Polaroids, a blacklist fanfic

A/N: I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry. I don't own anything but the writing, everything else belongs to NBC/the show.

She stands at the kitchen counter, focusing one-half of her attention on the vegetables she's chopping up and the other half on the two young children playing on the other side of the window outside.

Of course, she should be paying more attention to the vegetables she's cutting up using a very sharp knife so then she doesn't chop her fingers off, but Elizabeth Ressler's had so much practice at multitasking lately, it's the least of her concerns.

Outside, in the backyard, one of the two children, the boy, picks up a long stick and chases the girl around with it, who screams and nearly knocks over the chair on the patio as she runs.

Elizabeth sighs and puts down the knife on the cutting board, and steps outside through the open screen door.

"Hey, hey, Zach, please don't chase your sister around with that stick." she says sternly, grabbing the arm of her laughing son. "Here, give me that."

Liz snatches the stick from Zach's hand and tosses it to the side, then turns back to him. "Now apologize to your sister. Say 'I'm sorry, Kat'."

"No." Zach pouts and Liz puts her hands on his tiny shoulders and directs him over to Kat, who is sitting on the steps of the patio with a frown.

"Yeah, Zach, say it, say you're sorry," Kat repeats in a singsong voice.

"No." Zach repeats, even louder. "Kat's stupid. She's scared of a stick. Only scaredy cats find sticks scary."

Kat's big blue eyes widen and her lower lip trembles.

Liz sighs. Oh no. Not again.

Thinking fast before things can escalate any further, Liz whisks Zach back inside the house and shuts the door. "You're not allowed back out until you apologize to your sister."

Now it's Zach who starts crying. "No, Mommy! No, I wanna play outside!"

Liz shakes her head firmly and helps a recovered Kat up. "Not until you tell your sister you're sorry."

Zach starts to sob even louder, this time pounding on the glass door. "No, she's being a scaredy-cat! It's her fault!"

Liz whirls around, knowing that it is time for her to put her foot down. "Zachary Samuel Ressler, if you don't quiet down and apologize, no TV for two days!"

Zach rams his fists against the door in anger. "But Mommy, Jake was coming over so we could watch-"

"Well then do as you were told, and say sorry to your sister, and then maybe Jake can still come over and you two can watch TV." Liz lets go of her daughter's hand and watches Kat approach the glass door.

"Say it, Zach. Do as you were told." Kat says expectantly, tapping her foot and acting authoritative even though she is only seventeen months older than her brother.

Zach sighs loudly in defeat. "I'm sorry, Katarina. Can I go back outside now?"

"Only if you promise not to goof off that much again." Liz says, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I promise."

"Alright." Liz nods, opening the door as Zach sprints out of the house, this time followed by the dog, and goes back to playing around in the yard with his unimpressed sister.

Liz goes back inside and shuts the glass door firmly behind her, then leans against it and exhales deeply, momentarily forgetting the cooking she needs to finish.

Then the oven bell rings and she jolts back up, running to the oven to take out the food and then goes back to cutting the vegetables.

She watches while cleaning the counter as Zach laughs and rolls around in the tall, unkempt grass with the dog, and groans internally.

He's got to take a long shower to be clean after that.

And then there's Kat standing beside him, watching disapprovingly and twirling a lock of auburn hair through her fingers, although there is a slight smile growing on her face.

Liz smiles to herself. She's so much like me. But she's so much like him too.

Kat bears the strongest resemblance to Liz though, from the hair color right down to the face structure, but the eyes.

The eyes are most definitely her father's.

Ressler's.

And Zach. He's so much like Ressler and barely anything like Liz, sometimes if it weren't for the free-spirited and wild personality that is certainly not from Ressler, you would never have guessed that Zach was related to Liz in any form.

Blond hair, blue eyes, that half-smile, it's all Ressler.

Sometimes, Liz finds, it can hurt to think about him.

It's been almost one year (eleven months, three weeks, two days), she thinks she's come to terms with it all by now, but sometimes she questions that when she looks into her son's eyes and sees only Ressler.

