By the end of the second bottle of wine, Liz was starting to wonder if venting to Ressler was a good idea.

"I don't get it. So Reddington's using you to get to something, so what? We all went into this knowing he had an agenda. How is it surprising that you're part of it, too? Hell, if anything I figured you were even more a part of it than the rest of us." Ressler offered her the last ounce or so of wine in the bottle, but she waved him off and he emptied it into his plastic cup instead. "Why do you care why he's actually in your life anyhow?"

Liz bit her lip. She didn't know much of this she should she share with Ressler, or even how much she could share. She couldn't really talk about The Fulcrum specifically. And the rest, well…

"It's personal. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Liz sighed, silently mulling over how to get her point across without alienating Ressler too badly. He was bound to judge her once he knew the truth, but if she didn't tell someone soon, she was going to crack. She felt so very alone after what happened with Braxton; she didn't know where else to turn.

"Things... changed between us after Tom disappeared."

"Changed how?"

"It's complicated. I don't really want to go into details."

"Without details, I don't know how much help I'll be, but OK."

"Fine. Once Tom disappeared, we started spending more time together. Outside of work. He… helped me get my head on straight after what I did to Tom, after what Tom did to me. It was all kind of intense, but also not, if that makes any sense? I don't know how to explain it." She shook her head, staring off into the distance. "Anyway, suffice to say if you knew everything that happened, you'd probably think he shouldn't be my CI anymore."

"What the hell is that supposed to—oh." Ressler blanched and looked at Liz like he was seeing her for the first time. "Jesus Christ, Keen."

"I told you you wouldn't understand."

"Understanding isn't the problem. Shit." Ressler took a deep breath, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "OK, OK. What are we talking about here? If it's just some kind of unrequited crush, then it's not that big a d—"

"It's not."

"It's not a big deal?"

"No. It's not unrequited. At least I had no reason to believe it was unrequited before fucking Braxton screwed around in my head."

"What are you saying? You and Reddington have actually…?"

Ressler made a vague gesture with his hands; Liz raised her eyebrows.

"You sure you want to travel down this road? Remember that time Aram told you he walked in on those two techs in the supply closet and you said you couldn't get the image out of your head for weeks?"

"God, Keen, I'm not asking for a blow-by-blow. I'm just trying to get a handle on how compromised you are."

"Compromised?"

"Yeah, compromised. If it was bad for you to use Tom for information while you were still in love with him, it's about a thousand times worse with Reddington. He could be manipulating you."

"If you were actually paying attention, that's exactly what I've been complaining about. This feels like it has all the hallmarks of some grand manipulation, except he's not fitting the narrative. He's not acting like a man whose nefarious plotting was found out, he's… he's acting like he's heartbroken."

Ressler lowered his cup instead of taking a sip. "Wait, you mean all the sulking?"

Liz nodded and raised a hand to start ticking off fingers. "He's depressed, he's taking more risks, he's drinking more, he's trying to impress me, to work his way back into my good graces. Whatever he wants from me that's part of his master plan is secondary to reminding me how…" She trailed off; it was still uncomfortable to put all this into words around Ressler. To put it into words at all, really. "How good we are together. If I'm gonna believe what I see with my own two eyes, then he's, well…"

"In love with you."

Liz couldn't help the way her stomach flipped at Ressler's words. "I don't know. Does that sound possible?"

"Well… why not?"

Liz scoffed. "People don't fall in love with me."

"Come on, Keen. You can't believe that."

"In case you didn't notice, I've had a pretty bad track record lately. I mean, hell, Tom murdered someone in front of me to make sure I had to let him go instead of getting help. No matter what anyone says, that's not love. I don't know what the hell that is."

"That's manipulation."

"And Reddington isn't trying to force my hand like that. He could, I'm sure he could. There's so much he could do to make me feel obligated to do whatever he wants, but he's not. He's just…"

"Sulking."

"Yeah."

"Do you want my two cents? Not as an FBI agent, just as a guy?"

Liz eyed him warily. "Sure…"

"If Reddington hasn't done anything to make you think he's been manipulating you this whole time, if he's acting the way he should act if he actually does care about you, why don't you believe him?"

"Are you actually trying to convince me to give him another chance?"

"Maybe I am," he said with a shrug, sounding almost as surprised as she did. "You still haven't answered the question."

Liz closed her eyes and took a calming breath, letting it out slowly. "I don't believe him because I've been burned before," she said, after a while.

"And Reddington is clearly just Tom Keen 2.0."

"Fuck, no, he's not. Thank god." She snickered quietly and added, almost as an afterthought, "In any way."

"Hey, I don't wanna know, OK? Jesus." Ressler shuddered and shook himself. "Look. You're not objecting to the idea that he's using you on principle—you love him. And you're afraid of getting hurt again."

"Of course I am."

"But that's the big difference, isn't it? Reddington doesn't want to hurt you. Of course if he was using you, it would hurt like it hurt with Tom. But, like you said, he's not Tom. He's not Tom. Just because something was true once, doesn't make it true again."

"Tell that to my PTSD."

"Well, I'm tryin' to, Keen," he said, with a lopsided smile.

Liz snorted and buried her head in her arms on her desk for a long moment. "Shit. If I'm really gonna do this, how the hell do I even start?"

"Call him. I bet he's waiting by the phone, too, knowing him, having a little pity party."

Liz rummaged around on her desk, searching for her phone amidst the empty wrappers and half-eaten packets of snacks from her and Ressler's makeshift vending machine dinner. When she finally unearthed it, she unlocked it and scrolled through her contacts until she found Red's.

She took a deep breath and hit call.