Day 49

Ressler looks over at the clock on the nightstand as it clicks over to 2:42am. A week ago he'd stared at that same time and felt beyond desperate, his only respite being in pounding the pavement for miles in a deserted park. Yet now, he's lying back in bed with Liz beside him discussing the merits of midnight snacks. Or 2:42am snacks, to be exact.

"Ice cream," she says, leaning close to him. 'Or maybe pizza. Or yogurt."

"What? You're not pregnant are you?" he asks with mock seriousness. "Pickles too?"

"No!" she laughs, punching him lightly in his upper arm, "Just go find us something to snack on!"

"Well, your wish is my command. I'll go get us something," he smiles, rising from the bed. "I'm sure Marie has something I can raid from that well stocked kitchen."

"You might want to put some clothes on first," she smiles as his naked body shines in the soft moonlight shining through the window in the room.

Grabbing his jeans from the chair, he throws them on as he looks at her, "Right. But I doubt anyone but me is roaming the house at this hour." And barefoot, dressed only in his jeans he pads out of the room and heads down to the kitchen.

He's right; no one else is roaming the house at this hour. There are no lights on and he silently makes his way down to the large kitchen. Turning the light on brings a harsh white light that momentarily hurts his eyes as he opens the fridge and leans down to peruse its contents.

###

He opens the door to the room and steps inside, holding a plate of food as he closes the door. "So I got us a mix of…" He looks at her sitting in the bed as the bedside lamp lights her in its soft glow. His smile drops. "What's wrong?"

He's still trying to discern what's going on when she holds up his bottle of pain pills to him. It's déjà vu. Only he's the one walking up to her and she's sitting.

His hand moves to his right pocket. And of course, it's empty. "Damn." He quickly puts the plate of food and bottle of water down on the bedside table and doesn't know what to say. The tiny bottle of pills feels enormous in the room.

She looks up at him, "They were on the floor when I got up to go to the restroom... Have you been using the whole time we've been here?"

"What? God no!" he tells her stepping away from the bed and rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. He turns back to her. "Look at the date they were filled."

"I did," she says, "It's when you got hit by the car."

"Exactly."

"But why do you have them now?" she asks him, raising her eyes to him.

He doesn't answer that. Leaning forward he takes the bottle from her fingers, unable to bear seeing her holding them. "Did you count them? Because if you did you'd see there are only 2 missing."

"And you took those after the accident?"

Her blue eyes meet his. He can suddenly hear Red. 'Transparency'. If he's going to do it with his new employer he can damn well do it with Liz. "No. I took them 7 hours before I came crashing through that door," his eyes flicker to the bedroom door.

"Ress…" her eyes shine with disappointment.

"No, don't do that." He drops to the bed and sits beside her. "Look. You said it yourself, I looked terrible. When I took them I was in pain, Liz." He searches her eyes needing to explain as his mind is back in his apartment desperately trying to keep it together, ready to tear someone a new one. "Seriously, it made my meltdown with Jonica look like a good day."

Her eyes widen at the memory as her fingers reach for her mouth. As her tears spill over, he reaches out his hand out to cup her cheek.

"Ress, I know you've tried," she tells him, wiping her own tears away then holding her hand over his. "I saw your resolve that night when you poured them down the sink."

He nods, wiping her tears with his thumb.

"But tell me this. Do you want to take them again?"

Transparency. He hesitates, seeing the concern growing in her eyes. "Liz…I'm always going to be a recovering addict. I can't change that. But it doesn't mean I need to take them again. It just means my brain won't let it go and I have to be vigilant."

"You were doing so well though," she says, still holding his hand against her cheek.

He nods. "I was. But then everything-" he stops, looks away quickly and shakes his head. He can't possibly put the last few weeks into any semblance of words that will make her understand that it wasn't her fault he couldn't cope.

"Everything got ruined by me," she finishes for him.

He leans forward to her. "No. I was having a hard enough time having to hunt you. And then when I lost my job-" he stops. "Liz, I lost ME."

"Ress…I'm so sorry."

"But then Dembe dragged me up here" he gives her his half smile at that memory, "and then I saw you, and we-" He doesn't need to tell her what happened when they saw each other.

She moves his hand from her cheek and kisses his palm. "Yes, we did," she smiles, wiping away the last of her tears. "I'm so glad Red got you out of there and brought you here."

