Ressler's head hurt. Not with one of those simple 'eye strain' headaches. No, this was a headache worthy of the Guinness Book of Records. This was a headache that might make someone wonder in terror if their brain was bleeding. And while he had briefly wondered that himself he knew this was just another cry for opiates that his brain was making. So he lay back on the recliner in the semi dark, unable to open his eyes, feeling only searing pain in his head.

It also occurred to him now that he was cold. His single blanket that had been sufficient when he first fell asleep simply wasn't keeping up enough now. But the thought of getting up to get another blanket was much too difficult, so he lay there, starting to shiver. Which was now doing such a number on his throbbing head.

Oh God…that does not feel good…

And then his foggy brain remembered that he wasn't in his apartment on the recliner. That he was on Red's yacht. And more importantly - that he wasn't alone. And despite the pain in his head and the shivering coursing through his body, that thought warmed his heart.

"Liz…?" he called out to her without opening his eyes. He felt sure that any effort to move his eyelids right now would render him unconscious with the pain that would ensue if he looked into lights.

"Hey, I'm here." She woke at the sound of his voice and was beside him in an instant. He felt her hand brush his cheek. "You're cold…let me get you another blanket here."

He hadn't even had to tell her. She was already on it and less than a minute later he felt a heavier blanket placed over him, and she tucked it in around him. "That better?" she asked him gently in the semi dark and he forgot and tried to nod, then grimaced at the pain that shot through his head.

"Head…" he whispered, panting at the pain behind his eyes.

"Let me see if I can find you something to take…"

"No!" he said fearfully, and she could have kicked herself. Damn. Way to go. Tell the addict in opiate withdrawal that she'd get him something for pain.

"Wait…I know what will help." And she touched his arm then left his side. He heard water running in the bathroom and then she was back and he felt a hot, wet cloth placed over his eyes and forehead. It helped. More than he would have imagined.

"Thank you…" he whispered, and so she began to treat his headache. Changing the hot, wet cloth every couple of minutes, keeping his eyes and forehead warm, she slowly helped ease the pain in his head. His shivering having eased, he eventually fell asleep again as she crouched by the chair and watched him for a little while.

When she was sure it looked liked he'd sleep for a little while, she quietly left the room and headed upstairs. The sky had a pink glow to it as the sun was beginning to rise over the water, filling the lounge area with its soft light. Hearing low voices coming from the galley she headed that way and found Red and Dembe sharing an early morning coffee. Sinking into a chair she joined them, as Red asked her how their patient was doing this morning.

###

"We have good news and we have bad news, depending on which side of the fence you happen to be sitting on this morning," said Red.

Ressler was trying very hard to listen, sitting wrapped in the blankets on the recliner. His head was feeling more like its old self, and while not ready to meet the world head on – pun intended – he was able to open his eyes and look at Red as he spoke to him. He'd woken to the sound of both Red and Liz in the room, and while fervently wishing they'd shut up so he could rest, he had eventually let them know he was awake.

"What's the good news?" asked Ressler weakly. Because I could really use some good news about now.

Red smiled at him and informed him the boat repairs were under way. "Good old Frank got here at first light armed with hoses and hydraulic fluid, and he's having a whale of a time in the engine room setting everything right."

That finally sunk in to Ressler's spongy brain. "So…we're getting out of here soon?" If so, that was the best news Ressler had heard all day.

But one look at Red's face told him that was the bad news part of this equation.

"Aaahh, well, yes and no. We will be seaworthy again. But we won't be going…far." He smiled gently at the FBI agent and Ressler suddenly felt the urge to thump him. If he could have moved, that is. He'd been unable to stop moving all evening, but now his body had reached the other end of the spectrum and was unable to move. At all. Muscles that had been shaking non stop had now reached the point they needed to rest and regroup.

Liz spoke up and he slowly moved his head to look at her. "We're going to anchor near a small island. You'll be able to get off the yacht and get on dry land for a bit. We're not heading for the mainland yet though, Ress. We're going to let you…rest a bit more." She laid her hand on his arm as she explained and he looked silently at her, then back at Red.

They've got it all figured out… "But we need to get back..."

"As far as Cooper is concerned, we're helping Red with something and will be back in a couple of days," she smiled and leaned toward him to reassure him, seeing the wariness in his eyes. Eyes that were not nearly so dilated this morning, she noticed. "It will be okay. Just give yourself some time here."

