On the flight back to D.C.
For the rest of the day, on the way to the airport and during the first half hour of the flight Liz and Don hadn't talked much. They had been too shocked, and both of them had been too deep in thoughts.
But now Liz turned to him. "What do you know about the whole thing?"
Don sighed. "In fact, I don't know much. I've not a clue what happened that night, didn't know anything about Masha, you, any connections between me, you, or Reddington. I just thought it was better not to let Red know how little I know." He smiled ironically.
Liz' hopes had been higher, but she was eager to hear anything that could help her to understand what had happened in the past. "Tell me what you know, and tell me about your mom."
"There are a lot of things she didn't tell," Don said. "That's for sure. She was from Russia originally, from Karelia, that's a district north from St. Petersburg."
"That's why you speak Russian." She smiled.
"Yeah, she taught me, although she was probably supposed not to because it was a secret, our secret language. We only talked Russian when we were alone." He remembered her shocked face when he had once stormed into a room, shouting something in Russian, and then realized that she had a visitor.
"She was abducted by the Predinksi Cartel when she was a young girl," he went on.
"The Predinksi Cartel?"
"Same business as the Eberhardt Cartel," Don said grimly.
Liz remembered his reaction to the victims of the Eberhardt Cartel. He had been really shocked. Maybe it had been the first time he realized what his mother had gone through.
"She was somehow rescued when she was about 14 or 15. She never told me how she was saved or who saved her. Only that she was brought to the US and got a new identity."
"According to Red it was Tom's broker." Liz still couldn't believe that Red hadn't told her about it earlier. Things might be different by now.
"It's possible." Don nodded. "She never told me what she was really doing. Therefore I know less about her assignment than Reddington does. She was a secretary and worked for a charity organization. She definitely had secrets, sometimes she was gone for a while - the rehab centre, a journey to collect money for charity... She was often unhappy, depressive..." He shrugged. "Before she left us, she told me that she had spied on someone, got into trouble and had to leave us because otherwise, we would get killed. But she didn't tell me what exactly had happened, who had been involved or what this had been all about."
"But you obviously were aware of a connection to Reddington?"
"She gave me a framed photo as a farewell present. Many years later I bought a new frame for it and found a microfilm in the old frame," Don explained. "On that film were five photos of five men, most of them surveillance photos, labelled with cryptic descriptions. One of these men was Reddington - I haven't found out yet who the other four are -that's why I tried everything to get assigned to his case."
"How was Red described?" Liz asked curiously.
"As the trump card." When she looked at him in surprise, he explained: "Like Reddington said it seemed to be a kind of game. Their names are ace of clubs, ace of spades, ace of hearts, ace of diamonds, and the trump card. I think," he added, "that one of the other men was wearing a ring as you described it. But I've to look it up first for not being mistaken."
Now she was almost excited. "Really? And you couldn't find out who the men are?"
"No, unfortunately not. I really tried everything," Don assured her. "I even played around with the descriptions. You know that ace of clubs could mean that the guy is a night club owner and stuff like that." He had to laugh about his own words.
Liz laughed with him, but then got serious again. "Red probably knows who the men are."
"Probably," Don agreed. "But I think it's too early to ask him. I think he's right and we should take one step after the other."
"And find out whether we are blood related or not." Liz sighed. "I can't imagine you as my brother."
"Well, I can't imagine you as my sister, either." He smiled. "But of course, he's right. We have to find out."
"How was your mom?" She asked and cuddled up in her seat. She would have loved to huddle against him, but she didn't dare to. The thought that they might be brother and sister and had slept with each other was bad enough. She knew she would miss him as her lover if it turned out that they were really blood related.
"Like Russian moms are." Don grinned, but she only looked at him without understanding. "It's a cliché that Russian mothers are strict, that they teach their children manners, principles, beliefs, rules, and discipline, push them into something, a sport, a good job, and that on the other hand, they would rather die than let anything happen to their children. They are caring, but you have to pay a certain price."
"Be a good boy?" She asked with a smile.
"A good, diligent boy," he stated it precisely. "Russian mothers hate nothing more than lazy children."
"The famous stage mother," Liz understood. "One whose love you have to earn."
"It wasn't that extreme," he said, "I didn't have to earn her love, but she had certain demands. On the other hand, no matter what had happened during the day, in the evening she would talk to me, maybe explain a few things, why she wanted it this way and no other, but then she would lie with me and tell me a bedtime story, mostly a funny one."
It was a nice picture he described. As much as Liz had loved it growing up with Sam, she felt a yearning for having a mother like this. "No matter whether she is my mother or not I wish she's still alive and we can find her and talk to her."
She looked so desperate and lost that he couldn't help but stroke her hair, then her cheek.
"Honestly, I don't think she's your mom," Don said. "She would have told me." He was sure she wouldn't have done this to him. She had loved him too much not to tell him that he had a sister.
"But she knew Masha. She could tell me about my mother."
"Yeah," he admitted.
Then something different crossed Liz' mind. "If they knew each other, do you think they were both victims of this cartel?"
"I really don't know. She never spoke of anyone called Masha."
"It must have been hard for you when she left."
"Yes, it was," he admitted. "But she made me understand that she didn't want to but had to. That she had no other choice. I was never angry with her."
"How about your dad?" Liz asked.
"Reddington may be right that he wasn't my biological father," Don explained. "I was born before they got married. He fathered me later. He was always nice to me, and we got closer when she left. But there's a difference between the relationship to a mother and the relationship to a father. When she left I had to grow up." He smiled ironically.
Liz tried to imagine him as a child, but she failed. He was so controlled and disciplined that it was hard to imagine him laughing, joking around, being easy-going. It made her sad, and she realized that she really wasn't the only one who was suffering. "Is your dad still alive?"
"No, he died from cancer some years ago."
That's why he had been so sympathetic when Sam died. He knew all the pain she was feeling. She leaned her head against his shoulder, tired, feeling ashamed about being selfish now and then, made a promise to herself to act less headless in the future.
By the way, I had the idea for Ressler's family when I had to think about a former friend. Her name was really Eleonora, and she was from the described area, a beautiful woman with something mystic and tragic about her. She had a little boy who looked the way I would imagine Diego as a child. I don't know what happened to them because we lost touch many years ago, but she suits the picture so perfectly that I had to write this story.