Disclaimer: I don't own the Blacklist

"Thanks for letting me stay at your place," Liz told Ressler as he handed her some fresh towels.

"Don't worry about it. I'm glad I could offer you a semi-permanent place to stay after all that time on the run." Ressler responded, smoothing an nonexistent crease in the bedspread. They were in his guest bedroom and Liz had just been dropped off at Ressler's apartment after being picked up from the courthouse by Reddington.

Liz looked around the bedroom, noticing that it hadn't changed much since she had last spent the night there, so many months ago, "It's really nice being away from Reddington and not having to guess every hidden intention of the human being next to me. It feels so safe here." She added softly and Ressler smiled down at her, lifting a hand to squeeze her shoulder.

"I'm glad. Here, I'll let you get cleaned up and I'll get you some clothes to change into." He made to leave the room but Liz stepped forward hurriedly, towels still in her hands.

"Don, wait."

He paused and turned back around, his expression slightly alarmed at her tone.

Liz took a deep breath, "Listen, I want to thank you-," She started but he cut her off with a raised hand.

"Liz, you don't have to thank me." He told her firmly and when she opened her mouth to insist, he began to talk again, "I did what I had to do to get you back and admittedly, I screwed up enough on the way to that and nearly got you killed too many times. To be honest, I'm already getting a little sick of all the thanking and forgiving, so maybe we should just leave it at that for now. Besides, I know you would've done the exact same thing as me."

She smiled, her heart aching a little at how much she had missed her former partner, "You're making an awful lot of assumptions, there, Ressler." She teased but acquiesced.

Ressler chuckled and motioned toward the bathroom, "Go, wash off all that courthouse grime. We can talk later." He shooed her out of the bedroom and into the bathroom before leaving in search of clothes for her to wear.

When Liz finally emerged from the shower, she found a clean set of Ressler's clothes waiting for her on the bed. She changed quickly into the sweats and tshirt and sat down on the bed to towel dry her hair with every intention of going back out to the living room to thank Ressler for his hospitality but the second she leaned back against the headrest, she felt her eyelids become impossibly heavy and the next thing she knew, she had slid down to rest her head on the pillow and sleep overtook her.

Liz woke up to rays of sun streaming in to kiss the walls of the bedroom through the drapes, giving the room an ethereal morning feel that she had craved for so long. As she lifted an arm up to turn the alarm clock toward her, she noticed that the blankets had been pulled up to her shoulders, no doubt by Ressler, who must have checked in on her sometime during the night. Liz sat up and ran a light hand through her hair, gauging the damage she had done by sleeping on it wet the night before. She took a good look around the room, slowly gathering herself and shaking off the final tendrils of sleep. The clock read that it was just after seven and if she strained, she could hear the sounds of a shower running, so she climbed out of the bed and headed for the other bathroom.

By the time she had finished freshening up, Ressler was already in the kitchen, buttering toast with the coffee machine gurgling efficiently behind him. His hair was still a little damp from his shower, but it was gelled and he was mostly dressed for work, with only his top button undone and his tie lying around his neck untied and suit jacket draped meticulously over the back of a chair. Liz couldn't help the smile that slid onto her face at the sight of her partner caught up in the middle of his everyday routine, with such a neutral and peaceful expression on his face.

"Good Morning." He greeted her, mirroring her smile as she slide onto a stool opposite where he was standing and spread her hands on the breakfast bar in front of her.

"'Morning," She replied, just as the coffee maker sounded. She watched as he turned to the cupboard above the machine and produced two mugs, setting them down in front of Liz with a flourish before turning back around for the coffee.

"Toast?" He asked over his shoulder but Liz slid off her stool and joined him on the other side of the kitchen.

"I can help myself, thanks." She told him, reaching for the loaf of bread. When she turned back around from the toaster, he was holding out a cup of coffee to her which she gladly accepted.

Ressler gestured toward the fridge, "There's no cream, but I have milk if you want it. There should be some sugar somewhere too." He said through a mouthful of toast but Liz shook her head.

