It took every ounce of effort Liz had not to fall asleep as she laid there in the aftermath of, not only what they had just done, but Resslers voiced regret. Every inch of her mind and body screamed sleep yet she knew she couldn't afford to, not now. She waited long enough for his breaths to even out to be sure Ressler had succumbed to unconsciousness before inching herself away from him, leaving the warmth of his side and the bed and letting the cool nights breeze coming from the cracked window bite at her naked skin. She spotted their discarded clothes at the foot of the bed, the empty whiskey bottle laying off to the side, the only part full bottle of wine next to it and felt bitterly ashamed with herself. She should have never have allowed herself to let her guard down as much as she did, as the result of her doing so was painfully obvious as she glanced to the bed.

Liz racked her muffled brain as she hunted round for something comfortable to wear, taking her find and tiptoeing to the bathroom to change. He had been the one to make the first move, hadn't he? He'd been the one to lean in to kiss her (though she realised now that it probably would've been better if they hadn't in the end), but it didn't stop her feeling utterly disappointed when he'd pulled away and left. It seemed so right for her at the time to go after him, to pull open the door and call him back. Liz had honestly felt the world falling in to place when she'd found him standing there ready to knock. She had loved every second of being with him; it made her feel alive and wanted, but now she just felt empty and alone. Liz sat on the closed toilet and placed her spinning heads in her hands, willing the fuzziness she was feeling to go away. She knew that, without the alcohol flowing through her veins, what had happened tonight never would have, and she honestly didn't know how to feel about it at this point in time.

Bile began to rise at the back of her throat and she fought to swallow it back down – not wanting to risk waking Ressler. Liz stood and stared at her reflection in the mirror; pale skin and bloodshot eyes was all that she could see. After rinsing the taste of alcohol and bile from her mouth and splashing her face with water, Liz gathered her sparse belongings from around the bathroom and silently made her way back in to the main room. Ressler, she noted, was still none the wiser to her absence from his side, something which she was immensely grateful for. Reddington had told her simply to pack only what she wished to take to Nebraska with her and that he'd have Mr Kaplan sort the rest. She set about repacking the remainder of her bag (the contents of which had been up-ended on the floor when it had been unceremoniously pushed from the bed) as quietly as she could, all the while resisting the urge to stare at the man sleeping peacefully in her bed.

It was nearing five in the morning by the time Liz had finished packing and made herself, at the very least, presentable to greet Dembe when he came knocking. She had no intention of waking her partner before she left – not wanting to endure the awkward conversation that was bound to happen. Finding herself unable to focus being in the room much longer, Liz shot Dembe a text letting him know she was ready to leave sooner than they'd planned. He replied not a minute later to say he was two minutes away. Liz started moving her bags closer to the door, the intention being not to let Dembe see further in to the room than he had to. She heard a car pull up outside and shot to the window, gun in hand, and peered through the curtains in time to see Dembe stepping out of the car. She noted that he was looking at all the parked cars, giving them the once over as he walked, stopping momentarily as he passed the familiar car of her partner. Liz groaned and moved to the door, unlocking and wrenching it open enough to shove her suitcase and few bags out.

"Hey, Dembe," she said before he had a chance to reach her. "I just need to grab my phone, can you give me a minute?"

He seemed to regard her briefly, his eyes burning right through hers in to the room behind her... almost like he knew exactly what she was trying to hide. "Of course," he said, giving her the slightest of smiles. "I'll take these to the car."

He retreated back to the car with her things while Liz headed back inside. She didn't need to get her phone, having already slipped it in her pocket. No, what she had to do, what she felt obliged to do, was leave Ressler a note. Liz grabbed a fresh bottle of water from the mini fridge, the aspirin on the side and placed them on the night stand. She ripped a piece of paper from a notebook, scribbled a short note and propped it up against the water. She took a final look at Ressler, taking in the relaxed features of his face and felt her stomach turn before shooting out and joining Dembe in the car.

"Done," she said, as she fastened her seat belt. "Let's go."

"Is everything okay, Elizabeth?" Dembe attempted to catch her eye through the mirror, but she wouldn't let him, knowing he'd see right through her... if he hadn't already.

