Note: A lot more angst, a tiny bit of Reddington (more to follow) and a little less Meera, more Ressler.
Elizabeth Keen walked up to Meera Malik's desk with the barely concealed excitement of a schoolgirl on a Friday afternoon that had a bag full of clothes to change into at the end of the day, plans made, fun to be had, finally.
"Did you ask Samar about tonight?"
"Yeah, she can't make it. Date night with Aram." She shook her head mournfully.
"Aw. I was really hoping she'd join us." Liz confessed.
"I know." Meera tapped her fingers against the desk, "Bros before hoes, right?"
Liz stared blankly at her. Meera stared back and then looked away, straightening her collar and stiffening up.
"Shall we pretend that never happened?" She asked, coldly professional again.
Liz suppressed a laugh from behind her fingers, "I think that would be best."
A fedora was placed on the desk and both young women followed the arm holding it, to the man controlling the arm. The concierge of crime, Raymond Reddington. Followed, naturally, by the ever-loyal Dembe.
"Are you planning a night out on the town Lizzie?"
Liz looked at the ground, then at Meera. What was the safest way to answer this?
Red did not wait for a response "Well, I'm always a welcome addition on these particular evenings, and besides, having a world-class criminal leading the pack might just begin to combat the repulsive FBI-ness of Agent Malik's pantsuit."
He smiled at her acidly and looked her up and down. "Classy choice."
Meera rolled her eyes, "I'm not wearing my work clothes."
"That should be interesting! Perhaps there is a vixen beneath the polyester. Now I simply must have an invite!" He retorted.
Liz looked to them both in amusement, "Sorry, Red. It's kind of a girl's night."
Red smiled, his hand still on his fedora, "Ah, girl's nights…" he looked off fondly, with a reminiscent happiness, "So many I have attended, so few I can remember. But those I do, let me tell you. Unforgettable."
Meera wrinkled her nose, looked away, "Gross."
"Anyway, I'm not a beggar. You two have fun." He flipped the fedora in his hand and placed it atop his head as he began to walk away.
As if on cue from Reddington's exit, Ressler swept in through the office and with a wave of his arm, he beckoned Meera outside, "A word, Agent Malik?"
She barely had the chance to reply before they were out of earshot of Liz, who could do nothing other than shrug and hope Meera wasn't causing more trouble.
"What's going on?" She asked, stopping them both
"Did you uh… deal with the issue with that security guy? I mean, I was assuming you had because she hadn't told me anything about it but then it occurred to me that if something did happen, there would be no reason for her to tell me and so I thought I'd better check and-"
"Brian's out." She affirmed, cutting him short.
"Oh. Good." Ressler nodded, letting out a breath, "I mean, not 'good', that sounds strange…"
Meera smiled mischievously "How so?"
He went red, "Uh, of course! I meant good as in, 'oh good, that guy isn't going to mess with our colleague- friend' uh, I just didn't want you to think I meant it in any other way."
"I don't know what you mean, but okay." Meera said innocently
"Okay. Well. I'm glad we cleared that up," he looked off into the distance as if reminded by something and walked off, to save face.
Meera laughed to herself as he marched away.
"But I just don't understand how you can eat a food you hate for two years, when you're married to someone, and they never find out!"
"Well you don't want to tell them on the first morning!" Liz protested, taking another sip of her wine, "and then he went out of his way to make them all the time and the next thing I know we're married and then it's gone too far"
Meera burst out laughing, hitting her hand against the side of the table.
"What's so funny?" Liz was frowning and laughing simultaneously
"You were living a double life too!"
Liz was mock horrified at the joke but still couldn't hide her laughter; it was nice to take the awful situation a little more lightly.
Meera's phone buzzed on the table, automatically, she picked it up "Hello...Really? Okay then, I'll be there soon. Is she there? Can I speak to her…?"
Meera mouthed 'sorry' at Liz, and wandered a few feet away to continue talking.
Liz smiled understandingly. At least they'd had a good few hours to catch up.
Meera rushed back, stashing her phone in her bag, "Sorry. I've got to go. My daughter was staying at a friend's house tonight but she's not feeling well,"
"I figured." Liz smiled, "On you go, I'll just stay here for a bit. Hope she feels better soon."
As she watched Meera walk away, Liz considered the drinks menu for a few moments and then, once her friend was gone, she approached the bar.
It was almost 11 pm when she spotted Ressler. Possibly Ressler. Possibly an equally attractive red-headed man. She couldn't quite tell. He was blurry. She'd been here for a while.
"Keen?" Ressler looked mortified, "Oh, god… I didn't realize this was where you and Meera were going."
It must have been Ressler because he knew her name. She whirled round on the stool and forgot to maintain her balance.
"Woah." He put an arm out to steady her, shuffling aside.
"Meera had to go." Liz focused hard on pressing the words out coherently.
