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She came into his life by storm, helicopters and overzealous agents, eager to get a taste of the field after years cooped up in the office, drawing imaginary lines to random events.

He caught her on her front stoop, standing close to whom he had to assume was her husband, framed by a beautiful brownstone, the kind he had once imagined himself living in with a small family.

Reddington may have whipped the Post Office into a frenzy, but to Donald Ressler, it was Elizabeth Keen that had given him that kickstart to his life. The last person to have done so was Audrey. But hers had been more of a gentle spark, warming his life and filling it with optimism and glowing hope. This one, however, was like a punch to the face, a whirlwind of brunette and blue eyes, drawing dangerous crackles of electricity, something that set him on edge, restless to no end. Maybe it was the fact that after five years of nothing, she had come in unexpectedly and somehow managed to pull everything in with her. Fresh out of Quantico, and not necessarily for the better. Somehow, she had convinced the Assistant Director that not arresting the object of the better part of Ressler's career while he stood (or rather sat smugly) in the very palm of the FBI's hands was a good idea. Instead, they were now serving at the criminal's pleasure, fetching these so-called Blacklisters for him and just short of aiding Reddington in his underground dealings.

Perhaps that was why he adopted such a stand-offish manner with her. It irked him to no end that Reddington would only speak to her, that Cooper answered to her every request. She had, in a way, taken Ressler's house away from him. So sure, he had some right to be pissed at the situation (because somehow, he couldn't bring himself to actually be pissed at her.)

But deep, deep down, in a place where he buried the feelings and thoughts he couldn't bear to acknowledge, he admired her. There was something about Keen that captivated his attention, not just as an attractive member of the opposite gender, but as a co-worker to be watched, to learn from. Her self-assurance and the relative ease in which she operated within his blacksite was the beginning mark of a good agent. A reliable partner after years of riding solo. Not only did he feel a magnetic pull to her physical attractiveness, he was equally as intrigued by her fiery stubbornness that could almost rival his. Yes, there was definitely something about Keen that drew Ressler in, which was also a likely reason why he took pains to distance himself from her, not only physically, but mentally. To establish a distance and make it clear that he didn't approve of her being there.

Even then, when he saw how gentle Keen was with the Admiral's daughter, he felt himself soften unwittingly. He could truly believe that she would make a quality agent, as long as she wasn't in his Post Office and practicing that psych nonsense all over the place.

When their convoy was ambushed, he watched as the SUV carrying Keen and Beth overturn, his heart plummeting, and it wasn't because he was losing men and had fallen victim to the trap. All he could think of was getting to that SUV as he took out one of the men in the Hazmat suits. He bolted in the direction of the SUV, tossing away the automatic weapon as he ran between the stopped vehicles on the bridge, pulling out his own sidearm, firing one true and fatal shot to the man about to fire in to the side of the overturned SUV. It wasn't until he had surfaced from the water, searching frantically for Keen that he realized that it wasn't Beth that had been on his mind the entire time, but the other Elizabeth. He had panicked a little when he couldn't find another head bobbing in the water- he himself had barely made it over the edge of the railing before the explosion, there was no way she could have survived on the bridge-

"Ressler!" A voice rang out from above and he turned quickly to the sound. There she was, one side of her face completely bloodied, but she was standing, learning over the railing, looking down at him. Instantly the panic (he later attributed it to the adrenaline when he was thinking over this moment back in his apartment) faded and he heard the faint wail of sirens begin in the distance. All Ressler could do was turn away from Keen's brokenhearted face and follow her stare in the direction of the boats carrying Beth away, just a speck now on the waterline.

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