"Too much to drink last night," she murmured, rubbing her forehead. "Far too much to drink."

She could see Dembe regarding her again and shrunk down in her seat and closed her eyes; she didn't need to be judged by him – she was doing enough of that herself.

Dembe reached over and ruffled through his bag on the passenger seat, pulling out a bottle of chilled water and passed it back to her. She accepted and took a small sip, nodding her thanks but Dembe encouraged her to keep going. "You must keep hydrated; Raymond with have breakfast on the flight."

Liz grimaced, her stomach turning again at the thought of food. "Don't think I can stomach anything yet."

"You will."

Liz rolled her eyes and caught the smallest of smiles on Dembe's face through the mirror. They lapsed in to quiet and spend the rest of the drive in silence. It didn't bother Liz much in one sense, because Dembe was silent most of the time, but what did bother her was now she had too much time to think. No matter how much she tried to forget; she could still feel Resslers touch on her skin, his lips against her neck, his fingers where they shouldn't have been... the feeling of his body pressed against hers. She shuddered then, catching Dembes attention but she ignored him. Mistake or not, the whole act had left her body aching, something she hadn't experience before... not even with Tom and every time they had been together. She tried to rid herself of the thoughts and feeling as Dembe pulled them in to a private airstrip. Reddingtons jet was the only plane in sight, and was already positioned on the runway, ready to take off at any given moment. Dembe pulled the car to a stop a few feet from the waiting jet. Another one of Reddingtons henchmen was waiting off to the side, presumably to take possession of the car once the two of them had vacated. By the time she'd braced herself and pulled herself from the car, Dembe had already unloaded the trunk and passed the contents to someone else.

Dembe lead her up the fitted steps to the plush passenger cabin that was so Reddington that the jet couldn't belong to anyone else. The man himself was seated in one of a collection of four seats fixed around a table reading a newspaper. He looked up and set the paper down, jumped up and held his arms wide.

"Lizzie!" he all but shouted, as if he hadn't seen her in months instead of two days, pulling her in to a brief embrace then holding her at arms length but the upper arms. His elation at seeing her quickly disappeared and his face fell when he took a good look at her. "Sweetheart, you look dreadful. What on Earth were you up to last night."

"Had a few drinks," she responded in a mumble, taking the seat offered to her and throwing herself in to it and leaning back as far as it would allow without having to use the controls. Reddington narrowed his eyes slightly, scrutinizing her and at that moment Liz wanted nothing more than to sink in to a hole, because she was almost certain he knew what she was so desperately trying to hide.

"Looks like you had more than a few," Reddington said and returned to his own seat. Liz held her breath, maybe – just maybe – he'd leave it as that. "Dembe, have Natalia bring through coffee before we take off... and bagels."

Liz stomach turned again and a wave of nausea washed over her. She closed her eyes and shook her head, missing the look Reddington shared with his right hand man. "I don't feel like eating."

"But you must," Reddington said in a tone that very clearly ended the conversation. Liz rolled her eyes as a young, perky, European woman with deep red dyed hair fixed it to unnatural waves set down a tray on the table between them mounted in bagels and fillings, a steaming coffee pot and two mugs. She groaned at the sight while Reddington grinned brightly at the hostess.

"Thank you, my dear. I absolutely love what you've done to your hair." Natalia flashed the both of them a smile and disappeared again. Reddington began poring them both coffee and passed one to Liz, who made no move to take it. He set the mug down and turned instead to slicing a bagel and adding his choice of filling. "I met her mother one night -"

Liz, sensing where he was going, cut his reminiscing short and tried to keep her tone as polite as she could. "I really don't want to know."

Reddington took a bite of his breakfast and set the plate back down, taking his time to chew before wiping his mouth on a napkin. He leaned back and crossed his knees, his eyes baring in to hers. "You played with fire, Lizzie, and it's only a matter of time before you get burned."