"You're here alone?" He looked around incredulously. "I'm calling you a cab." He took a couple of steps away from her and brought a phone out of his pocket.
Liz scowled at him. Always by-the-book. Never any fun. She made a face behind his back.
"He wasn't giving you any trouble, was he?" A casually dressed, female bartender leaned across to ask Liz.
Liz frowned, "No."
Remembering that she was F.B.I and that she could potentially extract more information from this civilian she leaned forward in response. "Why?" she asked, with a hidden sense of pride at her intel-gathering skills.
The girl shrugged, polishing a glass "Didn't think he was, he just doesn't usually interact with anyone. He's kind of a regular. Comes here every month or so, hits it hard. Alex, over there," she pointed down the bar at a young man with dark hair, "he usually has to pour him in a cab around closing time. I think the guy lost his wife, girlfriend, something like that. It's a shame; they used to come here together. She was nice. Pretty, always tipped well."
Liz looked back at Ressler, staring at him sadly.
He noticed her and cupped a hand over the receiver of the phone, "You aren't still staying in that motel, are you?"
Liz nodded slowly, trying hard to focus on its address.
He sighed, uncovered the receiver, "Sorry, pal- yeah, it's not needed anymore."
"Let's go." He nodded at Liz, and then at the bartender, who looked reassured.
"No! I want to stay!" Liz protested, pulling at the sleeve of his jacket, "You haven't even had a drink yet."
"I think you're finished with that." He gave her a tight-lipped smile and lent his arm to her, which she reluctantly took, to make it out of the crowded room.
"You can crash at mine if you want Keen, I'll sleep on the couch." He told her once they were outside, on the street.
"Stop trying to look after me! I just wanted a normal night, to get a little drunk, I don't need protecting, Ressler." She refused his arm and walked a few paces behind. The cold night air was hitting her in horrible, sobering ways and the warmth and buzz of the club was getting further and further from her. Cars fled past on the road and they were dizzying.
Ressler shrugged, seemingly annoyed and walked ahead, as she wished. His shoulders tensed, like they did when you knew he had something to say. It infuriated Liz.
"So what?" She demanded, trying to catch his arm and pull him back, but missing, "You're mad at me now?!"
He stopped and hesitated, trying to bite his tongue, "Yes. Okay? I'm mad."
"Why? You can hardly criticize me for having one night out. Nobody can, but you? I don't think you're in a position to say anything."
Hurt flashed in Ressler's eyes. He paced backwards and ran a hand through his hair. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, devastatingly defeated.
Liz would have done anything to take it back, but her pride was hurt too so it was only going to get worse before it got better.
"I'm going in the other direction. I'll go home fi-" She lost her footing slightly and stumbled off the sidewalk.
Ressler jumped forward, too far away to reach her, fear seizing around his heart.
She fell forward, back into safety, just as a car sped past, and another one. Her chest pounding, Ressler leaned forward to help her up.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. No need to say I told you so." She brushed him off, although she'd rather stay close.
Ressler hadn't quite recovered yet. He held his hands over his head, trying to get his breath back. Under his breath he muttered, "This is unfair."
"What? How is this unfair for you?" She demanded, hearing him.
"Because," he started to raise his voice "we don't get to have ordinary lives. We work in a world with Raymond Reddington, and hopefully, you know, just maybe we do good and help people because of it. But you can't wander home to your motel on a Friday night when you're not at your peak condition - there are people out there that will take advantage of any weakness, will take any opportunity to hurt you because Raymond Reddington cares about you, and that makes the world a dangerous place, Keen."
He stopped, breathless. She just stared, processing.
"And it is unfair, it's so unfair because," his voice started breaking off with desperation and hurt, "because, Raymond Reddington isn't the only one that cares about you."
The cold air swirled around them, the riptide of cars hurrying past. Liz staunched a tear in one eye with her thumb.
"…it doesn't matter though, what I think. There's people out there who want to hurt you because of what you are to someone else. That's a very real threat. And it's just unfair."
Liz leaned out and took his arm again. He hadn't even realized he'd been holding it out. She thought again about Audrey and how Ressler had lost her unfairly, because he loved her and that made her world a dangerous place. As they walked in silence she thought about how the woman at the bar lost a good tipper and Ressler had lost everything. Almost everything, she thought to herself, with a new resolve. He still had her. She was going to do her best to make sure that remained true.
"I'm sorry." She murmured.
"Me too." He looked at her with a soft smile as they reached the apartment door. Once inside, he went to the cupboard and grabbed a spare pillow for the sofa, opening the bedroom door for Liz.
"You can sleep in there, I'll be out here if you need anything."
She nodded, exhausted, emotionally and physically.
Somehow she found herself hugging Ressler tightly, "It'll work out. Somehow. It has to."
He froze, and then hugged her back, feeling awkwardly sober, but comforted "Night, Keen."