#liz x ressler

[littletreeproductions]

Liz Keen & Donald Ressler [+s10] | Carry You

Somewhere, is just a tiny island of calm. And if that weren't there... I would be swept out to sea.

[itscherrylipsforme]

Every second matters: Donald Ressler x FBI!fem!reader

Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures. Your teammate’s and "crush-you-are-not-willing-to-admit"s disappearance is definitely one of those times, so you reluctantly have to ask the FBI’s most wanted criminal for help. Surprisingly, Raymond Reddington is also an excellent matchmaker

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping and small injuries

Requested: yes

Words: 1300

Author rambles: Sorry because this took me ages (how many times have already repeated that?) Thanks to the amazing @zizzlekwum for her request and patience. Had to change the name while editing because this sounded better. Also this was edited late at night with mint tea as fuel and queued on the bus on my way to campus this morning, so blame any mistakes on those...

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

In the time you have been in the unit you have learnt two basic facts.

Fact number 1: There is absolutely no phone number, location or person Aram Mojtabai cannot find.

Fact number 2: You and the team never, I repeat, never go against Reddington’s plan. And that's for your own sake.

Yet, in the last hours everything you knew had come down in pieces. Ruins of the rules and statements you once held to, now they are left broken much as yourself. You look at Aram, clinging at the last straw of hope that remained.

“These guys are completely analogical! No digital footprint. And the last camera which got a glimpse of them only helps to reduce the search to a ten miles radius which is all covered by suburban houses. It just doesn’t make sense, the house’s cameras should have recorded them.”

His hands tangle in his short locks trying to find out a clue, something he is looking pass. Hostages just don’t go missing. Agents just don’t vanish in the air. Ressler can’t have just disappeared.

“What about Reddington?” You finally gather the courage to ask it, voice determined, you not so much inside.

“Still unwilling to talk with us.” Dembe, the gentle giant you have got used to call coworker and even friend in the last months, sights while crossing his arms. You have already seen the look in his eyes, the weight of the decisions you should both had taken as it that could ever change the current situation.

Things were easier when Liz was around, the idea hangs out in the air as if you could nearly capture it. Nobody says it, but all of you know is true. Liz was the only who could talk some sense into him, if someone could ever talk sense into Raymond Reddington. A few years ago, you could trust in Dembe to try it at least too. But since he has become Agent Zuma, the relationship has run cold. A worry for another day, you have more important matters in your hands now.

“Do we know where is him?”

Another question coming from your lips without even realizing, a silent nod the only answer you needed. Before turning to face your unit chief, Harold Copper.

“L/n, you have my permission to go.”

A fancy cocktail bar at six pm on a Monday afternoon. Lately Raymond wasn’t being too careful while choosing his meeting point, but with all you had in mind that was the last of your worries This shouldn’t have happened, nothing of this shouldn’t have happened. If things had been different, now you blamed yourself. Should have told him to stay in the car as Reddington had said, it was a recognition mission after all. But no, Donald Ressler always had to play the hero, and you didn’t have the guts to stop him.

“Y/n, my dear, sit down.” Reddignton retires a chair for you, a far too kind gesture considering how he had acted just an hour ago when Donald went missing in the mission. “Would you join me for a drink?” He pours another glass of a wine, which seems to cost at least a ten percent of your monthly salary, before you could even reply.

“Ressler has disappeared. He is probably being tortured at the moment, maybe even…” That’s another thing you learn in the field. Never say the forbidden word. If you do, you lose any kind of faith in seeing them again. If you lose faith, you lose everything. Even the possibility of them. "And you are thinking about wine?”

“Well, news like that is better taken while tipsy, isn’t it?”

Classical Reddington. Joking in the most inappropriate moments. Well, you also have an habit of storming out when angered. He will have to deal with that.

“You know how much he has lost because of you, right? Liz, his old girlfriend..." That gives you a bitter taste while rolling off your tongue at the same time you stand up. "You know what he has gone through. Don’t you care at least a bit? Once he dedicated his life to see you behind bars you, now he works by your side."

Your words are rushed, agitated. You can't even stop to catch a breath. Not that you want you, not until you are sure Ressler can do the same.

