Wow…I have no other words for the Season 2 finale than Wow. What an amazing episode. SO much happened. SO much changed. And while Liz was the focus in her escape, the one I kept coming back to was our lovely Ressler. He had the weight of the world on his shoulders. And he doesn't have Cooper to back him up. He's in charge. He's the one the task force and the DOJ will turn to for results. He's the one who has to hunt Liz. He's the one who has to hunt his best friend. I was SO sad for him. So this chapter is 100% Ressler.

Ressler walked slowly down the stairs from Cooper's office - what used to be Cooper's office - seeing the war room below him yet unable to focus on anything. Cooper had been relieved of duty and the very thought of that sat cold and knife-like in his gut.

'I'm naming you as Acting Director of this task force.' Reven Wright had informed him.

'She tested positive for the virus…' Now Aram's words stumbled over in a haphazard race to the front of his thoughts, pushing through Wright's. How the hell? It wasn't possible. None of this was possible. And yet here it was. He had just been made the Acting Director - a burden of responsibility under circumstances that were threatening to drop him to his knees if he thought too hard about it.

You're an agent who puts a premium on doing what's right.' Wright had told him. And the irony of it all was that he had lied to her weeks earlier. Lied to the Deputy Attorney General, and to Cooper. And walking slowly down the stairs, Reven Wright's words exposed his lie wide open for the world to see. Yet no one saw. No one knew. Only Liz.

And she was in a metal cage being treated like…a criminal.

Stepping off the bottom step he turned to head for familiar ground. Safe ground. A place that didn't involve being the new Acting Director. A place he shared with...his partner. Footsteps echoing off the floor as he briskly made his way past Aram's desk, the IT guy looked at the agent sweeping past and hesitantly spoke to him.

I have to investigate my partner.

I have to investigate Liz.

Ressler didn't hear Aram as he strode by him to his office. Didn't see the look from Aram as he caught the eyes of Samar across from him. All he saw was Liz being interrogated on the wrong side of the table. Sitting small and soft and alone as the DOJ leaned into her space, forcing her to answer their ridiculous accusations. And now he was supposed to do the same.

I have to investigate my best friend.

I have to investigate my partner… Shit.

Shoulders slumping slightly as Ressler swept by, Aram grabbed hold of Samar's small smile before returning his focus to his laptop. It could wait. God knows Agent Ressler had enough on his plate, he surmised.

Reaching the haven of his office, Ressler quickly shut the door behind him. Sinking slowly into his chair, he leaned forward on his desk. Fully aware of being seen through his window, the urge to drop his head into crooked arms was abandoned, and instead he kept his head up and saw what was in front of him. Liz's desk. Liz's empty desk. The desk she sat at every day across from him, with that little smile she reserved for him every so often when he entered their office. The one he looked for, whether he admitted it to himself consciously or not. The desk she sat at while writing reports, his stolen glances across to her going unsuspected. The desk they had sat at and shared her birthday. His head dropped then, as eyes closed at that memory. It was too fresh. Too raw. Too undeniably special.

And it was as his eyes were closed against the memory of Liz's smile that evening that the power in the building went off. Momentarily unsure what had changed, his eyes sprang open to darkness, punctuated by red strobe lights rotating slowly on the walls. A low volume siren chirped, announcing to all and sundry (who couldn't possibly have failed to notice) that the power had been cut.

The memories fled, relegated to that special compartment in his mind that held onto the one part of his life that offered hope. Audrey had occupied that place for a long time. But the room had been laid bare in her wake. Yet slowly, imperceptibly new memories with Liz arose and resided there. In the red glow of the empty office he scrambled to his feet and found his door, pulling it open as he quickly entered the war room. Aram's voice reached him from the semi darkness.

"Our power supply's not responding," he said, stating the plainly obvious while around them agents scrambled with flashlights, seeking the source of the problem.

But Ressler already knew what the problem was. There was only one man with the means and the motive to shut the power off to this fortress at the very moment Liz was in custody. This was no coincidence. This was planned. This was an escape attempt. "Reddington," he said to no one in particular and grabbed his own flashlight before heading for the outer reaches of the building to where Red would most surely arrive to get Liz out.

As he headed down the hallway toward the box, red strobe lights half lighting his way as his flashlight searched every nook and cranny for Liz, a new emotion flooded over him. Momentarily replacing the desperation at being 'promoted' to investigate his partner he was surprised to feel relief. If anyone could help Liz out of this situation, it was Red. He could get her out. He could save her from this mess and do what he himself was no longer able to in his new position of Acting Director.

Acting Director…

The title was new. Unfamiliar. Unwarranted. Unwanted. Gritting his teeth, he squashed the desperation down and quickly jogged through the room housing the box. Standing eerily quiet in the shadows with its bloody memories, he spared it no more than a cursory sweep of his flashlight before heading toward the lower levels. As he headed for the loading dock, large wall fans spun slowly, letting filtered light into the red glow of the corridor. Turning a corner into a darker area, he shone his flashlight into every corner and suddenly realized he didn't know he was going to do. He had to make the appearance of trying to stop Liz. He was the Acting Director. His job was to detain her. Take her into custody.