She thinks of when he got down on one knee and asked her to marry him, of their wedding, when she told him she was pregnant (twice!).

And then the worst day.

She gets the call.

It's nine-thirty four pm on a rainy Tuesday night.

It's her day off, but not his.

She screams and nearly drops the phone.

Zach and Kat rush over to see what is going on.

She doesn't register anything.

All she knows is

he's dead.

Donald Ressler is dead.

She sinks to the floor, not even hearing her children's pleas to know what is going on, as if she's submerged underwater.

But her children.

They don't have a father.

Zach won't ever get to play football together with his father, a sport Zach has always dreamed of playing.

Kat won't have a father to give her away at the altar.

Liz won't have a husband.

Liz doesn't have a husband anymore.

He was shot, he didn't survive, he's dead.

"Liz, he died a hero-"

It doesn't matter.

He's gone.

She shudders just merely thinking of the memory and tries to clear it by focusing her attention on the vegetables.

She's doing okay, raising Zach and Kat on her own. She's out of a job, but with Reddington's help, she's doing okay for now. Tom's out of her life now ever since he left on that boat, and the last exchange she ever had with him was after he somehow found out she was engaged to Ressler. They said their final goodbyes, it was bittersweet, she had to admit, but they had reached an understanding and parted ways for good.

His parents were two of the kindest people she had ever met; welcoming and understanding, she could see where he got his personality from. Even after their son's death they had continued to reach out to Liz and offer her as much support as they could give, even offering that they could take care of the kids while she got things sorted out, but she declined, not wanting to add any more stress into their lives. The last time she saw them was at his funeral.

Their only son was dead, they were having just as a horrible time as she was, maybe even worse because they lost a child.

But selfishly, she doubted it.

Sometimes Red comes over from time to time to check on her and the kids, see how they are holding up.

She likes it when Red visits, as infrequent as those visits are. He keeps her going, keeps her steady, reminds her that she needs to live, for her children.

Red's been sympathetic with it all, he's been her rock, he helps her take care of her children (Red has always approved of the relationship between Ressler and Liz, and was particularly happy when their children were born. Reddington loves children, apparently.) and she can't help but appreciate it earnestly, finally coming to completely respect the man, after all those years. After all, it's because of all the losses that he's been through in his life that make him the way he is, and she has to give him credit for not giving up completely in life.

There's no deal, anymore, ever since she quit the FBI almost eight months ago. What was left of the task force (Aram and Samar, basically, ever since Cooper was relieved of his duties a long time ago, after Liz killed Tom Connolly) was disbanded. Reddington's back to doing whatever he does, laying low from the FBI, now without immunity.

It was Ressler who helped her after she killed Connolly, it was Ressler who somehow hammered out a deal and proved her innocence and helped her take down the Cabal, and earned her that job back at the FBI.

It was Ressler who made her forget about Tom in the best way possible.

It was Ressler who admitted he was in love with her, and promised her he'd make her happy for the rest of her life (and he did. She was the happiest she ever was with him).

With a ring.

It was Ressler who somehow made everything better, who was the happiest she had ever seen him when she announced she was pregnant, who was extra supportive when she wanted to name their first child after her mother.

It was Ressler who was there for her through thick and thin, and she was grateful for it all.

She owes everything to him.

And she just wishes so much that she could tell him again.

Staying with the FBI, she knew it would be too painful. Everything about it, it all reminds her of him. So despite Aram and Samar's pleas, she quit the job a month after his death.

Liz moved far away from D.C., back into Nebraska and, with the help of Reddington of course, found a quiet place in the countryside, far away from any city and the FBI.

Sometimes Aram or Samar will write her, sending her a brief email to check on her and update her with where they are in their own lives (they're dating now, actually. Nobody was surprised. If Ressler were here he would've just said, "I told you so.").

Besides Reddington, they're the only friends she has and keeps in touch with.

But she never responds. She can't bring herself to. It's too much a reminder of Ressler.

She hopes they understand.

