Elizabeth Keen sat in the corner of the room, curled up on a small one seater red couch. It was a cold winter night in Paris, the fire was alight and was continuing to drift through the hallways of the large house. It was late at night and many of the houses inhabitants were already asleep.
Red, Dembe and Ressler were already tucked in upstairs, and had been for many hours. Lately, sleeping hadn't been easy for Elizabeth. She had been having constant nightmares about the fire as a child, and the thought of Tom was still crossing her mind. He was dead though. She knew that much.
It had been two weeks since she left the fbi and the task force had been shut down. Ressler had decided to come along with her and Red, as a little bit of a relaxation. He had said himself that the job was his life, and now that the task force was no longer running he had practically nothing to go back to. It had taken a bit of convincing for Red to allow him to come along.
Red had flew them to Paris and to a house he owned on the outskirts of the city. They hadn't been here for long and Red was here on business anyway - doing his own fbi work, but without the fbi.
Elizabeth sighed and looked up from the book sat on her lap. She closed it and lifted her hands up to her eyes, wiping away some of the tears that had fallen during the last few chapters of the book.
She looked down into the fire, crossing her arms across her chest to warm herself up. It would have been a better choice to wear more than a pair of blue plaid pyjama pants and a red shirt to bed. She could have at least worn a sweater.
"You're still awake," a gruff voice sounded from the glass doors separating the room from the lobby. Liz looked up, seeing Ressler.
"Great observation," she said, looking down at the closed book in her lap. She immediately regretted speaking - her voice was croaky from the crying.
Ressler raised his eyebrows and began walking further into the room. He had his hands tucked into the pockets of a black dressing gown. "You okay, Keen?"
She motioned to the book in her lap. "I've been reading, that's why I've been crying," The Book Thief was sat in her lap, looking very worn. "No matter how many times I read it I still cry."
"If you say so, Keen," Ressler frowned, taking a seat on the couch opposite her. She nodded, looking back at the warm fire.
"Why are you awake? Don't you sleep like a log? It's midnight." She asked, shifting her position in the chair. It was tough with him here. Ever since Meera had died he'd blamed her for breaking up the task force.
He shrugged, leaning his elbow on the arm rest. "Probably the same reason you are. Couldn't sleep."
Liz shook her head. "I'm awake because I wanted to read. I can sleep," she said, fiddling with the fluffy brown blanket over her legs. "I just don't want to."
"Why not?" He asked, crossing his legs and leaning further back into the red chair - the same type as the one Liz was in.
Liz stood up, stretching after being sat down for so long. She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and yawned, holding the book close to her chest, with the cover facing toward her so Ressler couldn't see what book it was. "I have my reasons," She shrugged.
Ressler rolled his eyes, running his fingers through his messed up strawberry blonde hair. Since it was midnight he didn't have his usual gel coated hair, it was still damp from his shower that he'd had a few hours earlier, and was messy from his small few hours of slumber.
"We have time. What reasons?" Ressler asked, raising his eyebrows at Keen. She began to slowly edge out of the room, not wanting to be alone with Ressler any longer.
Liz frowned and turned around. "Listen, Ressler - I didn't let you come along with me and Red just so you could pressure me into telling you things I wouldn't tell you before. We and our relationship is no different than it was before!"
"Actually, it is," Ressler said, standing up out of the chair, he began to walk over to her and sent her a smile. "You're the reason the task force shut down, you're the reason my life and work practically ended."
Liz looked at the ground, crossing her arms across her chest and holding the book close to her. "I'm aware, you've told me before." She said, looking back up at Ressler. "I know that it's my fault that the task force shut down, so can you please stop telling me."
She looked down at the ground again, taking a deep breath and trying to rid some of her tears. After the task force was shut down she had lost everything too. She had simply gone with Red to get away from some drama for a little while, yet now Ressler was here.
"If you don't mind, I'm going to go to bed now. I'll see you in the morning, Ressler." She said, quickly exiting the living room and making her way upstairs. She spotted Dembe on the balcony at the end of the hallway, he gave her a nod as she entered her room.
It was the same room as all of the rooms in the house - white with red curtains and red bed sheets. It had a bathroom and a wardrobe attached to it as well. It was her own personal sanctuary. Red had personally given her the bedroom with the lock on the door, since he knew she needed as much privacy as she could have.
She clicked the lock on the door and sat the book down on the desk by the door, walking over to the window and looking out of them, overlooking Paris. It truly was beautiful there - the perfect place to escape drama.
Ever since she was little she wanted to visit France, and Sam had told her he would take her, but he never did. "Butterball, when we get enough money I'll fly you to Paris and we can climb the eiffel tower together." He said, every time she brought it up. They never got enough money.
After he was diagnosed with cancer all the money went into helping him get better, but the cancer got worse over time until Red relieved him of his pain. There was still some anger in her heart over Red killing her father, but she now understood why he did it. She just wished she'd been able to see him first.
Liz took a deep breath, swallowing back some of the threatening tears. Even though Paris stopped most of the drama it couldn't stop the tears. She heard the door across the hall close, realising Ressler had gone back to bed.
She crossed the room and picked up her phone from her nightstand to check the time. It was almost 1am. Liz frowned and pulled the sheets of the bed back, sliding underneath the sheets and closing her eyes.
She greeted sleep as quickly as she allowed the light of the morning to wake her.