"You should respect that at least, I thought Raymond Reddington cared about his team.”

You see a strange glimmer in his eyes. Not mockery this time, but there was a small smirk in the curve of his thin lips. Laugh? Perhaps a hint of pride?

“First of all, you are well aware I do." He takes a long sip until the glass in empty. " Second, Donald is not in risk. Maybe bruised, but not deeply hurt. Those guys know better than to mess up with my team, as you have put into words.”

“Then why don’t you do something?”

Now there is a full grin on his face as he stands up takes his jacket from the hanger, not without leaving a generous tip on the table.

“I was waiting for you to ask me. And you did, half an hour earlier than I had bet by the way. This case may be even worse than I thought.”

“Cut out the riddles, Reddington.”

“You know he’s in love with you, right?”

How could he say it so blatantly, sweeping his fedora with such a calm manner while you had lost all your words? Mouth hanging and unable to stammer something coherent.

“He what?”

“And it seems pretty mutual to me” With that he puts the hat on and opens the door for both of you. Still trying to process everything you can't help following him in silence.

The rest of the rescue passes bluring infront of your eyes. Reddington telling you the exact location. Entering the housing development which had been carefully built as a cover for the criminal network (only a few houses were actually being used by its members). Dembe and Siya watching your back as the suspects were aiming at you. Clearing the area. Immobilizing the suspects. And finally arriving to Ressler's side.

You try to be gentle as you untie him from ropes which are holding him to a chair. However, your attempts are futile, hands to clumsy and brain dulled by all the emotions coming for you at once. You can't even recall when a few timid tears have started rolling down your cheeks, but you don't mind either. Donald is an equal mess right now, it's the first time you have seen him like these. Vulnerable. Human. And it only adds to the feeling you don't dare to voice. Not yet.

As soon as his free you wrap your arms around him. His nose in your hair as an anchor to remind him you are finally here. A considerable bruise under his eye and his bloody knuckles would usually worry to death (yes, even considering your field). But now you can't bring yourself to care, just wanting to hold him close. An urge to kiss his lips until you are both restless reaches your mind, yet the need for this. Just a hug. Just a simple gesture to assure you he won't be leaving anytime soon is enough for the moment.

"I think you have some things to discuss. I will leave you to it.”

Raymond's words take you by surprise, and between the falling tears you and Donald start laughing at the situation.

"Maybe we should talk about this" You whisper as you try to calm down and reluctantly pull away from him.

Too bad he has no intention of moving, but neitheir of saying what is really going through his mind.

"Maybe. Later. Not now. Just..."

Without further ado he rests his face on the crock of your neck. He had always been a man of action, not too good words. You didn't mind. As long as you could feel his breath on your skin, his warm body relaxing. Working in the unit every second matters. And you will treasure these and enjoy them as long as you can.

[raymond-reddington-ruminations]

Title:By The Horns

Date:July 14th, 2023.

Series:The Blacklist

Category: Finale fix-it fic

Main characters: Donald Ressler, Raymond Reddington

Rating: PG-13

Tags: The Blacklist, Redarina (implied)

*I made up the quotes from Liz in here because I figure they must have had these conversations, even if we didn't see them on screen.*

It was damn lucky that he'd come in a helicopter. As tiny as it was they managed to get Reddington onto the collapsible emergency backboard, and maneuvered him inside. Donald Ressler got Reddington to a medical center inside of 20 minutes of noticing the seemingly dead man twitch.

Now Ressler sat in a side room off of a short hallway. Calling it a waiting room was too generous a term for this tiny little emergency medical center. His elbows rested on his knees and his forehead in his hands. He was shaking, and his vision was off somehow, as it had been since he found Reddington stomped into the ground by the bull. A tornado of conflict like he'd never quite known ran through him. He should be doing something else. He should be calling Cooper back. That wail that had come from Dembe when he'd told them he was standing over Red's body.

But then the twitch, the pulse check, the noise of the helicopter and the urgency of the doctors and nurses. He hadn't had a chance to call them back, to tell them that the man was still alive.

"Not yet," a voice in the back of his head whispered.

Reddington might not make it. Ressler would wait for the doctor to give him some news first.

"There's another reason," the same voice in his head responded.

