Note: This is a repost of a work originally posted on December 1st, 2015. I was hacked in January of 2017 and my works removed against my will. The original note for the story is as follows:

"For the Lunchbox group's gift exchange, here's the first chapter of my gift to redisthenewblackington. I hope you enjoy! For the sake of this fic, Liz shot Tom Connolly in the spring, and Ressler captured her in the episode Kings of the Highway (308) during November."

December 1st, 2015

Liz stood in the doorway of her old office, amazed at how much it hadn't changed over the last year half year. There wasn't anything big that stood out to her, besides the barrenness of what used to be her desk, but all of the small changes added up together to form a big difference in her mind. Perhaps there wasn't even anything that had changed that much, really, except her perception of her old life. Her whole life had been one upheaval after another these last few months that it really shouldn't have been a surprise that she would look at things in a whole new light.

"You just gonna stand there all day?"

Her former partner's voice snapped her out of her fugue and she twirled around to face him, hand reaching to her hip for her holstered service weapon. It wasn't the same one that she'd been carrying the last while, which was the only thing that saved Donald Ressler from becoming another workplace violence statistic – however accidental. "Don't startle me like that!" Liz gasped, her heart racing wildly. "I could have shot you!"

Ressler had his hands in the air, showing he meant no harm, but he didn't take any steps away from her. He'd always been bold like that. "All that time on the run really messed you up, didn't it?" He mused as he pushed past her and into the shared office space.

She ignored his question as it seemed rather rhetorical, and followed him in. She didn't shut the door behind her as she moved to lean against her desk. "Looks like we're both moving back in here at the same time, huh?"

"Yep," he grunted in reply. "I'm really glad that everything got sorted out with Cooper. I wouldn't wish his job on anyone, but at least he seems to thrive in it."

Silence fell over them, growing increasingly uncomfortable as it drew on.

"Look, about what happened–" Ressler started to apologize for his fervor in bringing her in.

"Don't." Liz snapped. She didn't want to go over it again for what felt like the fifteenth time. It probably was, at that. She softened her tone as she saw the stricken look flash across his face before he quickly covered it up. "Ressler, we've already been over it. I forgive you. That doesn't mean I'll forget. But what you did, in a roundabout way, did help to clear my name. It forced the Cabal to come out and we were able to get them. Most of them," she amended, a distant look crossing her features. "My name is cleared, we got some of the bad guys, everything else has been buried so deep I bet only the President can see it, and we're back on track with the Blacklist. Well, as soon as Reddington feels like talking to you… us… again. I'm just amazed I'm back so soon, actually."

With that she opened the file in her hands, plopped down at the desk that was finally hers again, and gave Ressler heavy signals that she didn't want to be bothered again. She had enough on her mind to deal with.

December 3rd, 2015

Elizabeth Keen never thought that being free would be so… debilitating. She could hardly catch her breath in the Post Office; she felt like she was suffocating and it was only the middle of her third day back at work. She didn't know how to cope with a normal job anymore. She missed her days on the run, oddly enough. Even though they were fraught with peril, close calls, pain, and remorse, they were also days that – she could now admit to herself – were filled with a degree of relaxation, freedom, introspection, and a burgeoning connection with the one man she never thought that she would miss when she first met him over two years ago.

Yet miss him she did.

She missed their closeness, their talks, and their camaraderie. She missed saving his skin as often as he saved hers. She missed the way he spoke her name in the quiet of their safe houses, and the way he shouted it when warning her of danger. She missed drinking wine with him in that first safe house below the bar, and aged scotch at their last.

She was missing a lot of things about him that she never thought she would. She was feeling a lot of things that she realized, with a warm fascination, that she never thought she'd feel.

But most of all she was feeling lost at sea without him. Adrift without the one man who could anchor her; who knew her beyond anyone else.

Liz fumbled for her phone, flipping the switch off and on to make it sound as if it were vibrating, and pretended to take a call that would get her out of the cage that her returned life had become. "Reddington? You have something for us? Fine, if you insist, I'll be over there as soon as I can. What's the address?" She already knew the address, but she just wanted to make it seem believable so that she could escape without repercussions.

Maybe then she could breathe again.

December 3rd, 2015 (continued)

Raymond Reddington was busy getting his affairs back in order after the chaos of the last half year. There wasn't too much that was beyond repair as he'd been able to keep track of things even while running from the FBI and Cabal with Lizzie, but what he did have to fix was taking up a lot of his attention. He kept himself busy, working late into the night and getting up early the next day, not only to run his business empire, but – in his rare moments of honesty with himself – also to keep himself distracted.

His rare moments of down time were becoming unbearable, even after only a week. Elizabeth Keen was always on his mind, in one form or another, but his thoughts were at least manageable when he was managing his current assets, or arranging for a takeover of another company. The fact that most of those takeovers were hostile recently, when they didn't necessarily have to be, had not escaped his notice. At least he had an outlet for his frustration.

He missed her. Desperately.

He was no longer content with what their life had been before the shooting of Tom Connolly. The previous status quo was not what he wanted anymore, even though he had been so content with it before now. He found himself increasingly desperate for the fervor of their escape; the chase; the exhilaration that accompanied it all. He discovered a new truth about himself in the days following her exoneration where he was separated from her – he could no longer stand to be without her by his side, sleeping in the next room, sharing meals, cars, couches, smiles, and memories from their past. He found that he couldn't operate without her.

"Raymond."

Dembe's voice broke him out of his spiraling thoughts and emotions. He realized that his breaths had been coming quicker and he had been staring cross-eyed at a blank wall.

