Liz sat at the kitchen table again, watching the rain falling outside. It had started shortly after she'd seen the 'tack room', hitting the roof of the farmhouse with huge drops, before settling in to a steady downpour. She wondered if it was raining again up on the mountain. It was strange, but after two days up there, it now had a familiar feel to it, and felt more hospitable to her than this warm and dry farmhouse. But maybe it was more to do with the company up there than here.
Phil was looking out the window, in the same place she had seen him before. He'd been very quiet for a while. She began to realize he wasn't actually looking at anything. It appeared to be where he stood to think.
"Do you like watching the rain?" she asked him, not really expecting him to answer. "I love it," she added, trying to get him to respond. "Especially a good thunderstorm."
He wasn't buying it though, and kept looking out the window at the rain.
She decided on a different tack. "Is Eric your son?"
His head turned a little at that. Liz continued. "He seems about the right age to be your son, and I noticed he looks to you for guidance."
"You don't know anything about him," Phil replied, turning back to the window.
Liz knew his weakness now. She moved in. "I saw him running after the helicopter as it took off. He looked so desperate." She lowered her voice, and continued. "It was... heartbreaking... seeing him running after the helicopter. Running to catch up to you..." She was watching his shoulders as she spoke, and saw them tense up. She'd got him.
She didn't think he was going to say anything, and then he spun around and looked at her. "He's my nephew. My sister's boy. I've raised him since he was 9 after she decided he was too much trouble and left. She never even knew who his father was."
She looked at him silently, letting him talk, taking her cue from Ressler. The image of Ressler laying on the ground came to her again... don't think about him right now. Concentrate. She scolded herself inwardly.
"And yes. I saw him running to catch us... Catch me..." he stopped. Realizing he'd probably said too much to her, he turned and left the room, leaving her sitting alone in the kitchen. She heard the back door open and watched him walk in front of the window, heading in the direction of the tack room.
On her feet immediately, she ran to the back door and pulled against it. It was locked. Well of course he'd lock it, she thought. She ran for the bathroom again, locked the door behind her and stood on the toilet to look out the small window again. The door to the tack room was shut against the rain,. She couldn't see anything. Jumping down, she left the bathroom and ran down the hall, heading for the front door and yanked on the door handle. Damn. Locked from the outside also. She ran from room to room, looking quickly in them to get some bearings, before heading back to the kitchen and sitting in her chair again as she heard voices outside.
The sound of two men shouting.
She got up to look, and there were Jeremy and Phil, off to her right out in the rain. She could hear some of their words, while most of it was lost in the pounding rain hitting the window hard. She ran to the bedroom near the kitchen, getting closer to them, seeing them a few feet away in the rain.
Jeremy was yelling. "It's tomorrow morning! You know that!"
Phil yelled back at him. "You left him! So right after we're done tomorrow, we are going back to get him!"
"You know we can't do that Phil! We have minutes after and we're gone!"
Liz watched, seeing Phil shaking his fist at Jeremy. "Then fix it! We get him NOW!"
Jeremy laughed at him, waving his arm at the rain. "In this?! Are you crazy? I can't fly in this!"
Phil may have killed the pilot in cold blood 'because his boss told him to', but right now, seeing him fight for his nephew in the pouring rain, Liz almost cheered for the guy. You go, Phil!
When he pulled a gun on Jeremy, she almost applauded.
"We are going to get him NOW!" yelled Phil, pointing the gun in Jeremy's face.
Jeremy stopped, and she saw the familiar calmness that seemed to overtake him whenever he had a gun in his face, oddly enough. The time he was at his most dangerous.
"You owe me! We almost drowned trying to get your sorry ass off that mountain! Not to mention the old man's boat that I lost!"
"Okay Phil. This is your show, so fine. We'll go get the kid." He turned toward the house and Liz stepped to the side out of sight.
"But when we're done with the job tomorrow, you and I are done too."
She didn't hear Phil's reply as she sprinted back to the kitchen. She had just sat down in her chair as the back door opened. Phil entered the kitchen and walked over to a drawer, rummaged around and finally found what he was looking for. He approached her and leaned down.
"No hard feelings. I have to do this though." Drawing her arms behind her, he tied her arms to the back of the chair with cable ties. She looked at him as he leaned down, fastening the second cable tie. She whispered to him, out of Jeremy's view.
"Where tomorrow?"
He looked at her, and looked at Jeremy, standing up now. "There, that should keep you secure. You won't be reporting to work tomorrow."