He nods. He is too.

"So what are you going to do with them?" she asks looking to the pills in his hand.

He doesn't hesitate. "Same thing I did before." He moves off the bed and motions to her with his hand as she gets up and stands beside him. She's dressed only in his t-shirt he now notices.

He leads her to the bathroom and with one arm around her shoulder, pours the remaining pills down the sink and washes them away. She's leaning into him as he does so, and pouring them away brings far less emotion to him than the feel of her against him.

###

It's 4:57am and Ressler is sitting at the window as Liz sleeps behind him. It's not that he can't sleep. He could easily climb back in bed and curl up beside her and sleep. The empty plate is near him on the bedside table, evidence of their 3:30am snack after they had poured away the pills. His gaze alternates between the moonlit landscape outside and Liz sleeping near him. In the morning he will need to leave and sitting awake is his way of prolonging the night and holding off the inevitable in a few hours. He doesn't want to leave. Doesn't want to return to his apartment with its row of suits in his closet and disheveled bed. He doesn't know what it will do to his spirit to walk back into that. To sleep in an empty bed once more.

It's only been three nights with her. Yet it feels so right. So normal, and he doesn't want to lose that. He wonders why they waited so long but then he knows the answer to that. They worked together. They couldn't take that step when they were both FBI agents. Not to mention he held himself back because it felt like a betrayal to Audrey. He smiles to himself. She'd have liked Liz, of that he's sure.

But he can cling to one part of it. Rising silently to his feet he finds his phone and comes back and kneels beside the bed. Lit in the moonlight, she is perfect. Peaceful and beautiful as she sleeps dressed in his white t-shirt. He silently captures the image on his phone to keep with him.

As if knowing she's thinking about him, she stirs and slowly opens her eyes. "Hey," she says sleepily seeing him kneeling before her.

"Go back to sleep," he tells her softly.

"Okay…" she mumbles and closes her eyes, falling asleep as he strokes her hair.

He resumes his place at the window and is still there as the light changes, bringing the sunrise on his final morning with Liz.

###

So it's no surprise at breakfast that morning when Reddington announces what they had both known was coming. "Lizzie, as much as it pains me to say, we really must be on the move again," he tells her, looking to Ressler also as he smiles apologetically.

"We know," she tells him, grasping Ressler's hand under the table. He squeezes back.

"We'll get you back to DC first, Donald, where you can start work and then once the plane is back Lizzie and I can be on our way."

"Where to this time?" she asks.

"No," Ressler tells her quickly. "You can't tell me." And immediately the irony is apparent. For weeks he's wanted to know nothing else except where she was. Now he cannot know.

Red is nodding. "Donald cannot know your location Lizzie. It's the only way to keep both of you safe. And more than that, it's a requirement of him being my liaison with the Bureau. They cannot have complete trust with Donald if they are aware he is withholding information on the whereabouts of their Most Wanted."

Ressler meets Liz's eyes and gives her his half smile. It's not going to be easy on either of them with him not knowing where she is again.

"Dembe will have the car around in 30 minutes and take you to the plane," he tells Ressler as they leave the breakfast table.

As they walk slowly to their room it's harder than he'd imagined it would be. "Liz…" He wants to tell her that he doesn't want to leave her alone. That he wants to stay and protect her yet he can't - because if he does that, he will effectively become a fugitive too.

"I know," she tells him. He doesn't need to put it into words.

As they enter the room Hudson comes to greet them while Ressler picks up his overnight bag. Rounding up his clothes he tosses them to the bed where Liz folds them absently.

"Let's get you packed here," she tells him. He's about to tell her he's quite capable of doing that himself, when she gasps as she opens his overnight bag.

"Oh, my gosh!"

"What?"

Tears are in her eyes as she lifts out the empty wine bottle from his bag.

He had totally forgotten it was in there. "Oh, yeah, I took it when I... When I left the office," he tells her as she meets his eyes. "Not very macho, was it?" he smiles, trying to stop those tears in her eyes from falling.

"I love that you kept this," she tells him, her breath hitching and now she's crying in earnest, shaking her head at one insignificant glass bottle that took on so much meaning when she shared it with him. "I loved that night… in our office, and-" she looks up at him. "I even miss our office," she tells him, smiling ruefully through her tears, brushing them away.

