Hi- thanks to everyone who's been keeping up to date with the story so far! Sorry it took so long to post this chapter, and sorry it's so hard on Keenler, I promise there will be a pay off before long, within a few chapters :) I missed seeing mean Liz and distant Ressler so I kind of returned to their season one personas in this a bit.
It's funny how you can forget how hungover you are until you're sitting in a car, watching the miles fly behind you as someone else is driving. Liz prayed to god she wasn't going to throw up in Ressler's car, in his clothes.
Yes, in Ressler's clothes. There had been no time to go back to her motel.
As they came up to the arranged area of take off, Ressler came round the side of the car to let her out. Normally, he'd have let her do it herself but he registered her nauseated expression and sympathized. He'd been there before.
As luck would have it, Meera was the first one to see them. Her mouth dropped open and she lifted her arm like a reflex, hitting Aram in the bicep for him to see it too, all the while keeping her eyes fixed on her colleagues.
Aram exhaled in disbelief and amusement.
Elizabeth Keen, hovering over Donald Ressler's arm, just in case she needed to grab it, teetered towards them in last night's heels, one of Ressler's work shirts and a pair of suit trousers, rolled up at the ankle and cinched at the waist by the belt she had worn with her dress. Her hair was scraped back in a bun and she was wearing sunglasses, in a weak attempt to fend off a headache.
"Holy shit." Samar laughed, joining them to see what the fuss was about.
Mortified, Ressler gave them a brief wave as they walked over to the private jet, feeling scrutinized, wishing they could somehow get there faster. As the last ones there, when they finally got close enough, everyone started to board.
"No one's watching, Liz." He told her, when she grappled with the metal handrail and almost fell flat on her face, having climbed only two steps.
Checking first to make sure it was true, she leaned back into his arms and he guided her, laughing softly "You know, I could cash this in now and make fun of you but I have a feeling you'll get the opportunity to return the favor some day."
Liz just nodded with her lips firmly pressed together.
From the cabin window, Meera and Aram elbowed each other out of the way, trying to watch, "Go back to your seat, Meera! There's a window there!"
"You can't-" She pushed into him with force, "- see from that angle!"
Aram suddenly leaned back, losing interest as Samar casually walked over and sat on his knee, peering through the window as well, winking at Meera.
"Quick!" Meera dashed back to her seat as Liz and Ressler approached the cabin.
Aram, not a trained undercover operative, struck a really bad 'act casual' pose, as Samar coolly lifted herself from his knee into the adjacent seat and picked up a newspaper.
"Really guys?" Liz mumbled, witnessing the commotion.
Ressler stiffened up, feeling as if he'd been slapped in the face. He hated people making fun of him, "I'm going to sit over there," He nodded to Liz, practically dropping her in the nearest seat.
She glared at his back as Meera switched seats to come over to her, "What was that about?"
Liz rolled her eyes, hard, then instantly regretted it, "That was Ressler becoming Agent Ressler."
Meera shamelessly turned round and glared at him. He shrugged aggressively.
"You know, he's getting to be hot and cold with you, just as much as you are with Reddington."
Liz frowned at her.
"I'm calling it as I see it," Meera held her hands up
"Ressler's never been hot with me anyway, Meera."
She raised an eyebrow, "Just for you."
"Please stop." Nauseated, she turned to look out the window.
"Yes, you're right," Meera nodded, "Ressler's never been hot with you. He is completely indifferent towards you. I was wrong, I'll admit it. I was just convinced otherwise by the fact that he bends and breaks his lifesaver-shaped moral code for you over, and over. That he rushes to your side with his arms outstretched every time you're hurt or upset, I mean he literally carries you, how off-putting. Maybe I was simply confused by the fact he gets extremely angry about Tom, and all that Tom's done to you, maybe I was fooled into thinking that he cared when he stayed late after work to talk to you, or to spend your birthday together. That was all cold, last night as well, letting you stay at his place, the fact that you're dressed in his clothes is also totally irrelevant"
Liz sighed, "You've made your point. But my point is, Ressler is too… Ressler, to ever be more than a colleague to me. It's like we're soldiers. We have camaraderie because we've been through the same shit but that's the extent of it."
"Whatever you say." Meera glanced behind her at Ressler again. He had quite literally put a guard up, a newspaper held up right in front of his face.
There was some slight turbulence and Liz had to struggle not throw up. Waiting until the moment had passed, she asked Meera, "Where are we even going?"