Liz's only job is to take care of her children, and nothing else. Do the groceries, send them to school, it's a routine. She rarely thinks about it anymore.

Sometimes (most of the time), she wonders if she'll ever find meaning again in her life.

But she doubts it.

She's stopped trying, anyway.

She gets to see him, though. Her dreams are filled of him.

They're happy, she's happy, everything's perfect.

He's there with her, by her side at all times, he's helping raise their children, they're a perfect family.

He's great with Zach and Kat; a perfect father. She was pleasantly surprised at how warm a person he was towards children, remembering how cold and awkward he once was, and how much he had changed since then.

But then the dream is over, and she is jolted roughly back into her reality.

It's a shame he only got to spend six years with them.

The day finally comes.

It's been a year.

She guesses she's dealing with it okay. She's tried not to think about it as she dropped Zach and Kat to school, and she can't help but feel heartbroken for her two children as she watches them run over to their friends in the schoolyard without a care in the world, unaware of the cruel, cold world that they lived in.

They're so innocent, they barely understood why their father isn't in their lives anymore, they're too young for this; they're only six and seven. . .

She keeps them sheltered, for their own good, she can't tell them the full story just yet; they're still questioning "Where's Daddy?".

She worries she's not doing a good job; raising these two on her own. Reddington tells her she's doing a great job; much better than he ever did, apparently.

Sometimes she really needs Ressler to be there with her, to help her, to be a family with her.

And today she wishes he was here more than ever.

Reddington's at her house when she arrives back from dropping the kids off at school and running a few errands (she knows this when she sees his parked car on the road and when Dembe answers her door for her, so clearly he's invited himself in again).

Per usual, he's sitting at her kitchen table, hat off, looking around the room (presumably at the color of her walls, he's been bothering her to repaint them a lot lately, saying it's too 'drab'. She really doesn't care.) and when he spots her, he smiles in that smug, nonchalant way and greets her.

But instead of his usual irrelevant observations, today he cuts straight to the chase. "Hello, Lizzie. How are you faring today?"

Taken aback by his straight-out question, it takes her a second to realize what he's talking about. "I'm alright, I guess."

"That's what you tell me every time I ask on any other day. Tell me honestly, how do you feel?"

"Okay. I'm doing alright. I miss him. It's been a year. There's not much else I can do." She replies dumbly, not really knowing what else to say.

Red's gaze is soft and understanding. "Sweetheart, of course you do. Everyone does. But you've pulled through, haven't you? You've been a great mother, you've been brave, Donald would be so very proud of you-"

"I know." Liz cuts him off, not wanting to hear any more. She's heard that far too many times.

Red heaves a heavy sigh and sits back down at the table, clearly giving up. "Would you like me to go, Elizabeth?"

She nods, trying to fight the tears welling up in her eyes. Everything hurts.

He nods in understanding, attempting to hide the hurt in his face as he gets up and leaves but fails, avoiding eye contact with her.

Before he leaves, he adds, "You're going to be okay, Elizabeth. It may take time, I just don't want you to lose sight of that. Do something that will help you move on. I understand it's easier said than done, moving on, but try to take one step further. Trust me, you will be okay. And as unfathomable as it may seem at the moment, you will find meaning in your life again. I may not have, but you will."

She can only hope so.

She decides to go back to D.C.

Just for the weekend, of course.

She's left Zach and Kat in the care of Reddington (which is why she doesn't want to spend longer than three days away) and Reddington's bought her a plane ticket (first class, of course).

She isn't sure what motivated her to go back to D.C. but she decided that she has to.

She doesn't know if going to D.C. will make her feel any better, but as Red said, it's somewhat of a step forward.

She hasn't visited her and Ressler's old apartment (well it was Ressler's but she moved in once they started officially dating) ever since they cleared out all the important things and moved to Nebraska. She hasn't bothered to sell it yet mostly because she's just not ready. She's cleared all of Ressler's stuff except for his desk.

Those were his things. When he was alive she never touched them. He never spoke of them and she never bothered to ask.

But today, she feels, it's time.

She can't bring herself to visit his grave.

Not yet. Not now.