Dropping his remaining clothes on the bed ready to pack, he takes her in his arms. He tries to think of something comforting. Something cool that Han Solo would say, apart from 'I know'. But she doesn't want words, she just needs him close, knowing he will be gone very soon.

Kissing her neck, he holds her as her tears slow. "I do too. I'm sorry, Liz, I know everything is different for both of us now."

She mumbles against him. "You're sorry about us?"

But he knows she's kidding. "Not that part, nope," he grins into her hair and lifts her off him. "Definitely not that part. But I do have to go though," he tells her, tossing the last of his belongings in his bag. She places the wine bottle back in it, protecting it between layers of his clothes.

"I know. I don't want you to but I know. And I have to get ready soon also."

Leaning down he kisses her long and hard. "Reddington told me he would make sure we got to see each other. He may be a lot of undesirable things and a complete bastard at times but he's definitely a man of his word, Liz. I trust him on this."

She nods. She does too. And standing up straighter she gives him a valiant smile. "Well, better not keep Dembe waiting."

He looks at her, picks up his overnight bag and gives her one last kiss on her forehead. At his feet, Hudson is waiting patiently and as he moves to the door the dog follows him.

Liz looks at the little dog, "You take care of daddy, okay Hudson?" He wags his tail at her, staying right by Ressler, who's not sure how he feels about being promoted to daddy in their new little family. But he can live with it.

Hand on the door handle, Ressler looks back at Liz. She's standing by the bed, still giving him that brave smile. Both of them know she won't come to the car to see him off. It's better this way. He meets her eyes. In just three days everything is dramatically different. He's different. She is too. He doesn't know when he will see her again.

He smiles at her, imprinting how she looks in his mind. "I love you too, Liz."

He steps out through the door and walks down the hallway, leaving her breaking down into sobs as he walks away. He hears her but he can't go back. It will be even harder to leave if he does. Blinking hard, he makes his way down the stairs and walks through the lobby.

Reddington is waiting. "Donald, here is the information for Aram. You know what to do," he tells him, handing him a thumb drive.

He nods and takes a deep breath, still hearing Liz's sobs in his mind. "I do."

"Good man," he tells him as he now hands Ressler a phone. "Use only this phone to call me. My number is programmed in it. For both your protection and mine, this phone cannot be traced." He smiles, "And this is the number Lizzie can safely call you on," he adds.

Ressler looks up in surprise, smiles and drops the phone in his pocket. "Got it. And thanks." It's all becoming real. In a few hours he will be back in the Post Office yet working for Reddington.

Holding out his hand to shake Ressler's, Red suddenly drops his hand and smiles. "Aaahh, hell," he says and pulls Ressler into him as he hugs him close. Ressler doesn't know if he's supposed to return the hug but his hand rises to Reddington's back anyway. And once again he's in a new place with the man. It's his first day at work and it's going to take some getting used to.

Reddington slaps him on the back then breaks away as he looks at him warmly, "Call me when you are done with Harold. You're going to be just fine, Donald."

He nods to Red, "Thanks." He's not so sure. The prospect that looms ahead of him is a daunting one. He looks up the stairs, then back to Red. "Take care of her." And with that, he turns and heads out the front door as his little furry shadow trots behind him.

###

A few hours later he is back in DC, having dropped off Hudson at his apartment. Dembe is driving which right now is welcome; because he's really not sure he's focused enough to do so. His hands are sweating. He's nervous. Clenching his clammy hands together he looks out the car window from the passenger seat as Dembe drives him through the familiar city streets. They are almost there and his heart is pounding in his chest.

Get a grip, he tells himself. He's done this hundreds of times. But not like this.

They pull into the parking lot, moving down the ramp before parking near the elevator. He exits the car, checking his pockets for the thumb drive and the Red Phone as he's christened it, and nods to Dembe. They walk toward the elevator and he's half expecting the guards to stop him and pull security detail on him. Haul him off in cuffs or some other embarrassing and wholly disheartening spectacle. They do neither and stand aside after calling the elevator up for him.

"Afternoon, sir," they greet him, and he nods quickly to them before stepping inside the yellow box. He's a little surprised but then he looks down and shakes his head. Reddington can move mountains when he wants something. Getting him back into the Post Office is nothing.

