The Ocean Between Us
A/N: I just wanted to say 'thank you' to the reviewers who take the time to give so much encouragement. You've helped me keep the flame of this story idea alive. I truly appreciate it.
A/N2: This story, and especially this chapter, was outlined long before we got to the Season 2 finale so as I mentioned before, it varies from the canon.
And as always, a big thank you to inmate23 for her help and encouragement!
Disclaimer: Still have nothing to do with TBL except for obsessing over it;)
Chapter 10
Overwhelmed
Under swept away
Things that we can but we won't really say
Two things are enough for me to know
You need to leave and I can see how you'd go
We'd find the part
If we looked too deep
But two hearts like ours
Are better left to their own mystery
~ Don Brownrigg, There Is Nothing
"Don't give me that look."
Liz didn't even have to see Dembe to know he was giving her one of his silent half-admonishing, half-exasperated gazes. He had been giving her a lot of these lately. She sighed. It was a lovely morning and the sunlight was gold on the floor and on Liz's hair as she turned to face the bodyguard, frustration evident in her face and movements.
"I should at least be able to shoot paint balls at you while you do that," Dembe responded with a straight face and an innocent shrug as he watched the woman in front of him resume her pacing.
"I'm treating it as part of my PT," she retorted. "The doctor told me to move the leg as much as possible after he took the compressive wrap off."
Dembe raised an eyebrow. "I'm fairly certain that is not what he had in mind when he said you were to move it, Elisabeth."
Liz shot him a sharp glance, trying to quash the smile that was fighting its way to her lips.
Red had been quite adamant about her staying with him and Dembe until Connolly wasn't taken care of, and Cooper had made it clear to her he wasn't letting her in the Post Office until she was fully fit for duty. Thus in the last days she had been recuperating in Red's hideaway, spending literally all her time with the bodyguard. After the kidnapping Red had assigned Dembe to personally watch over her and although she had bristled at that at first, in the end she had to admit she liked the company. Dembe had proven to be a really good companion and once he seemed to finally get comfortable enough with her, she got to understand why Red appreciated and relied on him so much. He was wise, had a sharp wit and was calmer than Buddha. She even started doing meditating exercises with him, something for which she had never had enough patience before.
And then there were the stories. Dembe was almost as good a story-teller as Red and he had regaled her with recounts of his and Red's exploits around the world – some scary, some hilarious and others just plain embarrassing. If she ever wanted to blackmail Red, she now had so much material she could write a whole book. Apart from their value as leverage, the stories also served as a good distraction and helped to get her mind off the darker paths it was prone to stray to these days. Red himself was almost never in, obviously planning something big with regard to the Connolly situation and not including her yet again. For once, though, she was glad as she really didn't want to even look him in the eye for fear of what he might see in her gaze. So she preferred to keep her distance. And pace.
Once she had cried out the initial shock and anguish over her newly discovered feelings that memorable night last week, she seemed to have reached a state of stoic resignation. All she seemed to have these days was time to think and although normally she hated inactivity, this time it was actually proving helpful for coming to terms with…well, with everything. The l-word was still stuck in her throat and seemed quite surreal. She gritted her teeth. It had taken her long enough to realize it but how was it that Red didn't see it? He knew everything about her and could read her like an open book so how could he have not known? The only answer was he did and chose to ignore it because he didn't reciprocate her feelings. He treated her like his daughter or a protégé, not as a woman and his equal. She had seen the type of women that appealed to Raymond Reddington and she was nowhere near being mature or experienced enough for such a world-wise, consummate man. But if she couldn't have that, she believed she deserved at least a little bit of trust from him.
She let her lips crease into a thin line.
"Dembe, every single time when I think I can trust him, a new manipulation or scheme comes up that basically throws it all through the window," she threw her hands up in frustration. "I don't think I can take any more deflections and half-truths."
"Liz, you have got to look at the bigger picture here," Dembe expostulated slowly. "He is doing it for your own good. Everything he's ever done has been with that one aim in mind."
"It's a bit much," she replied flatly, "-to ask me just to believe Red at face value."
"Well, you could start off by actually talking to him. Or I will."
"Don't you dare, Dembe," Liz warned him, looking mutinous. "He's been avoiding me as much as I have him."
"Yes, he has," Dembe admitted. "Because that's what you wanted, for him to leave you alone. You have to understand that for the last twenty-five years your interest has been his priority. He doesn't even think about it any more. It's like an impulse, subconscious and instinctive. So if anything between the two of you is ever going to change, you're going to have to be the one who changes it. Because he cares about you too much to ever think about himself or what he wants when it comes to you. You set the terms, Elisabeth, and he will respect that above all else."
