There's An Ache In You…

A/N: Spoilers for 6x12. I don't know what happens at a lethal injection execution, we abolished the death penalty 1969 which doesn't seem that long ago. The death penalty for treason was only abolished in 1998. 😳

I've switched locations on some of the conversations. The second paragraph felt like I need to keep up with the episode. I much prefer ignoring the eps altogether now. I'm happy this will be the last ep although I may add things from later eps, just because Red knows all. Dom will feature, still undecided about Agnes.

I'm ignoring Samar leaving, she's not going anywhere and she most definitely does not have vascular dementia. Her and Aram deserve a happy life.

I've dealt with Ressler now rather than wait until the end of the ep where she didn't really deal with it. She should've just told him straight but yet again no. C'mon Liz all these men ruling your life. Time to take charge. This is for you Melbob55!

Lots happens in this so I hope it's cohesive!

TW: Self Harm mentions in therapy.

Song Is: 'Tis The Damn Season - Taylor Swift.

Put There By The Ache In Me…

He was trying, he really was but as she came out of that bathroom, her face stricken and white emerging from the darkness like an apparition haunting him, he wanted to be done waging this war between them. Her testimony had softened him but there was still something that held him back, he was bone tired, his thoughts haunting him of his would be execution and then that lead him back to her and so it went round. It was like there were two of her, the repentant Elizabeth begging him for forgiveness and more and the one that had callously turned him in, watched as he lost argument after argument until he was facing death. He knew he villanized that version of her, how could he not? He wanted to move on, move passed the one who had come to him the night of Jennifer's kidnapping. The thought of kissing her in the visitor's room whilst she was holding back such a betrayal. He knew she had been unravelling at that point, he also knew she was barely holding on now but he saw no way forward other than time and that was making them both impatient. Perhaps he should've let her in as she came out of that bathroom, after her declarations of love, perhaps he should've given in, replaced the moment in that horrible room of the prison just to see how it felt. He missed the feel of her against him, the quiet moments when all they did was hold each other in the darkness and sleep. The vulnerability and trust of those moments but now, hadn't they lost all of that? He was allowing his desires to overrule rational thought and he had bigger things to focus on right now.

'Whatever happened to telling him you knew he was an imposter?' Ressler had asked catching her as she left the elevator. Now they were back from Luxembourg with a solid lead, she supposed this question had been inevitable.

'I didn't get the chance to.' She lied feebly and she could see he knew it. She tried to dodge him but he stepped into her path.

'Didn't get the chance or, uh, decided not to?' He asked as he blocked her exit, irritation was beginning to spark.

'Perhaps I just want to leave it alone as I think you should.' She stepped around him, her best scowl in place, trying to tamper her growing anger.

'Liz?' He grabbed her arm in question, he was too close and the thought of him wanting to know their business prickled across her skin in irritation.

'Listen, I don't need to know. I've made peace with it and I've spoke with him, okay? He knows that I know he's not the real Reddington but I don't think it's all that important in the grand scheme of things so I need you to leave it alone.' She hissed, looking down at his hand but he made no attempts to remove it.

'And what if I can't?' He asked taking a step closer and still holding her arm. She gave him her best scowl, his breath was against her cheek and if he didn't step back she was about to make him.

She huffed out a breath, tugging her arm from his grip and took a step back. 'I suggest you do. I trust that I know the things I need to know. He and I are sharing more which frankly is none of your goddamn business. And trust me when I say it's for your own best interest that you don't go digging around anymore.' She stressed her final words, her voice low as she channelled her best Reddington impression.

'And you just believe him after all the secrets and lies?' Ressler scoffed, his face incredulous.

'Yes. You haven't seen what being in prison did to him. What I did to him and if he can forgive me…' She took a breath, stepping further away. 'I trust him. He knows that he and I would be finished if he keeps anything else from me. So when I tell you to stop digging, I mean it because I won't have you ruin this for me. Do you understand?' She almost growled, pointing a finger at him.

After that everything seemed to happened in a rush, Jonas Kruger identified the target as Ava Zielger, the Director of German Intelligence who'd wound up dead, killed by the same deadly beetle favoured by Doctor Nikkila. A meeting had set with the team via a conference call and the pieces of a larger puzzle started coming together. Finally she understood what he had been doing for the whole of his trial, the cases he'd sent her on, even the ones before she and Jennifer had made the phone call to have him arrested. Red was permitted back into the country on a forty-eight hour stay of execution and any repercussions of his escape were to be ignored for the time being. His immunity agreement was promised by the White House on condition he could identify Ziegler's assassin and a new target had been named, or rather one they already knew about, Bastian Moreau.

