Thank you all so much for the positive reviews! It took me a while to update because I've been busy with work, but this chapter is set right after 3x06. The next chapter, set after 3x07, is not far behind!

7:00 p.m.

It's strange to be leaving work this early – ever since Keen ran he's been practically living at the Post Office. He can't remember the last time he actually ate dinner in his apartment. He'd told Samar that today was a win. And he meant it. Sliding into the car, he can't help feeling elated. Today was the first time in a long time that he'd felt like he was on the right side. Like he was finally getting somewhere. Funny – because today was the first day that he hadn't really tried to catch Keen. Hell, he'd conducted a conference call in his office with the FBI's one and two Most Wanted on speakerphone. FBI shrink would have a field day with that one, wouldn't she?

Tonight was the first night since she ran that he hadn't stared at the board. Hadn't felt the need to. The only bodies added to the body count today were the bad guys – he was comfortable with that. Tonight, he would sleep and tomorrow was another day to resume the hunt. Bet the Director won't be sleeping so well tonight.

Today, the Director exposed himself as the real enemy. If anyone had told him five years ago that he'd consider Reddington his ally and the Director of the CIA his enemy he would have laughed in their faces. But now? It's like a chess match. Between him and the Director. Each of them will make their moves until … don't go there. He just needs enough to build his case and present it to Laurel Hitchen and she'd have to listen. She'd have to get rid of the Director to protect herself – and the President. It feels good to have an enemy again other than Liz and Reddington, to be honest. He hadn't realized how much he needed that until now.

Glancing at his watch, he realizes he better stop somewhere and grab dinner. He's barely been at home so there's nothing in the fridge. He pulls into the lot of a burger place and heads inside.

The restaurant is bright and full of people as he stands at the counter waiting for his order. Full of families, kids in soccer and lacrosse uniforms chatting about their day. A few tables away is a dad in a button down shirt and tie, sleeves rolled up, jacket tossed over the back of the chair smiling at his son who is gesturing wildly with his hands as he tells some story from his day. Across the table, the mom – a pretty brunette in jeans – wipes some ketchup off the mouth of her daughter, a miniature version of herself with her hair pulled back in a ponytail with a giant pink bow. He can't help but smile as the girl reaches up and places her little hands on each side of her mother's face and pats her cheeks with a huge grin. Liz has dimples like that.

"Ok, that'll be $10.95." The voice of the girl behind the counter startles him and he reaches for his wallet. As she hands him his bag he glances back and sees the dad with his arm around his son, blond heads pressed together, laughing. He smiles to himself as he heads out to the car. They look so happy.

His apartment is quiet and dark. Too quiet. Heading into the kitchen, he grabs a beer from the fridge and heads into the living room, glancing at his watch. Still time for football. He flips on the TV and settles down on the couch. The cold beer slides down his throat easily. God, it's been a long week.

9:00 p.m.

The buzz of his phone interrupts his reverie. Pressing the mute button on the game, he puts his beer down and answers gruffly, "Ressler."

"It's me. I only have a minute."

His pulse quickens. "Keen? Where are you? Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. I just wanted to say – thank you. For what you said to the Presidential Commission. It meant a lot."

The instant of panic he felt when he heard her voice subsides. "It was the truth, Keen. I wasn't gonna lie under oath."

"I know that. But thank you – I know you're taking a big risk by coming out on my side."

"I still need to bring you in. I can't let you die out there. You keep running, you're gonna get yourself killed."

In the silence, he heard her breath catch. "I know. I gotta go."

And she's gone. Where? Who the hell knows. And now, he doesn't feel elated anymore. He feels angry. What the hell is Reddington thinking, dragging her around from place to place like this. It was bad enough that she was living in those motels, using aliases when she was here. But now? She's sleeping God knows where with people outright looking to kill her.

He flips off the TV and stares blankly at the dark screen. The same screen that flashed her face on the news – dead – just days ago. With a sigh, he pushes himself off the couch, dumps the rest of his dinner in the trash and grabs another beer from the fridge. So much for a quiet evening in.

Back on the couch, he feels bone tired. He can't remember the last time he read a book, went for a walk, basically did anything that didn't revolve around work. But mostly – he feels damn lonely. With Liz gone, there's no joy in going to work anymore. It's all just business. Business that has become all too personal. Draining the last sip of beer, he decides to head to bed. No point in sitting here wallowing. Tomorrow's gonna be another long day.

4:30 a.m.

He's running alone down a long dark tunnel. He can see pinpricks of light bobbing in front of him, like flashlights glancing off the walls. His heart is pumping. He knows she's just ahead. Suddenly, he hears screams up ahead – blood-curdling screams of terror. He tries to run faster but the tunnel seems to be growing longer and longer as he runs. Liz, I'm coming! He's pushing his body to the limit, willing himself to move faster, faster. He's getting closer to the light but as he does he sees it's focused on a single spot on the floor. A body on the floor. Liz. And the smell of blood hits him…..

He jerks awake, heart racing. His eyes flick to the clock on the bedside table. Too early. He tries to calm himself, tries to remind himself it's not real. It's just a nightmare. Willing his mind to think of something else – anything else – he thinks back to the family at the restaurant. How happy and calm they all seemed. Wonder if Liz or I will ever have that? The thought comes unbidden. As a general rule he tries not to think about the future. Not since Audrey died. It just hurts too much. It's easier to focus on work. Or, at least it was – before work became hunting his partner.

Realizing he's not going to sleep any more, he heads into the shower. It's easier to focus under the warm spray. He forces himself to think of the Director. The enemy. Yesterday was a start. But what the hell is the next move going to be?