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~Chapter Two~

It's been two days since Prescott let him go and Ressler still can't believe that happened. He's still expecting to hear from him every time his phone rang and he couldn't bring himself to delete the contact number.

The one Prescott gave him.

His finger would hover over the alias he assigned to Prescott, only to decide against the deletion.

The fact that Prescott was quitting wouldn't get out of his head.

Destabilizing his acceptance to cover up his crime. If lying was the best way to protect his team from another criminal official. Worried that confessing to the murder of the National Security Advisor would finally dismantle their task force after surviving Mr. Kaplan's vendetta.

Or was he only lying to himself.

The doubts emerged to plagued him once more as he read the updated crime reports and took a moment to gather himself. Ressler mentally berating himself back to concentration before Aram or Samar noticed.

"Good afternoon, what a lovely day we're having!"

Ressler looked up from where they were researching the intel he requested from other departments. Armed with the knowledge of what Kaplan did Ressler thought they could observe the changes in criminal activities that Reddington's absence was causing.

"Mr. Reddington," Aram greeted, agreeing that it was a nice day. Nothing but boring reports and data collection.

Samar nodded as he walked up to the table. "What brings you in today?"

"Alas, not another blacklister. But something that needs to be taken care of, nonetheless."

"Yeah?" Ressler asked, humoring Reddington's overdramatic announcement.

"Yes." Reddington smiled at the agent, seeing that his air of playful casualness still raised Donald's guard. The vigilance a wasted expenditure of energy and he's waiting for the day Donald would stop doing that. "Donald, I hope you haven't had lunch already?"

"I was actually about to leave," Ressler replied, wondering what Red was up to now.

"Good. Allow me to take you out to lunch," Reddington said cheerfully. "Dembe is already waiting for us in the car."

Ressler looked at him quizzically. Samar looking more amused than he and Aram.

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"Dembe."

"Ressler."

"So what are we doing?" Ressler asked once they got settled in the backseat.

"Having lunch at the Laguna, seeing to a loose end," Reddington replied as Dembe started the car. "The proprietor, Bella Marina, sole owner of the hotel complex after her older sister and brother-in-law met an unfortunate accident skinny dipping in the restaurant's interior aquarium."

"I've heard of the place. The husband tried to wrestle their giant amazonian fish. Had a weak heart that went into extreme arrhythmia when it hit him in the chest. The wife hit her head trying to save him." Ressler wondered if they were really going to eat there. The Laguna belonged more in Vegas and was far, far too expensive for his wallet.

"And Bella Marina is the last member of the family. Her parents having passed away of old age; inheriting everything. Including the services of one Henry Prescott."

"Prescott?" The surprise slipped through, and Ressler hoped Reddington wouldn't think it out of ordinary. The name sent a stab of panic, along with the realization that Reddington always had a lead on Prescott.

Keep it together, Ressler thought. This was Reddington he was lying to.

"You didn't call me Sturgeon by accident." Ressler kept his voice steady, remembering Prescott wanted Reddington to stay away from him. "It was a threat. Why didn't we just go there in the first place?"

"Time was of an essence," Reddington explained. "An unreliable location to net Prescott. Bella is more of a debtor, and with no means to reach him except when he chooses to visit the establishment. If he's not there, she'll be able to pass along our request for a meeting."

"And why are we looking for him again?" Ressler asked, bothered by the thought that agreeing to Prescott's terms counted as spying.

"Because he killed Laurel Hitchen and I'd like to know if he's plotting against us or if we could arrive to an amicable working agreement."

"Him?" Ressler asked, blindsided at Reddington's declaration. "Why would he do that?"

"Isn't it obvious, Donald? She would have planned a retaliation for betraying her."

Reddington sighed.

"I had hoped to construct a deal and have his skills and resources available in exchange for protection. It's another reason why I called you to meet him. Acting as an unknown variable to keep him in check until the time came to reveal your FBI status. To keep him from aligning with Laurel and allowing us to hold Prescott over her head. Negating the grievance he'd have against us. Her death, however, eliminates that leverage."

"Wait. That's why you gave me his number," Ressler said, his voice rising with incredulity to what Reddington was saying. "You wanted me to be his handler?!"

"Exactly."

Ressler let that admittance stew for a moment. His resentment of Reddington's machinations rising again. Annoyed that his ire had no effect on Reddington as per usual. Tempted by the impulse to let Reddington know that his plan backfired.

"But her death was an accident," Ressler said, telling himself to get over it. He can't afford it right now and it was no longer fair.

"I sincerely doubt that," Reddington said, impressed with Prescott's handiwork.