"Black's good."

Ressler swallowed and after a sip of coffee, asked, "So, how did you sleep last night?"

Liz smiled up at him, "Great. I think it was the best sleep I got in the past year. I don't think I ever felt so safe falling asleep without checking the locks first and loading my gun."

Ressler shot her a smile, "I'm glad. You knocked out pretty quick there. I don't even think your hair was completely dry yet."

She blushed and turned to busy herself with her freshly toasted breakfast, "Yeah, sorry about that. I meant to come out and talk-,"

"Nah, don't worry about it. You've had a really rough go of it. Besides, I was out pretty soon after I checked in on you." He avoided her eyes as he said the last part and she bit into her toast to hide her smile. He cleared his throat and walked to the sink to rinse out his mug, "I should get going. Feel free to hang around for the day-, I think you know where everything is. My apartment's not terribly interesting but maybe you can get caught up on your sleep or something." Ressler suggested as he began to expertly knot his tie.

"Always the punctual agent," Liz teased and was rewarded with a classic Donald Ressler half-smile as he put the finishing touches on his tie, "I'll be fine. You just go and clean up the mess I made at the Post Office."

"Seriously, make yourself at home. I'll see you tonight." He told her, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. He gave her one last look before walking out of the kitchen.

"Bye," Liz called out belatedly because she had been seized by a sudden crazy image of Ressler giving her a kiss on her forehead before he left for work like this was some romantic morning-after scenario (which it was the farthest thing from it). She heard the door close behind him and she reached for her coffee with a sigh.

Liz was halfway through her third movie from Ressler's extensive (and surprisingly good) movie collection when she heard the key in the lock, announcing the apartment owner's arrival home from work. The time was nearing 8:30 and she paused the movie, eagerly waiting for Ressler to make his appearance in the living room.

"Welcome home," She greeted him enthusiastically, especially once she saw the takeout bags in his hands.

"Hey, you have a good day?" He asked, making a beeline for the kitchen. Liz got up and followed him to help unload the food.

"Can't complain. Red came by to drop off some clothes for me, hence the better fitting attire, then took me out for lunch. I hope you don't mind that he knows where you live." Liz told Ressler, taking over the laying out of the meal as he went to his room to change.

His voice was muffled through the walls as he responded, "I'm sure he knew from day one where I lived. And by day one, I mean the first day I was assigned to his case."

Liz began to rummage in his cabinets for plates, "So how was the Post Office?" She asked a little wistfully.

"Fine. Really not all that exciting. Don't worry, you'll be back there soon enough." Ressler replied with so much conviction that Liz was almost inclined to believe him. She turned around, having found two plates to see him standing in front of her.

"You…changed your tie." She said dumbly and mentally kicked herself as Ressler smirked. But she wasn't wrong. He was still in his suit from work but the only difference was that he had swapped out his tie for one that complimented his eyes brilliantly and his cologne was fresh and wafting enticingly in the air between them.

His smirk was quickly replaced by an apologetic look as he reached over and took a plate out of her hands and replaced it in the cupboard, his arm dangerously close to her face as he reached behind her.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, but I forgot that I had plans tonight and I didn't want to leave you alone and without dinner so I picked up your favorites from Wing Yee's. I'll make it up to you- we'll go out tomorrow night. Wherever you want." He promised, bustling around the kitchen as he spoke.

But Liz was still stuck on the first part of what he said, "Plans?" She repeated, equally as intelligently as before and Ressler paused in putting on his jacket to look at her.

"Yeah, I have a date."

A date.

Liz stood frozen to her spot, her thoughts moving a mile a minute, yet her mind couldn't seem to pin down a single coherent thought.

"Keen, I feel terrible, but if there had been a way out of it, then I would've taken it. Listen, I'm going to be late, but enjoy the food, yeah? I think there's wine in the cabinet too."

"Well, who is it with?" She managed to call out before Ressler left the apartment.

"Emily Langsfeld. Don't wait up." And then he was gone.

