Okay, so I was going to write a chapter on 2x11, the scene where Liz tells Ressler she's in trouble. But the more I thought about it, I realized in my Conversations universe that had already been addressed when she took Ressler to the boat with her. So, I'm going to pretty much ignore 2x11! But I still wanted to get a chapter up, and I couldn't get my head away from Ressler holding Liz in my previous chapter. So, I just needed to stay with them there for a bit longer, (if you don't mind, of course!) He's so protective of her and she's so fragile there, so I couldn't just plow on to their next case just yet!

Ressler knew something was different the moment he dragged up from a dreamless sleep to semi awake. Apart from the fact he was pressed up behind his sleeping partner so closely that her hair tickled his cheek, of course.

That was definitely different.

The room was quieter and something felt missing though. The drone of the fridge in the kitchenette and the whir of the window heater were silent. And as he lifted his head off the pillow and opened his eyes to a cold, silent room, it was evident the power had gone out. Darn, crappy motel… But as he looked toward the window not seeing any street lights either, the room lit up in a brief white flash followed by the distant roll of thunder a few seconds later. Gently lifting his arm off Liz to see his watch, the illuminated clock face read 3:27am. Just great.

Liz was no longer trembling but as he lay his head back down on the pillow a whimper escaped her lips. He couldn't see her in the dark. No lights shone through the window blind as the storm clouds hid the half-moon above. Finding her hand he slipped his fingers over hers and with his arm encircling her he settled back down. His brain was waking up now though. His eyes opened again at the thought that he was lying in bed with his partner. Aram hugging Samar had nothing on this.

While they weren't lovers, their bodies were fit together in such a way that it was basically… sex without sex… And yet, as close as he was to her his body didn't respond in that way. To do so would betray her trust. She was compromised. She was vulnerable. And his decision to lay with her had been borne of a need to shield and comfort her through deep hurt.

And having confirmed his decision to himself, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep again. But the storm had other ideas. The intervals between the lightning and thunder lessened as large drops of rain began thudding against the window. Beside him, Liz whimpered and stirred as a loud clap of thunder sounded overhead. Refusing to give up on sleep just yet, he felt her move beside him and he whispered to her in the dark.

"It's okay, Liz. It's just me here…" he told her, for the first time wondering how she was going to feel waking to find him literally breathing down her neck.

He didn't have time to ponder that thought.

Screaming, she shot upright beside him. "No! No!"

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, his heart jumping in his chest as he sprang upright beside her. As he caught her flailing arms in the pitch black he attempted to subdue her. "Liz, it's me! Calm down, it's me, Ressler!"

"No! I need to get to him! Let me go!"

And in the dark and completely unable to see her, Ressler realized she wasn't talking to him. She was awake, yet still trapped in a dream. "Liz!" he yelled into her ear, trying to reach her. Struggling beside him as lightning lit up the room, she screamed again, disoriented at the flash of light hitting her eyes.

"Let me go! Let me help him!"

He gave up trying to hold her arms and seized her around her middle. As he clutched her t-shirt clad torso in his arms, his arms hugging her as he narrowly missed getting walloped by an elbow, he again yelled at her, "Liz! You're safe. Wake up!"

"It's burning! He's burning! Let me go!" She struggled against him with a strength that caught him off guard. It was the adrenaline surging through her veins though, he knew that much.

"Liz! It's a dream! Calm down!" he called into her ear as she tried in vain to free herself from his grip as lightning lit up the room again. And in her panic she turned her attention to the one who was holding her back. Dodging his head aside as her balled up fists hit him now, he grimaced as one landed on his ear. And as her fists pummeled him, she screamed in the dark.

"I need to get to him! Let me go!" she screamed over the sound of the heavy rain on the window.

"Liz! It's a dream!" She wasn't listening. Dodging another blow that hit him squarely above his right eye, it was his turn to scream at her.

"STOP!"

And as if hit physically, she stopped and fell quiet in his arms. Panting furiously and whimpering with each frantic breath. Her arms dropped, hanging limply at her side as she attempted to focus her eyes in the darkness.