He was literally too tired to argue and lay his head back on the recliner and nodded silently. And as he closed his eyes tiredly, he felt the pitch in the yacht change and felt her steady on the water now. The stabilizers were repaired. He opened his eyes and looked at Red.

"Aaahh, there we go Donald, that will help." And Red patted his shoulder before getting up to leave the room, leaving him with Liz.

"Would you rather take the bed now and get more comfortable…"

He fell asleep as she was asking him if he'd prefer the bed, unable to stay awake any longer.

###

Up in the cockpit, Liz was actually enjoying herself. As Red got the yacht underway, she watched in much the same amount of amusement as her partner had at seeing him sail the mammoth yacht.

Red saw her looking at him. "It's one of the few pleasures I have left in life, Lizzie," he explained, smiling at her.

She grinned at him. "Well it suits you, Captain."

With Ressler over the worst of his physical withdrawal, she was letting him rest, checking in on him every so often. Each time she quietly looked in on him he hadn't moved and it struck her how young he appeared, wrapped in the blankets. But he was doing better. She couldn't see him shaking anymore and his breathing was calm.

Red sailed the yacht toward the north east, heading for a small slip of an island. He checked the map again, made a minor adjustment to their heading and before long she saw land appearing ahead of them. He slowed the yacht now, as he rounded the point on the island, revealing a crescent beach of white sand. The island had no buildings on it, and was maybe 3 miles in length. Coming into the crescent bay, he shut the engines down and dropped anchor a couple of hundred yards off the beach out in the deeper water.

"Oh, it's beautiful," she told him and headed to the observation deck on the back, looking at the small island and beach before her.

She was leaning on the rail, looking out at the sight when Ressler quietly appeared beside her. She looked up in surprise, as he looked quietly down at her. He was wearing sunglasses, his eyes not quite ready to face the glare of the sun just yet.

"Thought I'd join the land of the living," he said softly.

She smiled and looped her arm through his, and stood on the deck with him as they looked out at the small island. From behind them, Red watched them as he approached from the lounge area, and smiled.

###

An hour later they were on the beach after Dembe had dropped them off in the dinghy and then rowed back to the yacht. They didn't walk too far, before finding a shady spot to sit down. With a few trees at their backs they looked out at the beach as waves gently washed up on shore. Ressler had never been a fan of the beach, but this…this was actually pleasant. Their own private shoreline.

She settled beside him, each of them leaning on a small tree, sitting in the sand. He tossed the borrowed boat shoes off and let his toes feel the sand. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this…free.

Good ole Red… gotta hand it to the guy…

He looked at her beside him, and knew the time had come. She met his eyes and knew what he was thinking. "You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to, Ress."

"I know." And it was precisely because he didn't HAVE to tell her, that he began to talk to her. "Do you know how many times I wanted to tell you, Liz? I tried so many times. And then I just couldn't do it. I couldn't… disappoint you that much."

She watched him, not wanting to interrupt him now that he was beginning to talk to her. He looked down and picked up a stick, tracing lines in the sand as he spoke.

"You asked me to promise you that I would talk to you if…when…things got too unbearable." He looked sideways at her then, and she nodded and smiled softly. "I didn't promise you. And I wish…I wish I had been able to before…before this." He played with the stick in the sand, gathering his thoughts. His brain was clearer than it had been in a very long time, and he chose his words carefully. He'd never been a big talker, but he needed Liz to understand that he really had tried.

He needn't have worried on that count though. She spoke now. "I know you didn't promise me, but I'm betting you promised yourself you'd try." He shot a glance to her now. How did she know that? She smiled at him and he realized she knew him even better than he did himself at times. He nodded at that and gave her a small smile.

"I didn't even know for a very long time that I had a problem…" he continued, looking down at the sand again, making shapes with the stick. "It was only to help me cope after…Audrey." He stopped moving the stick, remembering the day he'd reached for the pills to help with emotional aspect for the first time. "They were left over from my thigh wound and I just took one. But it helped. And then the next day I took another one. And so it began…"

He sighed, and leaned back on the tree. "It was too easy, Liz. I had the pain pills, and could get more. It was too easy."

He stopped, looking out at the water for a few moments. She let him gather his thoughts.

"And then after Meera, and Cooper, I took more." He looked over at her, and she could see the pain in his features as he remembered. "I don't know why I couldn't do it myself anymore." He looked at her, searching her eyes. "Why couldn't I do it? I'm stronger than that."

