When the car pulled up in the underground parking lot, Ressler was taken aback. Reddington was driving. As the passenger window lowered, Ressler peered inside. "Where's Dembe?" he asked. He wanted to add, you piss him off too? but held his tongue.

"Circumstances dictate that I go alone," Red replied. "With you, of course."

Ressler scowled at the criminal. Of course.

"Get in, Donald."

"I'll drive," Ressler replied, leaning back from the window, but Red stopped him.

"You don't know where we're going. I do. Get in."

Ressler pulled open the passenger door and climbed in.

"Besides, chances are I'm more sober." Reddington waited for him to strap in, before adding, "How's the head?"

Clenching his jaw as they pulled away from the Post Office, Ressler didn't look at Red, instead seeing the numerous shots of whisky he'd drank and the resulting hangover he'd fought all morning. "Fine."

Reddington glanced his way, gave the softest of knowing chuckles, and then nodded to a bottle of water in the console between them. "I thought you might need that." Ressler glanced at the water, but he wasn't going to give Red the satisfaction of taking it. They drove for some time, before Reddington sighed, looking over at his passenger. "You're still upset with me."

Ressler shook his head slowly, giving a humorless half smile. Of course he was damn well upset.

Still heading out of town, Reddington drove through the traffic in an easy fashion, in much the same way he waltzed through rooms. As if he owned the road at his feet.

"Donald, what is it about me being a criminal that you don't understand, even after all these years and all we've been through?"

Ressler looked down. That was what he'd asked himself a dozen times last night, staring at the bottom of a whisky glass. Why was it that Reddington could still do this to him, when he damn well knew the man inside out? He had no answer to why it bothered him when Reddington inevitably showed his true colors. "Can we just drop it?" he replied, looked pointedly out of the window.

Reddington, never one to be told no, continued unabated. "Perhaps you're under the impression that my association with the Bureau and task force would inevitably lead me further away from my criminal tendencies?"

Ressler didn't reply at first, because yes, that had occurred to him. He himself had stepped into the dark and become someone he hadn't imagined he could. Would that have always been his fate, or was it his close proximity to Reddington's world that had contributed? He didn't know and that ate at him. In a perfect world was it possible that being so closely tied to law enforcement personnel daily would also have lifted Reddington somewhat away from his past? He didn't know that either, but doubted that was going to happen. Red was too entrenched in his world.

"No," he told Reddington. "You are who you are." Prescott's death rose up between them like an insurmountable wall. "You kill without conscience when things become inconvenient for you rather than face the consequences of your actions."

"I do what I must do, Donald, to maintain this position with the task force, and the front I must keep up with my associates. I walk a tightrope. You of all people are well aware of that."

Ressler was aware of it. But he didn't like it. "Well, I guess that makes it okay, then," he said, not meaning a word of it.

"I told you last night why I disposed of Henry Prescott. It benefited both of us. And the result is that you're not in jail, my arrangement with the FBI continues intact, and here we are today, still working together."

Ressler slid his eyes across to Reddington. "That's what this is today, isn't it? You proving to me that what we do is necessary."

"Something like that, yes."

Ressler didn't reply. It was pointless. Red would never see things his way, nor would he ever be comfortable with the criminal's mode of operation. And yet, here he was, sitting with the man about to help him again. Was it for the sake of the task force or just something Reddington needed? It was all too much to comprehend at times. Ressler rubbed his eyes, willing the headache to subside. It was difficult enough today without having to think too hard.

###

They drove for some time, leaving the city behind them. Ressler stirred in his seat and sat up straighter. Lost in thought, as well as nursing his hangover, he'd retreated into himself, barely noticing the change in scenery until now. He eyed the bottle of water beside him, and with a sigh, picked it up and unscrewed the lid, taking a gulp in an effort to clear his head. "So what are we doing today?" Something else was bothering him. "And why the hell did it have to be out here in the middle of nowhere?"

