A/N: I just couldn't help myself with those two.
This is tag/interlude for when Keen finds out her father is dead, the moments right after. Squint for Keen/Ressler.
Disclaimer: Jon Bokenkamp, I'm looking at you.
The moment Keen's phone rings, Ressler knows what it must mean. He's heard enough of her conversations during the day to know that there's something wrong with her father – words like cancer and oncologists don't sound too good – and he promised to let her leave as soon as humanly possible. But as soon as he sees the look on her face, everything falls away because her expression says only one thing.
He hands Wolfe off to the nearest agent, and his attention focuses solely on Keen. She listens to the person on the other side of the phone call and sees the way she crumbles. Disbelief, shock, anger, grief all flutter over her face and she turns away from him, from them, to lean her head against the car, to compose herself, to contain her wayward emotions.
The moment she raises her eyes, however, it's evident just how futile the attempt has been. The phone clatters to the ground and her hands grip the hood of the car, knuckles white.
"She okay?"
He didn't hear Malik arrive but she's standing next to him, looking at Keen with a mixture of puzzlement and curiosity.
"No."
"Did something happen?"
"Take Wolfe in."
He purposefully ignores her questions and doesn't really care what she thinks of him. Suddenly, he feels for the first time the weight of being Keen's partner, granted, only unofficially. But he can't walk away, even if he doesn't know what his next course of action should be.
They aren't close so he's not sure what is expected of him – probably nothing – and what she needs in that moment – probably everything. He approaches her carefully, with easy, measured steps until he's in hearing distance.
She's staring ahead, not reacting to his approach, hands still gripping the car tightly, face carefully blank.
"The ban's being lifted, Keen, as we speak. You can start heading towards the airport."
She doesn't move, doesn't even show that she's heard him.
"Do you want me to give you a ride?"
Ressler knows he's not good with saying the right thing, so he settles for saying the most practical thing. Logically, she would need a ride and she's in no condition to take the wheel.
She gasps then, as if she'd forgotten how to breathe for a long moment and swallows heavily. "My father-"
The words get stuck in her throat and she chokes on the heavy weight of them. The struggle in her is evident; both wanting to keep herself together and wanting to break apart. He's pretty sure she doesn't want to break apart in front of him.
"Come on, Keen."
He takes her by the elbow and she lets herself be guided, lets him open the door and guide her in with a tentative hand on her back. Her expression doesn't change which can mean only that she's trying to hold it in, trying to be bigger than her emotions.
Ressler heads towards the nearest commercial airport, casting furtive glances towards Keen every few moments. The same blank expression remains on her face but he figures the shock must wear off eventually.
He has little experience with actually wanting to console someone, so he lets his focus turn towards the road. Only a few moments later she makes an anguished noise and his head whips to the right to look at her. Her breathing is picking up and her face adopts a wild expression; one of a caged animal.
"Stop the car."
Her voice is outwardly calm but a fine tremble betrays the emotions which are really running through her.
"The airport is right off the next exit."
"Stop the car!"
She yells at him and it's enough to make him take a sudden swerve to the right, ignoring the honking of other cars and every possible traffic law and he's barely stopped before she jumps out. He follows because what else is he supposed to do?
They've stopped in the middle of nowhere, nothing but miles of untamed wasteland. She stands on the side of the road, and he sees her shaking hands, sees the way she's blindly gasping for air and deduces only one thing – a panic attack. He can see her mind working, can see that she's also recognized it but can't really do anything about it. He's no expert either but he can't just do nothing.
Ever so slowly, he approaches her, taking note of the wild flare in her eyes and the way she inches away from him but doesn't quite manage to run. Her fight or flight instinct is heightened to the maximum and whatever he does next, it must be done gently.
"Keen. Listen to my voice. Breathe."
There's a harshness to his voice because he can't quite turn it off when it comes to her, no matter how broken she looks in this moment. She looks at him but doesn't seem to comprehend; her breath still comes out in small stuttering gasps and she seems ready to run at a moment's notice.
"Keen." He repeats her name to get her attention but it's not helping much. "Elizabeth. Liz."
It sounds weird and foreign – and right and perfect but he doesn't focus on that – but it works and her given name also softens his voice to a more tolerable level. She looks at him and she's so lost, so afraid but seems to recognize him; he's not a threat but someone trying to help.
"Liz, breathe. Slowly. In...and out. In...and out."
She seems to understand because she gives a tiny nod and tries to breathe better but the absolute fear in her eyes still doesn't disappear.
"It's okay. Just keep breathing. I'm here."
Her breath keeps slowing down until it evens out and he sees the moment she comes back to herself. There are tears in her eyes and no matter what she did or didn't want, the emotions threaten to overwhelm her.
Her whole being trembles and she falls to her knees before he can react. He steps forward and crouches down in front of her. There's a slight linger of terror in her eyes but she's no longer trying to escape from him because she recognizes his presence.
He sees the silent tears that fall down her cheeks and lays a tentative hand on her shoulder, not sure what is appropriate, despite what transpired after the Stewmaker. When she speaks, it's merely a whisper but all the more devastating. "My father is dead."
It doesn't matter that he's already figured it out because hearing her say it out loud gives hope for her returning composure.
"I'm sorry."
She nods her head to indicate she's heard him and reaches out to touch his hand on her shoulder for a brief moment. He watches her carefully and takes note of the way she seems to be packing her emotions away; moment by moment her face clears of all evidence of what's transpired until there's nothing left but her usual expression.
She stands and he moves away but the skittish woman who tried to run from him is also gone and as she brushes off the dirt from the road, he can see her put on the demeanor of Elizabeth Keen, special agent.
They enter the car and he starts the engine, not saying anything. The rest of the way passes uneventfully until he stops the car in front of the airport.
He turns to look at her. The tears have dried on her cheeks and she rubs at them a bit, to not betray any evidence of her weakness. Her eyes are a bit red but no one would suspect the emotional roller coaster she's just been on.
"You good?"
She contemplates the question for a moment. "I will be."
As almost an afterthought, she touches his arm and when their eyes meet, they both seem a bit surprised by her instigation. Still, she doesn't let go but squeezes his arm gently. "Thank you."
And she's gone.
A/N: Not a whole lot here but I really wanted to see something like this. So, naturally, I wrote it.