'I already have been', she thought as she tried not to let the man across from her know just how much his statement hit home. She took a reluctant sip of her coffee, letting the harsh, scalding liquid burn her throat in an attempt to buy herself more time. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Reddington raised an eyebrow, not believing her at all. "Really, Lizzie, because my sources tell me that Donald -"

Liz raised a hand to stop him, which he obliged to do. "For the record, Don spent the night on the floor." She could tell by the look on his face that Reddington still didn't believe her, but to hell with it. "Just don't go there, okay? I get that you're concerned, but I am an adult, not your teenage daughter. I don't need or want a lecture. You, and you back there," she raised her voice enough for Dembe to hear and turned in her seat to glare at him. He neither made a move nor gave an expression under her gaze, which only made her huff in frustration and turn back to Reddington, who was showing slight amusement at her failed attempt to intimidate Dembe. Liz narrowed her eyes at him. "Stay out of my private life. Don't think I don't know that Dembe was your 'source'' he was at too near to the motel too early this morning not to be."

"I see." Liz didn't know whether it was her tone or her being on the verge of tears that made Reddington back down, but she was grateful nonetheless. "In that case, Dembe, will you call Natalia back and have her take these things away? Then let Marcus know we're ready to take off." Dembe nodded and walked towards the front of the jet. Reddington swiped a few crumbs from his pants leg and looked back to her. "I've arranged for a car to take your from the airport to Sam's. There's also a rental waiting in the drive for you. Javier will give you the keys and paperwork."

"Thank you." Liz gave him a sincere smile and sighed in relief, partly because he'd dropped the subject of her and Ressler and partly because hiring a car for the duration of her stay in Nebraska was something she hadn't thought of.

Reddington nodded but said no more. Dembe returned with Natalia and as she removed their breakfast, he settled himself in to a chair a few rows from them. No sooner had they been left alone did the pilots voice sound through the cabin.

Ladies and gentlemen, if you would please fasten your seat belts, we'll be taking off in five minutes time.


Ressler woke to a painfully pounding head and a vibrating somewhere on the floor to the left of him. Trying not to jostle the rocks bashing against the inside of his skull, Ressler stretched out on the bed expecting to find the warm body of his partner, but instead his hand ran along the cold and empty sheet beside hi,. Cracking an eye open, Ressler instantly knew he was alone in Liz's motel room. He shot in to a seated, an act he instantly regretted. He pressed his knuckles against his head, willing the spinning sensation to disappear. Since his college years, he'd always been fortunate enough not to experience the sickness that, more times than not, accompanied an hangover, but that didn't mean he wouldn't suffer with an impressive headache for the next few hours. Opening his eyes again, Ressler did a brief scan of the room, wondering if Liz had simply woken early and stepped out, but upon noticing most of her clothes and bags than had been present last night had gone, he knew that wasn't the case. She'd gone.

Ressler sat still on the bed, trying to process this new information. Had she really upped and left without saying goodbye after the two of them had had sex? Did she even try to wake him? Ressler couldn't understand it. As far as he knew, she had wanted it as much as him. Yeah, he'd pulled away from her and left, but when he'd turned back she was already there. He threw off the covers and made to climb out of the bed when he spotted the note Liz had written before leaving. He gave a half smile and downed two pills with some water while silently thanking his partner for the thought. He picked up the note, his heart sinking as he read the untidy, familiar scrawl.

Don, take the aspirin. See yo when I get back.

Don't worry, I regret it to.

Liz

Shit.

Ressler read through two then three more times to be sure he understood. Liz had still been awake when he'd expressed his regret.

"Ah hell, Liz."

He hadn't meant it the way she obviously believed. All he meant was that he regretted them being drunk, not them actually sleeping together. In all honesty, his feelings for his partner had been running deeper for months, he just never acted on them... and as far as he was aware, Liz must have had something there for him to. The vibrating started again and Ressler figured it must be his phone. He looked round and spotted his pants crumpled at the foot of the bed and went to retrieve them. His pulled his phone out as it stopped ringing and growled audibly as he looked at the screen - it was almost eleven in the morning and seven missed called from Aram and two from Cooper indicated that he was in deep shit. Like Liz, Ressler caught sight of the whiskey and wine bottles and was flooded with memories of the previous night. He needed to explain to Liz, make her see that it was all misunderstood. He unlocked his phone to make the call when it started ringing in his hand. Aram was calling again, and he answered, somewhat gruffly.

"Ressler."