'You're going to go back to him, right? When he gets back?' She half whispered at dinner that evening, dreading the answer as it would mean one of two things. Either she would leave this place, leave her would be sanctuary or she would have to face being alone here without Dembe. Neither of which she wanted to face.

'That would depend on what Raymond would like.' Dembe had answered, chewing thoughtfully.

'That's where he'll need you to be though…' She countered wanting or needing definites and not maybes. 'Do you think he'll come here?' She spoke tentatively, pulling the crust off her slice of pizza and not watching Dembe.

'Not at the moment, Elizabeth. He's made his position clear, has he not?' She shrugged at his answer, not wanting to look up into those brown eyes because she knew what she'd see on his features.

Her muscles were aching from having sprinted around the lake several times before dinner. The nervous energy fuelling her on as she felt her heart pounding and her lungs burning, the sky turning a murky grey as she felt the first spots of rain. She had just stepped into the large claw footed tub in the en-suite when the small burner began to buzz. She picked up the small phone, hesitating for a moment before she flipped it open, her arm resting against the edge of the tub.

'Elizabeth?' He sounded tired, his voice raw and gravelly.

'Are you almost here? Cooper's asking for details.' She slipped on her professionalism easily, masking the turbulence she felt after their last meeting.

'I don't have any at present.' He told her uniformly as she slipped further down the tub, resting her feet flat against the end.

'What? You said you knew how to find Moreau?' Why didn't he seem more concern? She felt the edge of panic, urgency welling up inside her at his nonchalance.

'I'll know more when I land…' She felt a wave of insecurity, he sounded exasperated with this stunted conversation.

'But we only have forty-eight hours!' She exclaimed, panic seeping into her voice. She needed to act and Cooper would expect answers.

'I am aware Elizabeth. I didn't call to talk about Bastian Moreau.' He replied curtly, now sounding irritated.

'But Cooper…' She began before he cut her off. She pushed herself up, her body sliding against the porcelain.

'Elizabeth…' He interrupted sharply and she almost winced as another wave of insecurity crept up her spine in light tingles.

'I'm sorry, I'm feeling a little uneasy by the urgency of the situation.'

'Dembe is working some leads, we'll know more when I arrive.' He let out a breath as she thought of something to say, deciding to stay quiet and let him speak.

'I want you to start seeing someone about your panic attacks.'

This was the very last thing she had been expecting. Balking slightly, she sat forward in the tub, sweat beginning to form on her brow from the hot water.

'How is that relevant right now?' She bit back, needing to deflect the situation. They had far more important things to be discussing.

'I think you know. You've just come out of a break down, you're still having panic attacks and I think it would be best for you to talk to someone. I can find someone you can trust, if that's the issue.' He countered calmly as she bristled.

'Oh so they can report back to you?' She snapped, her arm was beginning to cramp. She needed to get out the tub, the hot water coupled with his suggestions was making her more angry. She clicked the speaker button and placed the phone on the stool next to the bath.

'That wasn't why I suggested it…' He was saying as she picked up the rose scented bar of soap and began soaping her body.

'Then stop meddling. I don't need you to suggest that I see a therapist. I think I can handle that on my own.' She argued an edge to her voice but feeling better for moving her arm.

'Oh really so you've been seeing things that aren't there and having panic attacks. Are you still having nightmares?' He opposed swiftly and she said a silent curse for Dembe telling tales.

'Okay stop. I don't need you pointing out my failures, I know what they are, okay? I know why they happened and I have it under control.' She bit back, sinking her body beneath the surface of the water and washing away the soap.

'So you are having nightmares?' He paused, waiting for her to respond but she clamped her mouth shut stubbornly. 'I don't see how you have this handled. You had a panic attack less than twenty-four hours ago. What exactly do you have handled?' He disputed as she let out a huffy breath, tired of this argument, she felt she was losing.

'That was extenuating circumstances and you're the one making me feel panicky now, so can we just drop it?' She climbed out the bath, grabbing one of the fluffy bath towels and wrapped it around herself. She reached over to pop the plug out.

'No. I want you to agree to start seeing someone. If you can't then I'll be forced to take matters into my own hands.' His tone matter of fact, like it was a done deal.

'What?' She let out a humourless laugh, 'What does that even mean?' She picked up the phone, not believing for one second that he was serious and padded into the bedroom. Her chest felt tight and she was beginning to feel like she was caught in a trap.

'I'll suggest to Harold that you need to see an FBI therapist and I'll inform him why you were really off.' His tone was sharp and even as she sat heavily down against the ottoman at the end of the bed. Her breath was beginning to quicken and she needed to either hang up or find a way to dissuade him.

