In the Stillness
Chapter 10
"Put away the gun, Donald, don't be silly. Sit down, relax."
"Oh, no, he's not. Agent Ressler is leaving."
Ressler hoped he didn't appear too flippant as he dismissed Liz's exasperated command, and readily took a seat on the plush lounge chair next to her. There was no way he was going anywhere, and Liz's anger is something he's just going to have to deal with later. Right now, he had far more urgent and pressing issue to resolve.
"Ressler…" Liz's eyes widened in disbelief, and by the way her lips pursed tightly, it was understood with the men that she was none too pleased of being affronted.
"Oh, Elizabeth, let him be. This is turning into a rather fun reunion." Reddington chided Liz with a gentle smile, then turned to Ressler, "How's the leg, Donald? Healed alright?"
"It's fine…the leg is fine." Ressler shifted his leg slightly under the unexpected attention to it, and cleared his throat in awkward discomfiture, trying to figure out whether he should thank Reddington for what he did for him inside the box. It also didn't escape him that perhaps Reddington was entrapping him for show of gratitude. Oh, wouldn't he like that.
"That's good. I'm glad to hear it. That sure was a wild night, wasn't it?" Reddington let out a sharp chuckle, but Ressler found nothing of it amusing as he cringed at the memory. "Look, Red, if you want my gratitude, fine. You can have it. Thank you."
"Oh, it was my pleasure, Donald. Please, don't feel as though you owe me anything."
"Of course, I don't owe you anything. You also put a gun to my head." Ressler was just biding his time to remind Reddington of that glaring detail, and he may have done a poor job of hiding a satisfied smirk.
"Did I? I may have forgotten about that little detail." Reddington laughed heartily, "Who really keeps up with the tides of times? It's the irony, Donald, that cruel irony at its best."
"Red, there is something I need from you." Ressler didn't care to apologize for taking an abrupt charge of this conversation, but he had enough of the pleasantries. He had more urgent matters to discuss, and didn't know if time was at his side.
"If it's about the Congress Mather case, I've given details to Lizzie, which I'm sure you'd find very useful. That's why I'm here to meet with her."
"No, it's not about the case." Ressler knew this was not the best time for it, but it may be the only time for it. He had to take the opportunity right now, and deal with the heat later. He had to find out the truth, and feeling emboldened with the desire to protect Liz, he blurted out, "It's actually about…Tom Keen. What information do you have on him? Why did you tell Liz to be careful of him? What did he…"
"Ressler! That is enough!" As expected, he was interrupted by Liz, whose loud exasperated cries refused him to speak another word. Ressler turned to face Liz, finding eyes that were darkened with anger and indignation. "Not another word, Ressler. You stay out of this, and out of my life."
"Liz…I can't do that."
"You're mistaken if you think that was a request. I can handle this, without your help. And this conversation is over." She then turned to Reddington, "You need to leave, now."
Reddington didn't flinch a muscle, but instead leaned into his lounge chair and shifted deeper into the cushion. He didn't seem to be going anywhere soon. "Well, isn't this a rather interesting turn of events? I say, Donald, there are moments when you truly surprise me."
"Is she in danger?" Ressler didn't waste time; he wanted answers even if he had to squeeze it out of him. And with Liz ready to cut Reddington loose, it was that much more urgent that he got something, anything out of this man, now.
"Ressler, not another word…" Liz fumed mercilessly, but Ressler did not break his gaze onto the older man, demanding a response to his question.
"No, she is not. I don't believe so." To Ressler's slight surprise, Reddington replied in what appeared to be without pretense. "But then again, you're asking the wrong question, Donald."
"What? What the hell does that mean?" The heart's relief at hearing that Liz was not in danger lasted only a fleeting moment as suddenly fear and alarm gripped him at this unexpected reveal. Ressler felt desperation seep into his rationale, and without sense, he may have strangled Reddington for some clear answers.
"And, Donald, you may even be asking the wrong person." Even Liz was rendered speechless at this enigmatic development, but before lucidity returned in form, Reddington spoke abruptly, as if he had revealed too much, "Well, I'm due in Bangkok in about six hours. Good bye, Lizzie. Good bye, Donald. This was fun, let's do this again soon." And just as swiftly as he fixed his fedora upon his head, he was gone.
Ressler and Liz sat on their chairs, without words or movement, each lost in thought of what had just transpired. More than anything, Ressler was angry that once again, Reddington had left him with more questions than answers, and he had absolutely no patience or tolerance for it. And it positively boiled him to bits that Reddington could treat this like a game of enigma, reducing him to be yet again a pawn to his twisted entertainment. But just when he was about to curse under his breath, Liz abruptly stood up from her chair and proceeded to exit the lounge hall, resolutely without an acknowledgment of his presence. It was evident that she was angry, and Ressler had to resolve it.
"Liz, look, I'm sorry." Ressler quickly caught up to her at the end of the hallway, and stood before her.
