This chapter takes place after the events of 4x04 Gaia, right after Liz storms out after arguing with Tom.
It's been a long day, and Ressler's brain won't shut down. After the jet had landed back in DC, he and Samar had a quick briefing with Cooper and the team before he'd headed home for the day. Between them all they had literally saved the world, just as he and Liz had joked earlier in the day. But still it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Yes, they'd saved millions but Ayers had a son, and now that little boy will grow up without a father. Today has been about children and parents, whether it be a little boy and his daddy, a million nameless children saved from nuclear annihilation, or a missing little girl and her mother.
Entering his apartment he briefly considers a beer and the newspaper, but then just as quickly dismisses that idea. Apart from the fact the biggest story of the day will never make the newspaper, what he needs is to run. And run hard. Clear out the thoughts from a mind that won't shut down and let his body take the lead. Running until muscles quiver with exertion has been one of his preferred methods of clearing his head for most of his life. And today is no different.
Slipping his tie off and dropping it to his bed, shoes are kicked off before his suit is removed and hung up. Changing into track pants and a t-shirt then donning running shoes, he momentarily looks to the corner of his room. A corner where a little dog had slept while Liz had been a fugitive. He misses that little four-legged dude who'd become his running mate. Heading to the kitchen, he fills his water bottle, grabs his keys and heads for the front door. The park is calling his name. Just two blocks south, the wide running path will be clear this time of night as people head home for suppers and to put children in bed.
Opening the door and flipping off the light behind him, intent on his goal he suddenly collides with an unseen Liz in the hallway, pulling him up short.
"What the-"
"Whoa! Sorry!" she cries and briefly holds his arm before stepping back from him. "Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you like that!"
Recovering and raising his own hand to her arm, he looks at her in concern. "What are you doing here? Are you okay?"
Exhaling heavily, she shakes her head. "I don't know. I've been standing here a couple of minutes wondering if I should knock." She takes in his attire and water bottle. "But I see you have plans, so I'll just…go."
Holding her arm he prevents her from leaving. "No, it's okay, come on in," he says, already retrieving his keys to unlock his door again.
"Are you sure?"
"Liz, get inside," he tells her, holding the door open for her as they enter his apartment.
"What's going on?" he asks, dropping his water bottle and keys to the table by the door.
"I just needed to get out for a bit. That place we're in, it's like living in a doll house. I feel like Reddington's men are just staring in the windows."
Ressler nods, motioning to the living room. "I hear ya. I don't know how you have stood that. I couldn't do that," he agrees.
"Like we're puppets," she says, not sitting down. "Of a high functioning…but you know what he is."
"Liz he's only doing this to keep you safe while we find Kirk. You know that. Once this is over-"
"It will never be over!" she replies, cutting him off as her voice rises. He nods, seeing the anger bubble up in her. "Until I have my daughter back and I am out of Reddington's shadow, this will never be over!"
"I get that, I know," he replies.
"And Tom! That man infuriates me! What he pulled today could have cost me the chance to find my daughter quickly!"
His hand finds her arm again, "Look, Liz, why don't you sit down? And we'll talk," he offers, but there is no sitting for her as she steps away and paces around his living room.
"Have you ever loved someone, but you don't like what they've done?" she asks, pacing in his living room and shaking her head.
And seeing her before him having returned from a death he'd mourned, Ressler knows exactly how that feels. "Is this a test?" he asks, not wanting to commit to that answer.
But consumed in her own thoughts and anger, Liz doesn't even hear him. "I told him not to do anything, and what does he do?! Exactly what I told him not to!"
Ressler stands by the window, wanting to reach out to her, yet also aware that she needs to burn this anger off. "Liz, I-"
Her words punch into the air, breath hissing through her teeth. "A friend of his from the past. Seriously? We're just going to have his old buddies show up any time he wants to run off and go rogue? Damn him!" She strides past him, breath coming in sharp pants as she shakes her head. "I swear, if this hurts Agnes!"
Ressler decides that keeping quiet is his best course of action right now.
"Damn him! He can't just run off with guns blazing into every situation! Not everything can be solved that way!" she hisses, her eyes flashing.
He shakes his head, with her in spirit if not in spoken words.
"And if he's hurt her!" Liz exclaims and Ressler isn't sure if she means Tom or Kirk, but either option is as bad as the other. His hand reaches for her again, but slides off her arm as she strides past him.