'You won't do that.' She almost choked out regaining her composure at the last minute. He wouldn't.

'Don't test me Elizabeth. We both need to focus and me worrying about you isn't helping that focus…' He ground out, she could almost see his eye twitching.

'Then you see a fucking therapist, lord knows you need it just as much as I do. You don't get to dictate what I do. Get that through your head, whether we are together or not and this rate we never will be, so don't you dare.' She spluttered, irritation turning into rage at being told like a child what she should be doing, when she was already doing it.

'This isn't about me…' He declared stubbornly.

'Isn't it? How can you even say that to me, after everything?' Her voice broke as she struggled to maintain control. 'You're just making me want to hide it from you. You get that right?' She heard him let out a breath and she imagined him pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

'That isn't what I want, Lizzy… I don't want to argue with you…' He softened and took a breath, listening to her quickened breathing. 'I'm just concerned and I…' She listened to the hum of the jet as he paused. 'I want us to get back on track and once the next forty-eight hours are out of the way, we'll be able to focus a little more on…' He took another breath, 'Us… Just consider what I'm asking you.'

She blinked back the burn of tears, trembling slightly as she considered her options. Feeling vulnerable, her voice shaky. She closed her eyes, 'I don't need to… I'm already seeing someone…' She spoke hesitantly, afraid of what he'd say.

'Since when?' He exclaimed seeming shocked.

'Since I came back from Alaska. I never stopped seeing Doctor Orchard.' She calmed slightly, shrugging off the towel and standing up. She grabbed her pyjamas, slipping on her top and underwear.

'Why didn't you tell me?' His tone dropped, seeming wounded by her lack of thought which sparked more annoyance.

'Really? You want to know why I didn't tell you? She was something I was doing for myself and you weren't exactly in a sharing mood, ever. I needed to do it for me. You haven't been that easy to talk to, you know?' She huffed, picking up her wet towel and heading back to the bathroom to throw it over the heated towel rail.

'Well I'm not sure she's working for you, considering your panic attacks and…' He rebuffed as anger began coiling in the pit of her stomach.

'You don't know what she's doing! And you aren't going to go and see her either.' She snapped. 'I'm on medication. She is helping and has helped and for your information she has been telling me to come clean for months. Just because she advises to do something, doesn't mean I'm going to do it. I need to get there on my own and you're not the easiest person to deal with. Now can we drop it?' She explained, stemming her anger and taking a breath.

'I still don't think she's…' She let out a frustrated groan, her hand in her hair as she held the phone in the other.

'Red, please. You aren't going to hassle her. Just leave it alone, for me. Give me your word that you won't go and see her or have someone else go. She doesn't even keep notes so it's pointless.' There was silence for a moment, the hum of the jet between them as she stalked back and forth between the bed and the bathroom.

'I meant what I said, I want us to get back on track. If you're trying so can I. I won't go and see Doctor Orchard, you have my word.' She softened, her shoulders relaxing at his earnest words.

'Thank you. I know you have every reason to hold back, I want to give you that time but I don't know how many times I can say sorry or what I can do to convince that I am sorry.' She flopped down on the mattress, edging backward until her back rested against the headboard.

'You don't need to do anything, I know. Everything is still fresh and I think you need to forgive yourself as much as I do…'

She paused, taken a back by his words. Her heart thumping wildly in her chest. 'What?'

'Somewhere you believed that what you were doing would gain you an advantage that I wasn't prepared to give you then. I know I forced your hand, I know I shut you out and I'm sorry too because I do see your struggles outside of my own. Perhaps we both need to share our struggles with each other?'

'I would like that, I don't like shutting you out…' She admitted hesitantly.

'That makes two of us, Lizzy. Now get some rest, I should have arrived by the time you wake up…'

'Goodnight Red.' I love you, she thought but couldn't say it.

She could see her reflection in the glass, a curtain was pulled across on the other side shutting out the light from the room beyond. She looked gaunt, her face drawn and pale. She could feel the guilty ache pitting her stomach, the tightness of her rigid muscles, knowing this was because of her actions. Her chin trembled as the curtain was slowly pulled back. The stark whiteness of the room beyond startled her for a moment and she blinked at the brightness before he was lead out by masked men. He was forced into a reclining medical chair, his chest, arms and legs restrained by thick straps. Her breath halted in her lung as they fixed wires and IVs to his skin. She banged against the glass in soundless strikes of her fists, her voice lost to silent screams. He hadn't seen her, he hadn't looked up but his face was calm in the chaos around him. His white jumpsuit and canvas shoes stark against his skin and the blackness of the chair. She pounded again, her breath lost and her voice along with it, she let out a hoarse scream as she watched the masks retreat leaving him to face his end alone.