Shut up, he told it. Are you the devil or the angel on my shoulder?

The voice smiled back. It had Reddington's smug little smile.

The Doctor who had taken Reddington into another room off the hallway charged back out and began loudly calling for the attention of everyone in spanish. He pointed to different people in turn, demanding something. Most people shrugged or shook their heads, but some responded with at least one letter of the alphabet and Ressler understood that.

"A…".

"AB…".

He charged to his feet and quickly advanced to the doctor. "Blood types? Is that what you're asking for? Blood types??! I'm B negative!"

Ressler proffered his arm and slapped the inside of his elbow. "B negative! We're a match! We've done a blood transfer before!"

"Yes, yes!" The doctor grabbed his arm and ushered him into the room where Reddington lay on a stretcher. An oxygen mask was over his face, a brace around his neck, a heart monitor was beeping threadily, and a battered looking portable x-ray machine was being maneuvered over him by two nurses.

Ressler was ushered into a chair next to Reddington, and in short order Resslers blood was trailing through an IV tube into Reddington's arm. The beep of the heart monitor became stronger, more certain of itself. Red's chest began to noticeably rise and fall, something that Ressler hadn't been able to see out in that field.

The nurses finished their scans of Reddington's body and left. They were suddenly alone in the small, cramped room together, with the beep of the monitors and the ticking of a large wall clock. Resslers slow, controlled blood loss was combining with jet lag, and taking its effect on him. He felt drowsy and light, as if he was floating. He found himself looking over at his long-time nemesis, battered and bloodied, unconscious beside him. What a long road this had been. There had been so much loss. Liz. Where did it all end?

There were things he should be doing, like making that phone call. Why wasn't he?

"It'll limit your options. Wait. No one knows but you."

Son of a bitch. It out and out sounded like Reddington in his head now.

He drifted for a bit, not the least bit comfortable with deciding not to decide. Wait and see. Wait for the doctor. Ignore the fact that Red's condition should have nothing to do with Resslers' job.

The doctor returned, going to the wall and turning on a light board. He put up an x-ray of Reddington's skull, and began talking and gesturing to it. When he paused to look back at Ressler, he took in the other man's complete lack of comprehension. After a moment of hesitation, the doctor pointed to Reddington's nose area on the x-ray. He held out his fist horizontally, with the thumb extended to the side. Then he turned his fist so that the thumb was pointed up. He pointed to the area on the x-ray over Reddington's left eye, another place that was still bloody on Reddington's face. Again he started with the thumb extended to the side, and turned his fist so that the thumb was part way up.

"Ok, I got it. Injured, but not so bad."

The doctor put up another x-ray, and pointed his finger down the spine, continuing to talk, but not stopping there. Red's ribs and left forearm each got a big thumbs down, not that Ressler needed that interpretation. He could see for himself the shattered bones in the image. He shifted in his seat, registering his own sore ribs, thanks to Red's marksmanship just days ago. He didn't want to think about that. The voice in the back of his head had been all too convincingly suggesting that in Red's shoes, Ressler would have had to pull the trigger on Hudson himself.

The doctor moved on to an x-ray of Reddington's pelvis, but after just a moment he took it down again. He began flipping through the folder of x-rays in his hands, muttering to himself. He took the X-ray of the pelvis, and compared the numbers on it to the numbers on several of the other x-rays. He seemed confused. Then he left the room.

Donald waited, blinking hard and trying to shake off the faint dizziness. The clock on the wall told him it had been just over an hour since he had first found Reddington in that field.

The doctor returned with a younger woman, in different colored, more decorative scrubs. He put the pelvis X-ray back on the wall, and pointed at it accusingly, seemingly demanding something from the woman. She took the X-ray down, and again compared the numbers on it to the other x-rays. Then she put it back up, gesturing to it and speaking in a deliberately reasonable tone of voice. The doctor cut her off heatedly, gesturing to Reddington and back to the x-ray.

"What's going on?" Ressler leaned forward in his chair, reminding them of his presence.

"Ah. English." The woman spoke haltingly. She pointed at Reddington. "Friend?"

He stared hard at her for a moment. Then raised his fist horizontally, with his thumb out to the side.

