Ressler Prompt #4 - Ressler's Birthday. Choose who he is with. Angst or fluff.
There is a chill to the air, and the pale sun does little to warm them in the late November afternoon. It's a week after Thanksgiving and the threat of snow hangs heavy, threatening to come tumbling down as the clouds gather overhead. Small flurries of snowflakes land on their woolen coat sleeves as Ressler and Liz exit their vehicle beside an empty warehouse. Looming large above them, the red brick building stands silently. Several broken window panes greet them from the second and third floors, while the windows of the lower level are hidden behind dilapidated wooden boards. And above, like silent sentinels, concrete lions adorn the corners of the roof, still guarding what was once a thriving business. Their lifeless eyes now look forever down the empty block, where similar boarded up structures sit among the weeds fighting for existence in the asphalt. Breath huffing in front of them, Ressler glances to Liz, raising his eyebrows. She steps toward the building, but his hand finds her arm. "Wait."
"Don't go all ghost hunter on me, Ress. It's just an abandoned warehouse," she tells him though he can tell by her tone she's a little unnerved by this too.
"I know. This is the address Aram gave us, right?"
"I'll text him," she offers, but then frowns at the lack of signal on her phone. At his look, she smiles. "Are we going to do this?" Liz asks him, "Or do you perhaps have other plans?" she asks, and he detects the small smile behind her words despite her nonchalance.
No, he doesn't have plans, and she couldn't possibly know what day it is because he's kept that hidden for years. He's had it redacted on his personnel file, all in the pursuit of privacy. He ignores her remark and returns his attention to the warehouse. "If our informant wanted privacy, he certainly got it," he tells her, thoughtfully taking in the sight of the empty building above them then glancing once more at the empty streets behind them.
"I don't like this, but let's roll," he tells her decisively then reaches for his weapon, holding it down at his side. The sooner they get this over with, the better. The alleyway is deserted as they make their way between the buildings, passing a rusty dumpster and windblown trash. As they step past a stained mattress, Ressler doesn't even want to imagine what occupants and activities it's witnessed. An alcove in the side of the deserted building reveals a door that has been unbolted, just as their informant had relayed.
"Here we go," he mutters, pushing open the door as she follows him closely, her weapon also raised. It's dark inside and they stop a moment as their eyes adjust. The air is still as dust mites drift in the few pale sunbeams that have forced their way through the dirty window panes of the upper floors.
"So where is he?" Liz whispers as they move off together, looking for their informant. "Mr Tudesky?" she shouts, her voice an intruder in the dark silence. Her words echo slightly from the stark walls, but there is no reply.
Something about it doesn't smell right, and it's not just the dank musty smell of mold around them. Ressler's Spidey sense is in full flight, as the hairs on the back of his neck prickle with anticipation. Passing stacked wooden pallets and old boxes, their flashlights light the way in front of them as they make their way through the ground floor rooms. Ressler speaks to Liz in hushed tones. "I don't know about this, Keen…"
She nods in agreement, flashlight and firearm at the ready, her eyes darting to him then returning to the narrow beam of light in front of her.
"Mr Tudesky!" he calls this time, but no answer comes.
"Something's wrong," Liz whispers.
He's about to reply when he spots something across the room from them. "Damn," he whispers, running now to what is clearly a man sprawled on the faded linoleum floor.
"Is it him?" Liz asks from behind Ressler, crouching down to shine her flashlight on a man in his mid 30s. Her flashlight beam stops on a bullet hole to the man's chest, where congealed blood is dark and sticky. "Looks like he's been dead at least an hour," she whispers, feeling an intruder in the silence.
"It's him," Ressler answers, searching the man's pockets and coming up with a driver's license. "Was him, at least."
Liz sighs, rises to her feet to survey the area. "Whoever did this may still be about. Damn...now we'll never know what-"
"What the hell?" Losing his balance momentarily, Ressler staggers to his feet as a sudden rumble pitches through the entire building. Sand and brick particles rain down from the ceiling above them as the building shudders, then settles.
"That was an explosion!" Liz hisses, whirling as their flashlight beams pick up concrete dust billowing up from a stairwell to their left that leads to the basement level. The air is filled with concrete dust in seconds, obliterating their surroundings.
"Damn right it was," he tells her, heading for the stairwell.
"What are you doing?!"
"Finding out what's going on," he calls back, already getting lost from view in the dust cloud, despite his flashlight lighting his way.
She runs for him, grabbing his arm. "Are you insane? What if another one goes off?" And really, she shouldn't have tempted providence, as the air rocks again, sucking against their eardrums. The shockwave knocks Liz off her feet with a thud, and Ressler is on his knees beside her as the building visibly moves around them. The sound of bricks and mortar crashing to the floor above them fills the air in the semi dark. In front of them, the stairwell gives way in a creak and groan, crashing to the unseen basement below them.