He'd reached her. "It was a dream… you're safe, Liz" he told her gently, still holding her to him as she sagged in his arms.

"Ress?" she turned to his voice in the dark, blinking quickly as another flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed closely by a loud clap of thunder.

"Yeah, I'm right here. You're safe, Liz." He leaned his head against hers, loosening his vice like grip and held her more gently. Her body still heaved in his arms as she gasped for air and her heart raced in her chest.

"Everything was burning. I couldn't reach him!"

"I know. It was a dream though," he told her gently, finding her hand and encircling her fingers in his.

"It wasn't a dream. It was a memory. I left my father there and he died in that fire! And I couldn't get back to him!" her voice threatened to break.

Ressler leaned into her as he sat beside her holding her close. "Tell me what else you saw," he encouraged.

"Someone was leading me away. I couldn't see who it was. Why wouldn't they let me go back?" she remembered now, her voice quivering in the dark. And as the lightning flashed again he saw her cheeks wet with fresh tears.

He waited for the thunder to fade before continuing. "Because you would have died too, Liz," he reasoned with her, feeling her strength ebb as she started to sink back down. He loosened his grip from around her and let her lay back as he lay down on his right side to face her.

She rolled her head on the pillow to face him. "I saw my father lying on the floor in a fire he couldn't possibly survive, yet Tom once told me that my father was still alive," she told him, tears rolling silently onto the pillow.

"How do you know you can trust what Tom told you, Liz?" he asked her gently, when inwardly he was picturing himself letting Tom walk away after his phone call to Berlin. Never should have let the bastard go! His thoughts were drawn back as Liz continued.

"But then Red then told me my father definitely died in the fire. That he didn't survive."

Ressler was about to ask her the same thing regarding Red. That trusting anything Red said was always fraught with risk. But of course, Liz knew that as well as him.

"I'm going crazy with all this, Ress," she told him, her voice hitching in the dark.

He reached out his arm to her, touching her left arm. "Liz, you may never know the truth, not even with what Red attempted today."

Her voice was getting thicker as the lump in her throat increased, "And I don't know how I live with that unknown…"

"You live with it because you don't have a choice, which I know isn't an answer," he told her as he rubbed her arm, feeling her cold skin beneath his warm hand.

"There's such a huge part of me that is unseen and buried and hidden in half truths and lies and deceit and… and husbands who aren't real and fathers who may or may not be alive," she said, as he only made out half of her hitching words now. Which didn't even matter. He got the sentiment loud and clear through the pain in her voice.

"I don't even know who I am!" she said as her voice finally broke and raised to a frantic sob in the dark. And scooting closer to her his arm was around her again as she rolled and buried herself in his chest. As he held her, simultaneously comforting her and furious at what Red had done, he dropped his head and hugged her silently, wanting only to smother her with protection and safety.

Clutching him tightly with her underwear clad body pressed against him, once again his body didn't respond physically. This wasn't about sex. And as she began to calm and her tears eased he felt a shiver run through her. The room was getting colder. As the room lit up in white light again her head came slowly up off his chest.

"Why is it so cold?" she whispered.

"Power's out. Courtesy of the big light show out there, I'm sure," he explained as the rain drummed against the window and lightning filled the room, followed quickly by the roll of thunder. Finding the blankets and bedspread, he pulled them up over them again as they lay together.

And if he could have seen her, he'd have seen a small smile play on her lips as he did that. "Just like the quarry…" she said softly.

"Yes, except we're not literally freezing to death here," he said quietly, fully aware of the memory that had sprung to mind this time.

Her hand found his chest. "Ress…thank you for being here."

He remained silent in the dark. She didn't need to thank him any more than Reddington had told him not to leave her alone tonight.

"I'm so tired…" she said, dropping her head to the pillow. Whatever drugs were still in her system were still exhausting her.

