A/N: I know the story was marked complete because it was very much done but some of you asked so nicely for me to write about Ressler's POV and my Muse went along with it.

Donald Ressler felt very much out of place, standing under the vibrating lights of a club, looking at the throngs of people around him, dancing and seemingly having a good time. He would've loved nothing more than to be at home or even at the Post Office but in this very moment, he had a suspect to keep an eye on. A suspect who wouldn't show.

And to top it all off, he had to be undercover with Keen. Keen who wore a dress way too short to be proper, showing off her legs and the tiniest hit of cleavage when she leaned on him to get a proper look at a possible suspect. Keen whose choice of perfume was disconcerting as it enveloped him.

He didn't think he'd said anything but he must have made a noise because Keen gave him a worried look and tried a smile. "He'll be here."

Right, the case. It did upset him that he had to ditch his suit – which gave Red immense pleasure as he suggested he needed to loosen up. He didn't like the whole undercover thing, had never liked it; he felt safest in a suit, with his badge and gun, proclaiming his right to invoke justice and do what he did best. Sure, sometimes an undercover operation was a necessity but something told him that there was more to this story than Red let on. Ressler could trust him only as far as he could throw him and barely even that much.

"Just not quickly enough," he absentmindedly told Keen, eyes scanning the club but not really seeing suspects. She was standing too close for his comfort, supporting herself slightly with a hand on his shoulder – undercover as a couple – and he frowned, thinking of a way to make her step back. This was not conducive at all.

And at the right moment, Meera's voice cut into his thoughts, advising them both that Mendels had indeed arrived and they needed to stay on him. He could see the man and quickly understood that he was moving faster than they had anticipated and with more sense of direction.

He acted on pure instinct, following Mendels, grabbing Keen's hand – though he had gone for elbow but couldn't take it back now – and pushing their way through the throngs of people. The alcove they ended up in was secluded and private and when Keen suggested they move through the door, he almost admired her courage. And yet, he couldn't keep himself from fighting her, all the while knowing there was no other option.

For a moment there, it seemed to pay off. They got the pictures and were almost in the clear when those damned floorboards creaked under Keen. The look she gave him was terrified and with Meera's warning of a bodyguard's approach ringing in his ears, he knew what had to be done before they even moved from the spot.

It was possible, no, very probable that he was going to regret it but there really was no time to overthink it as he roughly pushed her against the wall and stepped way too close. Judging by the look in her eyes, she was perplexed and then slightly panicking as she figured out what he was about to do.

He wanted to reassure her, to let her know it was all going to be for show. "Relax, Keen. I'm not going to actually kiss you. Just go with it, okay."

She tensed up when he lowered his head but relaxed when she realized he really had meant it. He didn't waste time; this had to look good and plausible, so he hauled her closer to him with an arm around her waist and another on her hip and did not concentrate on how intimate it was as he ever so slightly pushed his knee between her legs and rested it against the wall.

"Drunk," he whispered, hoping she would catch on and when her hands found his shoulders, he knew she had.

And suddenly she let out a small gasp and the world narrowed down to the feel of her body against his, the smell he had been haunted by all night so strong.

"God, you smell so nice." That thought was not supposed to make its way out but at least it fit the cover and he hadn't said her name.

He could feel the hum in her body before it transformed into sound and it transfixed him. It was a voice he didn't think he would ever hear because there would be no reason.

Suddenly, her hand was in his hair and she pulled his head back; the expression on her face startled him. He didn't know if she realized just how wanton she looked in that moment as she eyed his mouth and then looked up at him and his hand at her hip clenched from the look in them. He wouldn't have known his own name, let alone the suspect's and, forgetting all the reasons why this was a very bad idea, he started to move closer, noticing her eyes sliding shut.

Mendels' irate voice to his right suddenly and viciously snapped him back into reality and he didn't have to pretend hard to suggest what he and Keen were about to do. He knew he sounded lewd and inappropriate and he hated how it cheapened the situation but it was enough to get Mendels off their back. It did not mean he didn't have the desire to punch him for looking at Keen the way that he did and to conceal it, he pulled her from the wall and under his arm to leave.

She didn't say anything until they were outside and he noticed he was still holding her close which wasn't necessary anymore so he stepped away. Meera questioned them about the photos and he knew the other agent must've heard things but really didn't care. His focus was still concentrated on Keen, as she slowly came down from the adrenaline and breathed evenly.

Keen tried to make conversation on their way back and it gave him the opportunity to make it about the mission.

"Thanks, by the way."

"For what?"

"Your quick thinking saved both of us. I just...froze. I was sure we were going to get shot."

"We got the photos. In the end, that's all that matters."

It had gone too far and he needed to stop. They weren't friends, it was just a job where they had to pretend like they were other people and there was absolutely nothing more to it.

He managed to ignore it all the way through the debriefing, through Meera's inquisitive glance which he steadfastly refused to see and when Keen stalled a bit at explaining just how they got away from the club, he kept his mask on. They didn't do anything inappropriate and in the end, they got what they had gone for.

It wasn't until later when he was sitting at a bar, unusual for him as it was, that he let his mind go over the events. He debriefed himself, explaining away her actions, his actions, and rationalizing it as far as he could take it.

"That seat taken?"

The woman who asked him that, gave a small, coy smile and he could've liked her in a different life. She was beautiful and approachable but he wasn't interested in finding out just how approachable.

"Yes."

"Oh. Okay then. I'll be over there if you change your mind."

She left with a serene smile on her face and for a second, he didn't understand her giving up so quickly.

"That was rather uncouth of you, Donald. I thought you were at least a gentleman."

Of course. How could he think he would be left in peace when Reddington sat down next to him, a smug smile on his face.

"What do you want?"

"Oh, so suspicious. Isn't she beautiful, though?"

He eyed the woman again and somehow knew that Red had made her talk to him, had told her to hit on him. The why of it was confusing, though.

"Rather reminds you of someone, doesn't she?"

He took in the blonde hair, the hazel eyes and the overall composure and his fist clenched at the thought of what Red was hinting at. He didn't respond but it didn't deter Red from pushing.

"What was her name again? Alice? Annie? Amanda?"

"Don't you dare." His voice was clipped and angry and he could barely control his emotions; he was sure the glance he sent Red's way gave every idea of just how affected he was.

Red smirked and leaned closer so that only he could hear the next words. "Or, perhaps, your preference has changed, Donald? Someone with darker hair and bluer eyes? What is going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

The implication hit him like a sucker punch; this was very dangerous territory and for Red to think he knew something made it all the more complicated. "I'm thinking there are seventeen ways I could kill you right now and make it look like an accident, if you don't get up and leave."

Red shook his head slowly as in reproach. "So much anger, Donald. You know that's not healthy."

And he left, leaving Ressler to realize there were some boundaries that could not be pushed for fear of what might happen if they came crashing down. That was a risk he just couldn't take.

A/N: Now it's really over. Red demanded to have a scene with Ressler, so I didn't fight it and let him have his say. Do give me your opinion!