Liz stopped her pacing, and focused all her attention on the bodyguard.
"His interest is his key priority, Dembe," she replied truculently but she knew her stubbornness and conviction was starting to crumble underneath the bodyguard's words, leaving a clouded feeling of unease. "I may be of some importance to him but all this time he has been protecting himself above all else. He may give me all the assurances in the world but his actions speak louder than words and they speak one thing: self-interest and lack of trust," she finished, feeling each word cut through her and wanting Dembe to contradict her.
He didn't. Not at first.
"The actions that you know of," he finally said quietly, avoiding her gaze.
She furrowed her eyebrows. "What does that mean?"
"It is not for me to tell," he replied sadly and went out, leaving her alone and even more confused.
~o~O~o~
Red placed his fedora on the nightstand and gently perched on the edge of Lizzie's bed. For a moment he simply soaked in the comfort of her closeness, looking at her sleeping form, for once relaxed and calm. The night had fallen some time ago and he had yet again waited for when she was asleep before he came back. She had been understandably angry and disappointed with him in the last days and he respected her right to feel this way. He had maintained the distance she obviously needed and although it hurt him, like always he respected her wishes.
The gentle moonlight filtering in through the window threw the hollows under her eyes into relief, the angle of her cheekbones, painting her face with its own colors of silver and argent. Making her almost hurtfully beautiful to look at. Certainly, something inside him hurt.
Every time he caught a glimpse of her these days, she seemed tense and sad. He never wanted to see her like that again. This had to end now. He would get rid of this last obstacle and be gone from her life because all he had brought her was trouble and chaos and pain. Letting out a strained sigh, he leaned in and placed the gentlest of kisses on her cheek.
He froze like that for a moment, burning the moment, the goodbye, into his memory, before suddenly getting back onto his feet and crossing the room to the door.
"It's time, Dembe," he said when he closed the door and strode off, handing his bodyguard a card on the way. "Call the number from the car."
The fedora remained on the nightstand.
~o~O~o~
"I hope you have good news for me, Mr. Reddington," Tom Connolly sneered at Red as he put his coat closer around him.
Red's glance swept disparagingly around the warehouse and then landed on the other man. "If I didn't know you better, I would be tempted to think you choose these dingy places just to spite me."
Connolly let out a harsh laugh. "You have to have a hobby."
Red raised his eyebrows. "Organized crime and blackmailing not doing it for you?"
Connolly's smile faded. "I hope you've held your side of the bargain or-"
"Please, Tom, again with the threats," Red interjected him with a short laugh. "They are as dull as they are long. Have you been reading War and Peace again?"
"I swear, Reddington, once this is done, I will-"
"Better not swear anything at this time, Tom. I might hold you to your word," Red said in a light voice that, however, hid an undertone of steel. "Just as I always keep mine," he finished and moved a little to the side, allowing another person to step into the light.
"Hello, Tom," said the Director pleasantly. "I hear you've been wanting to meet me."
Connolly blinked, taken aback completely. And then he took a step back, noticing the gun in the man's hand.
"That wasn't very wise, Tom, because unfortunately, I have no need for your services," the Director continued with a small mock pout. "And you know far too much for me to just let you continue."
"Wait-"
Connolly didn't get to finish as three shots cut through his voice and body, silencing him for eternity.
The Director didn't spare him another glance as he turned back to Red with a satisfied smile.
"There. Two birds killed with one stone," he announced happily.
Red felt a feeling of foreboding creep up his spine.
"Tom Connolly and Elisabeth Keen," the Director continued in a conversational tone. "I thought it would be entertaining to combine the both to the Organization's interest," he said with a thin smile, looking at the gun in his gloved hand. "I do like standard issue weapons. They are so easy to get a hold of. This one, for example, belongs to Agent Keen. It has her fingerprints all over. Combined with my testimony and the unexpectedly leaked information about her past that will shortly appear on the Washington Post's website, it should do the trick nicely."
Red strove to keep a straight face but he felt his stomach drop to the floor.
The Director continued with a pleasant smile, "This must feel a little like déjà vu for you, Mr. Reddington. Like twenty years ago, this is a warning. We can do what we want. We can get to anyone. We can do everything we deem necessary to secure our interests. And we can and will take away everything that you hold dear if you as much as breathe the word Fulcrum."
