A/N: Hi, and welcome to my new multi-chapter fic! It is mostly canon with the events of S2 until 2x19, and then it is AU. I know this plot idea is common and has been used many times but I hope you enjoy my take on it. And it will be Keenler :)
Thank you to my beta theblacklister23!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything but the writing. Everything else belongs to NBC. And I'm not a doctor.
"Donald. Donald!"
"You need to come to the hospital now. She's been in an accident."
"Did you hear me? You need to come now!"
"Oh. Uh, sorry." In the midst of my thoughts I bump directly into a stocky middle-aged man, causing him to nearly spill his overflowing cup of coffee onto his shirt. He just walks away grumbling and shaking his head.
I absentmindedly toss the empty paper cup I was using for water into the garbage can nearby and continue to think back to the phone call I received a week ago, from Reddington.
"Donald, are you there? This is urgent, it's about your partner."
He had called just minutes before midnight as I was having a late dinner and he sounded more panicked than I had ever heard him.
If Raymond Reddington is panicking, there's probably a reason for me to panic too.
So then I drove straight to the hospital and met him by the entrance. He was shaking, and I knew that wasn't a good sign.
As he and Dembe quickly rushed me upstairs, Reddington had informed me about what happened as well as he could in his flustered state.
She was driving back from the Post Office as well, and a truck violently t-boned her car at a red light. Fortunately and miraculously she didn't break any bones and there were no serious injuries, but her head hit the window hard on impact, and the doctors are most concerned about that.
Head trauma. Possible internal bleeding.
She was in really bad shape from what we could see before she was rushed into the ICU by the hospital staff.
He called me three hours after the accident had happened, and I was frustrated that he didn't tell me earlier. I wasn't sure how he found out so fast but he was Raymond Reddington and he has his ways.
I've told him that we should press charges because according to Reddington the truck driver crashed into her, not the other way around, but Reddington has said that he'll 'find a way to take care of that situation'.
I know where that's going to lead, but as of right now, our main focus is Liz which means I'll have to deal with Reddington later.
Fortunately there was no internal bleeding but the head trauma is what we're all concerned about.
The waiting room's not packed right now, but there are a few families standing around anxiously, talking indistinctly. It is eleven at night after all, and it has quieted down since I first arrived an hour ago.
I've been here every day for the past week like clockwork; come to the hospital before work, come back after work so I can check up on Liz and get updates on her condition. I always want to stay longer than my usual three hours but the work schedule won't allow it so I'll always leave the hospital feeling worse about her condition than I did arriving.
Work obviously isn't the same without her (and Reddington too. He hasn't been showing up at the Post Office for the past week, so I assume he's been 'taking care' of some 'business'. I also haven't seen him at the hospital when I'm there at night so I figure he visits her during the day, when no one else is around) and I'm not going to lie, it's been difficult to hold it all together and act like normal.
Even the tension that is usually palpable between Samar and Aram is dialed down. Nobody really interacts with each other outside of the case that we've been working on since the day before the accident. Cooper insists that we continue to work on that case that Red assigned so it will keep us temporarily distracted, but all I can think about for the whole day is Liz.
She's my partner, my friend, and I just need everything to be okay.
We're partners, we're Keen and Ressler, that shouldn't change.
And I can't lose her.
I don't think I could live without her, I know that now.
She matters that much.
I sit down two seats away from a snoring elderly man sitting next to his grandchild, who is silently reading a book, and shut my eyes, trying to clear my head the best that I can.
Just as I'm about to doze off, someone calls my name. I look up.
"Mr. Ressler?" it's the nurse who's been in charge of Liz for the past few days. "You can see her now. In fact, she's doing better than yesterday, much better, but we're still keeping an eye on her."
I sit up quickly and offer her a tight smile, which she returns with the same amount of curtness, and she leads me down the clean white hallway.
I like her. She knows the seriousness of the situation and doesn't try to make things lighter by cracking a joke or acting overly positive like those other nurses. She keeps tells the truth like it is without adding anything on, and I respect that.
The thing is, all of Liz's doctors know my name because I visit every day and they greet me like I'm an old friend, but it's awkward and I'd rather they talk to me only when it's necessary, like for an update on Liz. They don't know that we're FBI, though.
But I'd rather not talk to anyone, not until things get better at least.
It's a good thing that she's improving but the doctors have told me that the road to recovery will be tough for her, so I haven't kept my hopes up for a miracle.
"She's been steady for the past twenty-four hours. I'm sure she'll wake up soon to see you. She's woken up several times in the past twenty-four hours, and she's even tried to talk, but if she wakes up again, don't overwhelm her and begin a conversation just yet." she says, opening up the door for me and marking something down on her clipboard. "We're right around the corner in case of anything."
"Alright. Thanks." I mumble, entering the room as the nurse leaves.
I exhale deeply and face the bed, and then I see Liz.
She does looks better than she did over the past few days; most of the intricate tubes that were connected to her yesterday except for the feeding tube in her nose and the heart monitor wires have been removed, and they've removed a layer of bandages around her head. Half her face is bruised and there are stitches on the left of her forehead, but from what I can tell she's looking better than before.
It's a gradual recovery, and all we can do is sit tight and be patient.