So she doesn't.

She goes to the apartment instead.

Once she arrives at the apartment she stands, facing the closed door.

She thinks of the many times she and Ressler had passed through that door; from the first time she ever visited back when Tom had left her a long time ago, to that first night together, and the time they were officially husband and wife, and the most memorable two days of their lives when they arrived home with baby Kat and Zach, respectively.

The apartment holds a whole lot of memories, good and bad, and she knows she will have to deal with them sooner or later.

But for now, she pushes them aside and unlocks the door with the keys she still keeps in her purse.

Once she enters, the room is exactly how she left it. It's sparse, with only a few pieces of furniture remaining that she hasn't bothered to take care or doesn't know what to do with just yet. The room smells musty and nearly every surface is dusty. It's a decent-sized apartment with two bedrooms and a relatively large living room with enough room for Ressler's desk. They were planning on upsizing one day and buying a new house, but the time will never come.

She feels that sinking feeling in her stomach as all the memories come flooding back to her, especially the one of that fateful night.

She's standing in that exact spot in that hallway the moment she got the call, when Zach and Kat came running to her. . . she can't do this anymore.

It hurts. It hurts.

It takes everything Liz has not to turn around and bolt out of there as fast as she can. But she needs to be strong right now.

For Zach. For Kat.

For Ressler.

Her heart sinks deeper into her chest at the thought of him, but she pushes on, walking directly to the desk.

All of his stuff is there untouched ever since that morning, when he was collecting his stuff on the way to work. His paperwork is in a neat pile to the left of his desk, while all the stationery is organized to the right.

Even the glasses that he rarely wore even though they were prescribed to him ("They make me look like one of Aram's flunkies, Liz, you want me to look like that Osbourne guy?" Ressler had once muttered to Liz when she asked him why he was wearing them during a day of filling out paperwork at the office and why doesn't he wear them more often, because damn, he looked good with them on) were placed neatly next to all his pens and pencils.

She sits down in his chair, overwhelmed.

Everything reminds her of him. His scent still lingered in the air. Or maybe she was imagining it.

God, she missed him.

Liz glances down and notices the drawers to the bottom right, a place she's never ventured before.

She hesitates at first, unsure of what to do.

Maybe I shouldn't, this is his stuff, I should leave it out of respect. . .

But she doesn't.

She opens the first drawer. Empty.

Liz exhales. Of course.

The second. Empty as well.

By the third and final one she figures there's nothing in it as well but when she opens it, there's something inside.

Two things, actually.

Of course, she smirks to herself. He would put things in the bottom drawer so no one would immediately find them. Smart thinking. Classic Ressler.

There's a paper. It's wrinkled and folded and clearly worn out.

In the dim lighting of the morning Liz can make out that there's a drawing on it made with crayons, clearly by a toddler.

And then she realizes.

Oh.

It's a drawing from Kat and Zach.

She bends down to pick it up and takes a look at it. There's a poorly but adorably drawn picture of four stick people. It reads;

we love you mommy and dady

from zach and kat

Liz blinks back tears. She remembers when they wrote it, and how Ressler had blatantly pointed out the spelling mistake they had made with the word 'Daddy'. Liz had scoffed at him and told him to appreciate the effort, to which he had gruffly responded, "They need to learn how to spell the word 'Daddy'."

She had to admit, she was little annoyed that he had shown so little appreciation for their children's attempt at a card, but now she realizes. . . he appreciated it.

He appreciated it more than she ever thought he would have.

As loving a husband and father as he was, Donald Ressler never was one to show his feelings upfront, and she should've known that he had his own way of being sentimental.

Smiling reminiscently at the distant memory, Liz decides she wanted to keep it for herself, and folded the paper neatly and placed it in her bag.

And then she looks at the second thing, an envelope.

Picking it up, she doesn't realize it's open and accidentally spills all of its contents onto the desk in front of her.

Upon closer inspection, she realizes they're three polaroid photos.

It takes her a second to remember. A lump grows in her throat.

And then she does.

As if it were yesterday.