I have a date.

But he thought to stop home and bring me food.

Emily Langsfeld… that reporter? She's pretty, right?

He's going to make it up to me… by going out tomorrow, wherever I want.

Don't wait up.

"Well, it's about time he got out and about. Now where is that wine?" Liz grumbled to herself, pushing aside any residual thoughts on the topic.

True to his word, Ressler had gotten Liz all of her favorites and after a heaping plate of comfort food and a glass of wine that had really hit the spot, she was back to watching her movie.

It wasn't until she was almost done with her fourth movie that she heard the key scrape in the lock again but she remained sitting as she waiting for Ressler to make his way into the living room.

"Hey, how was your date?" She asked as he appeared, tugging off his tie that was already loosened. He then shed his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby recliner carelessly before dropping heavily down onto the couch next to Liz.

Actually, a little too close to Liz.

She tugged the corner of her knit blanket from under him and scooted a more respectable distance away. He muttered a gruff, "Good," before leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

"Just 'good'? This must've been your first date in ages and it was 'good'? Well was she pretty? Could you hold a conversation or was it more of an interview?" Liz asked, reaching over to pause her movie. Ressler mumbled unintelligibly then slowly drew himself up off the couch and ambled into the kitchen. Liz just laughed and shook her head. Typical Ressler, keeping close-mouthed about his private life, even though she was sitting on his couch wrapped in his blanket at 11 o'clock at night.

He shuffled back into the living room and dropped on the couch again. This time with his top few buttons undone and a beer in his hand, which slopped over his hand and shirt when he landed on the couch next to Liz. Closer.

"What're watchin'?" His eyes focused on the TV but Liz sat straight up and regarded her former partner incredulously.

"Ressler, are you drunk?"

"Hm,"

"Ressler," She took his chin in her fingers and turned his head over to her, peering into his slightly unfocused, slightly red-rimmed eyes, "Oh my god."

He pulled his face out of her grasp but didn't look away, "Weren't you wearing something different this morning?"

But Liz was not about to let him off of this one so easily, "Tell me you didn't get drunk on your date." She deadpanned.

"You looked better in my clothes." He told her with a small dopey grin. He took a long pull from his beer.

"Donald Ressler, tell me you did not get drunk on your first date in two years." Liz demanded unrelentingly. She threw off the knit blanket and tucked her legs underneath her to gain a better angle to regard her partner as Ressler set down his drink to unbutton and push up his shirtsleeves.

"What's it to you?" He countered, leaning back into the couch while Liz straightened to her full height, facing him in full interrogation mode.

She covered her face with her hands, her fingers kneading into her forehead, "Oh, God that poor woman. I can't believe you got drunk! Ressler!" She scolded him, batting away his arm when it reached for the remote.

"Relax, Keen, I just had a bit more wine that usual. She probably didn't even notice. I'm a very coherent person under the influence, you know." Ressler responded wisely and Liz let her hands drop away from her face as she glared at the man next to her.

"Is that so? How about you repeat that thought again tomorrow, when you are sober?" Then another thought struck her, "You didn't drive back here, did you?"

He mumbled something about a taxi, reaching for his beer and avoiding her eyes.

"And did she put you in that taxi?" Liz asked scathingly.

Ressler groaned and dropped his head back against the couch, "Keen, will you calm down? It was just some deal we made so she'd get her friends to interview Karakurt when Tom dropped him off."

"Aram said she was really looking forward to going on that date with you." Liz accused, movie night completely forgotten.

Ressler cracked an eye open to look at Liz, "You talked to Aram?" Then he snorted, "Guy wasn't even there."

"But you were and that's what you told him."

He lifted himself up to lean his elbows on his knees, "Look, Liz, I don't even know why you're so worked up about it. So I took her to Teroni's. So we wined and dined, some more than others. So what? She's a reporter and you know I don't like reporters."