"Not only you lied to me, but what you did just now…" Liz stammered, in an effort to quell her own agitated emotions, "Ressler, I understand you are concerned for me, but I will not have you manhandle everything as you see fit. Especially as I've thought we had an understanding."
"I know, I told you that I'll stay out of it, but I just can't…"
Liz cut him off curtly, "We have one more day of investigation, let's not lose focus of it. And when we get back to DC, let's discuss this as partners, as I…could tell you right now that I have difficulty trusting you."
"Liz…" Ressler felt shell shocked at her words, as if they were daggers into the center of his heart. He saw his hand, reaching to grab her arm, but Liz had already walked on without a word. And she got into the elevator without a last look.
. . . . . .
The next day was spent driving to the fraternity house, Omega Chi, and then back to Boston University for further investigation. Both agents appeared to have committed agreement that the business at hand must come first, and neither dared to stray from it. Both put on neutral masks and tucked away all the messy emotions out of sight. The long car rides were spent discussing the cases, and Liz filled him in with details of information that she retained from Reddington. The information wasn't much, but there was a questionable connection between the two deceased men that stemmed from a certain gentlemen's club located in New York City. Ressler didn't offer that they investigate the lead together, as he was still reeling from her words of mistrust and that perhaps their partnership had already become undefined. And he was certain she was aware of it as well, but all of those unresolved complexities simply must wait.
After the investigation, they caught the nine o'clock flight back to DC, with Liz falling asleep next to him again. Ressler watched her sleep at the corner of his eyes, listening to her regulated heavy breathing, and felt relieved that she was resting and at peace. And although feeling intrusive, he allowed his eyes to linger over her sleeping face. All he wanted to do at the moment was to pick up the corner of that blue flannel blanket over her body, and tuck her in tighter so that she was kept warm. He wanted to brush away that stray hair that was dancing over her face, so that peace was that much closer to her. And he wanted to take her heart, and guard it faithfully in his hands, and shield it from every harm.
The tranquil rest on her face was a sharp contrast to what he had seen the night before. Liz was angry, he understood that. Liz wants him out of her affairs, he got that. And the last thing he should've done was force himself upon Reddington, no doubt about it. But if she truly expected him to give up on the pursuit, she didn't know him at all. If anything, all that had happened gave him more courage and boldness, he felt more ferocious and desperate to seek the truth. He wasn't going to give up, no. Nothing else gave him the resolve but this, that he will protect her to the end. And then and there, against her wishes, he made a silent promise to her that he wasn't going anywhere.
Ressler's thoughts went back to what Reddington had said. What did he mean by not asking the right questions? What are the right questions? Why can't that man ever say anything forthright? He cursed under his breath that he had no lead, except for what Reddington had told him. Reddington also said that he was not asking the right person. Who is the right person? Who is this person? Then, like a flash of lightning unto the unsuspecting darkness, it dawned on him. Ressler knew who the right person was. He knew whom Reddington was referring to. Why didn't he think of this before?
. . . . . .
Ressler arrived at the headquarters early the next day, marching into Assistant Director Cooper's office without summons but with much desperation for time. It was expectedly very difficult to convince Cooper to grant him a day off, or rather, to plunge with faith into a lead that only hinged on Ressler's intuition. It didn't help that they had just returned from Boston with fresh information to comb through, and the timing of Ressler missing a day could potentially cost the team an immeasurable progress. But after much deliberation, Cooper finally relented, yet again putting his trust in his top agent. And upon his permission, Ressler left immediately to West Virginia, to the undisclosed location of high security penitentiary for convicts with crimes against US government.
Upon arrival, and after receiving clearance with confirmation from Cooper, Ressler was led to a grey concrete room consisting of a small table and two chairs on each side. There were two guards already situated by the door, and the escorting guard directed Ressler to sit on the chair facing the wall. And as he waited for his criminal to make entrance, it dawned on him that he had completely forgotten to tell Liz that he will not be available at work that day. He would have to rely on her to make the investigation report, and he was certain that she would not be pleased to be left in the dark about his day off.
Just then, the grey metal door opened with a loud boom, and two guards emerged holding onto a slight figure in between. It was a woman, in short auburn hair, wearing a grey prison garb. She was in handcuffs, along with thin metal shackles adorning her ankles, and she did not resist the guards guiding her to the chair opposite Ressler. He looked at her, and much had changed about her appearance since the last time he had seen her. Her face took on a tint of ashen grey, much like the color of concrete walls in the room. Her hair was unkempt, as if it were her fingers that combed through it without much thought. But it was her eyes that startled him the most. She didn't look at him, not even once. But her gaze was toward somewhere else, beyond the world she existed, as if she looked right through the walls, envisioning of freedom. And until that freedom, nothing about her would speak of life worth living.
"Gina Zanetakos, my name is Donald Ressler, I'm a special agent for the Federal Bureau of…"
"I know who you are. What do you want from me?" Gina's harsh voice cut him off, startling him when he found her sharp eyes upon him. He recognized that focus, and knew that underneath the veneer of her handcuffs, she was the same person he had remembered to be.
