Sorry this is a week late :( school has just been filled with a whole bunch if crap so yea
I tried to fit Keenler in this story as best as i could, as soon as i could, so I'm sorry if its a bit choppy
on another note. The finale tho! :O :O i was expecting more, but oh well xD
sorry, I'm talking/typing too much :\
••••••••
Grenoble, France had sounded like a good place to go in the beginning. The museums, art and the people that filled the area. But Liz felt as if she were in a living hell, Red's people had lost Tom so Red decided it would be the safest if she stayed cooped up in the little space she had. She spent days trapped in her apartment with nothing to do and no one to talk to, Red was always taking care of his business, Samar and Aram were under the impression she was dead, and Ressler was pissed at her for no apparent reason. Probabilities sprung into her head from time to time but she would dismiss them, he's Agent Ressler for gods sake! He would probably throw a freaking lamp at her if she even tried to talk to him. She sighs and folds an old mtv shirt and lets her thoughts go for a minute. She laughed to herself because only one suitcase was opened since she arrived, and she just started emptying out the second one. Suddenly she realized Red didn't mention what happened to Hudson, she swore silently to herself, picked up pajama bottoms and folded them.
A slightly muted phone ring came from somewhere in the room, somewhere close. Did Red really pack her work phone?! He said he didn't want her reaching out to anyone! She scrambled through the suitcase like her life depended on it, ecstatic and confused. Until she pulled the phone out, it was a burner cell he had packed. She was disappointed for a slight moment, knowing she wouldn't be able to tell her co-workers the truth. She flicked it open and answered it as she peeled the sticky note off the flip phone, and read it. She could tell the words in the black ink was Red's writing, 'Lizzie, only use this in a case of emergency. Cheers! – Red'
"Cheers, my ass." She angrily said to herself. The line was slightly fuzzy as she waited for Red, or who ever it was, to speak.
"Hey babe, I was just wondering if you could come here to save daddy." She froze in her tracks and her breaths became heavy, her hands shook in fright, and her palms became sweaty, it was Tom. he was referring to Red as her father, like he always does, but she was confident her father died in that fire. Her mind scrambled for the words to say, until she just spoke what she thought.
"Tom, let him go." She walked over to her kitchen and grabbed the gun she hid in the pantry.
"Only if you come here." he hung up.
There too many questions that floated in her head, would she be in danger if she went? What was he going to do with Red? What does he want? She stood there for a moment and thought of the most important question, where did he want her to go? She walked back to her bedroom, hands still shaking, and grabbed the sticky note. She turned it over, reviling an address that was written on the back, she quickly assumed this is where he was holding Red.
She snatched her jacket from the closet and made her way out of her apartment, stopping in front of Ressler's door. Should she inform him? let him come? Or just leave him? she placed her hand on his door knob and rested her head on the door, a deep breath escaped her lips. She turned the door knob and let herself in.
•••
her palms were sweating as she pulled open the heavy door to the warn-down warehouse. She grabbed her gun and held the door open for Ressler, thank god he came. When she barged into his apartment, it looked as if he were going to put a bullet in her head. But after using Tom's name, he was again fuelled by the anger he held inside of him. he had always hated Tom and he had told her many times after he was brought into the Post Office, every time he's heard or seen him, a switch flicked inside of him.
Ressler started to make his way into the dark room, holding his flashlight with confidence. She made her way behind him and followed him to the first door that he noticed, there was a bright strip of light under the dark blue door, this had to be where he was. The first door shut quietly as she made her way over to the Ressler. He shot his blue eyes in her direction, signaling her to turn off the flashlight.
They were now left, not just in darkness, but in silence. She could hear his breaths nervously escaping his mouth, knowing this wasn't right. At the same time, keeping Tom in a rusty fishing boat and interrogating him wasn't right either. It was very unlike Ressler to do something like this for her. Ever since she had met him he was always the boy scout, the one that had always obeyed the rules and orders that were thrown at him and tried to be perfect in every way, shape, and form possible. But, she did remember when Mako Tanida killed his co-workers, friends, and Audrey. He acted like there were no rules, no limits to how far he could take things. He acted barbarous, and out of control. Comparing boy scout Ressler, to the ruthless Ressler made her cringe. Either way it seemed as if he didn't have any self-command, first he's controlled by rules and limits, next he's being controlled by his "inner rage".
"Don't tell Cooper I'm doing this for you." He whispered
"I won't." she stated "I'll just tell him we did this in the afterlife." She joked, he wasn't visible in the dark, but she knew that he rolled his eyes at her comment.
He slammed the door open and there lied absolutely nothing, no Reddington, no furniture, not even a note. The room looked like it was wiped clean, the floor was clean of dirt and dust and there wasn't a single dent or chip on the walls. They both lowered their firearms and looked at each other with disbelief, where the hell were they?
•••
"This is bullshit!" he screamed. Again, out of control.
"Ressler, it oka-"
"No its not okay Liz! Your ex, Tom, he's crazy! He's just trying to ruin your life an-"
"He was hired by Reddington." She spurted out, hoping he didn't catch that.
he frowned and took another sip of his third beer. She shouldn't have said that, she still didn't know if she could trust Ressler fully. Hell, she still didn't know if she could trust herself fully. Ressler and her were never close, well, until he brought her Wing Yees. That's when she got to see the side of him she had never seen before, he was caring, generous and sweet, although he still had an edgy side.
"so I guess we can't trust anyone." He said, looking at the newspaper.
"yea." The room was silent for a few seonds, "Why have you always had an inner hate for Tom?" she questioned sympathetically. He took another, larger, sip of beer and placed it down on the island in his kitchen, he just looked at her like he didn't know what he was going to say, or he just didn't want to say it. she raised an eyebrow at him.
he walked a bit closer to her, "I, uh, care for you Liz, I really do. And when someone I care about has a douche in their life, like Tom, and I don't really think it's the best for them. I will try my best to get that person out of your, or their, life." He turned back and opened the small pantry next to the fridge.
She smiled, sat up on the bar stool, and half playfully questioned "So, you're jealous of Tom?" she expected an un-serious answer back, but his reply was super unexpected.
"To be honest I kinda' am" she sat there, not knowing what to say. Was he flirting with her? He wasn't drunk but probably a bit tipsy from the beers he had.
"Umm?"
he walked over to her, she was closer to him then she had ever been. One of his hands were placed on the counter, and the other softly rested on her hip. "Ressler," she hesitated for a second and took a deep breath, making eye contact with him. "I don't think this is a good id-" but she couldn't resist. His breath smelt like beer, and just… Ressler.
Their lips gently touched and she had no regrets, she put her hands around his neck and fell into the kiss.
••••••••
Another chapter will (hopefully) be posted next week :)
Let me know how it is so far and what you want to see happening next :D
(I'm 100% open to constructive criticism)
