Two hours later they were dismissed, and at 4:00pm in the afternoon Ressler entered his empty apartment. After changing out of his suit and into jeans and sweat shirt, he stood at the window in his living room and watched the traffic below. He wasn't really seeing though, as his thoughts drifted inward. Christmas was getting harder with each passing year. His head turned to take in the single chair in his living room, where Audrey's suitcase had sat all those years ago. It still hurt to think about her and their lost child.
"Take care of our little girl up there, sweetie," he whispered, and blinked back sudden tears that threatened. A quick trip to the fridge and a beer was in his hand as he tossed the bottle cap into the trash. Any joy he'd felt at spending Christmas evening with Liz and Agnes had dissolved. He had days and days of this before he went to her apartment on Tuesday. He needed to find something to do. His beer only half finished, he headed to his workout room and lifted a few weights, and hit the exercise machines hard. Then after pounding on his punching bag for a while - a long while - always therapeutic, he headed to the shower to wash off the fresh sheen of sweat.
While in the shower, often where he did some of his best thinking, his mind had touched on an idea. A trip to his cabin. If he had to be alone at Christmas, why not there? The more he thought about it, the more he had the beginnings of a plan. He could head out tomorrow, Saturday, spend the weekend there, head back Christmas eve or even Christmas morning, and still be at Liz's for Christmas dinner that evening. Shutting off the water and stepping out of the shower, he made up his mind. The cabin it was. He could even go grab his supplies this evening at the store so he'd be all ready to leave at first light.
It was as he was toweling his head dry and heading to the kitchen to decide if he was re-heating something for dinner or ordering in, that he heard the knock at his door. He glanced at the clock, noting it was just after 7pm, and went to answer. Opening the door, towel over his shoulder, he was greeted with the sight of Liz. And not the Liz he'd left a few hours ago. Not the one with eyes shining with joy and eager anticipation. Her bloodshot eyes met his from her tear stained face, her mascara smudged and running.
"Liz, what's wrong?" he asked, alarmed, as his hand found her arm and gently pulled her inside, closing the door behind them. "What's happened?" he asked, his heart pounding in his chest as his arm found her shaking shoulders.
"It's my own fault," she stammered, fresh tears streaming down her face.
"What is it?" he asked, leading her toward the living room. But he already knew. Agnes wasn't with her. Her plans to pick up her baby girl had obviously gone awry.
"I just wanted to surprise her," Liz told him as she sank onto the couch and he sat close beside her, his arm still around her. "Christmas lights in New York tomorrow night, and then home." She looked at him, the pain etched on her features. "But Scottie wasn't even there. She took Agnes to… to Europe for the holidays…"
She broke down again, her voice rising hysterically. "I can't even see my own little girl for Chris-" The rest of the sentence was lost as sobs engulfed her. Ressler folded her into his chest, his towel doing double duty, his arms encircling her and holding her close as she shook and sobbed against him. He closed his eyes against the sound. It was heartbreaking.
"I'm sorry, so sorry, Liz," he whispered over and over into her hair. "I know you wanted to..."
"I just want..." she sobbed, her voice cracking again. "Just wanted..." her voice hitched, "to, to surprise her!"
"I know you did, and I'm so sorry it didn't work out..." he told her, his lips close to her ear.
"I know... you are..." she hitched, her arms encircled him then bringing her closer to him. She was quiet then, and as he held her, the shaking subsided as she began to calm. He held her close, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
His chin was still resting on her hair when she slowly pulled away from him and looked at him through red, swollen eyes, sniffing hard. "What would I do without you?"
He smiled at her gently, his hands still holding her upper arms as she sat close. "Always here for hugs, Liz, you know that."
Her hand found his chest, "I know, and I love you for that," she said, as his heart lurched under her hand and the three words buried within her sentence. "And look, you even provided a cry towel," she said, attempting to interject some humor, before the half smile left her lips.
"Just call me Mr Prepared," he said, smiling.
"You're such a good Boy Scout," she said, patting the towel, then glanced toward his bedroom and bathroom. "Um, can I go clean up a bit?" she asked.
"Of course you can," he told her. As she rose to her feet, he was reluctant to let his hands drop from her. "I was about to check out the dinner situation. What do you feel like? I'll order us something."
"Oh, Ress, you don't need-"
"No, I don't need to. I want to. Chinese? Mexican? Steak? Name your poison."
She stood in his bedroom doorway, her face a mess, yet she smiled at him, if a little wanly. "You choose. It all sounds great," she told him, then pointed her thumb behind her. "I'll just be in here, trying to regain some semblance of control."
She came back out into the living room about 15 minutes later, disheveled makeup washed off and her face now scrubbed clean and makeup-free. It made her look younger, he thought, so see her minus her makeup. But what he noticed the most was how dull her eyes were now behind the red rims. The former spark replaced with sadness.
She plopped down beside him on the couch again. "Thank you," she told him, patting his knee. She motioned to the menus on his coffee table. "So what did you order?"
"Would you believe pizza? And chicken wings, too. Finger food tonight," he said, smiling.
"Oh good, I wouldn't trust myself with a knife," she said, leaning back on the couch as he stood. "Kidding, I think..."
"Beer? Wine? Water?"
"You're such a good waiter," she said, gazing up at him. "Water is great." She looked down. "I feel too sad to drink... I may not stop at one..."
He paused, looking at her downcast eyes, then went to grab her a bottle of cold water. He sat down beside her again. "So, while you were getting cleaned up, I was thinking..." he paused, unsure if he should say exactly what he had been thinking. It was far too forward. Wasn't it?
Sipping her water, she looked at him questioningly. "Oh? About what?"
He changed his mind. "Oh, well, no, it's nothing." He looked at his watch. "Food should be here soon," he said, attempting to change the subject.
"Really? You're going to tell me you thought of something, then not tell me?" she said, tilting her head at him, silently asking him to please open up and tell her.
Oh, okay, in for a penny, in for a pound, he thought. "Well, I was going to head to my cabin tomorrow for a few days to escape Christmas… and I thought… I mean, I wondered... if..." God, what was wrong with him? Why couldn't he say it? Her eyes were boring into his.
"My gosh, Ress, spit it out!" she said, now smiling at her nervous partner, because she already had a feeling what he was trying to ask, and loved him for it. For caring that much. But she was going to let him ask it. Chivalry was not dead.
"Would you like to come and stay at my cabin with me, to escape Christmas?" he blurted out, and looked at her expectantly.
She smiled, surprised at his boldness, yet truly touched at his offer and the sincerity in his eyes. She should have been with Agnes and spending time with her. He should have been with his own family, and wasn't. They were both alone. A voice of reason was trying to tell her she should just go home to her own empty apartment, but the longer she looked into his eyes, the idea appealed to her more and more and there was no way she could refuse him.
She didn't say anything, and he feared he'd blown it. Way to go, dude. How to look like a complete ass with a distraught woman who came to you for comfort and reassurance.
Then her face broke out in a slow, genuine smile. "I would like that," she said, and leaned into him to nudge his shoulder briefly. "Very much so."
Relieved, and rather pleased with himself, he smiled back. "Me too," he told her.
A knock came at the door, giving them both a few moments to collect their thoughts as he rose to get their pizza order. But now that she'd agreed, he was fine and no longer nervous about his idea. His very forward idea.