A/N- This is an AU fic and I have been avoiding posting it because I am just so unsure about it. I find myself really in love with the possibilities. If you don't like it though, I will just write it for me to get it out of my head

Liz has always know she was different. Memories of smoke, fire, and fighting haunt her dreams. The problem is that she has no idea if the memories are hers or someone else's.

She can sense emotions, sometimes memories. She rationalizes it as an overdeveloped sense of empathy.

However, she has to be physically touching someone.

Helping an elderly woman across the street an accidental brush of the hand can bring the scent of Cinnamon and the warm vision of grandchildren playing in a yard. The vision can quickly change to a prison, screams, the scent of filth and fear. Tattoos on forearms. This loving grandmother has seen her share of horrors.

She avoids touch most of the time. Others, it pays to have an edge over your enemies and associates alike.

When you make your living as a thief, knowing the emotions, the intentions of the person you're dealing with is vital.

It has saved her life more than once.

Three months ago, while delivering a painting to an associate, was on such time. She makes a point to always shake hands. That time, she almost passed out. His malevolence cloying, her vision began to tint black. Visions of past crimes, rapes and murders flashing like an old movie reel in her mind. Desperate to stay calm and safe, she let the man go and immediately pulled her gun.

Most of the time she wore gloves. It was hard to stay aware and alert when constantly battling the thoughts, emotions, and memories of others.

Today she was sitting at a coffee shop, minding her own business and researching her next commission, a file of some sort, when a shadow fell over her laptop.

Looking up, annoyed at the intrusion, her exclamation died on her lips as she found herself staring into the deepest green eyes she'd ever seen.

His smile was absolutely assessing, predatory. His voice was gravelly, like nothing she had ever heard.

His suit bespoke of money, lots of money. The fedora adorning his head, tilted slightly to the side, hinted at mischief, a playfulness that was incongruous of his age, which she guessed to be around fifty.

"Hello, it's nice to finally meet you. I am your new business partner."

She smirked, "I very much doubt that. You see, I only do business with those that contact me through the appropriate channels."

He sat across from her, moving to reach for her hand but she jerked it away before he could make contact. Her gut was screaming at her that something was very, very wrong.

He didn't even blink at her reaction. "I find that doing business personally, face-to-face is so much more reliable. More…intimate. Besides, you need me. I have answers you want. I can tell you about your past."

"What makes you think I even want to know about my past? You can't change it. It serve no purpose for living in the now."

He removed his hat and laid it between them on the table, getting comfortable.

"Ah, but it can assist one in guidance for the future. And Lizzie, we absolutely have a future together."

She had never considered herself attracted to older men. She was never really attracted to any man beyond the first touch. Their perversions had no boundaries.

This. This man. He looked at her as if she was the Holy Grail.

She felt inexplicably drawn to him. Safe, although that sounds insane, even to her. She needed to get away from him.

"It seems you know my name, but I certainly don't know you."

"I know what you are looking for. I can tell you that you need me to find it."

Suspicious, she frowned even more deeply at him. "I can find no evidence of its existence. How do you know if no one in the world is sure? If they do, no amount of money is persuading them to talk. Do you have it?"

"There was a woman in the town I grew up in. Samantha Jones. She was the cautionary tale in our town. Our grandmothers would tell us 'Don't make faces or it will stick like that. Just ask Samantha Jones.'. One day as a teenager, I was dared to knock on her door and run away. I told them I could do one better and be invited into her house. So I walked up to the front door, knowing she was alone and offered to mow her grass for her. Turns out, her face was disfigured because she had fallen in love with the wrong man. She realized her mistake and tried to break it off. He decided that he would fix her so no one would ever want her again and too a knife to her face. She ended up being the most genuinely nice human being I have ever met. Baked like a dream to boot… Anyways, we can't always tell the measure of a person from their exterior, or can we?"

He knew. He knew about her curse. Somehow, with that ridiculous story he was letting her know that he knew.

Her curiosity was piqued, however and the hounds of hell couldn't drag her away from this man. He was captivating.

At her wide-eyed gaze he chuckled. It vibrated within her and they weren't even touching. "How remiss of me to forget my manners. My name is Raymond Reddington."

He held out his hand to shake. She thought for a second about ignoring him, but she had to know his intentions. She needed to see what he was thinking.

She grasped his hand and everything went black.

Tbc…

A/N- I am so nervous about this fic! I have never attempted an AU, but this idea just keeps coming back to me! Please let me know what you think! Seriously. Should I keep going?