"Get some rest," he encouraged as she drew back a little from him and lay on her side facing him. As another flash of lightning lit up the room, he looked at her face. Eyes closed, hair hanging around her forehead, she looked like a little girl afraid in the dark. And leaning over to her, he kissed her cheek.

Goodnight, Liz."

She didn't answer. She was already asleep.

And as he finally fell asleep beside her the thunderstorm slowly passed overhead. Thirty minutes later the power came back on in the small room, but neither of them was aware of it.

###

The next time Ressler opened his eyes it was daylight. The bed was empty beside him and the sound of the shower running came from the bathroom. The clock on the bedside table flashed 12:00 incessantly, announcing that the power was back on. Time to get up. And after he drew his body out of the bed, he set about making it and throwing the pillows back on it. He'd never understood this need to have extra pillows on beds.

Having got the clock on the right time and the bedroom squared away, he padded into the living room and folded up the blanket that was on the couch. The couch I didn't sleep on after all. In the small kitchenette he found what he needed to get a pot of coffee on and opening the fridge he wasn't surprised to find it mostly bare. But he did find a few eggs and managed to rustle up some scrambled eggs for them. As Liz came out of the shower, once again dressed in her white robe, she smiled.

"You're so domestic, Ress."

"Hey, I try. Sit down before it gets cold," he told her, smiling.

"I'm starving," she told him and together they sat at her tiny kitchen table and ate their meager breakfast.

"You going into work today?" he asked, watching her eyes as he shoveled eggs into his mouth. Her eyes had returned to their normal size which was a relief. Seeing them dilated the night before had been disconcerting, to say the least.

"I'm not sure yet…"

"Cooper would understand if you didn't. He seems to have mellowed lately," he told her, finishing up his coffee and getting up to put their plates in the sink. "So while you decide, I'm going to take a shower and transform myself into a Federal Agent," he told her before grabbing his overnight bag and heading for the bathroom.

As she stood, she smiled at him. "Oh, I quite like the home version of Ressler too though."

He stopped, standing there with his bag over his shoulder. "That's what you say now, until you get to wash my dirty socks," he deadpanned, then turned from her with his half smile on his lips as he entered the bathroom.

She rolled her eyes at him, then went and got changed in the bedroom. As she sat on the bed listening to the sound of the shower, she felt something behind her feet. Bending down she found the box of photos that she had forgotten she'd pushed under there. Dragging it out it she reached down, picking up photos of her and Sam, and childhood photos of dance recitals and picnics. Outlining Sam's face in the photo with her fingertip, she held the photo to her chest.

"I miss you…" she whispered before turning her attention to the other contents of the box.

And there was her half burned bunny. Her constant companion as a little girl. And she wasn't even sure how she even still had it. But here, 26 years after the fire was the bunny she'd clutched to her that night as someone led her to safety - and led her away from her dying father.

As the sound of the running water shut off, she looked more closely at the bunny in her hands. Something was different in the stitching on the back, looking more like a hastily done repair than the factory stitching. And not even sure why, only knowing she had to she tore at the stitches and ripped them apart to reveal something hidden inside.

As she pulled out the bubble wrapped little box from the bunny, holding it in her hand she felt both terrified and elated. Here, finally, was something from that night. Unwrapping the tiny object and looking at it sitting in her hand, her eyes took on a faraway look. How had this got in her rabbit? Who had put it there? What was it? What did it mean?

And she was still sitting there when the door to the bathroom opened, and letting steam out into the bedroom, Ressler came into the room freshly shaven with his suit on.

"Liz…?"

Something was wrong. Crouching down before her, moving the box of photos aside he touched her hand that was closed around something.

"Liz, what's wrong?"

Her eyes found him, as her mouth still hung open slightly. And opening her hand slowly, she revealed the contents. As he looked at the tiny box in her hand, he looked up at her in confusion.

"What is it? Where did you get this…?"

"I have no idea. It was in…" she reached for her torn bunny, "in here… I think it was put in there the night of the fire."

And as he crouched before her they both looked at the tiny box sitting in her hand, both feeling like that tiny box had just opened up far more questions than answers.