"Agent Ressler," Aram said timidly, as if he could sense the frustration Ressler was feeling. "Director Cooper wants to know where you are? He was expecting the Covington reports almost three hours ago."

Ressler wondered whether Cooper ordered Aram to call or if he offered... he doubted the latter. "Tell him I'll be in this afternoon," he grunted, trying not to take it out on the younger agent, though he wagered he'd fail miserably. He rubbed his brow. "He can dock me a days pay for all I care."

There was silence between them before Aram whispered, "Is everything alright?"

'No Aram; I fucked my partner last night and now she's left believing it was all a mistake', he thought, but there was no way in hell he was saying that out loud. Ressler threw himself back down on the bed. "Fine. I'll see you later."

Ressler ended the call before Aram had a chance to respond. He didn't need this, not now. He needed to speak to Liz, but he knew he didn't have a hope in hell of doing so in person. He brought her number up on his speed dial and pressed 'call', waiting, somewhat impatiently, for her to answer. "Come on, Liz."

"This is Elizabeth Keen. I can't come to the phone right now but if you leave a message, I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

As if he would be so lucky. Of course she wouldn't answer. Ressler gritted his teeth, but refrained from growling down the phone to her voicemail. "We need to talk about this, Liz. You need to give me a chance to explain. Just... call me, please."

Ressler tossed the phone on the bed next to him, placed his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Last night had ended so well, until another stupid comment of his ruined it. His head pounding a little less than it had been, Ressler pushed himself up and dressed in yesterdays clothes. All he could do now was wait for her to call him back, and if she didn't he'd just have to keep trying.

He gathered his things and left, jumping in his car and heading back to his apartment to shower and finish his reports before facing Cooper and his wrath that afternoon, Liz still on his mind the entire time.


True to his word, Reddington had indeed arranged for a car to pick her up when they landed. While they'd said theirs goodbyes on the jet, she bid Dembe farewell when he loaded her bags in to the car. The drive from the airport to Sam's wasn't particularly long - only just over and hour - but the journey itself Liz found uncomfortable. Whether it was because the man driving her was one of Reddington's, or because the last time she was at her dads was for the wake after his funeral. She'd made a deal with herself, after her conversation with Reddington, not to think about Ressler, and so far she was sticking to it... but there was an aching feeling in her chest that she didn't like to place.

When they finally pulled up to the house, Liz felt tears brim her eyes. She'd loved the house growing up; it had been her safe haven. It wasn't the biggest in the neighbourhood, but it wasn't the smallest either, and with all the happy memories that lined the walls, it was one of the best a child could dream of. Her driver, Javier, placed her bags down in front of her when she stepped out the car.

"Thank you, Javier."

"Not a problem, Ms Keen," he said with a smile, until Liz tried to hand him a few notes. He shook his head, politely pushing her hand away. "No, I cannot accept this. Mr Mathers has already paid me a fair amount to ensure you arrive safely."

Liz smiled kindly at him. "But I am not Mr Mathers." She was tired, and arguing over a tip was not something she wanted to do. She leaned forward and slipped the money in to the breast pocket of his shirt, leaving no room for further discussion. "Take it."

He looked between her and his pocket, debating, before sighing in defeat. "This is most generous of you, thank you." He reached in to the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a few sheets of folded paper and a set of car keys. It was only then that Liz noticed the Mercedes parked in the driveway. "The keys to the car and all relevant paperwork. Mr Mathers has arranged for the car to be picked up separately the day you leave."

"Of course he has." Liz slipped the items she'd been handed in to her bag and resisted rolling her eyes – she did actually appreciate Reddington doing this for her. "Thank you."

"Enjoy your days, Ms Keen."

Javier nodded to her, then left her standing in front of the house alone. The front yard was unkempt, more so then Sam would have liked. She'd initially set up a payment to a teenager on the street to do the gardening a couple of times a month, but he'd since gone off to college and Liz hadn't bothered to make other arrangements. Opening the front door, she was hit in the face by the stench of stale air and dust. Sam may have kept the place cluttered with his various collections, but he was still house proud... and he'd turn in his grave if he could see the state of the place now. Liz dragged her suitcase and other bags through the door and slammed it shut, sending up a wave of dust from the floor. Unmoving from the door, Liz stared at the contents of both kitchen and living room. Seeing Sam's things brought tears to her eyes again. Knowing the other rooms could be equally as cluttered as these two, Liz knew she wouldn't be able to tackle the house alone, that she would need the help of the only person she could think of that wasn't involved with her everyday life.