Red felt his blood turn to ice as his suspicion crystallized into certainty. He would not be the one leaving tonight after all.
Lizzie would be.
"You are playing with fire," he ground out. "And you know what happens to those who do."
"Oh, I think it's more of a spark," the other man replied with a harsh laugh. "I can quash it with my little finger."
Police sirens sounded in the distance.
"I suggest you hurry up," the Director advised with an arrogant smile. "I'll give you a head start of twelve hours to get her out of the country before she becomes public enemy number one. That's more time than you had twenty years ago but I'm feeling merciful tonight. Let's see how good the Concierge of Crime really is. And then the hunt begins."
The time for talking was done. Red swept away without another word, several plans at once formulating in his head.
"Dembe, a phone. And in the mean time, you call Cooper."
This was only the beginning. After all, even the smallest spark could make the world burn.
~o~O~o~
Liz woke up to a thick, inky darkness covered in sweat and panting heavily. The hour was still very young but she knew she would not be able to fall asleep again. The nightmares about the fire had been getting more pronounced after the kidnapping but never like tonight. There had never been a shot before. A gun in her child self's hand, just like when she had aimed Red's gun at Tom on the ship.
On the verge of hyperventilating, she closed her eyes. Contorted, hazy flashes of fire and heat and fear assaulted her instantly and she bolted upright to a seating position. She got up and shivering, brought a blanket over her shoulders. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness around her, her glance caught the fedora on her nightstand. She touched her fingers to the soft material gently and somehow, she felt a little better knowing Red had been here.
As she padded to the sitting room, the house was eerily quiet and Dembe was nowhere to be seen. The fireplace was still going when she sat herself on the couch opposite the hearth, letting her gaze and thoughts be swallowed once again by the flames, with the fedora placed on the coffee table as her companion. It was a bit as if Red was there with her.
She had no idea how much time had passed but it was after the fire had died out and the tears on her cheeks had dried that she felt the weight of the couch shift and saw Red sit next to her.
"Lizzie," he spoke in a gentle, low tone after a moment. "Are you OK?"
"We need to talk," she stated, turning towards him.
"Yes, we do," he agreed.
"I remember, Red."
That seemed to have taken him by surprise. She saw him take in a quick breath before he asked, "Remember what?"
"The fire. The memories have been growing stronger ever since the ship," she explained. "And now I think I know what happened. Parts of it at least."
"Which parts?" he rasped out.
"Tell me about my parents, please," she beseeched him. "Tom was telling the truth that one time, wasn't he? My father was a member of the Cabal."
He knew that when he looked at her, his face was full of grief, a dull, heavy, angry grief that he would never find the words to say. He never wanted her to know but circumstances had changed dramatically and it was the least he could do before she left, give her her past back. At least parts of it. Some parts he would forever keep buried inside.
"I loved James and Katrina," he started slowly in a breaking tone. "They were my friends. We began in the Cabal together back when it was a small organization of idealists from all over the world who wanted to bring an end to the Cold War. But under the lead of a new director it quickly began to rot from the head, becoming everything that we fought against. When we saw what it had become, we devised a plan to get out and steal the Fulcrum as insurance. But someone betrayed Katrina and James and the Cabal learned too quickly that they had stolen the Fulcrum. As we had agreed, I was still in just in case, with no suspicion on me, and was sent to get the Fulcrum and eliminate your parents and you." He let out a shuddering breath. He never thought relieving those events would be more painful than actually participating in them but he was wrong. Looking into Lizzie's eyes as he recounted that day was the greatest, most acute pain he had ever felt. "When I got to your house, I was met with James and Katrina arguing in their bedroom. Katrina still had some contacts in Russia and she wanted to take the Fulcrum and you back there but James would not let that happen. As I listened, I realized it was he who had betrayed her. Betrayed us. He had cut an immunity deal with the director in exchange for her and the Fulcrum. Katrina took out a gun and aimed it at him. There was a short scuffle-
"-and my father knocked the gun out of my mother's hand," Liz interjected, her tone flat and her gaze shining with unshed tears as she stared with unseeing eyes into the fire and described the events now clear in her head, "I was there, hiding in the corner. The gun…it landed by my feet. I picked it up and aimed it at my father. The next thing I knew, he was lying on the floor. He wasn't moving."
She looked at Red to see his eyes take on a terrible stare of pain like she had never seen in them before.
He let his head drop. He had fought so hard to keep this part of the past away from her but in the end he had failed miserably.