Red chuckled. "That's the spirit, Donald. I thought you'd never ask. I need to meet a man by the name of Ethan Quinn, and then I'll have a job for you to do."

Ressler sighed. "What job?"

"Once our meeting is over, I'll need you to take Ethan into custody."

"What? Why?"

"In an effort to stifle a direction his employer is going in, Ethan is giving up company secrets to me today. His life would be over the second his colleagues found out about his dalliance in corporate espionage. Once he's given me the information, he will need the protection of your side of the fence."

"I would have thought you were more than capable of giving him a new life and identity and getting him squared away," Ressler said.

"True, I am. But Ethan has his reasons for wanting to be taken into custody."

Ressler looked away. He'd also had his own reasons yesterday, yet Red had put a stop to that in no uncertain terms.

Reddington looked across at Ressler, as if understanding the direction his thoughts had gone. "It's not the same thing, Donald."

Ressler stared at him, opened his mouth, then thought it better not to reply.

###

Some time later they passed by the chained off entrance to a National Park that was closed for the season, and then shortly after Red turned off the main road into a narrower, unmarked road that began to climb.

Ressler looked around. "Here?" He looked down at the drop off to his right and a mountain lake gleaming in the early afternoon sun in the distance.

"Yes. A closed mine," Red chuckled. "Ethan has a flair for the dramatics."

"Unlike you, of course," Ressler replied dryly, still sipping on his water that wasn't helping his hangover lift. Or improve his mood.

Red smiled, "Of course not. No one comes up here now, but Landmark still have shares in the property."

"Landmark?" Ressler asked, recalling the name of the company Liz had briefed them on that morning.

"Yes, Donald. This is all related to the case I gave Elizabeth today. We get Ethan safely away. Your team also get the CEO of Landmark."

Ressler found himself wishing he'd been able to listen more to Liz that morning. "What is Ethan giving you today?"

"Proof that Landmark has been engaging in highly illegal practices in the construction industry."

Ressler didn't need to know any more than that, but was curious. He was also feeling belligerent and testy and the glare of the sun through his window wasn't helping.

"Why me? And why today?"

"You're not enjoying our field trip?" Red asked, avoiding Ressler's question. At Ressler's silence, he relented. "Partly because of yesterday. I feel I've disappointed you.

Ressler stared at him. "Disappointed?" He shook his head. "Well, that's one word to describe it."

"I hope that one day you can understand why I did what I did with Henry Prescott."

"I do understand why," Ressler replied, then stared out the window again. "Doesn't mean I'm happy about it. At all."

"Fair enough."

Red drove slowly up the narrow road. "I've known Ethan a great many years. He and I were in the Naval Academy together. Both our paths went in different directions after that."

Ressler shook his head at that. "You became a criminal."

"Yes," Red replied, keeping his eyes on the road. "But the truth is, Donald, that I don't trust Ethan's welfare with anyone but you."

Ressler just looked at him, but Reddington seemed lost in thought, perhaps remembering an earlier time when he was in line for Admiral.

They made their way up the winding road with a sharp drop off on one side and trees rising steeply up on the hill side of the road. Across a wide valley from them, several jagged scars of granite were carved into the cliff face. Below them on the hillside were more signs of excavation. The remnants of the abandoned mine. They rounded a bend, pulling up beside a tunnel wide enough for large trucks to drive through cut into the hillside, black inside the deeper it went. They parked in a small area close to the road. Above them was raw granite, and below them, trees had been cut below the short guard rail, opening up the view.

Red shut off the car and without the AC, it immediately felt warmer. Ressler opened the door to let in some fresh air, before stepping out of the car.

"Here," said Red, tossing Ressler the car keys over the roof of the Benz. "You should have sobered up enough to drive Ethan and I back after our meeting."

Ressler pocketed the keys, looking at Red silently. He hated it when the criminal was right.

