Liz sighed in blissful satisfaction as she fell back against the bed. Her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Next to her, Ressler chuckled as his chest rose and fell in tune with hers. She couldn't suppress a giggle when he glanced over at her.

Eventually, they fell in tune with silence as they caught their breaths. Looking over, Liz noticed that Ressler was staring at the ceiling, his uninjured arm over his head.

"So…" She began, clearing her throat in an attempt to speak clearly. "Thoughts?"

Ressler glanced at her and smiled. "Never took you to be the one to need feedback, Keen. But I gotta say, I didn't think you were that flexible."

Playfully, she gave him a light smack on the head. "Knucklehead," She scoffed. "I meant—"

"Yes, I'm up for round three, just…" he interrupted. "Just gimme a sec."

"Ressler!" Liz shouted, as she laughed.

"I know what you meant." He said, his smile fading. "But…I'm not sure why you're asking."

Liz turned on her side, facing him with furrowed brows.

Ressler sighed. "What do you want me to say, Liz? You know what I think. Whatever I say won't change what you're gonna do."

"I'm sorry." She said weakly, trying to find the strength to meet his eyes. "I just..."

Her eyes wandered over to his side, his arm between them. She winced, scanning his injuries and finding that there was blood seeping through the bandaging on his bicep. The cuts on his shoulder were also starting to bleed.

"Ressler you're bleeding." She interrupted herself, sitting up with the blanket tight against her.

He twisted to look at his arm and saw the bandage starting to tear, making way for the small trickles of blood to escape.

"Guess we overdid it." He said with a grunt as he got up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Liz watched silently as Ressler slipped his boxer briefs on and walked into the bathroom. Guilt bloomed in her chest as she noticed the tiny specks of blood on the sheets. It was her fault he got those wounds. Her fault that they opened back up. She felt awful then. The warmth from their activities suddenly disappearing and a coldness made itself known. Biting her lip, she grabbed his shirt off the floor, slipped it on, and followed him into the bathroom.

With a knock, she opened the door to see him facing his arm to the mirror, struggling to clean the wound in an awkward angle.

"Let me help." She said as she stepped closer.

He turned around so that his wounded arm was facing her and handed her the clean, damp rag. Liz began gently wiping off the blood that was beginning to dry. She noticed that a few of the stitches on his bicep had torn, but not enough that it was a big emergency. The laceration had already started to heal.

He leaned back against the bathroom counter as she began unrolling the bandages. She noticed his eyes on her; watching as she concentrated on patching him up.

"Any…new thoughts?" She asked, finishing up the bandaging and grabbing the ointment to disinfect his other smaller wounds.

Ressler grinned. "Nothing, just…" his eyes swept over her. "You look good like that."

Liz smiled back, suddenly remembering that she was wearing nothing but his shirt. "You wanna take a picture?"

She shivered a little when he threw his head back and laughed that deep rumble that was rare to hear. Liz realized that she was going to have to run from that. From him. She was going to miss these moments; sitting side by side and laughing together. Even more so now that they had crossed that boundary that they had always been edging.

"Not sure I need evidence of me harboring a fugitive." He joked.

Again, the levity faded as soon as he saw her contemplative face. With a deep breath, he recalled the conversation they'd had earlier.

"You know, you never really answered my question." He began.

She looked up at him, silently asking him to continue.

"Back at the motel…" He broached. "I just…"

"What is it?"

He sighed. "What's the endgame here, Liz? Say you killed Reddington. Got your revenge. What then?"

She breathed her own exasperated sigh, shaking her head and looking away. "Ressler…"

"Look, I know better than to try to talk you out of it at this point. I'm just—"

"Worried about me, I know." She interrupted bitterly.

"Well, yes, but…I'm honestly…curious."

"Curious?" She scoffed.

"Yes." He chuckled, knowing how ridiculous it sounded. "Curious. What happens when you reach the end of this?"

Liz looked at the floor, beginning to ponder it herself.

"I mean the man's already dying, Liz. What's the difference between waiting til he kicks the bucket and you pulling the trigger?"

"I don't know, alright?" She responded tightly. "I don't know."

He looked at her sincerely, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. When she took a deep, quivering breath, he realized that the night had reached the point that they both knew was always coming. The crappy, tear-filled part where they had to talk everything out and feel every prick of pain before they had to be enemies again.

She sniffled. "I just…nothing else feels like it should be. As soon as he pulled that trigger and she hit ground, there's just been this…weight in my chest."

She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand as Ressler wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"I don't know if it's grief, or hatred, but…it pulls everything down. I can't think of Agnes without thinking she'll get hurt because of him. I can't figure out my past because of him." She sighed again, tears starting to spill and frustration shaking her breath.

"Even this!" She yelled, gesturing between the two of them. "As much as it feels right being here, with you…I can't help but think that he'll get in the way somehow!"

The floodgates opened then; sobs wracked her body as she let herself cry. Instinctively, Ressler reached out and pulled her tight against him, keeping her head on his uninjured side. She sobbed against his chest, clutching as tightly as she could without hurting him.