"Aram, seriously man, what the hell are you doing? And would you mind knocking next time?" Ressler questioned, immediately removing his arm from around Liz and standing up straighter as Aram entered their shared office without invitation. "It's been a long day, can you just give us a few minutes of privacy?"

Liz laughed to herself, glancing down at the shiny new engagement ring she now wore. It still hadn't even sunk in yet. . .

"Sorry guys." Aram said quickly, clearly disregarding what Ressler just said as he entered their shared office and shut the door. "I just bought this new polaroid camera and I was hoping to try it out."

"Hell no. Try it on Samar or Reddington or someone." Ressler answered even before Liz could, presumably sneering at the thought of Aram snapping a picture of Reddington on his polaroid camera.

"Thing is," Aram continues, still ignoring Ressler as he squinted closer at the camera into its intricacies. "I just can't figure out how to turn this thing on."

"Amazing." Ressler mutters into Liz's ear, sitting back down next to her. "He's a genius with computers but doesn't know how to operate a damn polaroid camera."

Before Liz could respond, Aram walked over and exclaimed, "Hold on, I got it!" and pressed on one of the buttons, causing the flash to go off in Ressler and Liz's faces and supposedly snap a picture.

"Oops. Sorry." Aram apologized as he took out the photo from its slot and placed it on the desk, although judging by the mischievous grin he had on he didn't completely mean it.

Liz was laughing but Ressler was unimpressed. "Aram, stop it, or I swear I will rip that out of your hands if you don't put it down."

Aram just snapped another photo. It came out and Liz had to admit, it was quite funny. She was laughing with her eyes closed and Ressler was just scowling.

"Can I take just, one more, please? For remembrance?" Aram asked knowingly with a small smile, noticing how amused Liz was.

Ressler glanced over at Liz, who was raising her eyebrow, suggesting that they should, then finally gave in, grumbling. "Alright, fine. If it'll make you happy Liz and get Aram to leave the room then please, take it."

"Great." Aram exclaimed happily and snapped the photo.

They waited a few seconds for the photo to become processed and then Aram handed it over to them, smirking.

"Alright you've done your job now please leave. Now." Ressler barked at Aram, who walked out of the room with a huge grin.

"It's actually a pretty good picture of us, don't you think?" Liz remarked, observing the photo. They were both smiling (in Ressler's case, it was close enough to a smile) and they looked genuinely happy.

"Yeah, yeah, it's a good picture of you, anyway." Ressler brushed it off. "I sort of look like I tasted something sour."

Liz snorted, because he kind of did. But it passed as a Ressler smile, and that was it.

"You going to keep it?" Liz asked, packing up her stuff. "Because believe me, I've got dozens of selfies of us on my phone and I don't need one in hard copy."

"I'll figure out something to do with it." Ressler had answered matter-of-factly, and that was the last that the polaroid incident was spoken of.

Little did she know, he valued those photos.

He valued a lot of things, and she never knew.

Blinking back tears as she glanced at each one, Liz then realized that there was so much more of Ressler that she never knew.

So much more that she'll never get to know.

She flips over the last polaroid - the good polaroid - and notices that there is some writing on the back.

Ressler's writing.

Dear Liz,

Thought this might bring back some good memories

and a good laugh in a time when you need it most.

Happy Anniversary.

I love you.

Love, Don

Their seventh anniversary would have been in a month at the time of his death.

He was going to give her those polaroids as an anniversary gift.

Hm. She had always wondered what he did with them.

How sentimental. How sweet.

If it weren't for that dumb face Ressler was making in the polaroid that she was looking at, she probably would have just broke down.

But, she laughs.

She just laughs.

God, he was just an emotional dork, wasn't he? Poetic and everything.

Donald Ressler; hopeless romantic. He would have denied it if he were here.

But those days were the best days of her life. Working in the FBI with her fiance and her friends, she was genuinely happy with her life; everything was going perfectly.

Liz bites her lip, as all the memories of her days in the FBI come flooding back, and for once, thinking about them doesn't hurt. It just makes her miss them more.