She pressed her palms into the glass, tears streaming down her cheeks as he finally looked up at her tear streaked face. His eyes were soft in acquiescence, resigned to his fate as a small smile played at the corners of his mouth. She shuddered, banging against the glass for them to come and stop this madness. He shook his head as panic choked off her breathing. I love you. She murmured into the glass, her mouth enunciating the words as he held her eye. She wanted to hear him say it, nullify the guilt spasming through her but his eyes remained soft and focused. His lips poised in a smile, the kind he held only for her. Something caught her eye at the doorway of the execution room, she turned her head watching Dembe stroll through the door as though he were just reclining in his favourite arm chair. She held her breath, her lungs burning and aching, screaming for air as his face turned dark. His eyes accusatory as he glared back at her and she knew as Dembe left the execution chamber what he had whispered. Confirmation of her guilt was written across his features, in the snarl of his lip and the betrayal in his eyes. Somewhere a clock chimed, toning out strike after strike and she couldn't help but count along somewhere at the back of her mind. I'm so sorry, she mouthed helplessly through the glass. I love you, I'm so so sorry. Her heart twisted, shattering inside her as she watched the milky white substance inching towards his veins. This couldn't be happening, her mind refusing to believe what her eyes were seeing. When the milky substance disappeared through the cannula and for a moment his body slackened, his eyes drooping sleepily as though he was just going to sleep. Her breath caught watching the first twitches of his fingers, his feet, then his limbs began convulsing, his torso until his whole body violently jerked and shook.

When she woke, she woke with her own screams echoing in her head and Dembe's strong hands against her shoulders. She blinked up at him, her face drained of colour as he pulled her into his arms.

Christopher Miles, a former MI6 officer and security consultant who had complied a secret dossier containing details of the alleged plot against the White House had been named but needed locating. Reddington had enlisted help in finding Miles while Ressler and Samar had gone after him, finding Moreau pointing a gun at the man's head. Miles had ended up dead but not before giving Samar a password to the dossier, Moreau had stolen.

Meanwhile there was nothing to do but wait and Liz was on the edge of antsy. The echos of her screams and the violent jerking of his body still haunting behind her eyes as she made a hasty escape from the Post Office.

'What if it's not meant to be, I've wanted this for so long and now the pieces are falling into place and what if…' She stammered all thoughts of this morning's confidence with Ressler flying out the proverbial window.

She marched across the threshold of Selma's office, grateful for her much needed appointment. She paused by the window, watching Selma take her seat and overcome by an overwhelming feeling of relief that flooded through her body. She really needed to prioritised these appointments.

'Did something happen?' Selma asked settling into her seat before she met Liz's gaze, she smiled as Liz slipped out of her own thoughts.

'Yes and no, I just…' She huffed 'He's going to stay at his apartment and I thought… I don't know what I thought…' She came across the room to seat herself, taking up her water as she settled back into the chair.

'That he would come to you? You're staying at the house he brought for you with his closest friend…' She surmised as Liz looked up, taking a sip of water.

'Well yeah I guess but now he'll get immunity. I don't expect him to just rush over, things are just awkward and I'm feeling kind of impatient.' She pursed her lips, placing her water back on the table and crossing her legs and bounced the top one.

'Maybe he's giving you some space to figure things out? Have you been giving him some space to do the same?'

'I think I have? He came to me in Luxembourg and apart from work and dealing with that side of things. I just keep thinking that if it doesn't work out, if we end up hating each other because we can't get passed what we've done to each other then, what will be left? Will he actually leave, will I never see him again?' She explained, feeling the fear of never seeing him again swirl in her stomach.

'I think you're getting ahead of yourself. Try not to think in absolutes. He made the effort of coming to you in Luxembourg. Perhaps it's time to think about what else you have in your life.' Selma suggested gently, smiling back at Liz's frown.

'Like what?'

'Like, if you're not going to be in this job, what are you going to be doing? I think it's important to think about that. It would be more settling if you had a plan, establish friendships and other things besides centring yourself around Mr Reddington. You've been centred around him for long enough. It's time to find yourself again. What are you thinking towards bringing Agnes home? Selma explained watching her stiffened at the mention of Agnes.

'I hadn't…' She turned her head to the side, not wanting to see the look on Selma's face, she felt like a bad mother. She winced slightly, '…That sounds bad. I just don't want to mess her up. She's happy and settled with her grandmother and I don't know if I'm ready to bring her back when I'm still having panic attacks and nightmares.'

