First of all. Sorry for the delay, but I've been busy with RL and work. Thanks for your continuing support!
The next chapter should be done in a few days. I'll try to write faster, I promise!
A huge thanks to my beta inmate23.
I would like to hear your opinions about this one. Are you still interested? Is it too slow-paced, or even boring?
The next fifteen minutes were the longest in Lizzie's life. Dembe finally woke up, and hauled Tom's corpse behind the garbage bins. Lizzy, however, never left Red's side and tried to talk to him multiple times. Even though the wound on his shoulder didn't look threatening they couldn't be sure, if he was suffering from internal bleeding. She was far from a religious person, but she prayed that wasn't the case. Internal bleeding usually meant surgery. If he had to have surgery, he'd have to rest for weeks. The problem was they don't have weeks. They have only 5 more days.
When Mr. Kaplan and her team arrived, she ordered to move Red to a warehouse nearby, while she was cleaning up the alley. Dembe and Lizzy heaved him up into the backseat, before they drove in the direction of the warehouse. Red's head rested in her lap all the while, and her hand was occasionally checking for his pulse. Turning on the light, she carefully pulled the beanie off his head, and looked for further injuries. He had a few bruises on his right temple and a small cut above his eyebrow. His shoulder, on the other hand, was still bleeding. She took off her scarf and put pressure on the wound. It was then when a quiet groan escaped him, but he still kept his eyes closed. She leaned her upper body slightly more forward, and cupped his cheek to turn his head in her direction. After her third try to get his attention, Lizzy eventually gave up, and was glad when Dembe parked the car in front of an old industrial building. She saw a silhouette standing outside with a stretcher. Dembe hopped out and was still utterly calm. He must have seen Red a lot worse during the recent years. With the help of the other medic, they laid him down and shoved him inside.
The doctor cut his hoodie open and examined him for further injuries. It was no surprise that his body was covered with bruises in shades of purple and green. Lizzy was anything but relaxed, given the fact that this building didn't look sterile. She could only hope he wouldn't get a infection. She cleared her throat and pointed to his shoulder. "Is this safe?"
Dembe and the other older man, who must have been around Red's age, turned around and gave her a puzzled look as if they just have realized that she was even there. Eventually Red's friend accompanied her and leaned against the stone wall next to the stretcher.
"He's going to stitch him back together and do an ultrasound to make sure he isn't suffering from internal bleeding." Dembe informed her calmly and checked the time on his wrist watch. "You can wait in the car if you want."
She shook her head and wound her arms around her body. The recent events were replayed in her head over and over again. How she watched Red standing there, how Tom's arms clasped Red's throat, the knife in his shoulder and finally how the bullet hit her ex-husband.
She clung harder to her coat as the disturbing thoughts drifted through her mind. Sure, she had killed Tom only to keep Red safe and she would definitely do that again but for the first time she killed someone in cold blood. When did she become this person? A year ago, she didn't have it in her and she shouldn't have it in her. She was an agent after all. Was it because of the things Tom did to her and what he was going to do to Red, or was it an impulse she had to indulge?
She had always been impulsive and volatile and it was probably Red who led her to the dark side. He would have done the same thing for her and it would have probably pleased him to kill Tom with his own hands. That was the one remaining difference between them. It didn't please her, but scared the hell out of her.
It was Dembe who pulled her back to reality by carefully leading her toward the exit. She was getting tired and it wouldn't take long for her to fall asleep, but she needed answers. Answers from Red. For once in her life, Liz wanted the whole truth. What was Tom's role in this whole charade? She needed to see the bigger picture. If Tom did business with Red and he lied to her, what was she supposed to do then? Even the thought made her feel sick. What if Red didn't care that much about her? What if - ?
She took the passenger seat and informed Dembe about her rented car, which was still located in the alley. After he told her that he would take care of that he excused himself to acquire a safe house for the night. Her eyes fluttered shut in spite of herself and she fell into a surprisingly peaceful slumber.
Liz woke up as Dembe had already parked the car at their destination for the night. She unbuckled her seat belt and looked behind her for Red but he was nowhere so be seen. Her eyes switched from the back to the driver's seat with a slight hint of panic.
"He is fine, Agent Keen." He reassured her and went out of the vehicle. His boss and friend was silent during their ride, which was probably due to the sedative, or the fact that Liz had followed them behind his back. He only hoped that the new established 'relationship' wouldn't suffer from this.