"Let's get the hell out of here!" he yells at her above the sound of more bricks toppling from the floors above, holstering his weapon and dragging her up off the floor. He has a tight hold of her as they run past Mr Tudesky who will never again tell his secrets. Choking clouds of pink brick dust swirl around them, caught in the dying rays of the sun and their flashlight beams.
"Run!" he shouts to her, still dragging her behind him. She doesn't need to be told again as another explosion rocks the building. Behind them, their ex informant's body is buried under an avalanche of bricks and concrete as the floor above him gives way.
Their exit doorway has to be close, as Ressler recalls the way they came in. Coughing in the dust, their eyes streaming with the grit in them, they charge for the exit. He's looking behind at Liz when he suddenly falls headlong over a concrete beam that wasn't there when they entered. Shins screaming at the sudden impact he clambers to his feet, pulls Liz over it and runs headlong for the doorway that is now in sight. As they escape through it into the relative quiet of the alleyway, the dust and debris follows them in a cloud. Ressler doesn't stop, still hanging onto Liz as they sprint toward their vehicle at the front of the building.
###
"Oh, you gotta be kidding me!" Ressler hasn't even exited the alley before the damage to their vehicle comes into view. He slows to a jog the last few feet, throwing his hands into the air and turning back to Liz, grimacing.
Liz doesn't know whether to laugh or cry, staring dumfounded at their Government issued SUV. While not completely crushed, the front end has been rendered useless by the large alabaster lion now occupying the space where the engine used to reside.
"Shit!" Ressler swears, checking around the other side of the vehicle, though if there is more damage it's irrelevant at this point. The lion hood ornament has sealed the vehicle's fate.
"Go! Go! Go!" he shouts out as unstable bricks come crashing down beside them, bouncing into the side of the SUV, caving in the front passenger door. Together they run across the street to the next building down, before turning back as more of the front wall topples onto their vehicle. "Damn it!" he hisses, pacing in the dusk as the sun slips behind the buildings. Grabbing his cellphone from his coat, he is dialing Coopers number while Liz shakes the concrete and debris from her hair. But either his phone isn't working or there is still no signal, because he can't dial anyone.
He hears Liz as he drops his phone back in his pocket, observing her covering her laughter with one hand and attempting to wave it off with the other. "I'm sorry!" she grins, taking in the sight of their ruined vehicle. "I don't know why I'm laughing!"
He shakes his head and really doesn't feel like laughing as he runs his hand through his gritty hair. Concrete dust encrusts his hands as he wipes them futilely against his once black coat that is now shades of gray and pink.
She collapses against the wall of the building they're standing at, giving up all pretense, laughing until tears wash the pink dust from around her blue eyes. "It's just not how I pictured us spending today!"
He stares at his partner who's apparently lost it, then turns to view what's left of their vehicle in the setting sun. Papers waft in the air around them, adding a festive touch of confetti to the entire scene. And suddenly it hits him how absurd their situation is and can't stifle his own grin as he leans toward her. "Well, I'm glad you're amused, because we're walking from here on out."
At that she composes herself, wiping her eyes and inadvertently enhancing the raccoon look even more. He offers a smile at that, knowing full well he's just as much a sight. As if in confirmation, more concrete dust drifts toward them as the wind picks up, stirring up the papers scuttling along the roadway and pavement.
"Let's get out of here," he says, touching her back as they turn away from the building. It's largely intact, minus a Leo and part of the top floor that is now adorning their SUV. Yet now the air is still, save for the soft chink of stones settling on the brick piles. In the distance the traffic still makes its way along highways, but there are no sirens. No emergency personnel come flooding to the area. For the most part, the blasts were self-contained within the warehouse in a dead end part of town.
They walk together, glancing behind them a couple of times, as if checking that the building really did explode around them.
"What the hell happened?" she finally asks.
He has no answer to that but thinks out loud. "I don't know if our informant set the explosions, or someone killed him and then set them. But I don't think it's a coincidence that we were called to that building. Perhaps a warning."
She agrees, shivering in the air as the sun sets behind them. Streetlights flicker around them and grow to their full intensity as they walk below them. He's not sure exactly where they're going, but he does know the general direction he needs to head. They're about 8 miles from his apartment by his reckoning, and right now it feels the safest place to head for. Beside him, Liz shivers again, no longer finding their situation humorous as the cold begins to settle in for the evening.
It doesn't feel like downtown. It feels more like the Twilight zone as they walk below silent, dark buildings. Most are boarded up, while some have obvious entry points with wooden beams scattered on the pavement. Definitely the wrong side of the tracks.
