May 15th , Ressler's Apartment, 9:00 PM
Most of the city is beginning to quiet down as Aram slowly pulls up outside of Ressler's apartment building. There are still cabs on the street, and the busses still run (do they ever stop, in the city that never sleeps?) but less and less people are walking the sidewalks or walking in groups from place to place. The sky is dark - the kind of black blanket drowning out the stars that only happens before a storm - and Aram knows that tonight will not be restful for anyone on his team - especially Ressler as he deals with everything weighing down on him.
I'll need to let the dog in tonight, he reminds himself silently as he shifts the SUV into 'park' and leans back heavily into his seat. Ressler reaches for the door handle, but both men pause, knowing there's more to be said - more to be figured out - but neither knows how to broach the topic of conversation.
"We need a plan," Aram says finally, brushing a hand through his already messy hair. "I mean, it's all well and good that we normally figure these things out, but, man, I feel like we're in too deep this time to move forward blindly."
Ressler agrees with a sigh, drops his hand from his door handle, and nods. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. We need a plan. Especially since you're in danger now - and Samar, as well, if they know as much as you think they do. They will try and use her for leverage, as their demands get harder and more dangerous and damning, and as you become more hesitant to follow through."
Aram smiles sadly, nodding. "I've not been very good at hiding what I've been feeling for Agent Navabi, huh? We went out for Sushi a few months ago, after Leonard Caul, and after that I just gave up being subtle in hopes she'd notice. I think everyone else did, as well."
"You got that right!" Ressler jokes, bumping Aram's shoulder with his own. "Liz and I have a bet -"
He falls silent, because he's suddenly thinking of Liz and how she would have won the bet, because he had said Aram and Samar would get together several weeks ago, and Liz had told him no way, that they'd dance around the elephant in the room until everyone else got sick of it and intervened. She'd bet they'd get together sometime in June, which was only a few weeks away, and it was looking like she'd be right - even Aram wasn't dumb enough to dance around something as fragile as love when it looked like the world would be ending very soon (or, at least, their world as they knew it).
"You alright there?" Aram asks as the silence continues, and Ressler nods. "Speaking of people being not too subtle about things -"
Ressler cuts him off, because they weren't talking about him, thank you very much. "Plan, Aram. Focus."
"Right. So, I agreed to leak information on you. They know that you found a lead that led you to Mr. Reddington and Liz, and they're upset because if their people had known, they would have gotten there first and arrested them."
Ressler's blood runs cold, because they're right - they would have, and Liz and Reddington would be in the system, locked in a box where he could never see or speak to them again. He hadn't thought about it like that, and the thought is terrifying.
"They want me to update them on any information you have so that, next time, they can -"
"Arrest them first," Ressler says quietly, and it seems for a moment like there's no way out. The next time he gets a lead, Aram will tell the Cabal, and then Liz ... Liz will-
"Agent Ressler, Agent Ressler!" Aram calls, and Ressler hadn't noticed until that moment that he was clenching his fists so tight that he'd broken skin, his fingernails slicing through his own flesh and drawing blood. "Agent Ressler, are you ok?" Aram asks, more gently this time as Ressler unclenches his fists and shakily wipes the blood onto his slacks. He's breath is coming in fast pants and his his heart is beating wildly.
"I - yes. No," he admits, and then, "I'm fucking terrified. Aram, how can I keep doing this job, knowing that if I find Liz, I'll be turning her over to them? They won't let her out of this alive, they'll make her into an example. And yes, she did kill that bastard, but under different circumstances, we would have ruled that as necessary. I mean, fuck, Connolly was probably on the blacklist!" He takes a breath, eyes darting around the car wildly. "I believe in the system, Aram. I always have. I've followed the rules, because not following the rules causes people to get hurt, to die. I've seen people gunned down because they didn't wait, because they didn't follow a rule, because they were trying to be a hero and save someone even though regulations dictate that they stay behind, that they let that person die. I've seen hundreds, no thousands of people die because of one person's actions, because they didn't follow orders. And Liz - God, she scares me, because she doesn't believe in the system. She is a hero, she saves people and doesn't care about her own life and fuck, that's scary. And what's even more scary is I don't think I believe in the system anymore, either. It's so fucked up I don't even know where to start."
Aram is silent, and Ressler doesn't blame the younger man. He'd let out two years of frustrations (frustrations that had begun growing around the time he'd met Liz, and watched her run the team in her own way, ignoring regulations and rules and doing what she did for the good of the people).
"We need to decide what you and tell them and what you need to keep silent, and how we can do that without getting you killed," Ressler finally says, because Aram is speechless and probably a little wary (frightened?) of Ressler in his current (slightly crazed) state.