"I can't have him just taking the law into his own hands every time he wants to be the hero! It's about communication, and working together and doing what's right for Agnes!" Her teeth grit as she turns to him. "You knew!"
"I didn't know Tom was going to-"
But not letting him get a word in edge ways she continues. "YOU knew we shouldn't trace the feed!"
"Right," he says softly. He did know that. Score one for the boy scout.
"Why didn't HE know that?! Why did he have to be GI Joe and go on a damn raid?!" she huffs out, running a hand through her hair.
And now Ressler decides it's time. "Because it's who he is. He's a hot head, Liz. He's reckless."
His words pull her up short. "Yes. That's who he is. I am married to a-"
Ressler treads carefully. "You're not married to him though."
"It doesn't take a piece of paper, Ressler! We're married for all intents and purposes! We have a child!"
Holding his hands up to appease her he nods silently. Silence is definitely his best option here.
"Or we don't have a child! She should be home in her own crib, where I can go and feed her and hold her and… and… Damn it!" Angry tears threaten as she turns from him, running her hand through her hair. "And I can't do any of that!"
Taking a step to her, Ressler reaches again with his hand but she steps out of reach once more. "I just want to hit something! Preferably Alexander Kirk!" She turns back to him, eyes ablaze. "Or Tom! But he'd likely hit back!"
At that Ressler grabs her arm. "Liz!" he tells her sharply.
"I don't know what to do, Ress! Everyone keeps pulling me this way and that way and no one lets me be ME!" she cries, close to him as he holds her arm.
"I know," he tells her. "I know, Liz." And he does know. He's seen it for years. "You still want to hit something?" he asks, and at her desperate eyes and set of her jaw he knows that look. He nods, moves to her side and leads her to his spare room. "Then be my guest," he tells her, opening the door to reveal his makeshift gym inside. Which mainly consists of a few weights and the centerpiece to the room. The well-worn punching bag hanging from the ceiling.
"This bag has had several names. Most times it's Reddington," he tells her, swinging his fist at the bag and feeling the satisfying thwack as his fist hits it and the heavy bag moves slightly away from him. "Other times it's been Tom," he adds, letting his fist fly again. "But right now it can be Kirk. Or Tom. Or both."
Turning back to her, he smiles. "Knock yourself out. Or knock Kirk or Tom out. Take your pick." And she doesn't need to be asked twice. Moving to stand behind the bag, he steadies it for her as she steps up to it.
Removing her jacket and tossing it to the floor, she sizes up the bag, running her hands over the solid canvas form. She takes a small hit to get the feel of it, then stands firm and lets her right fist fly. And with each hit from both of her fists, Ressler feels the bag move further into him as she increases the pressure. He holds the bag silently, letting her pummel into it. And watching her expend her anger into the bag, he knows how she feels. Knows the necessity of sometimes just having to hit and hit hard.
Breath heaving, tears threatening she punches the bag silently, with not enough breath to both punch hard and hurl insults to her wayward husband and the man who has her child. Ressler stays near her in silent support letting her go until with one last huge hit she stops. Chest heaving and hands resting at her side she focuses on him. "I needed that," she gasps, still catching her breath.
"Best therapy known to man," he tells her, smiling. "And woman," he adds, letting go of the bag.
"My gosh, yes!" she tells him, as a smile breaks through. "I need to get me one of these!"
"Hey, it's here any time you feel the need for more therapy," he tells her, stooping to pick up her jacket for her before they exit the room.
"Thank you," she tells him, then realizes something. "Oh, but I interrupted your run. I'm sorry."
But watching her pummel his punching bag helped him also. As if he were also powering into it and letting the tension of the day dissipate with each slam of her fist. "Wanna join me? We can take a light run and a walk around the park and just get some air before I drive you home," he asks.
"I'd like that. Just let me go clean up and I'll be right back," she tells him, stepping around him to his bathroom.
###
Ten minutes later they enter the park under a moonlit sky. "There's our super moon," she tells him, looking up at the glowing orb in the night sky. "It really does look much bigger."
Walking beside her in the quiet evening, the only sounds the traffic beyond the trees in the park, he gazes at the yellow moon. "It is bigger. 16% closer to the earth than usual," he tells her as she glances sideways at him.