"I am here for an investigation, and I need your help. I am seeking some information."
Gina snorted without care, "And why should I help you?"
"Because it might help your case." Ressler had fibbed on instinct. He knew he didn't have any jurisdiction to guarantee anything.
"There's nothing you can do for me. You're lying to me, and you're wasting your time."
Ressler didn't flinch, and he held his eyes steadfast on her, "I need information on Tom Keen."
"I don't know who that is." But it was that pause, that slight pause she took before responding. That was all Ressler needed, that alone was a confirmation. She's good, but she shouldn't underestimate him.
"We found a picture of him in your apartment before your arrest a year ago."
"I've never seen that picture, and I've already told you that someone planted that picture. There's nothing more I can say about it." Gina was now beginning to explain herself a little bit more than necessary, and Ressler just needed a right angle to let it all loose.
"Were you lovers?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"How else would you explain a picture by your bed? You two were lovers, and now you must feel abandoned. Neglected. Thrown away."
Gina began to laugh, but it wasn't out of pleasure, but of hollow fear, of defeated conclusion. "You're crazy. And you must be desperate to come here to talk to me. You're going to get nothing out of me. Nothing."
But Ressler was far from giving up, "He doesn't care for you, so why do you protect him? Don't you want him behind bars, with you? Wouldn't you want that same fate?"
"I have nothing more to say to you."
"Gina, I know you have something on him, and for whatever reason that you're protecting him, let me assure you that it'd only harm you in the end. The sooner you talk, the better it is for your well being."
She snorted again, "Are you threatening me now? Do you think that would work?"
"That was not a threat. It was a fact. If you'd like, take it as a warning. The sooner you talk, the better it is for your well being." Then he stood up abruptly, leaving her with that last thought in an effort to unnerve her, to unhinge her will. He knew it had bothered her that he was in charge of the conversation, and even in choosing to leave at that moment, he was calling the shots. She must know that as desperate as he was, he was not going to beg, as she expected him to.
But as he pushed back the chair, Gina leaned in suddenly and hissed, "You have no idea what you're getting into."
And as Ressler stood motionlessly with mouth agape at the shock of her words, the two guards by the door moved in on Gina, helping her to get up from the chair. Ressler's eyes were fixed upon her, willing to grab her and beg her to stay, fiercely wanting answers and explanations, but she was done with him. Her eyes returned to that emptiness again, and she willingly walked in the clutches of the guards out of the room.
. . . . . .
Ressler arrived at his home close to midnight, and dragged his weary body onto his couch with a bottle of whiskey in hand. His mind was just as weary, but he sat, deeply entranced in thought. There was so much he had learned, but so much more that he did not understand. Although he had received nothing concrete from Gina Zanetakos, she gave him more than a confirmation that there was indeed a connection between her and Tom. It would take time to discover the truth of it, but he considered this a lead, and it was something. And even then, with this tiny ray of hope, he felt closer to the truth, and that was just about the right amount of strength he needed. And he will not rest until he gets to the bottom of all of this.
Just then, his door bell rang with a sharp interruption to the stillness. Out of instinct, Ressler grabbed his gun and tucked it into the back of his trousers, and carefully peered into his door peep hole. And upon seeing the figure behind the door, he had to blink twice to confirm that what he was seeing was indeed real. It was Liz.
"Liz…" He mumbled in a mixture of alarm and surprise as he opened the door.
She looked just as unsure as he was, "I…I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I know it's late."
"No, I…just came home, and was gonna have some alcohol, actually." He attempted some humor, and Liz gave a faint smile. "Are you here to yell at me for not being at work?"
"No, Don…I…um…" Liz was stammering nervously, and by the harsh lines etched on her face, Ressler knew something was wrong. He stepped away from the door, and stood before her.
"Liz, are you alright? Did something happen?"
"I…found out that Tom was…having an affair. I left him tonight. I walked out on him."
"Liz, I…" Ressler sought for words, but he found none. He was rendered completely speechless at this sudden and shocking development.
"And I'm so scared, and I had nowhere else to go." Her voice faded with sorrow so raw, that all Ressler could do was to reach out his hands and pull her into his arms in a tight embrace. She did not resist one bit, and leaned into him readily, burying her face against his chest. He felt the warmth of her tears against his body, and caressed the length of her back with firm conviction. Her hands were clinging onto the collar of his shirt and she pressed her body into his, while nestling her cheek against his cheek. He could feel her body shaking in fear and the lingering shock, and her tears would not be abated. He held her securely, perhaps more for himself, and whispered gently into her ear against his cheek.
"I'm glad you're here. Everything is going to be alright, I promise you."
. . . . . .
A/N: GAHHHH…just few more days until Blacklist returns! So excited!
And come on, Gina Zanetakos and Tom issue was "resolved" so quickly on the show! My money is on her, that she'll probably play some role in dismantling of Tom…(fingers crossed)…and Lizzie seriously needs to walk out on him once he's found to be cheating on her… (double fingers crossed)…