"Ah," she replied, though her expression was clearly confused. She pointed to the X-ray, and then pointed to Reddington, and fumbled for the english words. "...tr….uhm…g…ch, change?"

He looked at her blankly, and shook his head that he didn't understand.

She turned back to the light board, and moved Reddington's pelvis x-ray to the side. She shuffled through a folder of x-rays in her own hands, and put up two more x-rays, both of them pelvises. She pointed to the first one, which was longer, narrower, with a smaller oval in the center, mostly taken up by the tail end of the spine. Then with the same hand she reached down and seemingly grabbed her crotch, Michael Jackson style. Ressler blinked, hard, and leaned back, baffled.

The woman pointed to the second new x-ray, where the pelvis was shorter, wider, and had a larger oval in the middle with far less of the tail of the spine showing in it. She then pointed to her midsection, and with her arm drew the shape of a pregnancy belly in the air in front of her.

"Yeah, I do know that. Men and women have different shaped pelvises." Basic forensics had been a long time ago, and he'd never had to make the identification himself, but in theory he could.

The woman slid the two x-rays apart, and popped Reddington's in between them. Then her finger shifted back and forth between all three.

Reddington's x-ray was in between, literally and descriptively. Wider, but also taller. A larger oval, with less tail bone in it. The areas that made the pelvis look taller had different levels of brightness on the outer edges, which Ressler knew from looking at his own x-rays over the years denoted bone growth.

But that large oval in the center, with the small amount of tailbone. That was distinctive.

"No," he said. He pointed at the X-ray, pointed at Reddington, and shook his head. "That's not his x-ray. Obviously."

The woman also pointed to the X-ray and to Reddington, and nodded her head insistently. She took the pelvis x-ray down, and lined it up in her hand with the skull x-ray, the arm x-ray, and x-rays of Reds clearly broken leg after it. She pointed to the upper right corner where the numbers were, and Donald could clearly see that the numbers were sequential. Each x-ray changing by only one number. The pelvis x-ray belonged in the middle of the bunch. He stared in confusion.

The doctor spoke up again, sounding annoyed and arrogant. The woman slapped the pelvis X-ray back up, drawing her finger around the oval in the center emphatically. She pointed to tiny, long-healed cracks that showed around the oval, speaking to the doctor sharpley, and again drawing the pregnant belly in the air in front of her. She pointed at Reddington, threw her hands up in finality, and stalked out of the room.

There was an awkward silence. Then the doctor shuffled his files, stared at the floor, and left.

Ressler sat alone again in the room with Reddington, looking at the X-ray in confusion and dizziness. A group of nurses came, bringing him some orange juice. They quickly and efficiently cut off most of Red's clothing, put his arm in a cast, and bound his leg in a brace. They elevated the bed and carefully supported Red's unconscious upper body as they wrapped his ribs.

Red's entire upper back and the backs of his upper arms were covered in burn scars.

"My father died in a fire when I was 4. He was fighting with my mother. I think Reddington was there."

Liz.

"He killed your mother right in front of you, you tried to kill him for it. Why are you forgiving him now?"

She hadn't answered him, that last time that he spoke to her, in his hospital bed just hours before she died. He never did learn why she backed down on going after Reddington for the seemingly unforgivable act of killing Liz's mother.

But there was that letter that Dembe had given to Elizabeth when he wasn't supposed to. It had seemed to cause such a rift between Red and Dembe. A secret, THE secret, revealed to Liz, finally, on the last day of her life.

Donald Ressler was not by any means stupid or slow. That damn voice in the back of his head was putting the pieces together, but the rest of him was resisting. He looked at the man in front of him, whom he'd been chasing for 15 years. It couldn't be, could it? It just wasn't possible, Reddington was far from being celibate. Someone would know, someone would talk.

"CRISPER gene editing was in use 20 years before anybody thought it was. Men can be implanted with uteruses and carry babies to term. Hooker robots. What exactly isn't possible, Donald?"

No. Not this. It couldn't be.

Alexander Kirk let Reddington go. Reddington would never say why.

Damn it, it fit. It fit so perfectly. It explained every. Damn. Thing. Why Reddington would give his very life to protect Liz, why he forgave her, and only her, every single time.