###

Ressler thought Ethan hadn't arrived yet, but when Reddington strode purposefully away from the car toward the dark tunnel, he followed. The weight of his hand gun in his shoulder holster under his jacket was reassuring as they walked into the darkness. Entering the rocky overhang and stepping into the tunnel, it took Ressler's eyes a few moments to adjust to the dark after the bright sunlight. They spotted a vehicle parked further back in the tunnel, then saw a man walking toward them. He appeared to be about Reddington's age, and slightly built.

"Ethan, good to see you, my old friend," said Red, stepping forward.

"It is good to see you too, Raymond," Ethan said, speaking softly, his voice wavering as the two men clasped hands.

"I trust the family is well?" Red asked, and Ressler saw the flash that crossed Ethan's eyes. He knew Reddington had also seen it.

"Ethan?"

"I have this for you, as per our agreement," Ethan replied, sidestepping the question and reaching inside his coat pocket. Ressler's spidey sense dialed up a notch, but all Ethan pulled out was a thick envelope in a zip lock bag. "It's all in there, Raymond. A thumb drive with everything, and some papers."

"Thank you," Red replied, pocketing the envelope.

Ethan hesitated, then looked to Ressler, licked his lips, then his eyes fell on Red again.

"Ethan, what have you done?" Red asked, knowing by the look in Ethan's eyes.

His voice dropping to a whisper as three men appeared from behind Ethan, Reddington asked, "Why, Ethan? You're dying. Why do this now?"

"Yes. But my boy is very much alive. They have my boy. They will return Chris safely if I hand you over to them. I am sorry, Raymond. Truly sorry," Ethan said, tears forming in his eyes.

"So am I," Reddington said, taking a step back from Ethan and regarding the approaching men.

Ressler had whipped his firearm out at the sight of the men, and stood ready. "Red..."

"Stand down, Donald."

Ethan glanced behind them as the three men got closer, then leaned close to Red. "Raymond. My son. Find Chris!" he hissed.

The first of the men had approached. "Raymond Reddington, in the flesh," he said.

"Zack Peterson," Red said evenly. "I heard you were dead."

"I heard the same thing about you," Peterson replied, his gun aimed at Red. "Then I heard an even better story that you were in bed with the Feds." His eyes swiveled to Ressler. "And you have Fed written all over you."

"Raymond, forgive me," Ethan said, his voice barely audible.

Reddington's eyes fixed on Ethan. "What exactly am I forgiving you for, Ethan? That you have double crossed me, or that you had no idea they were going to do this and you have inadvertently led me into a trap?" Red knew the truth, but spoke for the benefit of Peterson.

Ethan didn't answer as a pistol was pushed hard to his head by Peterson. "I know you won't come with me to save your sorry ass, Reddington, but I think you would to save a friend," Peterson said.

Ressler's gun rose, pointing at Peterson. "Drop it!"

Reddington waved him down. "Lower your gun, Donald. No one needs to get hurt today."

Ressler shook his head. "No. I said drop it!" he repeated, gun still held on Peterson.

"Donald."

Ressler was torn, but at Red's arm on his, he lowered his weapon, but still held it at the ready. He could take down one, but three would be a challenge while there was a gun held to Ethan.

"I'll shoot him if you don't come with us, Reddington," Peterson said, his gun still held on Ethan.

"Red, please," Ethan said.

"That won't be necessary, Peterson," said Red. "I'm surrendering my firearm." But as Red pulled his gun, he didn't drop it nor surrender it. He fired, not at Peterson, but at Ethan, hitting him between the eyes.

"Son of a bitch!" Ressler cried, watching in horror as Red killed the man they'd come to meet. Ethan had the briefest moment of clarity in his eyes and then it was gone, forever extinguished as he hit the ground. Peterson recovered himself quickly, turning his gun toward Red. Ressler's gun was up again, and his bullet found Peterson a split second after Red fired at Ethan. Peterson dropped dead to the ground beside Ethan. Shots rang out around them as the two other men opened fire. Ressler got off one quick shot, which only dispersed the men behind a parked truck.