Arrest her.

And faced with having to do that, he almost stopped in his tracks. Part of him wanted nothing more than to just let Red take her to relative safety. It would absolve him of any responsibility in arresting her. She would be gone and out of the clutches of the DOJ. She would be safe for the moment. She could disappear just like…just like Red had done for years.

And yet logic now spoke up, demanding to be heard in his brain. She shouldn't run. No way could she run from this. That one action would fortify her guilt more than any other. And he knew what he needed to do. He needed to find her before Red completed his elaborate escape plan.

Damn it, Reddington. Not only was he now at odds with Liz in having to arrest her, he was now openly going against the master criminals plan. Assuming he could find Liz in time.

Turning the corner with another wall fan spinning gently behind him he entered a small access room right above the loading docks. High on the wall, the strobe light turned slowly, lighting the area in a flashing dim red glow. His flashlight chasing away the red light, he continued to search every corner. Every access hatch. Every cupboard. And of Liz there was no sign.

He was going to lose her to Reddington's plan after all.

Liz…no…

Ahead, movement on a small ladder caught his attention and as he focused his beam on the source he stopped dead. Heart throbbing in his chest as his respiration increased, his beam found Liz in front of him. Blinding her, he realized she couldn't see who had approached. And as he dropped the beam, letting her see her captor before her, he suddenly didn't trust his voice to speak to her. And as every fiber of his being suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here, he held fast. He had a job to do. His entire life had always been about the job. And no matter what he had done this past year that had broken that in him, he was still an FBI agent. More than that, now he was the Acting Director. And he had a job to do.

And that job was to arrest Elizabeth Keen, fugitive.

As she stood before him he forced himself to stop her. "Don't do this, Keen." Using her last name was necessary. He needed to distance himself from 'Liz'. It was simply a defense mechanism. To call her Liz right now would undermine any shred of resolve he had left. He'd lose himself and what he needed to do. And right now, the only thing he could hold onto was the job.

Donald Ressler, Acting Director.

Donald Ressler, betrayer… Don't! Just do the job.

And now she was gravitating toward him, when he needed her to keep clear of him. Because if she got too close. If she invaded his space. If he looked into her eyes. He'd be lost.

And yet to arrest her he needed to approach her. And all he could do was stand still, feet planted firmly to the floor unable to move. As she asked about her blood test, Aram's words flooded back. 'Agent Keen tested positive for the virus that killed Senator Hawkins.'

Killed Senator Hawkins.

Killed.

She was being detained for murder. He needed to arrest her and yet she was even closer now encroaching in his field of view. As the red strobe light flashed it illuminated her face outlining the desperate set of her jaw. Illuminated her 'fight or flight' stance before him. The tone of her skin was red, then dark, then red, flashing in rhythm with the strobe. And still he was frozen to the spot. She was his partner. His best friend.

His target.

I need to arrest you, Keen.

The words rose in his brain, yet still he couldn't act. Forcing himself back to the task at hand, he tried to ignore the smell of her perfume so close to him. He embraced the sight of her, standing in the dim light. The cut of her blouse. The soft swell of her chest underneath. The necklace at her pale throat. All so familiar. All so HER. And now everything was running away from him. She was running to where Reddington would pick her up and she'd be gone. She'd be guilty. She'd never get out of this if she ran.

Arrest her!

Damn it, arrest her!

His voice sounded hollow to his ears. "And if you run, what does that look like? If someone's setting you up, you're giving them exactly what they want."

His words were the truth, yet he could put no conviction behind it. Not with her this close in front of him. Standing there ready to run, yet still needing him to listen to her. Because not only was she his best friend, she shared that sentiment with him. And as he looked into her eyes, unable to move from the spot she stepped even closer, filling his field of view.

"In about 20 seconds, that camera's gonna turn back on. If you're gonna let me go, you've got to do it now, before people see you standing here with me."

He was here to arrest her and yet she was protecting him, with eyes burning into his, their deep blue intensified in the red light as they gleamed with repressed tears. And at that, his resolve faltered.

Don't! You have a job to do!

And all he could see now wasn't the Liz standing so close to him. Seeing through her, past her, he saw the Liz who had shone when he placed Wing Yee's in front of her. The woman who glowed at his gift to her. The woman who had lost so much and had suddenly been given something so unexpected. So thoughtful, so caring and so tender from the one source she hadn't imagined it could come from. And as she held his eyes, begging him to listen to her that he had less than 20 seconds to decide, he couldn't tell her. Couldn't voice what he was feeling. And in that moment, his logical mind fled and common sense abandoned him.

Completely and utterly.