"She could've been really good for you. You never know. But why this date, Ressler?" Liz leaned back into the couch, "At least you know she won't be writing the exclusive about how you got drunk while taking her out for a date." She mumbled acrimoniously.

"Maybe because it wasn't the date I wanted to be on." He said, then turned to look at her and intoxicated or not, his eyes still pierced her in ways that made her entire world stop turning for a few seconds.

He was the first to look away, taking another long pull from his drink while Liz sat staring at him, completely stunned for the second time that night.

"Oh, enough, already." She said as he moved to drink from his can again and took the drink from his hands and placed it on the table next to her, "You're exhausted and already drunk, and you don't need to be drinking anymore. Come on, let's get you to bed." She got up and tugged Ressler up from the couch as well. He gave a great sigh but allowed Liz to pull him up (even though it was mostly him working, Liz had forgotten how much muscle Ressler was made up of) and push him in the direction of his bedroom. He stumbled more now and Liz wasn't sure if it was because he was offset by her light pushing or because all his drinks and exhaustion were finally beginning to take a toll on him.

"Ohhkay, now there you go," She muttered as he made his way more purposefully but still unsteadily toward the ensuite to take care of his business. Liz returned to the kitchen and filled up a tall glass of water for him and brought it back to his room. Ressler was already in his pajama pants and shirtless, lazily pulling back the covers of his impeccably made bed. She set the glass down on his nightstand and helped him unmake his bed. If she blushed at the sight of his flat planes and sculpted abs, she didn't acknowledge it- he wouldn't even remember it by morning and she'd always know there was something good beneath all those pressed, standard issue suits.

"I'll get you some aspirin too." Liz told him, leaving the bedside for the ensuite. Ressler sat down on the bed and stretched his legs out and Liz had to keep her eyes focused ahead of her so not to be distracted anymore by his defined torso, muscles rippling with every movement. But she was distracted by something else. On the wall opposite the bed were pictures and papers, scraps of files taped meticulously to the wall, all connected by straight lines of Sharpie, with scribbles spanning between each scrap of paper or photo. It was not unlike what Liz had once made on her motel ceiling when they were tracking down Berlin, so indicative of a hell-bent manhunt, an unshakeable need to connect all the dots, to obtain all the explanations. Except this one was much neater, showing a more painstakingly thought out process, every line and every last detail in the photos agonized over. And all the photos were of her when she had been on the run. Dembe and Red were featured in quite a few but it was clear what this array was focused on. She turned slowly to look at Ressler who was watching her expressionlessly. Liz searched for words her eyes probing his but nothing came to mind except for a sudden urge to begin crying. There was no denying the amount of thought, the dedication that had been put into this manhunt and maybe for all the reasons that she never even let herself consider. This was a whole other side of the story that never occurred to her to think about, let alone ask for. And just like that, things began to fall slowly into place.

"Ressler-?" She whispered, not moving an inch as if to preserve the moment forever.

"I started going to NA." He told her blatantly. For you. Was the sentiment that neither of them bothered to voice aloud. Or maybe they both weren't ready to. And Liz took that escape route for what it was.

"That's really great Ressler, it really is." She told him sincerely, swallowing down the other emotions. She smiled kindly at him, turning resolutely away from the wall and went to perch boldly on the edge of his bed.

He returned her grin with a slightly silly one of his own, "You can stay if you want," He offered but there was a slight slurring of his words and Liz was glad that at least one of them wouldn't fully remember the potential relationship changers that occurred.

So she laughed and patted his hand, standing up from the bed, "Get some sleep, Ressler. We can question your judgement calls of tonight in the morning." She reached over and clicked off the lamp while he settled into the sheets and if she allowed herself to brush her lips lightly over his forehead before leaving the room, she wouldn't acknowledge it the next morning because he probably wouldn't have remembered a thing.

Hi guys! Thanks for reading! I struggled on deciding whether or not to post this in my collection of one –shots and decided to post this separately because it might come to contradict some timeline details in the other one-shots. Hope you enjoyed and if you did, be sure to check out that collection called "Cogitationis"