What the hell?! What the actual hell was he going to do with this??! It just couldn't be right!

A ringing cell phone made him jump, and he fumbled for his pocket one handed before realizing it was coming from the pile of Reddington's clothing nearby.

Shaken, he flipped open the basic phone, seeing the identifying name come up at the same time that the call became active.

Agnes.

"Pinky??! Pinky!!"

Away from the speaker for a moment; "He picked up! I told you! Pinky?? Pinky, say something! PINKY!!" She was escalating into higher panic with every plea.

Agnes. His goddaughter. That bright, beautiful little girl that was the last surviving piece of Liz.

"Not the last, Donald."

He cleared his throat, and spoke her name, in a voice that was clearly not the one she wanted to hear.

"NO! NO, I WANT PINKY! SAY SOMETHING PINKY, PLEASE!! " She was screaming now, and he could hear Cooper in the background, sounding tearful himself, trying to calm her.

Agnes and her Pinky were so close. Closer than Red and Liz had ever been. And he might actually be her Grand….oh god. The implications of it swirled around his brain. Even the lowest criminal, if they qualified as human at all, they couldn't not love their kids. Jesus, no wonder. Now it all made such terrible, tragic sense. Liz. Reddington should have told her.

"Cooper…Agnes, listen…" he tried to cut through her hysteria.

"Ah…nez…" Resslers' head snapped around at the muffled voice. Reddington, one eye flickering slightly, the other swollen shut, was trying to lean his head within the neck brace towards the phone.

"Hang on", he told them all, and pulled Red's oxygen mask just slightly offside, to hold the phone to his face.

"Ag..ness?"

"Pinky??! Is that you??!"

"Izz me…Izz you?"

"Oh God, oh God. Pops said a bull attacked you. He said you were dead! I told him I'd just talked to you!" She'd settled into sobbing her words out.

"Well zaz bullshi'. Heh. We gonna have burgers nex' time."

Bloody, bruised, and bound, Raymond Reddington still managed one of those little grins. Asshole.

"I love you so much, Pinky. Please come home. Don't stay away, just come home."

"Love you, see you zoon."

Ressler took the phone back, and clearly so did Cooper.

"Donald? What the hell??"

"Sorry, I..I really thought he was gone. Then I had to get him help…"

"I had to wait for Dembe to be sedated before I could come home. God, I've got to go back and tell him."

"Yeah. Cooper?"

"Yes?"

"…. I didn't call anyone. I'm here on my own."

There was a long pause of understanding.

"…. You're far from home Donald. Way out of our jurisdiction. I don't know what you can or can't do, or what you want to do. I only know what I would do in your place. I never want to hear her like that again."

"No. Me either."

"This isn't a bureau phone, Donald. This conversation didn't happen. The last one we had earlier, when you did call on a bureau phone, stands."

Ressler closed Reddington's phone.

Red was watching him out of one bleary eye, which seemed more alert by the second. He noticed the IV of blood connecting them.

"Full circle?"

"10 years…not that I really think I ever owed you anything. Except maybe a goodby."

He looked down, not sure where to go from here. He had committed to a course of action with Coopers unspoken consent and support. He was going to take no action at all.

There was no reason for him to stay here now. He could walk out, and Raymond Reddington would remain dead to all the world, with one hell of a tall tale about how he'd died gone out into the world, via the FBI.

Red watched him, picking up the situation easily. Softly, he asked; "Why?"

Red waited, the silence pregnant with tension.

Donald didn't know what to say. He wanted to talk, he wanted to question, and he wanted to forget.

"What…what is Agnes's blood type?"

"Why would you…." Red's working eye had finally managed to focus behind Ressler, to the light board on the wall, where the image of his own pelvis was brightly lit. He was quiet for a minute, and then spoke slower more carefully than he had before.

"I knew how you felt about 'lizabeth, before she did. Before you did. I knew if I said anything good, she'd run the other way."

"So you made fun of me for eight years? Gee, thanks. Why'd you keep it up?"

"Habit. I wish you a good life, Donald."

"Yeah, you too. Red."

The end.

Note; The show is over. They can't say this didn't happen.

