A/N: I have no idea how this happened. One minute I was idly browsing tumblr and the next this story was suddenly in my head and I couldn't not write it. I blame it on a picture, originally posted by noimnotgoingwithoutyou but you can see it on the FYLizRessler Tumblr because I can't link here.
Caveat: I almost never write weddings. This is what those two make me do. Timeline is sorta-five years from now.
Disclaimer: Fall can't come soon enough, you four Jon/Johns of the Blacklist. Title from Typhoon's Prosthetic Love.
She never thought she'd wear white again. It is traditionally not the color for second-time brides but as soon as she saw the simple knee-length draped silk dress, with the pearled flowers curling upwards from waistline and the elegant beaded straps, Liz knew this would be her second and final wedding dress. She hugs it close to her body and thinks Two more hours. Two more hours, and she will be married again.
This time it will be different and it will be better because the man she is about to marry isn't a double-agent, sent to spy on her and use her. He is her most trusted ally and her best friend and she will give herself gladly, would've given it all even earlier, but Donald Ressler doesn't rush things, not even for her, so she's had to wait.
But it's taught her to never take anything for granted. To not look back but still be wary because dangers can rise from the shadows, such as an estranged husband, presumed deceased, whose presence makes it difficult to fully move on, knowing he's still lurking around, knowing that in the eyes of the law – and the people – she is a married woman, having an affair with a colleague.
And yet, it passed, as everything does. It passed because the state of Nebraska doesn't take kindly to falsifying papers to get married and is more than lenient in granting a divorce to a woman who married under false pretenses. For all intents and purposes, she hasn't been Liz Keen for six months and Tom Keen is a long-forgotten part of her past.
So she wears her second dress with pride, smoothing the ivory fabric down her sides. It feels right, it feels even better than her first wedding because it's just the two of them. Officially, they finished the case on Friday and unofficially stayed behind for the weekend to enjoy Phoenix. Officially, they're colleagues although everyone knows otherwise. Unofficially, this is where he asks her to marry him.
"What?"
He smiles that mischievous smile of his and drops down on one knee to repeat what he's said. "Marry me, Liz. I want to spend a lifetime with you right by my side."
"Why now?" She's bewildered, to say the least; it is a dingy hotel room in Phoenix, Arizona, and there's been no forewarning, no hint of what he's been thinking, not even a ring. Just him, on one knee, looking up at her, with a smile so warm it flames her heart.
"When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."
"That is my favorite movie."
"I know." He looks away for a moment but focuses his intense gaze on her once more. "I may not have the words to explain it, I may borrow them from a movie more than twenty years old but I know that it is true. There is no right time to ask this, there is only now because I don't want to wait."
For all that he claims he cannot speak romantic, that sounds pretty romantic to her and all her questions fall away – she never had any doubts – so she smiles and nods. "A lifetime."
He doesn't get up so she bends down to lean closer to him. "That was a yes, Donnie."
He kisses her with all the joy in the world, with all the warmth in his heart, with all the love he ever has to give – all of it for her, only for her.
Right then and there, they fill out the paperwork, get a marriage license and have an appointment with Judge Marcus Whitmore in four hours because there is no point in waiting when it is all so clear and when it's been years in the making. She picks up her dress in under an hour from a nearby eveningwear store and Donald manages to secure a rented tux. She makes him turn his back while changing, just because she doesn't want him to jinx it – though it can't go wrong, there is nothing to go wrong but it is better not to tempt fate – and they dress in silence.
"Oh, but the rings, Don!" They might have gotten away with her not having an engagement ring but she wants a wedding ring, wants the symbolic evidence of their commitment.
"Took care of that while I was getting my tux. I just need to pick them up first."
"Okay, so you'll go ahead and I'll see you at the court house."
The silence behind her stretches. For all that they have been through, he sometimes has trouble letting her go and doing things on her own; they don't have the best track record when it comes to splitting up, and sometimes, at the most inopportune times, the reminder looms over them.
"Donnie, it's fine."
She knows by now to bring him back with the simplest of words and never make fun of him for worrying, even now, because everything behind them is a reminder of how much this is not a laughing matter.
"Right. I'll get the rings."
"But you can zip me up first if you promise not to peek." She doesn't really need him to but it would make them both feel a lot better and she tries to need him as much as she'll allow herself to, and she's getting better at it by the day.
