped over the river that began to rush wildly next to the curb and continued down the street. By the time she got to the boulevard, she was completely soaked, her hair hanging limply in long waves along her face and her mascara smudged under her eyes. A shiver ran down her spine as another rivulet of cold rainwater made its way behind her collar and down her back.

She came to stand on the boulevard beneath the unbound leaden skies and watched the heavy rain fall from the mournfully grey clouds. It seemed to reflect the chaos in her head perfectly. Her skin now shivering with an icy chill, she propped herself on the barrier and looked out into the choppy dark blue waters of the river and breathed in full lungs of the cold breeze coming from the ocean. She looked at the whirls and foamy waves, but her mind was wandering elsewhere.

Raindrops caressing her face camouflaged the angry tears that came unbidden to her eyes. She didn't stop them. She let the cracks in her nature, which were normally held together so tight by the surrounding pressures of her work and obligations, be bare and soak in the rain. When she loosened her grip on her thoughts, they immediately gravitated to him. She gave up trying to stop them. He seemed to be all she could think about these days. Not only because of work or the information she needed from. The truth was that he was the only person she could really talk to about Tom. About so many important things.

Apart from Sam, he was the person that knew her best, he knew everything there was to know about her. And somewhere along the way, he had become not only an informant and an asset but a very important part of her life. The thing was, she sensed it wasn't like that for him. She knew she was many things to him but never just herself. Never just Lizzie. She was a means to an end. Penance for crimes committed long ago. A reminder of a dark past and fire.

The fire in which her father the spy had died. Had Red also been a spy? A member of the Cabal? Why was he there the night of the fire? Did…did he kill her father? Was that why he had been helping her from the shadows?

Suddenly a blue four-fingered hand of a luminous lightning grasped at the evening DC skyline and the wind coming from the river battered her shaking form. She pushed herself away from the barrier, looking around and trying to get her bearings. She had run farther than she thought.

When she managed to find a payphone a block away, there was only one number that came to her head. The only person that she knew would come for her, no questions asked or strings attached. She had thrown all that in his face today, even his concern for her safety. She clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering but her hands were shaking so badly she could barely dial the number. She knew it was not only from the rain and cold but also an overpowering fear. Fear that it had been him that night of the fire. And the realization how much she wished it wasn't true.

~o~O~o~

When the big black city car stopped by the curb ten minutes later, it wasn't Dembe who got out from behind the driver's wheel. Raymond Reddington, wearing a T-shirt and dark jeans, walked to her purposefully, concern etched on his face. Liz realized this was the first time she had seen him in something that wasn't a custom-made suit that cost more than a small town.

He looked more approachable like that. More touchable.

She gaped. "You own jeans?"

He took her miserable, drenched form in with disapproval. "Now is not the time to discuss my sartorial choices, Lizzie. You're freezing."

"You drove by yourself? I didn't know you even could."

"I had no choice. Dembe has a night out. And while driving is not my favorite pastime, I am perfectly capable, I can assure you."

The ride was a silent one and she didn't question it when instead of going to the motel, he took her to the posh apartment building he and Dembe were inhabiting this week. After showing her to her room, he gave her her space and left. She was not very surprised to find the room and the adjacent bathroom had a fine supply of clothes in her size, an equally impressive collection of bathroom supplies in all kinds of citrus notes that she so liked, and everything else she could need.

When she was finally feeling like a human being again, showered and wearing clean clothes, she got in the bed and covered herself with a thick layer of blankets to warm herself up. It wasn't helping as much as she would wish to and she was contemplating getting up to look for more blankets (which, she knew, Red had in abundance wherever he went) when she heard a soft knock.

She buried herself deeper under the covers. "Come in."

Red strolled in with a mug in his hand. "Is everything fine?"

"Yes, although I feel somewhat disturbed that you apparently carry around with you clothes and bathroom supplies for me."

He raised an eyebrow at her, asking teasingly, "Who ever said it was for you?"

She pursed her lips and motioned at the mug in his hand. "I haven't pinned you as a mug kind of guy. What's in there?"

"It's not mine, it's for you," he said, coming closer but still keeping his distance. "This one time I was in Austria many years ago, I got stranded after barely escaping an avalanche while skiing off piste. My elbow was sprained and it was getting dark, no hope of any rescue coming until morning. I thought I would freeze to death there on that slope. But then I heard barking and behind a magnificent German shepherd there appeared an equally magnificent Fraulein Margeritte. She set my elbow, brought me to her Schihütte and fed me this amazing warm-up concoction. I've been a fan ever since although I appreciated even more the other ways of warming up she showed me-"

"All right! All right! I've heard enough, just give me the damn drink," she interrupted, feeling her ears grow hot and taking the mug from his hands.

He gave her an amused smile, his eyebrow raised. "Be careful, it's quite strong. It has-"

"Exactly what I need," she interrupted, taking a big gulp and choking as the sweet strong liquid burned its way down her throat. "I didn't mean lighter fluid!" she exclaimed when she managed to get her voice back, eyeing both him and the mug with reproach.