"Move!" Ressler told Red, dragging him behind him. He dodged behind another old truck, narrowly escaping a bullet that came whizzing from the dark behind them. As Ressler let off another shot, holding Reddington down, he spied more men running from the darkness of the tunnel.

"Go! There are too many of them!" Ressler called, pushing Red toward the tunnel opening, using the truck as temporary cover.

They ran into the daylight, momentarily blinded as Ressler dragged Reddington to one side, dodging another bullet. "Get to the car!" he yelled at Red, running for their parked vehicle. Ressler turned as the men behind them ran into the daylight.

A shot rang out in the bright sun. Ressler only had a second to react and jump aside as the man running toward him dropped in a splatter of blood. Reddington looked appreciatively across at the ridge. There was only one person it could be, and Ressler knew it just by the look in Red's eyes. Dembe. That's why he wasn't here. With thoughts of "I'm the marksman and should have been the one across the valley" along with "Red knew this could be a trap" running through his head, he took shelter behind their vehicle as the two gunmen disappeared back into the darkness of the tunnel. Red also took cover behind the car, between the vehicle and the guard rail behind him.

"I'd rather take you alive, Reddington, but I'll kill you if I must," a voice called out from the darkness of the tunnel, staying out of range of Dembe's rifle. Ressler glanced at Red. "Stay down," he hissed as Red moved.

"But your pet Fed is expendable," the voice continued from the tunnel. "Him, we don't need."

"Get in the car," Ressler told Red, "I'll get in through the passenger side. Dembe should keep them at bay long enough for us to get out of here." Red nodded, and moved to open the back door to climb in. As Ressler went for the front passenger door, something struck Reddington, knocking him off his feet. One of Peterson's men had appeared from nowhere around the vehicle and was now hell bent on taking Reddington. The impact slammed Red into Ressler who dropped his gun as he hit the dirt. Ressler didn't think twice, sprang to his feet and rammed their opponent. They struggled, the man with one hand on Red's neck, and the other holding off Ressler. Red's attacker went back to his original target and pulled out his gun, trying to aim it at Red, now apparently taking his bosses 'dead or alive' option to heart.

"No!" Ressler cried, pummeling into the attacker and shoving him out of the way. The bullet missed Red by inches, and now the man turned his attention on Ressler, grabbing Ressler up off the ground by his jacket. But Ressler was faster. Retrieving his gun from the gravel, he fired and hit the man in the heart, dropping him instantly. Ressler fell back as the man suddenly let go of him. Unable to keep his footing, his heart lurched as he lost his balance and toppled over the guard rail. From the corner of his eye he saw Reddington grab for him.

"Donald!"

But Red was just out of reach. He couldn't stop Ressler going over.

For a sickening moment, Ressler was terrified he was free falling off the cliff and plummeting to his death far below. But in seconds, he slammed into the ground, knocking the wind out of himself as he rolled over and over down the embankment, picking up speed on his downward hurtle between the tall trees. His gun flew from his hand as he bounced down the steep drop. Grabbing at tree trunks around him, unable to stop himself, he plunged down the steep embankment with seemingly no end in sight. Low branches struck him, whipping painfully into his face and hands, scratching his torso as his shirt pulled loose from his belt. Somewhere in the pain and terror of the fall, he was thankful he was not wearing a tie that would have caught on something and broken his neck.

There was no steering, no possible way to change direction and slow himself. It was just him and the hard ground and the half airborne plummet through the steep terrain as the sky and ground spun sickeningly around him. He slammed into a broken tree branch, feeling the squelch as it thrust into the side of his abdomen, gouging him deeply. He cried out in pain, and just as quickly as the branch had torn into him, it pulled out as his downward plunge continued. His head hit a large tree as he bounced past it, and again he yelled out. The sky and ground still spun around him, but now black spots filled his vision. The world was still spinning, but mercifully it quickly faded to black and he knew no more.