Had he just told her where? It would be Washington, DC? She looked at him silently.
He took one last look down at her, and he and Jeremy left the room.
###
Outside of the farmhouse, the two men climbed into the chopper. Phil sat in the passenger seat, still holding the gun on Jeremy and for now, Jeremy was going along with this. Placing his helmet on his head, he looked at Phil.
"I know you shot a pilot once in this seat. It really wouldn't pay you to shoot another one." And with that, he reached up and flipped several switches, the dashboard lighting up in front of them.
He started the rotors, and they rotated sluggishly at first as sheets of water fell from them. As they lightened up, they roared to life. Jeremy took another look at Phil with the gun on him, and shook his head. "This isn't going to work. Not in this weather."
"Just fly Jeremy. Get my boy back."
"I'm only doing this because you're right. You did almost drown trying to get me off the mountain." He turned his head from Phil then, and looked above him, flipping more switches. Looking ahead and shaking his head again, he pushed on the controls, lifting the chopper into the air. He hovered a moment, getting a feel for her in the rain, then pushed forward more on the throttle and headed out over the river at the bottom of the field. Turning, he headed back toward the highway, and after a couple of minutes they passed the airport to their left. He turned and flew over the foothills now, heading back toward the fire tower.
They flew in a straight line, and visibility was almost non existent in the rain. "This is suicide Phil. I can't see far enough in front of me."
"You know where you're going. It's a straight shot. Keep going."
He did know and kept his bearing, looking at his instruments constantly. The one good thing was that no one else would be idiot enough to be flying in this, so he was pretty well assured he wouldn't collide with any other air traffic.
The mountains were below them, as Phil kept straining his eyes to see in front of them. They should be seeing the fire tower soon.
"Is that it?!" Phil pointed and in the distance a faint shape rose out of the clouds.
"That's it. Hang on; it will be a bumpy landing in the winds on that peak."
The words were no sooner out of his mouth when the winds picked up around them. Jeremy held the controls tighter, guiding the chopper down now, the fire tower looming out of the rain in front of them.
As they approached the ground, the winds picked up, buffeting them. Phil hung onto his seat belt, keeping the gun in the other hand.
They dropped lower, and were almost on the ground when Phil gasped as he felt the chopper lurch to one side.
"Jer?!"
"Dammit, Phil! This is why you don't fly in a rainstorm with these sudden crosswinds!"
###
Ressler was standing inside the fire tower, starting to feel a little stir crazy. Sure the little building had been a God send, but they needed to be doing something. Not lounging around in a little home from home. He opened the door a crack to look outside, the rain hitting him in the face. He did it for two reasons - one because he wanted to see how bad the weather was - and two, because he just needed to see something apart from these four walls. It was bad out there. No thunder and lightning, but torrential rain was falling again. So much rain that he wondered how much higher the river had got. Phil's truck is probably long gone and swept away, he mused. Damn, they needed to get out of here.
"Donald, you really should be sitting down."
Ressler ignored Red. He was a little light headed, but certainly not falling down dizzy like he had been. Thanks to Red, he reluctantly acknowledged to himself.
He paced around the room - carefully - it wouldn't pay to prove Red right and fall flat on his face again. He was listening to the rain, when he heard something.
"What's that sound...?"
"Donald, I told you. It's the rain," said Red from the couch. He was doing much better and had just been resting - like Donald should be, he thought.
Dembe was upstairs laying on one of the cots. He sat up. "No Raymond. That is not the rain." He got up from the cot and climbed down the stairs from the loft.
Ressler was listening. He and Dembe said it simultaneously. "That's a helicopter!"
"In this weather?" Red stood up now as Ressler opened the door. He was followed out into the downpour by Dembe. They looked up, seeing a police helicopter coming in for a landing.
"Is it the same helicopter?" Ressler asked Dembe was looking up trying to see in the windows but the rain was too dense.
"I believe it is," Dembe said, trying to see the numbers on the side.
Red was standing beside them now, looking up into the chopper. "It is. That has to be Jeremy, and I believe that's Phil. Lizzie may or may not be with them."
They stood by the tower, completely drenched again. They felt a strong wind whip up from behind them, tugging at their wet clothes and making it hard to stand up.
A collective gasp went up as the helicopter suddenly lurched to one side as it approached the ground.
"No! Come on, come on..." Ressler willed them to land safely.