"Wouldn't he hide the body?" Ressler pointed out. Something he'd actually wondered himself.

"And trigger another search? Inviting another dogged inspector like yourself?" Reddington smiled, thinking of Donald's own determination on quests to bring down criminals. "No, an accident would be more efficient. No one will look."

"So he got to her before she did?"

"I imagine a confrontation of sorts occurred. She wouldn't be able to get rid of him easily. He knows where her bodies are buried," Reddington trailed off wistfully.

The car filled with mournful silence and Ressler felt like an awkward intruder at the reminder of Mr. Kaplan. Out of place among people who executed a deeply close friend for a betrayal he didn't quite understand.

Reminding him that he was unsure where he stood with Reddington.

And how he used his connection to Reddington to get Prescott to do what he wanted.

Minutes trickled by before Ressler broke the silence.

"Maybe it really was an accident. She was furious and yelling at me when I left," Ressler said softly, edging the lie spun from truth carefully forward.

Reddington turned towards him, eyebrows raised. "Well that's different. You two managed to remain professional through all the smugness. What did you say to Hitchen to put her in that mood?"

Ressler eyes flicked downwards.

Reddington waited.

"She tried to force me to acknowledge she's in charge; to do what she wanted," Ressler finally said. "Told her 'no.' Snatched my badge out of her hand and walked out."

"Ah, yes, that'll do it."

"Are we going to blackmail him with Hitchen's death this time?" Ressler asked, getting away from the memory of his physical reaction that led to her death. He dreaded the oncoming meeting. And he didn't know whether he was going to correct Reddington's misconception or not.

"Merely testing the waters. We're going to see if an arrangement can be made. If he puts together why Laurel Hitchen stormed the courtroom it won't be long before he identifies you. Your former colleague, Julian Gale, made quite a ruckus. So I rather offer him a job first, and if necessary, be the one to reveal who you are, before he seeks out my enemies."

Ressler went quiet.

Questions ran through his mind. The desire to know what Reddington thought Prescott would have done if he had identify him. How did he expect Prescott to react to the revelation he was FBI. The hypotheticals for answers he already had. Wanting to test Reddington's skills.

An urge to ask what were the plans to deal with Prescott now. What did Reddington plan to negotiate with. What would they do if Prescott wanted revenge. What else did he know about the man.

Answers he wanted to hear, to justify the creeping willingness to let Prescott take the fall.

"He did me a favor."

A truth instead.

"Yes. I know you hated her." Reddington looked out the car window, not wanting Donald to pick up on his pensiveness. Donald would be the one bearing the consequences if this couldn't be resolved peacefully.

They remained silent for the rest of the drive. Ressler wrestling with the idea of telling Reddington the truth. Tell him now, because there's no way he can conceal his reaction to Prescott without Reddington noticing. Or to wait for the inevitable when they met Prescott again. Let Reddington handle the situation while he observed, before it all came crashing down.

He still hasn't decided when they disembarked, quietly following Reddington to a back alley. Walking a step behind, Ressler's eyes roving for danger, wondering why Dembe was staying in the car.

They entered from the back door, passing crates of vegetables waiting to be unpacked. The workers glancing up as they passed before returning to their tasks. Reddington walked up to a waitress, asking for a private room, Ressler listening to him ask for the Singing Mermaid hors d' oeuvres followed with Sea Unicorns. Surprised when Reddington handed her three Benjamins. Whoever Bella Marina was, Reddington didn't think harshly of her.

They're seated in an isolated room at a table for five, white plates and silver utensils still bundled in their monogrammed napkins, not waiting long when a hot woman strode in. Bella had curves and Ressler kept his gaze from lingering on her chest. She carried herself with an underlying aura that experience in his career taught him that Bella had an chronic anxiety affliction. One of the men following her held three extremely large takeout platters stacked in a white plastic bag. The other had his hands clasped behind him.

"You're looking for Mr. Prescott," the dark blonde woman immediately started. "He quit."

"Quit?" Reddington exclaimed, disbelieving what that meant.

The surprise Ressler was feeling wasn't fake. A part of him hadn't believed Prescott.

"He's done. Gone. He quit," Bella said, relief and nervousness in her eyes.

She's scared of us, Ressler realized. Freed from Prescott and now afraid they were taking his place.

"I know who you are. He showed me your wanted poster," Bella spoke quickly. "He thought you might be coming here. He told me to tell you that he's retired and to leave him alone."

She took a breath and barreled on. "I never had a way to contact him. And he's never returning here. Cleared out. I packed up your order. Please don't come back."

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"Unbelievable!"