[kiss-my-freckle]

Pippi Longstocking has Peter Pan similarities. I very much consider this in current storyline, not only because of Ressler’s Between Sleep and Awake episode, but because of imposter Katarina’s card to Agnes:

For Agnes I hope all your fairy tales come true X Maddy

Because the card came with a basket of books, I believe It’s important to follow age and current reading material because Agnes’ fairy tales with change as she gets older. I not only consider Red reading Pippi Longstocking to Agnes, I consider the scene Liz has with her in the 8th season... when she talks her about that washer necklace:

What is that? Did I ever tell you how your Daddy asked me to marry him?

Pippi’s father isn’t dead, he’s simply lost at sea. He turns up as king of a South Sea island. Southern Cross was the soundtrack that played when Tom died. 

Got out of town on a boat, going to Southern islands Sailing a reach before a following sea

Now add in Ressler and Aram comments:

You’re right. That’s a – That’s a different boat. It’s a different ocean.

Add in Red’s comment:

That’s Polaris, the North Star. That’s how sailors used to find their way home. When I look at you, that’s what I see. I see my way home.

Finalize it with stars: 

Maybe we can meet there sometime – Go on adventures together. Climb mountains – explore galaxies.

Stars in the palace. 

Stars on the shoes. 

Stars on the pants. 

Ursa Major, also known as the Great Bear. Consider this while considering Aram's Bear Mask episode.

Quite a coincidence... Liz’s text to Ressler about Agnes. His screensaver is of mountains and stars. I believe Little Red Riding Hood is continuing on through Pippi Longstocking. If Agnes’ father is alive, then Scottie isn’t her grandmother, she’s a wolf. 

[christophernolan]

THE BLACKLIST Season 8 | Episode 19

[flotillakrys]

Top 10 Canon & Non-Canon Ships

5 Canon

1. Liz and Ressler (The Blacklist)

2. Michonne and Rick

3. Sara and Grissom (CSI)

4. Willow and Tara (Buffy The Vampire Slayer)

5. Nikita and Michael (La Femme Nikita)

5 Non-Canon

1. Kahlan and Clara (Legend of the Seeker)

2. Patty and Allison (Kevin Can f himself)

3. Finola and Bryan (Debris)

4. Veronica and Weevil (Veronica Mars)

5. Lucy and Tim (The Rookie)

Part 1

[ninetieslasher]

"What you know about her, what you feel about her could make all the difference..."

[tbhwhocaresanymore]

Merry Lizmas @alyblacklist, I’m your secret Santa! Please find under the cut a short Keenler fic. It’s not very fluffy because I’m bad at that, but I tried to keep it in the Christmas spirit.

Ressler had never thought of himself as stupid.

He had always tested well, even when he hated the subject. He was fairly good at keeping his wits about him, and even as a kid his parents had never had to tell him to not get into vans with strangers. He had graduated in the top two percent of his class from Quantico, and so if he was being perfectly honest, Ressler knew he had above average intelligence. Under normal circumstances this would exempt him from taking any sort of stupid, unnecessary risk.

But whenever Liz Keen was involved, normal became a faraway dream.

He cut through a parking garage and crossed the street to start walking in the opposite direction. He’d lost the tail Cooper put on him a few blocks ago, but he was still wary Reddington might also be following somehow. He gripped the burner phone in his pocket.

The package had arrived at his apartment two days ago, and he’d received a single text with a today’s date and an address. He’d tried to trace the number only to find it disconnected, and so he’d taken out the battery and waited.

A police car with the lights off was parked on the side of the street, a bored looking cop behind the wheel. Ressler told himself he was just being paranoid. Cooper and Reddington had no proof he and Liz were in contact because they weren’tin contact, but that didn’t mean they trusted him. This was probably good judgement on their part since every so often she sent him a phone and a single text, and every time he (stupidly) showed up where she said. It probably wasn’t the healthiest relationship, but he comforted himself with the fact that at least he was honest with her, unlike her ex-husband.

He turned the corner and relaxed slightly as the cop car disappeared from view. A light snow started falling as he maneuvered around a group of carolers, ignoring a man in white robes with a sign proclaiming the imminent apocalypse.

A sign over his destination advertised VACANCY in a flickering red light. Unwilling to let the front desk worker see his face, he bypassed the office and went around the side. He took a flight of stairs two at a time, walked three doors down, and raised a hand before hesitating.