"Where is he? I need to talk to him."
He opened the thick wooden door and pushed her inside before anybody would see them. It wasn't safe for them to stay longer than necessary but Red's injury prevented them from going back just now. "He is in the master bedroom, second floor, first door on the left." Dembe told her, "But he might be sleepy due to Vicodin."
His last words went by unnoticed. She took two steps at once, suddenly wide awake with only one thought in mind. Wrecking Raymond Reddington. Her fingers wound around the doorknob and she entered his room without permission. Liz found him standing in front of the window with his back to her. His shoulders rose and fell slowly and his injured arm hung in a sling. As mad, or confused she might have been before, seeing him very much alive made her feel less mad toward him. Damn this man and his appearance. Apparently wrecking him wasn't an option anymore.
"What do you want, Lizzy?" He asked her without turning around, his voice flat, almost emotionless.
"Tom. Why did you come here to meet Tom?" She responded in the same tone.
She approached the other side of the window and looked out into the night, too much afraid that she might find vulnerability in his eyes and that it might break her.
He shifted his weight on his other foot and leaned his healthy shoulder against the frame.
"This room used to be my favorite. I hated it when I first saw it but when I lay in bed one night, I saw the beauty of this room when the moonlight shined through this window."
Her lips parted slightly to ask him what he meant, but he caught her furrowed brows and cocked his head to the side, while his lips turned upwards to a lazy smile.
"I am going to give you the answers you deserve, but promise me that you won't judge me too soon. Try, at least for once, to look behind the shell."
She nodded and whispered a quiet "Okay," as her eyes focused on him, and only him.
"Marcus Havering was Tom's new identity. He got the papers from me after you let him go."
He heard her gasp for air and immediately went on before she could interrupt him.
"I only did it, because I wanted him gone, Lizzy. Away from you. I had to choose between killing him and sending him away, and I knew that you would hate me if I had killed him, so I gave him new passports and some money." He paused for a short moment to study her, but whatever she might have felt at the moment, she didn't show it.
"The reason I had to track him down was that he is tied to the Fulcrum. I'm almost certain that he stole it, because its former owner wanted it back."
She shook her head in sheer disbelief. Its former owner was her father. The person who died in a fire. How did that fit?
"I'm not sure I understand."
"I think that Tom worked for your father all these years." Again, he paused and swallowed hard.
"What? You told me he's dead."
He could even see through the dimly lit room that she was more than confused. Gently, he held out his hand, a silent invitation which she, to his surprise, accepted almost immediately. Red guided her to the foot of his bed to sit on it. His palm ran tiredly over his scalp as he prepared himself for the following, and perhaps most unbearable minutes. Red sat down next to her, causing the mattress to dip and soon after he felt her body leaning closer to his.
"A few years ago I was looking for a traitor who had to take care of some business for me. A close associate of mine told me about a young man, named Jacob Phelps. He promised me that this man is careful and trustworthy. I contacted him, but we never met personally, because I have trusted my partner to introduce him to our business plans. The background checks were clean, at least that was what my associate had told me. I learned later on that I was played by both of them. It was a terrible mistake of mine to trust him implicitly, but he had always been loyal. Both had seemed to be loyal to me. As I already told you I became suspicious when Jacob aka Tom bought passports.
I tried to follow him, but he simply disappeared from one day to another until he was inserted in your life by Berlin." He drew in a shaky breath and continued looking to the wall opposite from them. When she didn't say anything he continued, "It turned out that he was sort of a triple agent. Eventually, I found out that he was inserted in my own, as well as Berlin's business and I didn't need a minute to figure out why."
"Because of me." She finished his thought.
He gave her a short nod, but still avoided looking at her.
"Exactly. My guess is that your father wanted Tom to work for Berlin. He wanted someone to be close to you, maybe to protect you. From me and Berlin."
"If Tom wanted to protect me, then why did he hold a gun to my head?"
"He would have never shot you. Tom knew I was inside that building and he only wanted to see me wrecked. I don't have many people left I care about and Tom knows I would have suffered a great deal, if he had - " He ended mid sentence because he couldn't bear the thought.
"But if my father is as smart as you say he is, why does he think you would hurt me?"