"-Stroh," he finished, humor sparkling in his eyes. "A very strong Austrian rum so you should drink it slowly."

"Yeah, thanks for the warning," she said in between coughs.

"It will make you warm soon. Enjoy and have a good night, Lizzie," he said backing out.

She looked at his retreating back, putting the mug aside. She had treated him badly yet again today but at her first call, he had left everything and came for her, wearing a T-shirt and jeans, a fact that made it all the more unusual. And now when he smiled at her and teased her, it made her warm inside without the help of any rum. She could not ignore that.

"Red?"

After a beat came a guarded, "Yes?"

Maybe it was the strong alcohol already taking effect on her empty stomach or maybe it was something else altogether, but she asked, "Can you come back here for just a moment?"

He slowly walked back towards her bed, coming to perch uncomfortably on the very edge by her side. He waited for her to continue, her face half hidden in the darkness.

"I know my father was a member of the Cabal and he stole the Fulcrum in the first place." She noticed him stiffen but apart from that there was no sign from him he had even heard her.

After a long silence, he finally whispered, "It's not that simple, Lizzie."

"I won't ask you about it," she reserved. "You don't need to give me another speech about my safety. Honestly, I don't think I want to know any more now. I just need you to answer one question for me, Red. And I need you to tell me the truth."

I have never lied to you, came to echo through his thoughts and he cursed himself inwardly for taking his greatest advantage from himself so carelessly, the ability to talk himself out of almost anything, and handing it to her on a silver platter.

"Did you kill my real father?"

Her question hung between them in the complete silence that followed. Red seemed frozen and she wished she could see his face. Suddenly his voice cut through the dense void between them. It was low, gravelly and deadly serious.

"No."

She didn't doubt him for a second and the huge relief washing over her at his denial told her more about her feelings than any words ever could. She realized how much she had hoped that would be his answer and how much she had feared it wouldn't be. If it wasn't, she would never be able to get over it, and the thought of him disappearing from her life brought about the worst nightmares.

She looked back at him, his head hung low and his hands clasped tightly together as if he was holding himself back.

When I fall asleep, I have nightmares about you," she said quietly.

He swallowed at the sudden change in topic, a sudden roaring in his ears making it difficult to focus. He had been witness to one of those nightmares not long ago so it wasn't anything new to him but nothing could prepare him for the shock of hearing her admit it out loud. This conversation had already shaken him up more than he thought it ever could but to learn at the end of it that she was afraid of him-

His vision blurry, he couldn't bring himself to look up at her so instead he focused his gaze on his hands. On the colourful pattern on the carpet. His sock-clad feet. Anything but the frightened, disgusted look on her face that he was sure was there.

When she spoke again, it was in a louder voice, "You're always there protecting me, and getting hurt. That's when I start to scream."

What? He blinked, his damp startled eyes coming up to meet her gaze.

She gave him a small, broken smile. "I am furious with you. I hate that you keep things from me and manipulate me and think it's OK since you're doing it to protect me. But on some level, I think I knew about Tom, about the fire, all of it, for a long time. I'm furious because you haven't told me yourself. Because I had to find out from Tom. I'm furious about this whole situation."

And she should be. He expected no less. He wanted to look away but found he couldn't, his eyes glued to hers.

"Still, that doesn't mean I've stopped caring about you."

He stared at her, too startled to move a single muscle.

"That's not how it works," she continued, seemingly unaware of his sudden complete stillness. "When someone you care about screws up, you get angry, don't speak to them, maybe punch something or have a long run in the cold rain but you don't give them up," she said. "This is not what's going on here."

He was speechless. She took in his startled expression and continued, "So I'm going to be mad with you for a time. I need to stay angry and you need to let me…but I won't abandon you, Red."

"I'm sorry, Lizzie," he finally managed to choke out. It was so inadequate, so incomparable to the gravity of her words that he wanted to drop to his knees and apologize over and over but then her hand was on his.

"I know," she said softly.

The shadows under his eyes grew deeper with the late hour, and the harsh light streaming through the window next to the bed seemed to add to the weight of guilt and anguish he was carrying on his shoulders.

"I know," she repeated. "And I want to work through this. I just need some time."

"Take all the time you need," he said softly. I don't deserve it but if it means you can ever truly forgive me for barging into your life bringing nothing but chaos and death, take all the time in the world. I'll be waiting.

Not trusting his voice, he squeezed her hand lightly and got up. "Go to sleep now, Lizzie," he finally managed, his voice low and husky with the strain not to reveal too much emotion. He needed to get out of there or he would not be able to keep hold on his expression for her not to see too much. He quickly got up and headed to the door.

"Goodnight, Ray," she replied sleepily.

He froze in the doorway with his back to her, his hand stiffening on the door handle. When he slowly turned, she was with her back to him, already sound asleep. He wasn't sure she even realized she had called him by his first name but he would keep this moment in the confines of his vast memory forever. He locked the door quietly behind him and allowed a smile, a genuine happy smile he hadn't enjoyed in a long while, crease his lips.

tbc.

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