The text was burned into his eyes. Motel 6 on Down St, Room 13. 12/24 4pm.But what if this time the text hadn’t come from Liz? Or what if it had and someone had gotten here first? He shook himself. He had these fears every time he showed up to meet her, but they had yet to be realized. He’d known what he was getting himself into the first time he came without turning her in, the latest in a long line of questionable decisions involving Liz Keen.

Ressler knocked three times, and jammed his hands back in his pockets. His breath crystallized in the chilly air. He heard movement on the other side of the door and instinctively glanced over his shoulder, checking for a tail one last time.

There was the sound of a deadbolt unlocking and the door swung open.

*

The clock on the bedside table ticked from 4:03 to 4:04 and Liz felt her muscles crank even tighter.

An abrupt knock on the door startled her to her feet, the gun in her hand whipping up to point at the noise.

She walked up to the door and pressed the gun against it before checking through the spyhole in the door. Ressler. No matter how many times she sent for him, each time she was afraid that he wouldn’t show up.

Liz undid the chain lock and swung the door open.

Ressler blinked rapidly as he took her in, eyes scanning her up and down. “Hey.” His voice was rougher than she remembered.

“Hi.”

She stepped aside and he entered, taking his coat off and dropping it on the armoire. Liz placed her gun on top of it, drinking in the sight of him. “Thanks for coming.”

Ressler was looking at her like he’d been afraid he might never see her again. Although considering she was waging a one-woman war against Raymond Reddington, that wasn’t outside the realm of possibilities. “How are you?” Ressler asked.

Her thoughts immediately went to the patchwork of bruises on her left side. A souvenir from when she’d snuck into a business Reddington owned fifty-one percent of, and tussled with a security guard. “Fine. You?”

“Really? You’re fine?” His eyebrows rose on his forehead. “Because we got a report of a woman matching your description breaking and entering a private bank a couple days ago, a bank that happens to be controlled by Reddington. Said woman fought with a security guard who is now in the hospital but swears he got some hits in.”

Liz pursed her lips. “I’ll admit I’m a little banged up but it’s nothing.”

“Damn it Keen.” Ressler scowled at her, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Let me take you in.”

���No.” She folded her arms.

“Then let me help you.”

“No.”

“Then what the hell am I doing here?” he demanded.

Liz felt her hands form into fists. “I missed you, you idiot.”

Ressler sighed, his shoulders dropping as he stepped forward to envelop her in a hug. Liz wrapped her arms around him, breathing deeply. She was now intimately familiar with his body in a myriad of ways, and let her hands come to rest on his shoulder blades, taking comfort in his warmth.

“What are you doing to me Liz?” She heard him whisper the words into her hair.

“I’m not doing it on purpose.” The defense had barely left her when Ressler was fisting his hand in her hair to pull her head back, kissing her harshly. She responded in kind, biting his lower lip between her teeth.

They fell into each other with a frenzy, tearing each other’s clothes off in a way that was almost violent. Certain moments stood out in her mind, ones she would turn to later when she hadn’t seen him in weeks and was cold under the covers. His mouth on her collarbone, bruising the skin, her nails scratching lines into his back, the sight of his head between her legs. The sex was angry because they were angry. Ressler was angry that Liz insisted on going this alone, was angry at himself for not taking her in. Liz was angry at the world for always taking things away, and punishing her when she tried to take things in return, she was angry with Reddington and his endless, endless need for deception and lies. They were angry about all the bodies they’d had to bury over the years.

Afterwards, spent, they laid beneath the covers of the room’s single bed. Ressler was on his back, running absent fingers through her hair, Liz had an arm on his chest and her legs mixed up with his.

She felt his chest inflate and knew he was about to speak. “There has to be some way I can help you is all I’m saying.”

Liz closed her eyes. “Can we please not do this again?” They had this fight every time they saw each other and it was getting old quick.

He sighed and pressed a kiss to her head. “I’m sorry. But thinking about you out there, all alone… it drives me crazy. I’m your partner, Liz. I’m supposed to have your back.”