Red chuckled humorously and turned his head to face her. "I broke into his house, knocked him out and stole valuable information and took his daughter with me. From his point of view, my actions didn't appear heroic at all."
Liz sighed and pushed herself away from the mattress.
"That's what you wanted from Tom? The Fulcrum?"
His eyes followed her movements and he answered quietly. "The current location of your father, if he's alive. I still don't know. I..., I didn't come up with a better idea than that. The Alliance wants it, I don't have it anymore, so there is only your father left in whose possession it could be at the moment."
She groaned out in frustration. She had actually shot the only person who could help them to find this item. Her fingers stroked absently over her scar while she ran up and down before him.
"If he cares for me and finds out that I'm in danger, he might come out of the hole he's hiding in."
"What exactly are you proposing, Lizzy?"
"We are gonna agree with the Alliance, Red. You get your daughter back and with some luck maybe the Fulcrum."
Red stood up abruptly and grabbed her wrist.
"I would never do that, not even in a parallel universe. This is suicidal. Once they have it and you're not of further value anymore. They. Will. Kill. You!"
Liz tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let her. His eyes alternated between a dangerous glint and concern.
"I screwed up your plan when I shot Tom, so please let me clean up that mess!"
"Why did you kill Tom anyway, Lizzy? A bullet in his arm or leg would have been enough." He asked, avoiding to agree to her idea.
His hold on her loosened a bit and he cocked his head to the side.
"He tried to kill you. I-, I couldn't let him do that. I was so afraid I would lose you."
Red's features softened in an instant, as the words left her mouth. He was angry that she followed him and endangered herself, but on the other hand he was utterly grateful that she saved him. She had chosen his life over Tom's. He shoved his hand in his pocket while he walked over to the window again.
"Thank you for saving Dembe and me."
"You've said you have a plan. What is it?"
"We still need to find the Fulcrum. If the wrong person gets it, hell will break lose. We will take care of that after I storm that damn bunker."
She came gradually to a halt behind his back and raised her eyebrows.
"And my idea is suicidal? You don't even know how much backup there is?"
"I guess you set up the meeting with Harold. If so, then my people will teaming up with yours."
He eventually turned around and smiled flatly. "I always have a plan B and after our meeting tomorrow, we will go to London to meet Mr Hobbs at a fancy dinner. Make sure you find a dress!"
Her mouth opened and closed again, as no coherent words left her.
"Who is this Mr Hobbs?"
He went over to the cabinet and poured them two fingers of his fine scotch.
"Someone from Fitch's alliance partners who doesn't appreciate their newly radical path." He handed her the tumbler.
"He's willing to share his information with us. To our knowledge the Fulcrum contains critical events about the past, whereas he can tell us about events in the nearer future. 2017 to be precise. If this is as important as Fitch implied, we may have a chance to blackmail them and prevent horrendous things to happen."
"Busy week then." She said before her lips closed around the rim of the glass to take a small sip. She was getting used to drinking in his presence. Whether this was a good, or a bad thing, she needed something to process all of this. Tom, Jacob, Marcus. Whatever his real name might have been. She will probably never find out. Red's plan was simply suicidal.
"Macallan?" Liz asked after a while.
"Yes." He answered a little surprised.
"It's not as spicy in the finish as the scotch we drank at your cabin," she said looking up,"and I only know that one."
Was she trying to impress him? If so, she succeeded. No, she impressed him anyway, but this was endearing.
Red swirled the tumbler around and smelled on the pale gold liquid. He looked from under his eyelashes at Liz. "It smells like vanilla, butterscotch and..." he growled and paused only to inhale another whiff and closed his eyes as a low hum of pleasure escaped from his lips. "And a hint of damson, don't you think, Lizzy?"
She wondered how this man was capable of making a simple thing, such as talking about the scent of scotch, so ridiculously sexy.
"Uhm, yeah..." she stuttered before she finished her drink in one gulp. Suddenly embarrassed about her behavior she put the tumbler on a small table, all the while avoiding his penetrating and smug gaze. She felt how her cheeks turned red and his stare made her knees weak. This man would be the death of her, but hopefully in a pleasurable way.
"I better take my leave. It's been a long day and you need to rest."
He nodded and watched her leaving, proud that he had such an effect on her. He couldn't be more excited to take her to London.