Dembe looked at them questioningly from the rear view mirror. "What happened?"

"He quit! Out of the game!"

At that Dembe raised an eyebrow. The news too good to be true. He didn't like Raymond's plan. After meeting Prescott … he liked it even less.

"So what now?" Ressler asked, hoping this was the end of things, setting the chilled packages on the carseat. Thanking the universe the meeting didn't happen.

"Now I verify with other sources." Though Prescott's sudden retirement may not have reached their ears yet.

"Can't you leave a post-it note at his depository?"

"Already emptied and cleaned."

The admiring tone of voice had Ressler looking at Reddington in askance. He wondered when Reddington went back there. The room had been filled with evidence.

Evidence of cover ups… gone, Ressler thought grumpily.

Reddington glanced at the takeout between them. "One more stop along the way and then we'll drop you back off."

"I still need to get lunch," Ressler muttered, peeking into the top plate. This wasn't going to feed him.

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The remaining two platters were left on a trolley cart where the site's personnel could help themselves. Reddington and Dembe took off with the third.

"Oh, wow." Aram chewed slowly on the mini-arrangement of caviar and herbal bits on a sliver of white toast. Stifling the noise he was about to make that should really remain between him and Samar.

"These are the best caviars I ever had," Cooper commented over his selection on a paper plate. Not bothered at all that this could be construed as inappropriate. Compared to all the stunts Reddington had pulled over the years, this was nothing. However he warned Reddington not to make this a habit.

"Tastes like salt," Ressler mumbled, swallowing grey colored caviar down with water.

Aram and Cooper looked affronted.

"Try the fish liver," Samar suggested, pointed at the pale cream colored slice that looked like brie sitting on brown toast. "It's smooth."

"Delicious."

"Wow, it's like cream."

"Tastes like bad beef pâté."

"What's the status on the fixer?" Cooper asked.

"Reddington is checking with more sources," Ressler replied, having already explained why they went to the Laguna. "Just to be sure he's really done. He's also looking into whether he can be bought."

"Are we going to pursue him?" Samar asked.

"No," Cooper decided. "Her death was ruled as an accident. Reddington has no proof. Prescott's gone. Until we have further reason, it's best to leave this whole mess alone."

"He's the only one who can prove Hitchen killed Wright," Samar pointed out. "Don't you want to go after him," she asked Ressler. "You can't get Hitchen but you can still get him."

"Yeah, I do," Ressler answered truthfully. "But we used him and Reven to get Hitchen. We can't get to him without it coming back on us."

Just like he couldn't confess and make a case for leniency without damning the task force, he thought miserably.

"Don't," Cooper warned him, seeing Ressler distressed with the circumstances. Knew how much Ressler wanted to bring Hitchen to justice.

"If this fixer is as good as Reddington say, let him gather intel and handle it first." Cooper grimaced, thinking how many times the officials above them became enemies once self serving interests collided with the duty to protect people and saving lives. "Prescott had connections to the National Security advisor; I don't want to go into this blind."

"Yes, sir," Ressler said unhappily, Samar giving him a comforting bump on the arm. Deepening the shame he felt. Because that's what he did, didn't he?

Went in blind. Clouded with anger.

And he was letting his team think he was unhappy for the wrong reasons.

"These are great, Ressler." Liz came up with Tom, joining them upstairs, having come from lunch themselves and delighted to find the extra treat upon their return.

"The caviars are almost fresh," Tom commented, ignoring Ressler's usual look of suspicion and annoyance every time he showed up.

"Ressler doesn't think so," Aram grumbled.

"Tasted like salt," Ressler repeated, moving his arm as Samar plucked a black caviar canapé off his plate and switched it with an abalone. "What the hell is he doing here," he asked Liz and Cooper.

Liz knocked a foot against her husband's under the table, warning him not to provoke her partner too much.

"Helping. There are people you'll want to keep an eye on since Red's currently out of the picture," Tom answered with a touch of smugness. He took private glee knowing it was going to aggravate Ressler once Liz's teammates knew he was Christopher Hargrave. One silver lining in his family drama.

Tom spotted the water bottle. "Are you just washing them down?"

"You're suppose to eat them slowly," Liz said, amused.

"Taste like salt." Ressler moved his other arm as Aram copied Samar's earlier maneuver, switching a yellow caviar out with raw salmon.

"So do I put his name under inactive status?" Aram asked.

"I think we should keep him off," Ressler replied. "Reddington's still trying to hire him. I think he wants him as another cleaner, too." Ressler hoped Reddington failed; he didn't want Prescott around to remind him what he did.