"I am well, my friend."

If only he could believe his own words.

December 3rd, 2015 (continued)

It took Liz until that evening to work up the courage to knock on his safe house door. Moments later, she was face to face with the man who had been occupying her thoughts for the whole afternoon, and almost every other moment of the last week.

"Lizzie! Come in – you look half froze to death! What have you been doing?" He exclaimed as he drank the sight of her in. He quickly pulled her inside, closing and locking the door behind her. With a quick nod to Dembe, who greeted her before softly retreating back up the stairs, Red grasped her gloved hand in his and pulled her down the hall towards the den with its roaring fire.

He stopped when they were both standing directly in front of the fire, on the thick rug before the hearth. He picked up her other hand and clasped them both together between his after he pulled her gloves off. "Lizzie? What's wrong?" He tried again.

Blinking at him from under the furry edge of her hood, she mulled over his question for a couple of minutes. She was looking him in the eye, so he didn't rush her to respond. He took the moment to soak in her presence, just as she seemed to be doing with him. She was a far more welcome heat before him than that of the fire.

Before the silence could go on for too long, Liz let out a long shudder and whispered, "Everything."

"What's that, sweetheart?" Red brought his hands up to his mouth and blew through them to warm up Liz's cold digits.

She shivered again, and then stepped closer to him. "Everything's wrong, Reddington." She pulled one hand back from his grip, leaving the other where it was, and pushed the hood of her coat back. Her hair was once again back to its normal, deep brown, and it shone in the light from the flames. He had lent her the services of one of his accountants, who was also a hair stylist, the last time he had seen her. He had left before the end of the appointment, but obviously their work had paid off. He loved the glint of auburn that was brought out by the room's light.

She didn't seem to know what to do with her hand after pushing her hood back as she simply let it hover near her collarbone, so he took it in his hands once more. Bringing her hands back up to his lips, he breathed on them for warmth again. He couldn't stop himself from letting his tongue flick out from between his teeth to taste the salt of her skin.

Her eyes widened, and he stopped breathing even as he desperately tried to rein his expression in. He could feel his face wanting to contort into a display of his emotions and he couldn't let that happen. He didn't want to scare her off.

"Red…" she breathed his name out.

Damn it. Obviously he hadn't been quick enough. He quickly tried to distract her. "Why is everything wrong, Lizzie?"

Her eyes fluttered closed and she took a deep breath. She pulled her fingers back from his hands. He was briefly disappointed by the motion before realizing that she was unbuttoning her coat. As she undid the buttons, a lovely black linen suit jacket was revealed, covering a silken sapphire-colored blouse. They came from the clothes he'd had delivered to her temporary hotel room last week, and that fact thrilled him more than he'd thought it would at the time. She was beautiful.

She twisted around to toss her coat on the armchair behind her, turning to face him again with a stubborn look on her face. She looked as if she'd decided something important, if that familiar set to her jaw was any indication. He waited patiently for her to speak, having learned over the years not to rush her if he wanted to hear anything meaningful come from her lips. He didn't have to wait long.

"Everything's wrong because everything went back to what it was before. That's what's wrong." She took another shaky breath and looked him in the eyes again. "I don't want what my life was before. I don't want it anymore. I thought I did," she said before he could interject, "but there are things missing that I've come to expect. That I want. That weren't there a year ago, but that I've become used to in the last few months. Don't get me wrong… I'm really happy that most of the danger is gone… but I can honestly say that I was more comfortable on the run with you, living day by day, than I am now in my old office, my old job… my empty hotel room. I can't breathe, Red. It's so hard to breathe anymore. I… I miss you by my side." She couldn't continue past the sob that welled up in her throat.

He stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded as she put words to what he'd been feeling this last week. Before he could think on what he was doing, he'd gathered her into his arms and pulled her tight against his chest. She let out a larger, choking sob at the contact, and suddenly her knees gave out. He sank down with her to the rug, guiding her to rest on his lap, curled up sideways against his chest with her fingers clutching at his shoulder and chest under his dress shirt.

He let her cry, rocking her in his arms as he whispered soothing nothings into her hair. His arms were filled with holding her against him, but he still managed to circle his thumbs against her thigh and back in an attempt to soothe the ache within her. Finally, she was able to get her tears and breathing under control, though she stayed in his arms, basking in the warmth of his embrace.

"Sweetheart?" He whispered against her forehead, his lips moist against her skin.

"Yes?"

"I miss you every moment of the day," he confessed softly, taking a chance just as she had with her admission.

"Do you really?" She tilted her head to look up at him through her disheveled bangs. The look of hope in her eyes nearly killed him right then and there.

"Day and night, Lizzie," he admitted with a twist of his lips. "I can't seem to sleep without you nearby. It's been driving me crazy. Funny the things you get used to," he tried to joke but the adoration that sparked in her eyes kept his voice serious.

"Me too…" She lifted her head enough to place a soft kiss to the underside of his chin. A hum of pleasure came from her throat, and he found his pants tightening at the sound he'd heard in his dreams being heard in real life.

Liz gasped and shot up straight in his lap, though she didn't move off of him.

"I'm sorry Lizzie, please forgive me," he tried to apologize for his instinctive physical reaction.

"No." Before he could wonder why she wouldn't forgive him, her lips were on his in a desperate first kiss. "No," she repeated. "I can't live without you."

After that, there was no more speaking as they demonstrated to each other exactly what they missed about the other. The fire was the only witness as it glistened on their sweat-soaked skin, the crackling of the logs offering a beautiful counterpoint to the soft moans and gasps of pleasure being elicited from their throats.