Ressler woke with a start, finding himself slouched over on his couch, and the first thing he noticed was the ache in his neck from the uncomfortable position he was in. As he opened his eyes and took in the dim room around him, he glanced at the wall clock. It was after 3:00am. He should get in bed. Why wasn't he in bed? And why was he still in his suit and coat? And as he moved to haul himself off the couch, he stopped as it all came crashing back like an out of control freight train. He'd killed Laurel Hitchin.

"Shit…" he whispered, sitting on his couch, but seeing in his mind's eye the events of the previous evening. Like slow motion, it replayed through his head. The grip of her long fingers on his arm. His spin around to her as he'd yelled at her to stop, and him wrenching his arm from her grip. He'd only wanted her to let go. To stop goading him so he could leave her presence. The moment she spun away from him, carried by the momentum of his jerking his arm away, he had not realized the full impact of what was happening. Even as she'd toppled on her spindly heels, her fate now set in stone, still he hadn't seen it coming. Only when the dull thud and barely audible crack reached his ears did his heart jump even further in his chest. Only when the dark red pool of blood from her shattered skull and brain flowed onto her rug did he finally realize the horror of his actions. She was dead. He'd killed her. And worse even than that, he'd covered it up. Had called Reddington and within the hour, Henry Prescott had shown up to fix his mess.

He swallowed hard against the rising bile. And in a rush, he moved quickly, reaching his bathroom just in time to throw up into the toilet. Retching, sweating, his heart hammering, he closed his eyes against the image. But he couldn't shut it out. The red puddle of blood creeping around her skull. Her glassy eyes that would never see again. Henry Prescott, coolly surveying the body and telling him it was time for him to leave. And he had followed those instructions like a puppet, putting his fate in someone else's hands. Shaking, he stood up and turned to the sink, ran the cold water then splashed it over his face, then rinsed out his mouth. He then stood with his face buried in the towel, eyes closed, yet still seeing what he'd done.

He gave up on sleep, and was surprised he'd even managed to grab the couple of hours he had. After showering, he shaved, which was a little more difficult with a hand that was still shaking slightly. Thank god for electric razors. If he'd had to use a blade this morning, who knows how many nicks he'd have ended up with. He opened his bathroom cabinet, and for the first time in a very long time, his eyes rose to the top shelf. The shelf where he'd kept his pain numbing Oxy in the past. No, he admonished himself and slammed the cabinet door shut, hearing the contents fall about inside.

"Damn it," he hissed and left his bathroom, paced around his bedroom with fists clenched. And then more for something to keep his hands occupied than anything else, he quickly threw on a clean shirt and suit. His tie felt like it was choking him, and with a hiss, he loosened it then pulled open the top button of his shirt. It was only when he walked back into the living room and passed the windows that he realized it was still dark. It was two hours before he normally left for work. Knowing it would look unusual if he went in at this time - because, despite the hammering in his throat he knew that he needed to look 'normal' today. He made his way to the kitchen for some coffee, planning to sit and wait and go in at his regular time of 7:00am. Except he couldn't. His attempt at making coffee ended up with him dropping it and smashing the cup - his favorite - all over his kitchen floor as he jumped back, hot coffee splashing everywhere. At that he gave up. He quickly wiped down his shoes and lower legs of his pants where the coffee had not sunk in yet on his dark suit, then headed for the door, grabbed his coat and keys and slammed his apartment door as he left.

###

Having ignored the looks from the guards at the elevator when he'd arrived just after 5:00am, Ressler had done nothing other than sit at his desk and stare at his badge. He hadn't been able to slip it back into its comfortable spot on his belt. He twirled his pen, sitting at his desk dividing his thoughts between his badge sitting there accusingly, and still back in Laurel Hitchin's dining room. At some point he rose and had a more successful attempt at making coffee, yet it sat largely ignored on his desk after a couple of mouthfuls. And when the elevator doors slid open with the familiar metallic sound some time later, he glanced up and saw Cooper entering. His boss saw him through his window blinds and nodded, and took a detour to speak with him.

As he entered Ressler's office, coat over his arm, he greeted Ressler. "Morning, Don. I thought I was the only early bird. Couldn't wait to get stuck into things after getting your badge back, I see," he said, smiling.

His badge... The badge that was still sitting on his desk in front of him, that he hadn't been able to tear his eyes from, knowing what it had cost to retrieve it. With an effort, Ressler gave his boss a small shrug. "Yeah. Figured I'd make an early start." It was all he could think of saying, and fervently hoped his boss couldn't see the rapid pulse beating in the vein of his neck. He spun in his chair, stared at his badge with its gold sheen and blue seal that he had always admired, but now found sickening, then reached over and fired up his computer screen.

Cooper hovered in the doorway, watching Ressler. His voice softened, taking on that fatherly tone Ressler had heard on occasion. "You okay, Don?"