"Oh my God," said Red. They watched in horror as the chopper spun perilously, caught in the strong crosswind. They had no chance, and the chopper slammed into the sodden ground, pushed down by the strong winds. It hit hard, the skids and under carriage crumbling under it, the rotors striking the ground and breaking as the helicopter thudded to an abrupt stop.
Ressler was running before he even realized it. Red tried to grab his arm, but the agent was gone. Dembe followed, and the two sprinted toward the downed chopper in the pouring rain.
"Liz! Liz!" He didn't even realize he was calling her name. God no, she could be in there, was all Ressler could think. His chest screamed in pain as his vision swam, but he stayed the course and reached the chopper, his chest heaving.
Dembe was right there with him and climbed up the crumpled undercarriage, yanking hard on the door. It gave way, and he jumped in. Ressler climbed in more slowly, fighting the pain in his torso. He couldn't see Liz. He shone his small flashlight around, but the passenger area was empty. He heaved a sigh of relief - that was immediately replaced with desperation that they still didn't know where she was. He turned to Dembe who was in the small cab, lifting someone from the passenger seat. He dragged the man back and Ressler stepped aside to let him through. It was Phil. Blood was pouring from a gash on his head and he was out cold.
"Get him over to the tower!" Ressler told the man.
He nodded. "Jeremy Cole is trapped," he told Ressler, pointing to the pilot.
Dembe moved Phil toward the door and jumped down to get the man to the tower, as Ressler approached Jeremy in the cab.
He was definitely trapped. The nose of the chopper had crumpled on the pilot's side, trapping his lower body in the fuselage. Metal shards were embedded in his legs, and blood was everywhere. He was leaning back in his seat, trying to free himself when Ressler came beside him, leaning down and taking in the situation in an instant. Short of cutting his legs off, Jeremy Cole wasn't getting out of this. He looked back up at the man, and Jeremy turned his head to meet his eyes. Ressler didn't say a word. Both men knew he would eventually bleed to death in this chopper. Ressler reached up then and undid the man's flight helmet and took it off, leaning over to Jeremy so he could hear him over the pounding rain.
"You can die doing the right thing here or the wrong thing," he told the trapped man.
Jeremy just stared back at him with that calm expression.
"Tell us what your plan is. What is the weapon? What is the target? You're going to die. Make it right."
Jeremy shook his head, and smiled. He'd take that to his grave.
"Donald!" Ressler turned to see Red outside the front of the chopper. He was pointing urgently. He looked back to where he was pointing, but couldn't see anything.
"The fuel."
Ressler turned back to Jeremy as he spoke, and realized what he meant. The fuel was leaking. He could smell it now.
He quickly looked at console. If the radio still worked... He picked up the mic and pressed the button. "This is Special Agent Donald Ressler with the FBI, DC Field Office. Can anyone hear me?"
A voice came over the small speaker, barely audible in the rain. He picked up the flight helmet and threw it over his head. The voice was louder now. "...is a secure line. You said you're an FBI agent?"
"Yes, and I need to get a helicopter up to the Cole cabin above Harrisonburg, to land at the fire tower above it," Ressler spoke again.
"We sent a chopper up there this morning. Where is our pilot?"
Ressler ignored the comment about the pilot. "And that's what I'm in right now. This helicopter crash landed. Contact the FBI Headquarters in DC. Inform them there are Federal agents... there is a Federal agent up here. Give them my name - Donald Ressler. Ask for Aram." He didn't bother trying to give the man Aram's last name. They'd be there all day.
"We will contact them. But sir, we can't fly in this weather!"
"I know that!" Of course he knew that. The crashed helicopter he was standing in was clear evidence of that.
"Inform the FBI, and get someone up here as soon as you can."
"Donald! Get out of there!" Red yelled again from outside.
Ressler hung up the mic, tore the helmet off and turned back to Jeremy.
"You better make this fast. Do the right thing and tell me what the plan is. Let me stop it." Ressler looked into the man's eyes.
Dembe was clambering in the door again, "Agent Ressler. We need to go. The fuel will catch alight."
"In this rain? It can't possibly!" he called back to Dembe.
"Yes it can. I've seen jet fuel burn in rain like this," Jeremy said calmly.
Ressler turned back to Jeremy. Well, you're just full of good news, he thought.
"Agent Ressler. Now. We need to go," Dembe urged him again.
"Last chance Jeremy. Where is the target?" he leaned closer to Jeremy and the man met his gaze. "It's too late. You can't save them."
"Donald! Get the hell out of there! Dembe! Drag him out if you have to!"
"You can do something for me though," Jeremy told him, his eyes flickering down to the passenger floor, where the gun was.