"You couldn't do it because from the moment you started taking them regularly, your body chemistry changed. Your brain changed. You were no longer in control Ress. So while YOU could have done it, the pills themselves were calling the shots by then," she told him gently, watching as realization washed over him.

Of course…I wasn't ME any longer…

"At the risk of sounding like Aram…that's kinda scary Liz…" he shifted against the tree trunk, his body still in pain, looking out at the ocean again toward the yacht anchored in the bay.

"I tried once, to come off them," he told her, and looked down at the stick, resuming drawing shapes with it. "The day I was late for work before we left for Warsaw…that's why. I couldn't do it and had to give in and take them in the early hours of the morning."

She reached out and patted his arm at that. "I'm sorry. If I'd known, I'd have helped you…" He nodded at that.

Yes, you would have. But I couldn't accept help at that point…

"And then after Warsaw…after my screw up and crap reaction time, I tried to tell you again. And again after Covington and those kids…and so many times, Liz." He looked down now, remembering just how many times he'd tried.

"That's why you wouldn't talk to Dr Friedman…" she said, knowing the answer now. It all made such sense, in hindsight.

"Oh, that woman would have seen through me in an instant," he said quickly, shaking his head at that memory. "Apart from the fact I really, really didn't want to go over Meera's death, and Audrey's death… with her…"

"Well according to Cooper, Dr Friedman isn't too concerned about you," she told him, remembering her conversation with their boss. The 'Elizabeth' conversation.

He looked sideways at her, surprised at that. "Then she's not as good a doctor as I thought. She SHOULD have been concerned about me!" And he actually managed a small grin at that.

She smiled gently with him at that. "So…what happened? What changed out here on the yacht? You didn't bring any pills with you?" she asked him now.

"Well, I could give you the easy answer with 'oh my pills fell overboard'. Because they did. That's what happened to them." He looked down at the sand, licking his lips at the memory of his pills dropping overboard. "BUT…they wouldn't have fallen overboard if I wasn't already losing it. And that's where it gets fuzzy…" He remembered Berlin's men and Dembe holding him down and shuddered at that.

"So it was rather surreal in a way. I wasn't myself, and because of that I ended up losing the very thing that was causing me not to be myself." He tossed the stick away, as he tried to make sense of that. "Not confusing at all, right?" he asked her.

"But in hindsight, it turned out to be the very thing you needed," she said gently and he slowly nodded at that, running his hand through his hair.

"Yeah…I never could have done it with the pills near me. I already tried that once."

"Which brings up the obvious next question…where are your other pills? I know you have to have another bottle stashed at home. That's why you needed to get out of there. To get to them…" she asked gently, needing him to be honest. This part was crucial.

"Yes…bathroom cabinet. And my desk drawer at the office," he told her, almost fearfully. He was afraid of even thinking about them right now. Afraid of what he would do the second he saw the pills. Because right now, they terrified him.

"I will take them away for you," she reassured him and he looked at her gratefully, nodding. She scooted closer to him now, leaning into him. He looked at her, meeting her eyes from behind his sunglasses.

"And from now on, you talk to me every day about this. Every day, you and I take stock of where you're at, and how you're coping. Understand?" Her blue eyes looked up into his, and he nodded.

Relief flooded over him. I don't have to do this by myself.

"I understand." He looked into her eyes, feeling her close beside him as they sat on the sand. And it occurred to him that if he'd just opened up to her when she'd asked him to... If he had just trusted her, things could have turned out very different.

If I had promised her weeks ago…none of this would have happened this way...

"I promise."

She smiled and leaned on him, close beside him as they watched the waves gently crashing onshore. And for a little while, the outside world with all its problems, issues, death and drama was forgotten, and he felt free.

THE END

Author's Note: So, I hope it was 'believable'. (I know I condensed how long opiate withdrawal is. I researched it and saw it can take several days, to a week or more and then weeks of lesser symptoms.) But I wanted to address it this way, and give one scenario of what COULD have happened to get him off the pain pills. Now we wait and see what the show will give us on our favourite suffering agent!

Thanks for reading!

I feel like Ian Fleming - "Donald Ressler will return in... ?" Yes, I will write another Ressler story. Can't get enough of our beautiful, tortured Ressler - my heart broken Boy Scout.