His feet discovered that they could move after all. As did his hands. As did his head. And one moment she was holding his gaze, begging him to listen. And in the next he'd moved into her space and taken her head in his hands, feeling her tied back hair in his fingers. Like liquid, she instantly flowed into his touch. Melding with her, meeting her eyes, then closing them as his mouth met hers with a small incline of his head. Her hand touched his wrist as his lips pressed into her mouth. Her lips parted as he felt her opening up to him. And for one brief moment they were joined, clinging to their partner in such illicit fashion. For one small moment in time he embraced it.

Allowed it.

Wanted it.

And he never wanted to stop feeling her on his lips. Never wanted to be just a work partner to her again. And yet, in the back of his brain he was aware that the clock was ticking. And reluctantly, his mind screaming at him as he did so, he drew back and closed his mouth, effectively blocking her from returning the gesture. His eyes never left hers.

And as she cupped his cheek in his hand, following his move away from her, he managed to get one solitary word out through his taut throat.

"Go," he said hoarsely, unable to say anything else to her. But nothing else was needed. He was letting her go. He was ignoring his orders.

And before he could even tell himself what a great start he was off to fulfilling the Acting Director position, she pressed something into his hand and pulled back from him. Her soft hand left his cheek and with a slight twist of her body she fled past him toward the lower level of the loading dock.

He didn't turn to watch her go. Simply stood right where he was as her scent lingered in the air. As his lips tingled with the memory of her against them he steadied his breathing. He'd kissed her once before at a time they'd thought they might very well freeze to death, but not like this. Not this intimately. Not with such openness. And yet it could go nowhere because he'd let her go. Had given her permission to run. Run from him.

And as he heard the sound of her footfalls disappearing behind him his mind woke up and screamed soundlessly to her fleeing form.

Run, Liz! Run! Run like the wind!

And in perfect timing he heard the whir of the electricity coming back on. And now he realized what she'd left in his hand and saw her burner phone sitting in his palm. He'd just turned his back on the FBI protocol. Turned his back on his orders and the job by defying the very first order he'd been given in his new position. Yet she'd given him a Get out of Jail Free card.

He'd no sooner crouched down as if to be seen picking it up off the floor when the hallway lit up in white light. The cameras would be back on and without missing a beat he stood and spoke to Aram in the two way radio.

"We just missed her. Got her burner," he told the camera, showing Liz's phone to Aram.

And afraid his countenance would betray him even through the small black and white camera, he turned in the direction Liz had gone and stepped out of view of the lens. Walking toward the fan spinning slowly in the outer wall he slowed. Then froze. Through the grate in the fan Liz came into view, running to Red's waiting car. She was out. She was safe.

He'd delivered her to Red for safe keeping.

It wasn't the job he'd been ordered to do as Acting Director. He hadn't arrested her. Couldn't arrest her. And that was something he was going to have to live with. If he had a compartment in his mind for pleasant memories, there was also a gaping hole where the grief, addiction and tears of pain and broken dreams lay. And this last few minutes would be equally shared among both compartments.

And it was again time to be surprised at the feeling that sprang forth. As he watched her jump into the vehicle as it sped away, he pressed his hand to the dusty window and gave a small unseen smile. Just like the small smile he reserved for her on occasion when she entered their shared office. She didn't have the monopoly on that.

Be safe, Liz. Keep her safe, Reddington.

And as he started walking back the way he'd come, flashlight hanging at his side, two way radio turned off and in his pocket now, he closed his eyes momentarily as he walked, willing his brain to quiet. A myriad of thoughts clambered to be heard. Feelings rose up in him, full of loss and need and unknowns. With an effort he suppressed them as he passed by the box on his way to the war room.

He'd lived his life with walls around him. Those walls had crumbled for two women. One was dead. And one had just fled from him. And now he was laid bare, painfully aware of how alone he now was. He'd leaned on Liz far more than he should have. He'd needed her. And now here it was.

He was facing the terrifying prospect.

Entering the war room he silently tossed Liz's burner phone to Aram. And turning toward his empty office he wanted nothing more than to sink into his chair and disappear for a while. Just a little while. Just to have a little space. But that wasn't going to happen as Reven Wright appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Agent Ressler, a moment?"

Sucking in a deep breath he turned and faced his new superior. "Ma'am," he nodded and walked dutifully up the stairs to her. And once again he didn't see the look Aram gave him. Echoing his own thoughts of worry, concern and fear at this new turn of events. He didn't see Samar come and prop herself on Aram's desk and pat his shoulder. He didn't see them both watching him as he disappeared into the Director's office.

All he felt was the turmoil inside him. All he could see was Liz in his mind running to the waiting car. And whatever Wright needed of him, he'd do. To the best of his abilities, he do whatever she asked of him. Whatever she ordered.

But where Liz was concerned he honestly didn't know if he'd be able to fully comply. He'd go through the motions, but there were no guarantees.

And as he sat in the Director's office, the wall went back up around him, stoically protecting himself from further hurt in order to do the job at hand. But the one thing he couldn't block out or put a wall in front of was the feel of Liz's lips on his for that one fleeting moment.

Because that was something he didn't want to lose.