Ressler followed the mans gaze, and saw what he was looking at. "I am not going to shoot you."
"Of course not. You're too much of a boy scout for that." Jeremy looked calmly at him.
At the words 'boy scout' Ressler's breath caught. He leaned into the man's face. "Where is she? Where did you take her?"
"Donald! For God's sake! The fuel is already burning!" And Red was right. Ressler could see black smoke in the rain.
He felt Dembe grab his right arm, but he quickly slipped out of his grasp, leaning down dizzily to the passenger side. He retrieved the gun. His own gun. He looked at it for a second, and then into the calm face of Jeremy Cole. The man who was never going to tell the FBI where his target was, or where Liz was being held.
"No, I'm not going to do that Cole," he told him, then slipped his gun in his holster, turned and left the trapped man sitting there.
He dropped from the chopper, seeing Red approach the pilot's window and toss something in through the broken glass as he did so.
They ran now, scrambling from the burning chopper. The smell of jet fuel was everywhere, and Ressler stole a glance back at the yellow flames snaking up from underneath the crumpled chopper.
"It can't burn in this," Ressler panted as they ran. "Not in this rain!"
"Yes. It can," said Dembe beside him.
They were still too close to the burning chopper when the ground spun violently and Ressler's legs gave out from under him. He fell hard to the soaked ground, panting. Damn! Not now!
Red stopped and yelled at him, pointing at the burning helicopter. "Move Donald! That thing is going to blow!"
Dammit, Red, I'm trying! He thought, willing his body to move.
From behind them, a single gunshot rang out.
"What the?" Ressler looked back at the chopper, then whipped his head back to Red, blinking hard at the sudden movement.
"I gave him a choice. I gave him his own weapon back."
Ressler stared at Red a moment, and then tried to get up again.
"Now move your ass, Agent Ressler!" Red was leaning in his face now.
Dembe was suddenly by his side and hauled him up by his right arm; producing a howl of pain from Ressler as the man half dragged him now.
From behind them a fireball erupted, flinging them to the ground with the shock wave. Ressler almost passed out from the pain as he slammed into the ground. The explosion filled the air as a ball of yellow and orange fire reached up into the sky.
Debris rained down on them, as the fire behind them was quickly being extinguished in the heavy downpour. Ressler groggily raised his head. He really hadn't thought it could burn like that in this rain.
###
An hour later, Red was still sitting by Phil after tending to his head injury, while Ressler sat on the couch watching the man. Good old Doctor Red, he thought. Give the man a medic kit and there was no stopping him. The room had stopped spinning, and while his ribs complained, he hauled himself to his feet. He stood a moment, letting the room right itself before he went to Red.
"How's he doing?"
"Well, he's lost quite a bit of blood and will have a massive headache, but for the most part he's not doing too badly. He's still unconscious, and I have no doubt he has a concussion."
"When can he talk to us?" Ressler leaned on the back of Red's chair as he asked the man. Right now the only use Phil was to him was that he knew where Liz was.
"When he comes to, Donald." He looked up at the unsteady agent. "And sit down before you fall down." He vacated the chair and Ressler fell into it. Red's hand reached for his forehead but Ressler moved his head out the way.
"Oh, just humor me, Donald. Though I suggest you lay on the couch and rest. We're going to be here a while since nothing can fly in this."
Ressler was suddenly too tired to argue. With Red's help he stood up again and made his way back to the couch where he half lay on it. He closed his eyes against the dizziness, and promptly fell asleep. Red stood watching the agent worriedly, knowing it could be hours before anyone could get here.
Ressler was running out of time and needed a hospital very, very soon.
###
He was woken up by Red almost three hours later. He looked at the man, startled and saw that Red was smiling.
"Donald. Listen." He raised his eyes and looked up.
Ressler could hear it now. Another helicopter. Let the third time be the charm, he thought as Red helped him up. He grabbed for Red as he felt himself slipping. Damn, he hated feeling so weak and helpless. Dembe took over now and wedged himself under Ressler's right arm, keeping him on his feet.
Red went to Phil, who had woken momentarily an hour or so ago, before knocking out again. They'd got nothing out of him yet.
As Dembe and Ressler headed outside, the first thing they saw was the charred remains of the helicopter strewn over the ground. While it was still raining, the downpour had ended and it was just a light rain now. With the rain almost stopped and visibility much improved, Ressler noticed something else.
There were two bodies on the ground. Of course, he thought. The dead pilot and the dead medic. He hadn't given them a thought, yet they lay dead on the ground after getting caught up in this.