“You have.” She tightened her hold on him. “You do. Seeing you like this, it helps me more than you know. And don’t think I don’t realize how much you’re risking to meet with me.”

Eventually they put their underwear and shirts back on and Liz pulled out a pack of gummy bears she’d gotten from the vending machine down the hall and a card deck. He’d been teaching her poker games like Blackjack, Razz, and Texas Hold ‘em. While her poker face was impeccable, her actual knowledge of the games left a lot to be desired.

Ressler ended up winning all her gummy bears, but she put the last one between her teeth to make him take it from her with a kiss. They ended up lying back down on the sheets, the cards getting mixed up as Ressler rolled her over and lavished kisses up and down her body, being gentle with the bruises.

After what felt like no time at all, Liz heard her text tone going off and swore quietly. She picked up their clothes on the bed, rifling through them until she found her jeans. She pulled her latest burner out of the pocket and read the message.

“What is it?”

Liz snapped the phone shut. “A guy managed to come through with something I need, but I have to go now.” NYPD had tagged the car she was using after the bank break-in, so she’d had to hitchhike back to DC where she knew someone who could get her a new one.

Ressler pushed her hair aside to kiss the mark he’d left on her neck. “Relax, I’m not asking.”

She turned around to hug him, very badly not wanting to let go. But then she closed her eyes and saw her mother’s body jerking as the bullets made contact, saw Katarina crashing to the ground, Reddington standing over her with his finger on the trigger.

“This means you have to go doesn’t it?”

Liz didn’t pull back to answer. “Yeah it does.”

*

Ressler knelt next to his bed, staring at the open shoe box he kept beneath the loose floorboard under his nightstand. Inside it were four identical burner phones, each with the battery removed.

Even as he stared Ressler chastised himself for being so stupid. The phones were evidence, incriminating evidence. They might not have had Keen’s fingerprints on them and she may have ditched the old numbers, but he was afraid Reddington could still use them to find her if he got his hands on them. Not to mention if anyone managed to prove Keen had sent him the phones, if Park or Cooper or Aram put in the battery and saw the message that he hadn’t reported, he could go to jail for aiding a fugitive.

But that didn’t stop him from taking the fifth phone out of his pocket and adding it to the pile. Her office and apartment had been cleared out as evidence, he had nothing else left of her.

With a sigh he placed the box back in its hiding place and turned out the lights as he climbed into bed. He found himself staring at the clock, as the minutes ticked by, until it hit midnight.

Ressler looked out the window and sighed. “Merry Christmas Liz.”

End

Okay well hope you enjoyed. Happy holidays!

[communicationnskills]

Alright, I stopped watching The Blacklist slightly before S5 ended and I’ve caved and I’m returning to get caught up (seriously how is this show still on and other NBC shows get cancelled after 1 seaosn ?? Sorry I digress) anywho, does anyone want to fill me in on where Liz and Ressler are relationship wise? I know they arent canon yet but it’s been 3 years since I’ve stopped watching and I just need to know if they are finally heading that direction with them? / any key episodes in season 6 and 7 that I should look out for with them.

Okay that’s all thanks 😂

[lionheartsjewel]

just remembered ressler’s “i won’t stand next to agnes while she cries at your funeral” a few episodes ago and i just…☹️

[littletreeproductions]

Elizabeth Keen & Donald Ressler | Their story

This isn't the end, not for you. 

[piketrickfeet]

color palette challenge | keenler for @alyblacklist

The prospect of having to live without me…must’ve been terrifying. It was.

[ladyaleksandrina]

[christophernolan]

Have you looked at my life? I'm a widow and a single mom. A marionette. With a high functioning sociopath pulling my strings. My grandfather tried to murder my mother. And my mother is a legendarily lethal Russian spy.. who moved in next door without even telling me who she really was. I mean it, have you looked at my life? I mean, really taken a close look.

THE BLACKLIST | Season 7 | Episode 17

[flotillakrys]

ships I never thought would happen but are/seem to be happening

Liz and Ressler (The Blacklist)

Olivia and Elliot (SVU)

Amanda and Sonny (SVU)

Ellie and Nick (NCIS)

[littletreeproductions2]

Liz Keen & Donald Ressler | The Night We Met

For my beloved Keenler, who deserved so much better.