Dembe looks to him and offers a brief smile. Ressler meets his eyes briefly. That's another thing he's going to have to get used to. This quiet soul of a man is going to be around him a lot. And that's really not so bad. He likes the guy - despite the fact he tore strips off him and punched his lights out. He's trustworthy, good in a fight and there is no doubting his loyalty. He could do worse for a companion.

The elevator stops and he's on the war room level once more. He's suddenly not sure he can move. But as the doors fully open he is greeted by familiar faces.

Cooper is smiling, stepping forward and shaking his hand. "Good to see you, Don. You look well." He claps him on the back. "That cabin air must have agreed with you," he smiles. Ressler knows full well that Cooper is aware he wasn't at his cabin.

"Thank you, sir." Reddington may refer to the man as Harold, but Ressler will always refer to Cooper as 'sir'. He's earned that respect.

Samar steps up next, hugs him tightly and rubs his back. "Good for you. Go get 'em," she whispers in his ear in encouragement before releasing him, smiling broadly.

He nods to her in silent thanks.

Aram shakes his hand, grinning from ear to ear. "Welcome back," he tells him. "It um, hasn't been the same around here without you," he tells Ressler. He suddenly looks to Cooper, "I mean…of course we're glad to have you back...of course sir," he stumbles.

Suddenly Ressler is no longer nervous. He is among friends. Among family. He exhales slowly and walks with Cooper down the hallway as Samar and Aram follow. Dembe stays back a ways, letting Ressler do this alone. Ressler's eyes drift to his former office as they walk. The room is empty and the lights are off, almost as if it's waiting for its former occupants to return. The sight of it hurts more than he thought it would. Many things are going to be different.

As they walk toward Aram's desk, other agents smile at him and some give him a thumbs up. He doesn't know how much Cooper had to do with that. He has a feeling it's a lot and he silently thanks the man as he walks beside him.

Their welcomes done, Cooper gets down to business as they arrive at Aram's desk. Their usual meeting place. It's familiar. It's safe.

Cooper nods, smiling. "So, what do you have for us?" he asks Ressler.

Ressler hands Aram the thumb drive, and within moments Aram throws the images up on the screens. As the figure of a man in his mid-fifties appears on the screen alongside a French passport, Ressler takes a deep breath. Samar flashes him a smile and a nod and he starts his briefing.

"Meet Gaston Bourgeau, also known as The Banker. Our sources confirm he's a member of the Cabal, working within the French government as one of their chief financiers and advisers."

And he's off on his first briefing in his new capacity. As he gives them the intel, his voice is calm and authoritative.

Aram is typing at his computer, eyes darting to the screen. Samar is leaning on the desk beside him, her eyes smiling at Aram, then also looking to the screen. Cooper is standing by them, nodding and asking questions of Ressler as he conveys the information and they discern their plan.

The side of the fence may be different with a new boss, yet the work is the same. The people are the same. He's now an outsider, yet still part of this team. He's changed in just a few days and now has a new focus in his life and an entirely new partnership with Liz.

He can't change what has happened. He can't go back and undo what he did with the drugs and the fallout from it. And yet despite all of that, Reddington has stepped in and given him a second chance.

###

Dembe is in the shadows, watching as Ressler gives the briefing. The agents surround him, asking the right questions and getting the intel so they can get to work. Cooper is dispensing orders, having Samar gear up so her and Ressler can head out to begin tracking down Gaston Bourgeau.

He smiles as he watches the group then retrieves his phone from his pocket.

"Raymond. He is doing very well. He is going to be okay."

~ THE END ~

Authors note: Thank you so much for your kind reviews, comments, PMs, emails, tweets, tumblrs, messages, etc, etc, while I wrote this! Yes, I was SO nervous to take them there - you know me - I've always shied away from them actually sleeping together in everything I've written!

So this was just one idea I had for the direction the show could go. I doubt the Jons will take us there or that Dave and the Brandons will ever write this scenario! But it was fun. I'm toying with the idea of keeping this alternate universe going, with Ressler working for Red and all their goings on, (and of course, sexy meetups and fun with Liz.) I'm not sure if I should though as it might be confusing when I also stick to the canon universe in Conversations! What do you think?

Jeanette