"You been taking lessons from Aram?" she chuckles, before returning to look at the beautiful sight in the night sky. "That doctor I spoke to from the university today said it was the closest full moon so far this century. It won't be this close to the Earth again until 2034."
He grins at her, "Now who sounds like Aram?" he says, but he has to admit, it's kinda cool in a nerdy sort of way. Dancing in front of him she turns, running backward, "Let's go!" she calls and turns, taking off jogging in front of him.
With a smile he follows her, running at an easy pace around the familiar park. He could run this path blindfold; he's done it that many times. And together they run, him holding back just a little in his stride as she keeps pace with him. The few people still out jogging give them a conspiratorial nod as they pass them, each intent on putting one foot in front of the other in the quiet evening. Two laps of the park and they both slow, coming to stop near the clock in the center of the park. Uncapping his water bottle, surprised it still has some ice in it, he offers it to her. Squirting it in her mouth, the water drips down her front but she doesn't mind, and taking the bottle he takes a drink as their breathing calms.
"I'd run here every night if this was near me," she says, surveying the moonlit landscape. "It's perfect," she smiles. Capping the water bottle again, they move off at a walk as a gentle breeze wafts over them, ruffling her hair. She slips her arm into his elbow as they stroll, dividing their attention between the bright moon overhead and the tree lined path before them.
"I used to run here with Hudson," he says, and she lets out an 'aaaww,' as he continues. "That little dude might have short legs but he can run," he smiles.
"I miss him. I'm sure he's happy staying with Ellie right now, but I so want a normal life with the house, baby and dog," she replies.
"And the husband?" he asks, not sure if he should mention him, but hey, she did leave him out of her happy equation.
"Ugh, the husband. He's the one in the dog house right now, not Hudson," she groans, looking up at him again. "But I think he's safe from me not killing him when I get home tonight," she adds.
"Good. I'd hate to have to visit you in jail again," he deadpans and she chuckles beside him.
"Yeah, let's not do that again."
Rounding a bend in the path, they come across the small pond in front of them. Catching the reflection of the moon, the soft ripples are alive with the white streak shining across the water.
"Oh, that's beautiful," she breathes, halting a moment to take in the view.
And she's got her arm in his, leaning into him. "It is," he agrees, and he's not only talking about the moon on the water.
"You're so lucky to have this right by you," she tells him, unable to drag her eyes off the pond. "And I think this adds to your therapy regime too," she smiles.
"It was one of the main selling points for me when I got the apartment years ago," he tells her. They continue their walk, passing the small pond and turning a little as the wide path meanders through the trees. In front of them, a middle aged man comes up the path and huffs past them. As he disappears behind them Liz leans into him. "That guy just needs to stop and enjoy the view. Or chill out," she smiles.
He nods in agreement, glancing down at her again. "He obviously doesn't have a punching bag at home."
She laughs, and holds his arm tighter. "So how often do you use that thing to ease that inner rage? It looks well worn."
"You profiling me?" he asks as she shakes her head and smiles up at him in reply. "Probably more than you'd imagine," he admits. "I about tore it off the ceiling while hunting Reddington. Then here and there on hard cases." He pauses, then decides to come clean. "Again on one really bad day. And then a lot while you were…dead."
She stops and turns to him on the wooded path as the moon shines down on them. "I'm sorry. You know that, right?"
"I do," he tells her, nodding. "You were desperate and I get that."
Tilting her head a little she gives him a sad smile. "I think you understand pain more than most, Ress. And I never wanted to contribute to that for you."
"I know," he tells her. "I'll live." And he smiles, looks up at the moon above them and back at her.
"So, the really bad day you mentioned," she asks as they resume their walk under the trees. "What happened that time?"
And his mind slides back to months before when life had reached rock bottom. When there was no escaping the pain running through his veins. Yet with the passage of time, even the greatest of hurts can settle and become distant memories. And recalling that day, when he'd never thought he'd be able to look back on those events without pain, he looks down at her as they walk together and he smiles.
"Well, it involved your husband. And a garden gnome."
And as she folds into him, her laughter peeling out around him, he grins and holds onto her, unable to fathom the difference in how he felt that day and how he feels now.
As her laughter subsides her eyes hold his as they walk together. "Oh, now this I have to hear!"