Liz pulled her phone from her pocket, lighting up the screen and freezing. She'd put her phone on silent when she'd left the motel that morning, and as a result, was now only finding the two missed calls and a voicemail from Ressler. Her stomach turned as she ignored the notifications and a voice in her telling her to call him back. Scrolling through her contacts, she found the one she wanted and pressed call, pressing the phone to her ear ans taking a seat on the arm of the old couch. She only had to wait a few seconds before the line clicked open, and the familiar voice of her dads sister came through.

"Hello?"

Liz smiled. "Hey, Aunt June, it's -"

"Oh, Elizabeth," her Aunt exclaimed, clearly pleased she was calling. "Darling, it's so good to hear from you. It's been far too long. How have you been keeping?"

"I've been..." It was now, as Liz pondered the question, that she realised it had been months since she'd last spoken to her Aunt, and in that time everything with Tom had come to a head. Liz sighed. "Better, Works been crazy. How about you and the guys?"

"Oh, Darling," Aunt June breathed out dramatically. "I've just been swamped these last few months, you know? All these charity events and functions, and Phils had surgery on his knee -"

Liz's eyes widened. "He did?"

"Yes!" Aunt June almost shouted. "He fell off that damned skateboard Sam bought him for his birthday all those years ago. You'd think a nineteen year old would know better than to try and ride straight over a rock."

"Was he drunk?" Aunt June made a noise that signalled Liz had hit the nail on the head and she laughed. Liz remembered helping Sam choose the skateboards design for a then turning fourteen year old Phil. It was amazing that he still even had it. "Well, give him my best, James to."

Aunt June laughed now to. "I will do. Elizabeth," she asked slowly, and Liz knew which direction the conversation was heading in now, and she didn't like it. "How's things with Tom? Have you decided yet whether you want to give adoption another go?"

Liz sighed. "No. We, um, we split up actually." She felt guilty for lying... but what else was she supposed to do?

"Oh," said Aunt June, the news obviously coming as a surprise to her. "Darling, I'm so sorry. Is there any chance of rekindling what the two of you once had?"

Liz heard the hopeful tone her Aunt used, having always like Tom, and gritted her teeth. There was so much more to it that she would never be able to explain, a simple yes or no answer would have to do. "No. Divorce has already been finalised."

"Divorced, already? That's... quick."

Liz grimaced; she wasn't strictly lying though, was she? She'd been granted an annulment with the help of Reddington after she'd killed Tom, but of course, Aunt June couldn't know that. She gave the next best answer, hoping it would be enough to stem her Aunts curiosity. "He lied about a few things." That was an understatement. "Court favoured me. Plus... no kids; nothing important to negotiate.

"Oh." Liz could sense her Aunt wanted to say more but refrained from doing so. "So, what are you doing now then?"

"Actually, I'm at Dads," Liz said brightly, pleased a bullet had been dodged and they were finally on her reason for calling. "I've taken some time off, you know, to finally sort through the place. I'm here for the next six weeks before I go back, so if you want to come and help?"

"That'll be lovely," Aunt June said enthusiastically, just like Liz knew she would. "I can't this week, but maybe next?"

"Prefect. Just let me know." Liz looked round the living room, standing and walking over to a row of photo frames that lined one of the walls. "I should go get started."

"Okay. Bye, Elizabeth, take care."

"You to. Bye."

Liz ended the call and slipped her phone back in her pocket, still staring at the photos. Each one related to a different memory, to a time when she was truly happy. A time where she was blissfully unaware of the dangers of the outside world, the bad guys only existed on TV. Tears ran down her cheeks as Liz plucked one of the frames from it's place on the wall, running a finger over the image of Sam, wishing, more than ever, that he was standing beside her once again.

"I miss you, Daddy."


Apologies to anyone still waiting on a chapter... as usual please enjoy and review!