They both walk backwards slowly, towards the center of the room and when their backs – or, rather, their sides – touch, she feels centered, she feels at home and acknowledges that he's not the only one who worries about being apart.
"I'm turning around and keeping my eyes closed."
His hands fall on her shoulders a moment later and then slowly move down towards her back where the zipper hangs loose. He doesn't miss the opportunity to run his fingers down the length of her spine, teasing her bra line, pretending to not find the zipper. She smiles at his antics and shivers slightly.
"Donnie, if you keep that up, we will never make it to our wedding."
"I don't think the guests will mind."
There are no guests, of course. Who would know to come to their wedding in Phoenix, when they themselves had no idea there would be a wedding? Besides, there is no one they would invite.
He zips her up, slowly, letting his fingers drag over her skin still, reminding her what will come after the ceremony and she can hardly wait for it. He doesn't relinquish his hold but curls one hand around her and pulls her against him. She recognizes his moods and his need to sometimes just keep her close, so she doesn't ask anything but waits for him to speak.
"Do you remember when we first met, six years ago?"
"I do."
"Who would've thought we'd end up here?"
Liz hums in response but doesn't answer. They both know that neither expected this, neither saw the other coming, saw the potential, or understood what they could be for each other.
"I'm sorry for what I was like."
She sighs deeply and has to tamp down the urge to turn around and look at him. "You don't have to be. That's all in the past, you know that."
"No, but...I should've seen you for who you were. I was blind to that."
They both know that he is right but she wants to make it better, she doesn't want any apologies from him.
"It's okay, Don."
"I just. I love you so much, Liz."
"Keep your eyes closed."
She pivots in his arms, shutting her eyes, not seeing anything but still finding his mouth with accuracy, as she always does, even if it is dark.
She's a bit flushed when they break apart but doesn't open her eyes. "I love you. But you have to get the rings. So, we'll turn around again and you'll go or we'll really be late and I don't think the judge will take kindly to that."
He laughs but does as he's told and only when Liz hears the door close behind him, does she open her eyes.
She's just wondering how she'll wear her hair when there is a knock on the door. "Don, this is cheating if you think I'm going to open the door and you'll get to see my dress."
"I am not Agent Ressler." The voice is unmistakable but impossible.
"Dembé." She opens the door to find him there, just standing with a small box in his hand and a smile on his face.
"What are you doing here?"
"A gift from Mr. Reddington."
He hands her the box and a phone. She sees that there is an active call waiting and with a slight tremble to her hand, puts the phone to her ear, knowing who is calling but not quite believing.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Lizzie. May I offer you and Donald my congratulations on your upcoming nuptials."
His voice is still the same, and she's bewildered because he's dead, so that can be her only response. "You're dead."
Red chuckles heartily. "Depends who you're asking, dear. Rumors of my death have been wildly exaggerated, I'm afraid."
"Then why aren't you here?" His absence wouldn't cut so harshly if he wasn't on the phone with her. Despite all the bad blood between them, there was still a whole lot of good as well and they share a connection she still doesn't quite fully understand. She doesn't bother asking how he knows that she's getting married.
"Open the box, Lizzie."
She does as he tells him to and the silver and diamond encrusted hair piece shines back at her.
"It belonged to my grandmother. It was one of the few things she brought with her from the Old World."
"I can-"
"Don't tell me you can't accept it. Of course you can because I want you to. Consider it something old, even if you're not traditional like that."
She looks at the hair piece and knows it is pointless to argue with him. "Thank you." A beat of silence passes. "I still wish you were here."
"In Arizona? Please. Only heat and hookers and neither are my idea of entertainment."
She doesn't respond and he's quiet for even longer. "You better get going, Lizzie. Donald is probably waiting."
Before she can say anything to that, he hangs up. She gives the phone to Dembé who takes it and wordlessly disappears from the room.
Liz twists her hair into a loose updo with the hair piece and takes a long look at herself in the mirror. This is a woman who gets a second chance, who gets to be happy and she smiles at the thought of Donald, and the thought of living a life with him, a lifetime of only him.
When they leave the judge's chambers an hour later, hand in hand, they are so caught up in each other that neither notices the impeccably dressed man sitting diagonally from the chamber door. He doesn't catch their attention but raises his fingertips to his hat; a silent salute, a tribute, a congratulations to a new beginning.
A/N: I have no idea what your take is on this but I'd love to hear it.
The movie he refers to is When Harry Met Sally.