Nothing was worse than days off; maybe evenings during the weeks on days off. Special Agent Donald Ressler didn't love his job for nothing: it kept his head busy, distracted and as far away as possible from remembering a past that was irretrievable. Trying to concentrate on the football on TV he brought his beer back to his mouth just to realize with a sigh that the bottle was empty. Dropping the remote on the low table in front of him Ressler got up stroking the crinkles out of his T-shirts and tucking at his tracking pants. No one from work would recognizing him wearing that lazy clothing and his hair almost being a mess. This was his way of separating work from his personal life: getting out of his cases just like his suits. But then being dressed up at home wasn't something one did, was it.
As he closed the fridge again and placed the new bottle on the counter there was a knock on the door. This time he suppressed a sigh and rather frowned grumpily. At least it was a distraction, but who the hell would drop by at this time and not use the doorbell? There weren't many people that even knew where he lived and less he would have invited.
It took only a few steps to get the door and he wasn't entirely sure if he had hoped for or dreaded what was standing in the frame, wearing a black trench coat that seemed to be dripping from rain.
"How do you manage being single for that long?" Liz strolled into his apartment, like she had been here a thousand times, when he actually hadn't even been aware of her knowing his address.
Rezzler didn't answer, at least not with words but with a clenched jaw as she reminded him awfully on Reddington who definitely would have shown the same demeanor. He closed the door behind her and watched her pulling her gloves from her hands.

Their last case had been solved only two days ago and of course it had been one of Reddington's, yet it was just the same case that made Cooper order Ressler to take a few days off, since he got beaten up pretty bad until Keen had shot the target, even though they had wanted to get that man alive.
Donald's glance dropped on Liz's fingers. No rings. He breathed in deeply and headed for his beer, covering up the punch he felt in his stomach.
"Want one?" he asked, trying not to ponder whether he just hadn't noticed that she had stopped wearing her wedding and engagement ring, or that she had just decided to do so this very evening.
A part of him new that he would have seen that instantly, but he didn't allow his mind to wander into this direction, even though it was pulling right there like a hungry dog towards its home.
His eyes made sure not to graze her figure, even though he was aware of the fact that she was moving, probably looking around his dark apartment that was ruled by clear and wooden shapes. He could hear her take her coat off and hang it up, while he was opening his bottle. Also he couldn't see the expression that was on her face: determination with a hint of uncertainty.
As he looked at her and lifted the bottle into her direction all of this was gone hidden behind a mask of calmness that rather unsettled him. Still she hadn't answered his question and she breathed in deeply, as if she needed to relax.
"I'd better not", she said walking up to him slowly, eventually placing her right hand on the counter, and added an explanation: "Took the car."
His shoulders attempt to shrug, but somehow he wasn't able to continue that expression, because he kept asking himself why she was here at the first place. So he brought the bottle to his mouth and took a big gulp, hoping to swallow down whatever made him so nervous about her.
"So why're you here?" he asked blatantly, just like she would expect him to.
Ressler always came directly to the point, as long as he could keep his personal life out of it. Right now them being in his apartment it seems somewhat strange, but he still went with it, using this approach as a protective shield, now that he didn't wear a suit as armor. Just then he realized that being at the office it would have been the perfect target for Red, because Liz first words had been telling everything he needed to know.
"I just couldn't stay in that house all alone any longer", she answered and he wondered what had happened to their dog and why he didn't know; of course he was aware of the answer: because it wasn't his business.
Elizabeth Keen's personal life was none of his concern. She was a colleague and nothing more. If it only were as simple as that. For a brief moment he almost had offered her that he could crash on the couch and she could stay overnight. His mouth had already opened, but he quickly closed it again. That wasn't a good idea. Not at all.
Dropping his gaze quickly he made another attempt to swallow down the uproar chaos within himself that apparently always emerged when she was around an most definitely that close. She still stood here as his eyes wandered back into her direction and she was looking at him. At the office there always was a reason not to look at her: All those screens, Cooper, Malik, Reddington and other agents but now it was rude. However her invading his home like that was rude as well, just like him not continuing that poor conversation he had started. Just when he had put enough words together to make sense, Liz frowned slightly and glanced at her fingers
"How are you? I mean, how're your ribs?"
Donald really didn't want to give her a slight smile, but apparently his face didn't give him any vote on that matter: "I'm fine. Nothing broken. I'll manage."
Her answer was a nod and somehow it was her now avoiding to look at him, which wasn't only confusion but slightly awkward as we..
"I don't know what I was thinking", Liz suddenly blurted out and was about to turn around to get her coat if it wasn't for Donald almost asking simultaneously: "You want anything else to drink?"
And he did regret it, because she smiled. She smiled a hole right through his chest and burned his heart, so that it was him who turned away a little too quick. With a hiss he exhaled as his aching ribs protested.
He didn't even hear her move. Maybe because he was too occupied with freezing to avoid the pain and clenching to his bottle so that he wouldn't drop it. It was the warmth of her hand on his shoulder that told him where she was. And soon after that the distinctive scent of her perfume, which he tried not to inhale too deeply.
"I'm fine", he repeated grumpily and moved despite the pain, hoping to flee from the much too comforting warmth spreading from her touch, just to freeze again.
He shouldn't have turned around, because he might have evaded her hand, but not her face was much too close and there was just no way of covering up what that did to him