Eventually, she pulled back, wiping the tears from her face in a feeble attempt to compose herself. "I'm sorry. I keep doing this to you…"

"Doing what?"

"This!" She sniffled, taking a step back. "Using you to make myself feel better!"

"Liz…"

"I'm sorry." She said weakly as she turned to leave. "I shouldn't have come here. I—"

"Liz, wait." He reached out, his hand softly cradling hers as he pulled her closer to face him. "Can I be honest with you?"

She swallowed thickly as he brought his thumb up and wiped her cheek dry. "You always are," she said.

"I need this too." He admitted.

Suddenly she was holding her breath. Her swimming eyes searching his steady ones.

"The last time was bad enough. I almost…I almost lost you."

"Ress…"

"And now, things are different. Not only am I going to have to hunt you down again, I have to protect the person you're trying to kill." He sighed and shook his head. "Even worse…things between us are finally…"

He sighed again, unable to finish his sentence. He didn't need to. Liz promptly stepped close and gently planted her lips against his. It was different from earlier; soft and sweet instead of hungry and passionate. Another side of whatever was happening between them, but certainly not unwelcome.

Liz pulled away from his tender lips, her own curving up into a comforting smile. "We've got some pretty horrible timing don't we?"

Ressler smiled back, his shoulders relaxing as he ran his hand up and down her arm. "Let's make the most of the time we have, then. Let's just forget about everything we're about to go through."

"Just for tonight." Liz said solemnly.

"Just for tonight." He repeated with a wan smile.

He took her hand in his and led her back into the bedroom. Ressler laid down on the bed, switching sides from earlier so that he could lie on his side and wrap his wounded arm around her. Liz quickly snuggled into the comfort of his embrace.


When Liz opened her eyes, sunlight peeked through the blinds and made the room glow. She was still buried in a delicious warmth; Ressler's strong arms wrapped around her, his soft breath intermittently tickling the back of her neck.

Craning her neck behind her, she brought a glance over to his bandaged arm, and sighed in relief when she noticed that it held tightly and cleanly. She then caught sight of the alarm clock on the nightstand. Liz clenched her jaw when she realized that their night had ended hours ago.

Carefully, she turned around again. This time, she let her eyes settle on him, taking the time to study his features. His normally rigid, sculpted hair was soft and mussed, longer than it usually seemed when it was controlled and shining brightly against the sun. His tender lips were slightly parted, barely moving as he slept soundly.

She then looked over his face as a whole; his freckles were much more prominent in the early sunlight; in how close they were. She'd remembered counting them. Right before she'd kissed him that night under the bridge. Though it was much easier now; she could take her time.

She also noticed the subtle sprouts of ginger hair dotting around his lips. She had never seen him before a clean shave. She smiled at the sight of them; contrasting with his blond hair, but meshing quite nicely when they were put together. Again, she moved sneakily, taking her thumb and brushing it around his jaw to get a feel. She'd never paid attention to how handsome he was, and she was ashamed that it took her until they were enemies again to appreciate it.

She leaned forward and gave him a furtive peck on the lips. With a sigh, she turned away slowly, pulling his arms off of her and quietly sneaking out of the bed.

Again, she studied him; his form completely relaxed and content. The lines on his forehead weren't at all pronounced, and the serious frown that seemed permanent was gone. He looked so much younger when he slept. So much lighter.

Steadily, she made her way into the kitchen. She started the coffee pot in an attempt to have something to give him before she left.

She went back into the room, picking up her clothes and heading quickly into the bathroom. After relieving herself and a quick shower, she changed back into her clothes. As she did, she stared at his shirt, and with a smile, stuffed it into her coat.


When his eyes slowly blinked open, Ressler noticed how cold and empty the bed was. He sighed and turned onto his back to look at the ceiling when he realized she was gone. Outside of her lingering scent, he couldn't help but feel like what had happened the night before was a dream.

Then he heard movement out in the living room.

Quickly, he got up from the bed and rushed outside the room. He stared at the sight of her. A hand on the doorknob, her eyes wide and her jaw subtly quivering.

Wordlessly, Ressler took large steps to close the distance between them. He wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace and leaned in to give her a kiss.

Liz accepted wholeheartedly. Her arms wrapping around him and her lips warm against his. When Ressler pulled away, he brought his thumb up and swiped away a tear that had fallen from her eye. She didn't even notice it. She could only smile back in gratitude.

"Goodbye, Ressler." She said softly.

"Goodbye, Liz." He responded quietly.

She opened the door and began to step out when his voice stopped her.

"Liz, I…" he paused, his tongue curled up against the roof of his mouth, struggling to say what he'd wanted to say for years.

She turned and looked at him, hesitation in his eyes. The look was unfamiliar to his features; she was used to stoicism and confidence gracing those good looks.

And then he sighed.

With a grin, his shoulders dropped. "Be safe."

She searched his eyes for a moment. She could see the walls coming back up, preparing for the worst to come. Bracing for her. Liz could only nod and smile back.

"You too." She answered, and stepped out of his apartment.