And with long practice at putting walls around himself to hide the inner man, Ressler spun slowly back to his boss, and actually managed a smile. A pretty convincing one, apparently. "Yeah, I just wasn't sure I was going to get my badge back, so just kinda, uh, savoring the moment."

Satisfied, Cooper nodded to him. "Good deal," he said and turned to head up to his own office. "You've earned it," he called back, leaving Ressler to his thoughts.

Watching the lights flicker on upstairs as Cooper entered his workspace, Ressler gave a shuddering sigh and leaned heavily back in his chair. Earned it. He hadn't earned it. He had killed for it. And still it sat on his desk, almost glaring at him. With an effort, Ressler grabbed hold of it and threw the wallet in his inside pocket, then pinned the shield back on his belt. It felt heavy, and not at all like the comfortable presence it had always filled him with. That knowledge that he stood on the right side of the law. Was one of the good guys. But now blood had been spilled for the sake of that badge, forever tarnishing all that it represented. Forever tarnishing him.

###

An hour later he was still in his office, the clock having just passed 7:00am. And he had done nothing. It was just as well Cooper wasn't keeping tabs on the progress of the 'early start' he'd told him he was getting, because nothing had been achieved. Again the elevator doors opened and Samar and Aram walked in together. Ressler barely gave them a glance, and for once, was glad Liz was not on time. The longer he had to collect his thoughts before facing her, the better. Because she would know. Maybe not the specifics. Most definitely not the specifics, but she would take one look at him and just know.

Five minutes later he was head down at his desk, actually doing a little bit of work for the first time that morning. It was all a ploy, of course, for Liz's potential arrival. He didn't see Cooper approaching, and suddenly his boss was beside his desk. Ressler looked up, briefly startled, and for a moment couldn't decipher the expression on Cooper's face.

"Sir?"

Cooper squinted a little, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took his glasses off, then spoke. "I just got a call," he said, then paused. Ressler leaned back in his chair, watching his boss carefully. "It was the Secret Service." Ressler's heart leapt. "And they would like me to head over to Laurel Hitchin's home immediately." Ressler didn't dare open his mouth, and held his breath. "And they have asked specifically that you accompany me." Ressler's heart hammered in his chest. "They didn't say why. Only that they would like you and I there." Cooper stopped, looked at Ressler a moment longer with those eyes that Ressler feared said more than he was sharing, then added, "So, let's not keep them waiting."

Ressler sat still a moment longer, then managed a nod and stood up, ready to follow his boss. Ready to get the cuffs slammed on him? Ready to be charged in her murder? Perhaps. Maybe he was ready. Maybe it was right. And trying to control his breathing, he grabbed his coat from the hook, ready to leave with Cooper. He hadn't said a word to his boss, and with one more raised eyebrow and puzzled look from Cooper, they left Ressler's office and walked to the elevator.

The journey across town to Hitchin's house was almost unbearable. He was literally counting down the minutes to when he'd be arrested for murder, while Cooper seemed to have slipped back into his calm demeanor. Ressler silently stewed as he sat in the back seat beside his boss as Cooper's driver ferried them to their destination. And perhaps it was because they were not alone that Cooper didn't say much, Ressler wondered. Heart hammering in his chest, the streets sped by outside the window, and before long they were pulling into the long driveway of the riverfront home. And as they came around a lazy bend in the road, with large shade trees either side, Ressler's chest constricted even more. Three black SUVs were parked by her home, two with their blue and red strobe lights silently rotating. A large SWAT van was off to one side. Four or five men in black stood guard at the home, while to one side several men dressed in SWAT fatigues and assault rifles stood by. Ressler wasn't sure how he managed to exit the car, but he accomplished it in one piece. He stood, heart in his mouth as Cooper walked to him.

"Something's going on, for sure," Cooper said softly, as a man with an ear piece, and who just reeked of being Secret Service walked briskly from the home toward them.

"Special Agent Hal Roberts," he introduced himself, shaking Cooper's hand, then Ressler's. "Agent Cooper, Agent Ressler, this way, if you please." Ressler speculated if that same hand would be slapping cuffs on him very soon.

Ressler fell in behind his boss and made his way on shaky legs up the steps toward the open double doors of the home. The same steps he'd walked in a daze down last night after Prescott had dismissed him to start his cleanup. He inhaled slowly and deeply, trying to calm his heart and quivering chest. They wound their way through the home toward the back, but Ressler knew the way. He knew where they were going. His mind whirled. Why were they here? The Secret Service boys obviously knew something had happened to Hitchin. But Prescott was supposed to have fixed it so there was no trace left. Wasn't he? Had Prescott left something behind? Been shoddy in his clean up? Something sure as hell had the cavalry out here today. But Red had trusted the guy to fix this.