"There's a bus stop up there," he tells her, spying it at the end of the block they're walking on. The deserted buildings are behind them, giving way to sparse businesses that are all closed for the evening. As they reach the bus stop, she stands back in the corner, seeking what little shelter she can from the metal awning.
"How long do we have to wait?" she asks as he runs his finger down the timetable, checking his watch.
"Well, there's good news, and there's bad news."
"Oh God, please give me the good news," she sighs, burying her mouth and nose under her coat collar as the wind picks up and snowflakes swirl around them.
"The next bus is 3 hours away," he tells her evenly.
"That's the GOOD news?" she exclaims, shuddering under her dusty coat.
"If we miss that bus, the next one is 5 hours," he tells her and he can't help but smile at her cursed reply.
"Shit. Is there ANY good news?" she asks, as a gust of wind swirls around them tossing snowflakes around their faces.
"The good news is it would be quicker to walk up to the main highway a couple of miles that way, and catch a cab."
"Oh, right," she whispers, clapping her freezing hands against her thighs, "because that's precisely my idea of a good time."
He stands in front of her, helping block the wind from her small frame and shrugs.
She smiles, as her eyes peer up to him from pink dust stained face. "Such a gentleman," she tells him, and then chuckles despite the shivers running through her. "I bet this is a first," she says, as her eyes smile at him.
"For what? Getting a building blown up around me?" he asks, turning to peer down the street for any sign of life but the street is deserted
"That, yes, but for getting a building blown up around you… On your birthday."
His eyes slide back to her, neither confirming nor denying it. But she already knows.
"Red told me."
"Of course he did. Reddington knows everything," he muses, shaking his head at their unseen concierge of crime. "Then yes, this is a first."
She chuckles, wipes her cold nose with her equally cold hand before shoving it back in her pocket, and leans on him. "Well, Happy Birthday, Ress."
"I think I've had happier," he tells her, as another snow filled gust of wind hits his back. But he's lying. Because he's never had a birthday with her this close against him.
"You ready?" he asks, as she leans back off his chest.
"Let's roll," she grins, as his eyes slide sideways to her.
###
"I'm so glad this was the good news, you know, or I might have been freezing my butt off or something," she mutters as he keeps pace beside her. "Don't you EVER feel cold?" she adds, as he walks along with coat unbuttoned.
"Well, there was this one time..." he smiles, interrupted by her laughter beside him.
"I'm so cold!" she exclaims, holding her hands to her cheeks in an effort to warm them. "I think I have frostbite!"
He smiles and shakes his head, pulling his coat closer around him as a gust of wind hits his chest. "You don't have frostbite, Liz."
"Tell me a story!" she shivers, hooking her arm in his and leaning close as they walk. "Keep my mind off being so cold!
"What? I'm not Reddington."
She chuckles at that and regards him as they walk, "Fess up. What was your best birthday ever?" she smiles.
"You mean, apart from this one?"
She folds into him and he smiles at the sound of her laughter. He holds onto her forearm, sheltering her as much as he can against the wind buffeting them. A light snow is falling causing the dry flakes to stick to their coats for a moment before being swept away in the next gust of wind.
He glances down to meet her eyes in the glow of the streetlights. "I'm not good at telling stories," he replies, really hoping she won't push the point.
"Everyone's got a story in them. Come on," she shakes his arm a little. "Let's hear it. Best birthday memory ever."
He sighs, walking along the narrow footpath on the deserted road. The warehouse and their crushed vehicle are about a mile behind them now, and in the distance the lights of the main thoroughfares are inching closer. Which is good, because the snow is coming down more steadily now.
"Okay, just for you," he smiles, taking some small pleasure in the shine in her eyes as she grins back up at him. "But I'm telling you, I'm not good at this, so hey, don't blame me if-"
"Stop stalling."
"Right."
She laughs into his sleeve again, and suddenly he doesn't want them to reach the main road ahead of them too soon.
"Well, it was my 10th birthday," he recalls, "All the kids were getting BB guns and remote control cars and GI Joes and all that crap, and my dad had asked me if I had any idea what I wanted for my big double digit birthday coming up. I kept telling him I wanted a two-way radio set, but every time, he'd look at me and tell me that he didn't think he could afford that this year."
"Aaaww… that's so sad..." Liz sighs beside him, as he brings his thoughts back to the present.
"See, I told you I wasn't very good at-"
"Get on with it. I'm listening," she smiles, prodding him in the ribs.
"Right," he smiles, resuming his story, "So the day of my birthday comes, and it was amazingly warm and we had my party outside. First time ever that I could remember celebrating my birthday outside, instead of inside with a fire burning. I had a small party with a few of my friends, and they got me a BB gun, and a remote control car-"
"And a GI Joe?" she grins.