He looked up as the wind began to whip around them from the rotor blades, and saw it wasn't a police chopper this time. A dark blue helicopter was descending, with white letters of 'FBI' clearly emblazoned on the side.
Dembe looked at him and smiled as he supported him. "Score one for the FBI, Agent Ressler."
Well it took them long enough, thought Ressler, before turning his concentration to staying on his feet as the helicopter landed. As the rotor blades slowed, the door opened and a tall man jumped out, hunching down under the blades and headed for them.
It was Aram. "Agent Ressler! Are you... are you okay?" He looked worriedly at the pale agent.
"I'm just perfect," said Ressler. "What took you so long?"
"Well, we kinda knew where you guys were at." He looked around then, seeing Red near the fire tower, but not seeing Liz. "Whoa...what happened over there...?" He was now looking at the scorched helicopter in amazement.
"Aram," Ressler prompted him, feeling his fingers sliding off Dembe. Get on with it, for God's sake, he thought.
Aram drew his eyes off the burnt wreckage. "But then with the storm, we couldn't get in the air. We tried, but had to turn back. That was seriously scary..."
Ressler was seeing double now. "Aram," he prompted again.
"Oh right, yeah, so we came in two vehicles to come get you, and we made it, but then we got stopped at the river. You should see that thing! Wow! It's… "
Ressler interrupted him by falling to the ground.
"Um...Agent Ressler...?"
###
Ten minutes later, Ressler was safely stowed on the chopper, propped up in a seat. He'd have fallen off if his seat belt wasn't securing him. Phil was on a stretcher, after Aram and Dembe had brought him on board and secured him across three seats.
"Donald. You need to be lying down."
"I'm fine."
Red patted his ashen cheek. "Of course you are. You still need to lie down across these seats." When Ressler answered by ignoring Red and closing his eyes, Red sat beside the agent and buckled himself into the window seat.
"We need to go find Liz," said Ressler.
"Agent Ressler, we are taking you to the hospital," answered Aram, before buckling himself into the passenger seat. He motioned to the pilot to start up the chopper.
"NO! The hospital can wait. We need to find Liz!"
Red was surprised at the tenacity of the agent. "Donald I know the direction they took her, but after that, we don't know how far they went or if they turned."
The pilot spoke up. "And we don't have enough fuel to go flying aimlessly looking. I have enough to get back to DC, with some in reserve."
"He knows where she is!" Ressler was pointing at Phil now. The man was out cold with the concussion and blood loss.
"And he can't tell us, Donald. As much as I want to find Lizzie too, we can't right now. And you need a hospital urgently."
"Damn it!" Ressler loosened his seat belt and fell to his knees, moving over to Phil to try and wake him.
Dembe was on his feet, dragging the agent back. "Let go of me! He knows where she is!" Ressler struggled against the man, but he wasn't strong enough anymore.
In the cockpit, the pilot was going through his startup procedure and the rotors began to turn. Aram turned to see Dembe dragging Agent Ressler back to his seat. He was deathly pale, thought Aram. The sooner they got the agent to a hospital, the better.
The chopper roared to life then, the rotors picking up speed. The pilot radioed that they were about to lift off, and then pushed the throttle forward. They rose into the air, the sound of the rotors deafening above them. They hovered, as the pilot got his final bearings.
"We need to find Liz!" cried Ressler against the roar.
Red was looking at Ressler, and then shook his head and looked out the window at the fire tower below them now. He spotted something then and leaned forward in his seat for a better look.
"Oh my God. No."
He turned back to Aram. Aram! We need to land! Now!"
The helicopter was ascending, beginning to turn from the mountain to head for DC.
"What?!" Mr Reddington, we have to get Agent Ressler to a hospital! My orders are to get all of you back to DC!" Aram yelled over to him as the chopper rose higher.
Red was looking out the window, then back to Aram. "I said LAND!"
Dembe was out of his seat looking at what Red had seen, and understood. Eric was running up the fire road below them, reaching up and screaming. He'd seen the FBI chopper arrive and had been running back up the mountain to try and catch them. Red watched him shrieking soundlessly as he fell to the ground now, reaching up to them as they rose up into the sky.
Abandoning him again.
"I am not leaving that kid behind again! Aram, LAND THIS CHOPPER!" He pulled the gun and aimed it right at Aram.
"Mr Reddington, that's really messed up!"
"Aram. Do as I say if you want to find Agent Keen and stop this attack."