His thoughts were interrupted as Roberts turned abruptly, his hand raised and faced them. "Understand, I have called you in as a courtesy between agencies, sir," he said, addressing Cooper, "this is not your jurisdiction." He nodded to two more black suited men with ear pieces as they walked past. This man was obviously in charge. "I also asked you here, as Agent Ressler's superior, because we have questions we need to ask him." He looked to Ressler and all Ressler could do was stare back, concentrating on keeping his breathing even.

Cooper glanced at Ressler then back to Roberts. "Whatever you need to say to Agent Ressler, you can say in front of me also. He's here with me." Ressler nodded at that, thankful for Cooper's support, because his throat was clenched so tight he wasn't sure he could speak without implicating himself, or at the very least, keep his voice steady.

"Very well, if you will both come this way please, you will see why I have called you." At this point, Ressler really did not want to see why they had been called. Roberts turned, then walked away down the hallway toward the dining room as they followed, and it was all Ressler could do to keep walking. Thank god he'd had no breakfast, because his stomach churned uncomfortably with every step he took.

They entered the living room and the recliner Ressler had been sitting in last night came into view. His eyes lingered on the seat in front of him, noting the lace curtained window to the right. Bright sunlight streamed into the room now, a far cry from the twilight that had surrounded him as he'd sat here hours before. He didn't dare look to his left. Didn't dare show that he knew exactly where something had happened in this room, and with an effort he kept his eyes on the chair and this side of the room.

Beside him, he heard Cooper gasp. "My God!"

Hardly daring to breathe, Ressler looked quickly at his boss - who was looking to their left. Ressler followed his gaze, looking toward the dining room for the first time, and all the air left his lungs. He grabbed the back of the recliner.

Laurel Hitchin's body lay on the ground, exactly how he'd left it last night.

She was still here! His mind raced. What had Prescott done?! Nothing! He hadn't fixed it at all! Cooper turned to stare at him, and all he could do was look at his boss in horror. Prescott hadn't moved her or cleaned up! Inhaling shakily, Ressler stared through the black suited pant legs to where her body lay, just as he'd last seen her. What the hell?!

Giving them barely a moment to collect their thoughts, Hal Roberts turned back to them. "You see why I have called you here. The President's National Security Advisor is dead. Murdered. We understand you were here yesterday, Agent Ressler. Her housekeeper confirmed. You recognize now why we have questions."

Ressler nodded, unable to drag his eyes off Hitchin and the still visible blood puddle around her skull. "Yes, I was here in the afternoon," he managed. Cooper nodded, turned from the sight of the body to Ressler, who plowed on. "Then once more, in the evening. Briefly," he added. When covering a lie, tell the truth as closely as you can. And he was doing that. He had been to the home twice yesterday, and that was easily corroborated.

"Do you mind telling us why you were here?"

Ressler finally averted his eyes from Hitchin, turned a little and faced the man. "I had a meeting with Ms. Hitchin in the afternoon-"

"Along with another gentleman," Roberts interjected. "The housekeeper mentioned that too. Who was that man, and what was the nature of your business?"

Cooper spoke up. "His identity is classified," he said evenly, making it clear he was not going to give Roberts that. "Under the terms of the Federal Confidential Informant agreement, I will not disclose his identity. Nor will I disclose the contents of that meeting."

Robert's steel grey eyes held Coopers a moment longer. "Very well," he said, then turned back to Ressler, "what time were you here in the evening. Briefly," he added, emphasizing the word, Ressler noticed.

Ressler held his breath, wanting to pinch himself to give him something to focus on, but held his hands steady at his sides. "Late afternoon. Early evening. I don't recall the exact time." He held his eyes steady, forcing them not to stray once more to the recliner he'd sat on while the sun was setting.

Roberts nodded then continued. "And what was the purpose of that visit. Why was it necessary to come here twice within a few hours?"

Cooper spoke again. "If I may. Ms. Hitchin called me after Agent Ressler's meeting with her in the afternoon, and requested he return. I'm sure you're well aware of what transpired between Agent Ressler and Ms. Hitchin a few weeks ago." Robert's nodded, glancing at Ressler, then back to Cooper. "His badge was taken from him at that time, pending an investigation. Having been cleared, Ms. Hitchin asked me if she could return his badge to him personally."

Roberts nodded, sliding his eyes back to Ressler. "I see. And did you receive your badge?"

In reply, Ressler moved his coat aside, showing the man the badge clipped firmly to his belt. He couldn't bear the thought of it. "Yes, I did." He held his tongue. He'd been about to add 'and then I left immediately' but that would appear too eager. Too quick to give himself an alibi.

And yet, Hitchin was still dead on the floor. Alibis and careful words were not going to mean jack shit very soon. He'd been the last person to see her alive and he was on very, very shaky ground here. And part of him just wanted to confess, get it over with and hold his wrists out so this man could throw the cuffs on him right there. The other part held his tongue, held his breath, kept his eyes averted from the body on the floor, and waited for the hammer to fall.