"France." Meera informed her, "Just a little seaside town but there's been a family there helping Red out for generations, he thinks they can get us some intel on this guy," she opened a paper folder and slid out a picture, "No one's ever seen his face, the few pictures of him in existence are taken from behind, with his head obscured, such as this one."
"Not a lot to go on," Liz commented
"No, it's not and-" Meera stopped, concentrating on Liz, "Agent Keen, if you want to go to the bathroom and be hungover with some dignity, that's fine by me, " she winked, "your face is green."
"Thank god," Liz got up and walked away.
Meera waited until she had gone and walked up to the two seats which faced Aram and Samar, calling Ressler over to join.
"Have you guys been over the case?"
"Yeah." Samar answered for both her and Aram, "We looked over it waiting on Ressler and Keen to arrive this morning."
Ressler grumbled incoherently, Meera shot him a look.
"What?"
"Have you been over the case?"
"Yes. Of course." He looked affronted.
Aram grinned, "Okay, so can we talk about why you and Agent Keen arrived together this morning, with Liz dressed like Mia Wallace dragged through a hedge backwards?"
Ressler frowned, "She looked not bad, considering she was pretty badly drunk last night," he snapped
Samar smiled, amused. "Defensive." She commented.
Ressler sighed deeply, "Nothing happened. I just wasn't letting my colleague crawl home through the gutter, okay?" He glanced at Aram, "I'd have done the same for you."
Aram wrinkled his nose, "Well for future reference, I'd prefer if you just called me a cab. I don't think your clothes would suit me."
Ressler put his head in his hands, and then slammed them against the little table in between the four chairs, "Nothing. Happened."
Meera put her hands up in surrender, "Fine, fine. We believe you."
He rubbed his temple. No good deed, right?
"She's not even my type." He muttered, pulling a face. It was for the best that everyone believed that.
Of course, with Ressler's luck this would be the moment a very weary-looking Elizabeth Keen reappeared behind him.
"Oh, shit." Meera looked at her feet, feeling awkward.
Liz stared at him for a moment and then walked back to her seat, not saying anything.
Ressler had no idea how to fix this.
Liz went back to her seat, her face burning, mortified. She felt rejected and dismissed. It was hard to internalize the pain of this particular betrayal- but she sat alone and felt a barrier grow. Her colleagues had seen her as a bitch before; well they could do it again. She had been wrong about Ressler; she couldn't trust him and he didn't understand her.
It was later on at night when he finally got a chance to talk to her. They'd had to stop for a while due to flight problems and he had no idea whether it was late in America or late in Europe or exactly what time zone he was in, but it was dark outside.
"Keen." He came and sat beside her. She ignored him.
"Aww come on, don't be like this."
"Don't be like what?"
"I'm sorry about what I said earlier."
Liz closed over the file she was reading and stared him in the eyes, pronouncing each word carefully, "I now can't decide whether I'm more insulted that you think I care about whether or not you find me attractive, or that it's a topic you're wiling to discuss with the rest of our co-workers."
Ressler stared at her, feeling stupid.
"Oh. Okay. Well I'm sorry for that too then."
Liz just rolled her eyes.
"I guess that's that then." He sat for a moment, feeling awkward, and then got up to leave. She grabbed him by the wrist. He looked down at her instantly, feeling hopeful.
"Look. Ressler." Her tone was stern and it diminished his hopes, "I think we crossed a line today. We embarrassed ourselves in front of our colleagues and this needs to stay professional. I totally accept that I was just as much to blame for how we arrived, but we just need to step back. I respect you, you're good at your job- but for us to be good at our jobs we can't go on like this. We're FBI agents. I appreciate all you did for me this morning, I do, but I shouldn't have burdened you-"
"It wasn't a-"
"Let me finish." She took a deep breath, trying to eliminate any emotion from her voice, "we just can't depend on each other in that way. You don't care how I feel, or what I think of you and the same goes for me. If we remember that, it'll work better."
Ressler's heart contracted. It felt like he was being dumped somehow, like something was ending, a deep and soulful connection had been broken.
"Fine." He whispered hoarsely and walked back to his seat, for the next hour staring at the same article and reading not a single word of it, not even thinking about the door that had just closed in his face, not feeling anything he was still just falling, freefalling through the air, and even when the plane landed, he was still tumbling. Liz pushing him away had sent him over a precipice and he was yet to hit the ground.