"And we might need him again." Ressler grimaced, he can't believe he just said that. Guilt scratched at his conscience. His teammates were going to read his reaction as disapproval over Reddington's new employee.

"Don't enter a record for now, Aram," Cooper ordered.

"We talking about Henry Prescott?" Liz asked, subdued at the reminder that Mr. Kaplan was gone before she got a chance to know her. A flicker of rage licked her heart remembering Reddington's extreme reaction that was the cause of that. She should have been told. She was her only other connection to her mother.

"Yeah," Ressler confirmed.

The sound of a harsh choke changed their attention towards Tom in concern as he cleared his throat.

"Did you say Henry Prescott?" Tom coughed again, looking pained.

"You know him?" Ressler asked, cold dread creeping up his shoulders, hoping that Tom didn't, at the same time hoping Tom would be able to tell them more. Unsure which one he wanted.

"I know of him. My old boss called him the devil. Said if any of us ever worked with Prescott he would put a bullet in our heads himself."

Ressler froze. Aware that shock overrode any sense of alarm he should be feeling. That was completely not what he expected Tom to say.

"So he's a really dangerous fixer?" Aram asked, the darkening anger on Tom's face worrying.

"Fixer? Are you kidding me?! More like saboteur." Tom clenched his fists, keeping his voice down in an angry whisper. This was why he wanted Reddington out of Liz's life. He kept bringing new threats to her. "And Reddington wants to hire him?!"

Saboteur.

Stinging pinpricks crashed over Ressler at the word.

That can't be right.

Reddington would have said something. He's about to object and challenge Tom with his own impressions when he remembered it was none of Tom's business. The mess with Prescott was between him and Reddington. And Ressler didn't want Tom meddling when the situation was already resolved.

If it is resolved, Ressler thought, his distrust of Prescott returning.

Cooper just looked put upon at another revelation of Reddington's omission. Liz shared her boss's sentiment, knowing both of them have ceased to be surprised.

"Well, apparently he quit," Samar said, watching Tom. As a fellow former covert operative she found his reaction intriguing. She didn't doubt his information. But it made Reddington's decision to place Ressler as Prescott's handler very odd.

"Quit," Tom repeated blankly.

"Yeah. Reddington's sources are saying Prescott retired," Aram offered, hoping that solved whatever issue Tom had. The new information striking new fear into him. The task force's close call with Reddington's previous cleaner still too recent.

"Quit," Tom echoed. Not believing what he was hearing. "Someone like that doesn't just quit. Not only does he destroy from inside out, he's a vindictive bastard and can play the long game. This guy is poison!" Tom warned.

"Funny. Sounds like you and Reddington," Ressler snarked, meeting Tom's glare with a glower of his own. Burying his confusion at Tom painting such a different picture of Prescott. He would never had called the fixer had he known.

"At least we're on your side," Tom shot back. Years ago Prescott wiped out several of his competitors and friends. If it hadn't been for the Major's tight control and steady leadership, he'd probably be dead too. "You know what we're up to."

"Do we?" Ressler looked at the former covert operative accusingly and Tom narrowed his eyes at him.

"Guess not if he didn't share Prescott's rep," Tom retorted. Angry, somehow still surprised that Reddington would hire someone like that. After everything that's happened. It strengthened his resolve to figure out the mystery of those bones. And it looked like he had better do it soon. "I'd shoot Reddington right now for trying to hire him."

"Tom!" Liz scolded, not looking forward to this new fight between her husband and Reddington. Ressler was throwing her a discreet glance, also concerned at this new information, and she gave him a small nod. She'll talk to Reddington later.

"Leave it alone, Tom," Cooper said firmly, calculating the new information, taking charge and watching Liz's husband. He's been paying more attention to the former spy ever since the truth of his identity was revealed to him. He could tell the man was still adjusting to it and was currently at loss how to deal with his parents. Knowledge of Agent Keen's parentage wasn't helping. It was going to make Tom reckless. "I'll bring it up with Reddington. But Prescott is irrelevant if he's inactive."

Tom glanced down at the appetizers from the Laguna.

"Mr. Keen," Cooper said, knowing exactly what Tom was thinking. "Do not bring a saboteur down on us. Don't create a problem when there isn't any to start with."

"I know," Tom grumbled. "Just … talk to Red before he hires him. This is a guy you don't want around."

Ressler stayed silent, appearing as if his attention was on Tom like everyone else. Not hiding his own darkened expression.

Uncertainty and anger clawed into him. This wasn't suppose to happen. He covered up his crime to protect the task force. And lying might also endangered them?

He's mad. Prescott was suppose to be a personal and private problem.

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