'When did you have the last one?' Selma queried, a smile still present on her face as Liz squirmed in her seat.

'I was in Luxembourg. Red had come to visit me at the hotel and it was the first time I'd seen him out of prison. I don't even know why it happened. I wanted…' She took a steadying breath, meeting Selma's gaze. 'I wanted more than he was prepared to give me and I guess I felt rejected and his whole escape was still so fresh…'

'Had you been bottling up your emotions?'

'I was trying to make a conscious effort not to but I almost had a drink when he escaped, when I thought Dembe was gone. I felt alone and it felt easier to just…' She trailed off, watching her busy fingers play with the zipper on her jacket.

'What else were you feeling, do you remember?'

Liz shrugged, remembering the feel of the water when she turned up the heat in the shower, how it stung and burned and how everything seemed to fade away.

'Abandoned…' She looked away toward the window, the weather had turned cold recently and she wondered absently when the first frost was likely.

'Liz?' Selma questioned, bringing her back into the room.

'Excluded. He'd shut me out again. He said it was because he didn't want to implicate me but I was at the prison, they already think I knew…' She turned back to Selma, her eyes glassy, she didn't want to relive all of this.

'What did you do?'

'I went to get a drink and Dembe came back, I felt relieved then but he would't tell me anything so I felt helpless.' She huffed slightly, 'I wanted to run but it was dark by that point and raining. When I had a shower, I did try to think about what I was feeling but I turned the hot water up higher in the shower and the intensity kind of faded.' She admitted softly avoiding Selma's gaze again.

'You've done this before?' Liz flinched at the term but nodded, 'Do you think that might have distracted you? Taken away some of the power of how you were feeling because you had to focus on physical pain?' Selma watched as Liz nodded sheepishly, looking away toward the window. 'It's essentially a form of self harming, it distracts you from the emotional pain, replaces how you're feeling in the moment with physical pain. It's a relief, isn't it?'

Liz took a breath, her lip trembling for a moment before she pressed them together. She nodded again, looking down at her hands.

'Do you think perhaps because of the hot water you hadn't processed your feelings over his escape, so when he rejected you, it forced everything to rush to the surface?' Liz met her eye, a frown on her brow.

'Feelings are like a wave, they ebb and they flow but if we consciously battle against them, block them like a dam in a river eventually they will find a way to overflow, whether we want them to or not and overtime that leads to these unwanted symptoms because they have to come out somehow.'

Liz swallowed, fiddling with the zipper on her jacket again. Her chest felt tight and she knew all of this, she did but in the moment it wasn't that easy.

'Distracting yourself, causing physical harm to yourself all of these things block the flow and unfortunately with the stress of your work, you know it's going to come out in a way that you don't want. It's hard to sit there and feel bad, no one likes doing it. No one wants to sit there with their emotions but you need to find a way to allow them to flow back out in a manageable way…' Selma paused, watching Liz for a moment and allowing her to sit with the things she'd said.

'Its not that easy in the moment. Sometimes I don't even realise I'm doing it…' She murmured into her lap, remember the sting of her scalp as she had tugged relentlessly on her hair.

'What else do you do when you feel things are out of control for you?'

'Well… You know about punching the wall but that was really in reaction to what I was seeing…' She looked up, watching Selma nod. 'I tug on my hair, that I don't realise I'm doing sometimes. I run, which I know is better but perhaps not if I do it too much…'

'Have you thought about reaching out to someone when you feel like doing those things?'

'No. Sometimes they're in reaction to someone else…' She squirmed for a moment before relaxing slightly, taking up her water again.

'Have you voiced that in the moment?'

'Not really, I did tell Red that he was making me panicky. He told me I had to find someone to talk to and I was trying to avoid telling him I came here. He did say that we should talk more about our struggles.'

'You told him you come here?' Selma asked masking her apprehension but Liz could tell from the tone of her voice.

'Yes but I made him promise that he won't come here or have anyone else come here.' She watched Selma relax a little. 'He won't, I told him you don't keep notes and I believed him when he said he wouldn't.' She tried to reassure the older woman, looking up to gauge her facial expression.

'If you weren't going to talk to him, if he's the reason for how you're feeling. Who else could you go to?' She watched Liz shrug, 'Dembe? Are you planning to maintain the relationships you have at work?'

'I don't know, I hadn't thought about it…' She leaned across the arm of her chair to place her glass down, knowing time was almost up.

'Perhaps that's something to consider?' Selma suggested gently, smiling back at her.