Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the reviews and interest in my story, it's truly been encouraging and inspiring. I am always looking into getting better at this, because I just love the characters so much (all respect pointed to Jon Bokenkamp *clap*clap*bow*whistle*). My utmost priority is to preserve all characters in their "character", in their thought process, personality, quirks, mannerisms, speech, etc.

This third chapter, I felt like it was more fluff than needs to be. I really hope I've preserved the integrity of the characters. Thanks for reading!

Two Years Since

Chapter 3

Donald held the door for Liz as they stepped out of the café, both squinting their eyes against the bright sunlight. A swirling gust of warm wind wafted around them, throwing Liz's auburn hair into a mild frenzy. Instinctively Liz turned towards Donald, and he placed his hand on her lower back to somehow stabilize her. Liz became instantly aware of his warm and strong hand, and felt she no longer had control over her body as it stiffened up. When was the last time another person has touched her? Other than Tom? Being touched reminded her of Tom, and she couldn't shut that out. Damn it.

"Is everything OK?" Donald peered into her eyes, his face so close that she can feel his steady breath.

"Yeah, you know, they don't call Chicago the windy city for nothing." We are back to the awkward, Liz contended with a low chuckle. "My hair's a mess."

As their eyes met, Donald took a shy step away from Liz, perhaps giving space if she needed it. "No, you look perfect, as always," he countered. Then quickly, "It's a beautiful day, isn't it? It's very warm for fall."

"Yes, it is. Very nice day."

Liz was acutely aware that they were still standing in front of the café, like couple of teenagers who didn't know what to do with themselves. Wait, did he just give me a compliment? What did he say?

"Liz, how do you get home from here?"

"I take the L train to Glen Oaks. It's just twenty minutes away."

"I'll walk you to the station," Donald offered. As he lightly touched her elbow to guide her down the street, Liz couldn't help but feel pleasantly quaint, cozy even. She wouldn't dare be weak and dependent, and prided herself for being self-reliant and sufficient. But this just felt nice. It felt nice to be taken care of, to be touched by someone she trusted, to feel safe because of someone. "Woah, slow down, Lizzie," she reminded herself. Just focus on not freaking out at the smallest things.

"When do you leave Chicago?" Liz needed to snap out of those thoughts.

"Tomorrow afternoon, actually." Donald responded with a slow smile. With that, he let go of his touch, and Liz was fully aware of the chill that filled his absence. He's starting to say good bye.

"Well, I have a whole day with nothing to do. I was just going to hang around the city, look around a bit. I haven't had an empty day for a long time. Do you…want to join me? I mean, if you don't have any plans, or…well, if you are free. It'd be nice to try out some beer pubs with someone, and not alone as it usually happens." Donald looked at Liz with sheepish embarrassment, and laughed heartily, more at himself if anything. Liz was caught quite off guard by his humorous self-awareness, and laughed alongside with endearment. Donald Ressler, laughing at himself. Liz felt quite taken by this.

After moments of laughter, Liz responded, "How could I say no to that pathetic cry for company? I will play tourist with you, Don, consider yourself privileged. And beer sounds good just about now." Donald replied, "That's my girl. And yes, beer sounds really good." He smiled as he once again led her by the elbow.

. . . . .

"Well, this is me," Liz pointed at the brown stone apartment, at the bottom of the brick laid steps. The night has become quite chilly, and the dim lights can barely make out his face.

"Donald, I had a lot of fun today. Some of the beer pubs were really amazing, I didn't even know I lived so close to them. Being a hermit has its disadvantages." Donald chuckled with obvious amusement.

"Yeah, I had a really good time. Thank you for being an excellent company, I am privileged." Even in the darkness, Liz could make out his steely gaze. "Sometimes I just want to get away from being this agent tough guy, and do stuff that normal people do. You know, not worrying about getting shot at, get blown up or being choked. All that good stuff. I'd rather just sit on a barstool and drink some beer."

Liz gave a short laugh, "I know what you mean." I remember that life, she mused.

"Don, would you like to come in? I might have a bottle of merlot." Liz didn't know how this happened, but the words were already out. She couldn't take them back. Right?

He did not hesitate, "Sure, yes to beer, yes to wine." Here we go. Liz added, "Just to let you know, I don't have much furniture. No couch, and only one chair for dining table. We may have to sit on the floor, if you don't mind." Why was she feeling nervous all of sudden? Will she feel better if he somehow backed out?

"On the floor, it is." And Donald started up the stairs.

. . . . .

Liz brought the bottle of merlot and couple of coffee mugs to Donald, who was already sitting on the floor. "When you said no furniture, you weren't kidding," he quipped. Liz's apartment of last two years was bare, at its truest sense. It was small, a very humble space. No couch, no T.V., no fancy anything. Just a one-person dining table, an old laptop, and a tiny green plant. The cheap red phone on the kitchen counter was her only connection to the outer world.

"I warned you. In fact, I debated for two weeks whether I should get that plant. It was a very difficult decision."

"I bet. Nothing else says domestic and fancy like a pot of plant." Donald is now joking with her. And she gave him the satisfaction by laughing along.

"And these coffee mugs are all I have."

Liz sat next to Donald as he opened the bottle of wine and poured into their mugs. "Men don't usually care about in what alcohol is served," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Then simultaneously they took a big sip of the wine. "Not bad for the wine served in a coffee mug," Donald turned to Liz. "Yeah, not bad," she returned the gaze. They held their gaze for longer than comfortable, as if each was waiting for the other to break, each breath becoming deeper in anticipation. Liz wanted Donald to break, but she could no longer concentrate at that moment, of anything. But one thing, him. Donald leaned in to her, his deep breath soft against her face, his nose gently gliding against her nose. She felt her senses heightened in mixtures of exhilaration, fear, and loss of control. Liz closed her eyes as his lips were mere breath away.

"Liz, I should get going. It's late, and I'm going back to Washington tomorrow." Donald whispered, between his teeth. He looked as if he was trying to snap back his consciousness, or control his muddled mind. Liz opened her eyes, "Of course, you should get some rest."

Both got up from the floor quickly, and Liz led him to the door. Donald turned and offered his thanks for the wine. As he was walking out of the apartment, he turned again.

"Liz, you need to come back to the bureau."