"I never wanted you to find out," he rasped out.
The tears stinging her eyes would not be tamed any longer and she felt them scorch a hot trail over her cheeks and land on her tightly clasped hands. "All this time I thought you were protecting yourself," she spoke in a low, breaking voice. "You allowed me to disregard and despise you and led me to think you were looking only after yourself. But it was all for me. You've been carrying this burden – my burden – on your shoulders all this time. You…you let me hate you just so that I wouldn't hate myself."
"I would do the same thing again, Lizzie."
"I know." She gave him a teary smile. "And what happened to my mother?"
He looked into the embers slowly dying in the hearth and didn't continue until once he was sure his voice wouldn't betray him. "The Cabal sent a team after me to finish the job. I was not to make it out of there, either. They had set up fire to the house. It was spreading so fast. There was smoke everywhere. So much smoke. We had to get out fast. Katrina was wounded from the scuffle so I took you and she was supposed to lead the way out back. By that time, the fire was raging around us. And then the ceiling fell down. Your mother…she was fatally wounded and I couldn't get her out. She made me promise I would take care of you. I was in shock and would have probably let the fire consume me alive with her right then and there, but then I heard you coughing. You were so small and scared and clutching a little white stuffed bunny, and I knew I had to get you out of there. Not only because I promised it to a dying friend but because in that moment I realized my life wasn't my own anymore. It was yours and I would do anything for you. And that's how it's been ever since."
As his last words died down, Liz swallowed hard. She was reeling, her thoughts a bewildered, anguished and jumbled mess. She had misjudged Red so completely and he had let her. He had allowed her to think the worst of him, treat him so harshly and mistrust him, just so that she could keep her emotional integrity and not get hurt by the truth. This wasn't love. This was so much more than love that she didn't even have the words to name it. Men like this simply didn't exist.
"And that is why you will allow me to do this for you as well," his voice brought her out of her stunned stupor. She looked at him, not understanding what he meant.
"Tom Connolly is dead," he continued gravely. "Shot by the Director who has framed you for it and made you into a KGB sleeper agent," he said, turning on the TV where the first headlines of the DA's murder were beginning to appear.
"Tell me what I can do."
If it were any other situation, he would have reveled at how much she had grown and how strong she was. Even as she watched her whole world crumble to ruins around her, she remained calm and collected, ready for action. Had he been even half as put-together twenty years ago, his life would look quite different right now.
He closed his eyes, turning away from her before she could see the moisture in them, the unspent tears he refused to shed because it would do nothing...change nothing.
"You need to get out of the country while Cooper and I handle this."
"Red-"
"You need to be safe, Lizzie," he emphasized, not letting her put up any argument. "Safe and far away from here because otherwise they will get to you. They will get to you and burn you at the stake. I will clear your name if that is the last thing I do but to do that, I need to know you are safe and sound because or I won't be able to do what I have to do."
He silently handed her the small travelling bag he had brought with him.
Liz looked into his eyes for a long while. Then she wordlessly reached out her hand and clasped her fingers over his holding the bag, giving them a short squeeze. Then she took the bag.
~o~O~o~
As Liz climbed the ramp up to Red's jet, a lonely gust of wind raked through her hair and tore at her coat, somehow reflecting the coriolis wind that froze her heart and soul. It whistled through the very framework of her being and made her stop. The ride to the small private runway from where she would take the first flight out of several jump flights that were to thwart any pursuit attempts, was a silent one. She had far too much weighing on her shoulders to form coherent thoughts let alone sentences.
Now, however, as she stared inside the jet, the reality of her situation suddenly hit her with full force. Dropping the bag in her hand, she turned back and ran down the stairs, colliding with Red.
"Thank you," she whispered, hiding her face in his shoulder. "I believe I have never really thanked you for protecting me all this time. For protecting my very soul at the cost of your own. How do you even thank for that?"
"You don't," he replied, his voice low as he slowly brought his arms around her. "And you will never have to, Lizzie."
"Through all of it," she continued, ignoring his words. "-you've become the one constant in my life. The one person that I can truly trust. I understand that now."
She pulled back, her face inches before his, her gaze meeting his. A tremor seemed to sweep over Red's face, as if some hope had entered into him like a sword, intolerable and foreign. He opened his mouth but words that he would not speak – was not allowed to speak – died on his lips. He could feel her breath on his cheek and he inhaled deeply. After several agonizing moments, he shook his head and brought his forehead softly to hers, closing his eyes. Then, as if an electric shock went through him, he exhaled sharply and moved a step back.