She puts the photographs back into the envelope and slips it into her purse. That's definitely a keeper.

She finally gets the motivation to go through a few more things, pack away some of Ressler's old stuff that she figures Ressler's parents' would like. She gives them a call, and of course they ask her how she is doing first because they haven't seen her in 'ages' and don't even mention the fact that she hasn't bothered to contact them, the kind people that they are.

They drop by within a few minutes and greet her with hugs and everything, then ask her how she's doing as she helps load Ressler's stuff into their car.

She tells them she's doing well, because it's not a complete lie anymore.

"That's great, Elizabeth." Ressler's father says, patting Liz gently on her arm. "Donnie would be happy to hear that. And Zachary and Katarina?"

"They're happy. Growing older and taller." Liz smiles at the thought of her children, at home with Reddington.

"Zachary will be taller than me in no time, I assure you that." Ressler's mother chuckles good-naturedly. "Zach's like Donnie when Donnie was Zach's age. Always ahead of the curve by a little bit. We were surprised he only stopped at just under six feet."

Liz laughs and helps them finishing up the packing into their car.

Once they're finished they say their goodbyes and just as they're about to drive off, Ressler's mother adds, "Sweetheart, we appreciate you doing this for us. But you're sure you're alright now? Dealing with all of this? Donnie wouldn't want you to do things that you don't want to do. He would never force you."

She nods, this time without any hesitation, thinking about the Polaroids and smiling. "Yeah. I think I'm ready."

She returns back from her trip to D.C. a few days later, and of course, Reddington is still there.

"How was it?" he asks her after she finishes tucking Zach and Kat into bed (they've become quite rambunctious in the company of Reddington, she has no clue what he's fed them while she was gone but he assured her they were in good hands) and they're sitting at the kitchen table.

"It was good." She's looking at the polaroids under the table and snickers.

"Found anything special there?" It's as if he knows. But of course, with him, there's always a chance.

"Yeah." She replies simply, smiling faintly.

That's all he needs to hear to be reassured that she's okay, so he gets up and leaves

"Take care, Lizzie. If you ever need me, well, you know."

And with that, he leaves, with Dembe following close behind, smiling knowingly.

His work here is done (he'll have to contact Aram to get that polaroid camera back though. And teach him how to take a proper photo).

They're playing outside again.

It's a particularly cloudy day and there's a seventy-percent chance it might rain, but that never bothers Kat and Zach (but of course, it bothers Liz, because she's the one who has to clean up after them if they come back covered in mud and tracking it all over the house).

This time they're chasing each other around the small tree, and Zach's just about to catch up to Kat but he misses her by an inch, tripping over the dog who also decided to join in on the fun.

Elizabeth Ressler just shakes her head and laughs at her children's antics as she watches them play around, without a care in the world.

They're happy and she's glad that they're happy. They're children, happiness should be the only emotion they're allowed to know. Yes, they may not have a father anymore, but that shouldn't stop them from living.

Losing someone shouldn't stop anyone from living, she's recently learned.

The polaroids helped her realize just that.

That maybe even just the smallest things can give you motivation to live again.

Little things, as small as they are, they help you heal.

They help you find meaning again.

In fact, she's starting seeing meaning again in almost everything.

In her children. The way they laugh and play all day; little things.

In Samar and Aram, whose letters she's finally gotten around to respond to.

In Reddington, who's been her biggest supporter and hasn't stopped showering her and her children with unnecessary gifts.

In Ressler's parents, who despite losing so much in their lives, still found a reason to live.

In herself.

She may not be who she was when Ressler was alive, but she's working on it.

Outside, Zach finally catches up to Kat and they trip over each other and the dog, laughing hysterically.

Liz finds herself smiling and doesn't even bother to tell them off.

Meaning.

She turns around and glances at the recruitment letter from the FBI that she just got in the mail, and then back at the polaroids she now keeps on the fridge (Zach and Kat look at them from time to time and laugh at their parents' silly faces).

And then she thinks to herself that maybe, just maybe, she'll find meaning in her life again.