"Yeah, even a damn GI Joe, no kidding. And my dad, well, he got me a model airplane. It was a big one, a real fancy air force jet with the decals and the paint."
"Aaaww… but no two-way radio..."
"Are you going to let me tell this?" he smiles, brushing away fresh snow from his shoulders.
"Sorry," she grins. "Carry on."
"Yeah, no two-way radio. I was pretty bummed but I wasn't going to let him see that. After a while we heard the ice cream truck singing its awful tune on the street outside."
"Oh, I remember ice cream trucks," she smiles, leaning into him. "But in November? Wow."
"Yeah, so my mom went inside and grabbed us some money and about ten of us boys charged around the front of the house, and just made it to the ice cream truck in time before he turned the corner. We got our ice creams and were then walking back to the house, when I saw the little neighbor's boy. He had a fistful of coins and he was just standing in his front yard, crying his eyes out."
"Wow, you suck at happy stories, Ress."
"I did warn you."
She chuckles, then shivers and hangs onto him tighter. "Continue, my story teller."
"I asked him what was wrong, and he told me that he'd heard the ice cream truck and ran to get his money but he couldn't get the dimes out of his piggy bank quick enough. He'd finally got them, but he was too late and the ice cream truck had gone."
"Oh, that poor little boy!" she cries, looking up at him.
"Not really. I gave him my ice cream."
"The boy scout is strong in this one, Obi Wan," she chuckles, wiping a wisp of hair from her face.
"Right," he smiles. "And then I invited him back to eat his ice cream with us and have birthday cake."
"That's so sweet!" she grins, hugging his arm as the snow drifts around them and their footfalls leave prints behind them.
"Made his day, yeah. Best part was I palmed off the damn GI Joe onto him before he left. No one was any the wiser."
She erupts beside him and he can't help but join in. Her wanting him to talk to distract her from the cold was warming him too. "Oh, but what about the two-way radios? Did you ever get them?"
He smiles, remembering that night. "Well, that same night after dinner, dad called me into the living room and he put his arm around my shoulder." He stops, recalling it vividly for the first time in many years.
Liz looks up to him, sees the faraway look and prompts him to continue. Up ahead, the streetlights of the highway are much closer.
"He told me that there are two types of gifts. There are children's gifts, and there are grown up gifts. I took it all in, listening to him while mom did the dishes in the kitchen, you know, letting us men folk talk," he smiles, glancing at her. "And then he reached behind him and gave me a box, and you guessed it, there was a set of two-way radios, with up to 25 mile radius on them."
"Aaaww…" she sighs, brushing snow off her hair, hanging onto every word.
"He said 'son, I'm not sure why you wanted these, or why they were so important to you, but I got you them. Because you're a-"
Liz looks up at him sharply at his sharp intake of breath as he stops, biting his lower lip.
He continues, "Because you're a good boy. A good son," he tells her, tears welling up in his eyes.
"Ress…" she holds his arm, as she walks close beside him.
He continues, fighting emotions he hasn't felt in years. "He didn't ask me what I wanted them for."
"But did you tell him?" she asks softly, as snowflakes drift around them, dancing in the wind.
"Yes."
"And?" she prods.
"I wanted them so that when he was on the job, he could tell me on my own radio when he was coming home. So I'd be able to tell mom that dad was done for another day and he was coming home safe to us."
"Oh, my gosh."
"And he did that for years, even after I left to go to college. I was still nearby and still in range, and no matter what time of day or night, he'd radio me and tell me he'd made it through another day."
"Oh, Ress…"
"Yeah…it was something that we did that was important to us. Until the day he never radioed that he was done for the day. Midnight came, with no call. And he never radioed again." He stops again, remembering and this time Liz let's him take his time. "And three days later, I took his radio and my radio and I buried them with him."
She's crying now, leaning against him. "Oh my gosh, that's so..."
He wipes his own tears, and suddenly stops on the footpath and turns her into him in a silent hug. The snow falls around them in the deserted street, as he leans into her ear. "And I never told anyone that. Never. It's why I don't celebrate my birthday."
She rises off his chest, wipes her tears and stares at him. "And you told me? Why?"
"Because you wanted me to tell you a birthday story," he says softly. "And that's the only birthday story I have that's worth telling."
She smiles at him, pats his chest and looks in the direction of the highway. The sound of traffic is very close now. "Thank you."
He nods, steps back and motions to the road. "Shall we? I hear a cab calling our name."
Arm in arm, they continue their walk through the steadily falling snow. They both speak at once.
"Same time next year?"
They grin, and continue walking. "Yeah, minus the dead guy, exploding building and Aslan in our SUV."
She chuckles, and is still holding onto his arm as they reach the highway and he hails a cab for them.