"Have a safe trip, Lizzie," he gave her a tight smile. His face was once again smooth and still in the way she had learned signaled highest control.
Her lips creased in a bittersweet smile and she nodded. "I don't even know where I'm going, Red."
"Somewhere beautiful," he replied. "And far away. An ocean between us."
"We will see each other again, Red," she said, letting her voice break a little. She knew it showed on her face but she stopped minding showing her vulnerability to him.
"Try to live your life, Lizzie, and don't look back."
Deflection. Coming from him, it was as good as a definite answer. She closed her eyes for a moment against the surge of heartbreak that his words evoked. This felt too much like he was saying goodbye to her, the finality of his words weighed on her shoulders like anvils. She opened her eyes and looked at him. His face was frozen in that neutral, calm expression that he so often used but his eyes were shining, a certain desperation in them. She swallowed, on the verge of a decision that wasn't even really up to her. Not anymore. Because when it came to him, her free will was not her own anymore. She had no control. She was powerless.
With that thought, both liberating and enslaving, she brought her lips gently to his. For a moment all that mattered was his mouth on hers, his heart pounding against her own, and she wanted to drown in it, wanted to drown in him, in the hard grip of his arms on her back, the softness of his mouth, the pressure of his body against hers but she knew it was not to be. With a sadness that overshadowed everything else, she pulled away as suddenly as she had leaned in.
Feeling her cheeks bloom and avoiding Red's gaze, she turned to Dembe and hugged him tightly.
"Be safe," she whispered into his ear and placed a kiss on his cheek.
She stepped away and added, more loudly, "Take care of him for me, Dembe."
The other man gave her a nod, his eyes suspiciously glassy.
Then she finally turned back to Red, who hadn't moved an inch, frozen in his spot. She made herself look up into his face.
His expression was unfathomable but his eyes spoke volumes. There was a sorrow and finality in them and so much emotion that she had to close her eyes for a moment not to cry again. When she reopened them, she placed a lingering hand on the side of his face. Then after a beat, her features smoothed and she moved away, dragging her fingertips gently over the coarse skin of his cheek.
"Take care of yourself," she said, and when he still wouldn't reply, she nodded and gave him a small smile.
Then, just as her hand was about to fall to her side and she was to move out of his reach, Red's hand shot out, catching her fingers. He gently squeezed her fingers and she reciprocated the touch. Then he let her hand go, clearing his throat.
When he spoke, his voice was low and coarse, as if he was keeping himself hard from saying something else. "You should be going, Lizzie. Be careful and don't look back."
She gave him a little nod and stepped onto the stairs for the second time.
When she was a safe distance away, Red let a shuddering sigh escape his lips, which were still tingling with the memory of her lips on them. That one chaste kiss was like coming home after a long journey, like rain after years on the desert. As much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn't let her see that. It would be selfish. He had hidden his feelings for her for so long and he couldn't let it show now. Otherwise all of it, all the pain and sorrow would have been for nothing. She deserved a clean slate, a new life away from all the mess and chaos and violence, away from him. She deserved to be let go. And he loved her enough to do so. That would be his last gift to her.
"Goodbye, Lizzie," his voice carried on the breeze that had swept through the now open door to the hangar to reach her ears but it was so quiet she was sure it wasn't his intention for her to hear it. For a moment, she thought he was crying.
She slammed to a halt on the last step and pivoted slowly.
No, he wasn't crying.
He just looked very, very broken.
It was in the way his gaze was riveted to the tarmac rather than the leaving plane, and the tight angle of his shoulders.
She swallowed hard, quenching the urge to run down again and find herself in his arms, wipe that air of sorrow and desperation away from his face and posture. But it was too late for that.
"Miss Keen?" the voice of the air hostess calling her on board made both of them jump.
For a second before she turned, she caught his eyes one last time. They were so open and so, so vulnerable as he looked up at her. For once he seemed to not mind that she saw him like this, his eyes conveying so much emotion it was almost hard to look at. Her breath caught in her throat. He wasn't counting on ever seeing her again. Otherwise he would never let her see him like this. She gave him a small nod.
Then she squared her shoulders and stepped on board.
tbc.
Don't worry, we're not done yet! There is more left and I hope you'll stay tuned. In the mean time, I'd love it if you dropped me even a word or two on how you liked this:) It makes all the effort worth it and is greatly appreciated!