"Hey, how are you?" I say softly, pulling up the chair in the corner right up next to the bed. "You're gonna pull through, you know that."
Of course, she doesn't react and continues to lie there motionlessly.
I know she's not awake, but I'm sure she can hear me, so I keep on talking. I know it must look funny, talking to someone who isn't conscious, but it's the only way I'm keeping myself from falling apart in front of her.
"Everyone's been asking about you a lot. Especially Aram, he asks every hour. And he says he's sorry he hasn't visited in a few days." I manage a slight smile, glancing at the doorframe as a few doctors walk by. "He's sent like six balloons and fourteen "get well" cards in one week. When you wake up I'm sure you'll see them." I motion to the collection of colorful cards and balloons by her bedside.
Then I look back down at her. She looks so peaceful.
Her eyes are closed, her hands are at her sides, she just looks so tranquil I don't want to wake her up.
We haven't officially talked since the day of the accident; each time I've visited they've put her to sleep or she was in surgery. She's not in a coma though;
And now I'm really starting to miss her, a lot.
"You know, Liz," I say unsteadily, reaching for her limp hand and holding it in mine. "We all miss you. You're going to be alright, okay? We all know you can do it; Reddington, Aram, Samar, Cooper, hell, I bet even Tom, we're all here for you and we're all waiting for you to pull through." I choke up a bit, but I blink back my tears. "Even Hudson, I swear, even that dog's missing you too."
I look right at her, holding her hand tight as I feel the lump growing in the back of my throat. "Come on, Liz. Pull through. Pull through for all of us."
And then just like that, her eyes flutter.
I withhold a breath. "Liz?"
Her hand twitches a bit.
"Liz, I'm right here, come on, it's all right. You can wake up now."
It's all going to be okay.
It takes her a while to fully open up her eyes, but she does.
"Hey." I manage to say, releasing her hand a bit after realizing how tightly I was holding it.
She still doesn't look at me, instead her gaze is focused on her lap, and I move in closer to her.
Liz attempts to sit up a bit, but fails and slumps back down.
"Hey." I say gently. "How are you?"
She looks up at me now, her eyes wide and cautious.
She isn't saying anything. Oh, no.
Could this mean. . .
"Wait." I begin as it starts to click. "You remember who you are, don't you?"
She still doesn't say anything, instead she continues to look at me strangely.
"What's your name?" I say slowly, making sure not to confuse her.
"E-Elizabeth." she finally croaks up, her voice hoarse. "L-Liz. L-Lizzie."
"Oh, thank god." I breathe out a sigh of relief. Then, just to make sure, "When is your birthday, Liz?"
"M-March twenty-six, n-nineteen eighty-four." She continues carefully. "I w-work for t-the FBI."
Her words are broken, but the doctors said it was normal for someone who was recovering from head trauma, so this is a start.
Good. That's good.
I don't want to overwhelm her with words since she just woke up, but there's just one more thing I need to ask her-
"T-om." I hear her mumble something.
"What?"
"Tom. Tom."
Wait. No.
"Tom?" I ask, holding on to her hand even tighter.
Noticing this, she promptly pulls it away. "W-Who are y-you?"
No. No. This can't be happening.
"L-Liz," I say, my voice breaking. "You remember me, right? Agent Ressler? Don? From the bureau, your partner?"
She shakes her head as much as it will allow, the look in her eyes unfamiliar and scared. "N-No, no. T-Tom, I need him. He's my h-husband."
No. Please no.
"Liz, it's Ressler." I repeat clearly, feeling that sinking feeling in my stomach. "From the Reddington task force. R-Red, you remember him too?"
"Reddington. He's a c-criminal. Studied h-him." she continues incoherently.
"Yeah, you know him. You work with him, with me and Aram and Cooper and Samar." I try to help her remember all of our colleagues, but it's clearly not registering in her brain.
She shakes her head as frantically as she can. "N-never worked with h-him. Or t-those people. Just graduated Quantico. It's J-July, two thousand a-and thirteen. I want Tom."
"Liz," I plead, now close to tears. "Please."
She's got to remember, she has to.
"I don't know y-you." Liz shakes her head again, the look in her eyes blank and unreadable and I know now that it's too late.
So I reach for her hand again out of comfort for me mostly, but this time she jerks it away and leans away from me.
"G-Get away from me." Liz hisses, her eyes blazing.
"No, Liz, pl-"
"Get away!" she demands protectively, her voice hoarse but now intelligible for the doctors outside the room to hear.
And just like that, my heart shatters into a million pieces.
Because it's all gone. I realize that now. Every relationship and bond that she had with everyone; Aram, Samar, Reddington, me, it's all gone. Every thought, every memory, all our time spent together; she won't remember any of it.
Not even the office dinner we had for her birthday.
It's all gone.
I should have known. The doctors, they warned us about how her head trauma could result in this.
Two doctors rush in at the same time, one of them pressing buttons on the machine behind Liz and the other one trying to calm Liz down as she continues to frantically shake her head.
Realizing that I should leave now, I stand up and back out of the room, processing what just happening.
And it is right then and there, standing outside of the hospital room where my partner is being treated for a serious head trauma, that I fall apart.
Not physically, but mentally.
Because she doesn't remember anything about the task force.
She doesn't remember me.
Please tell me what you think about this first chapter! Until next time :)