"Yeah," he finally agrees. "Okay. So, we probably won't have any more leads for now, it seems like their trail has gone cold. So that's good. I can update Yvonne - that's what she called herself - on your attempts, hopefully placate her for a while."
"Good," Ressler says. Then he sighs, "I have something I need to do, and we can probably safely leak some of it to them, because they must know something - one of the journalists died and it had to be them. Reddington, before he left, put together a group of fourteen of the most well-known journalists in this country. He showed them the fulcrum and told them about the Cabal. Only six, to my knowledge, stayed behind to try and reveal the truth. One of them died last week, according to Liz. I have a meeting set up to talk with one of the remaining journalists. Liz begged me to work with them, said that they'd be able to help, and I trust her. The guy who died - Liam Thatcher - was on to something big, and he shared it with this Alyana chick. I'm meeting her tomorrow."
Aram nods. "I can probably give them the cliff notes version of that, and they'll be happy. I can say you're planning on meeting with them tomorrow, but I don't know when, and I bet if you get Mr. Reddington's man to take you, they won't be able to follow and it won't look like it's my fault."
Ressler ponders this as he gathers his bag, keys, and wallet with one hand. He nods, slinging the bag over his shoulder and reaches for the door again. "Hopefully that works," he says, and as he climbs out of the car, he switches the scrambler off (he's pretty sure that if they're following Aram his car and home are probably bugged).
"See you tomorrow," he says, looking pointedly at the scrambler to let Aram know he shouldn't talk about what they know anymore.
"Right. I'll pick you up at 7," Aram confirms, and Ressler thanks him before walking up to his apartment.
He manages to call Dembe and arrange for a ride to wherever the journalists are staying for the time being (Dembe is keeping them well hidden, no doubt a talent ingrained from following Reddington around for 19 years) before collapsing into bed (on his good side) and falling asleep almost immediately.
May 16th, Unspecified Location (Café), 5:00 PM
Ressler is too nervous to eat anything, so he orders a cup of coffee instead of the dinner he's sure he needs. (Did he eat last night? The last meal he remembers was at the hospital, and that could barely be called food). He knows he's going to need food soon or risk not being on the top of his game (which he considers a constant necessity, considering he could need to be ready to follow a lead or lose a follower at any second).
"Donnie?"
Ressler chuckles at the name - clearly Dembe had told Reddington of his plans and the older man had called and talked to this woman. He looks up and sees a younger woman, probably in her late twenties (God, how old was he that he considered an almost-thirty woman 'young'? Not that old, he'd blame it on the fact that he felt like he was a hundred years old). She had bright red hair, blue eyes, and seemed nervous beyond belief.
"That's not my name," he says, and she suddenly looks terrified, like she might have approached the wrong person. He continues, "Let me guess: Mr. Reddington told you to call me that."
"Oh, yeah," she chuckles, and she seems less nervous as she sits down across from him. "Should I call you Ressler then? He said you were Donnie Ressler."
Bastard. First he shoots me and then makes someone call me 'Donnie'.
"No. Call me Don," he says, uncomfortable because she is the only one that calls him Ressler, or the only person he cares enough about to recall. Reddington calls him Donald, Aram always calls him 'sir' or 'Agent Ressler', same with Agent Navabi. Keen was the only one that referred to him solely by his last name.
"Right. Don."
The poor girl looks like she's about to shake out of her skin, so Ressler sighs and takes pity on her.
"Don't be scared - I don't bite. Liz - Agent Keen, that is, a … personal friend of Mr. Reddington - she asked me to speak with you. She said that Mr. Reddington pulled all of you together and showed you some … information. She said you could help."
"Right. Right, well, my partner, Liam… he… well, you can understand why I'm nervous," she says, and she offers him a small, shy smile. He returns it, trying to put her at ease (because the sooner he can get the information, the sooner he can go home). "He must have been caught. I - he shared the information with me. Here," she says, and she pushes a file across the table. He picks it up and opens it, flipping through the pages.
"Wow," he whistles, and having heard that the Vice President and the Secretary of Defence were involved in the Cabal is very different than seeing their pictures and having the evidence in his hands. "Wow," he says again, because 'Vice President Cole Mathewson appears to control the outpost in the United States' is a phrase he never thought he'd read.
"Yeah. From what we can gather, from the information Mr. Reddington left us and our own snooping, he was heard on a conference call with some people with pretty heavy accents. They were talking about a plan - it's on the next page. Anyway, my source, he said that they mentioned at least three different countries on the call - France, England, and China. World leaders everywhere… they're corrupt."
"Source?" Ressler asks, because he's wary as fuck of anyone else being involved in this. "You have a source?"
"Yeah, inside the White House. He overheard the plan, that's what prompted Liam and I to begin researching Vice President Mathewson."
"Do you trust this source?"
Because I sure as hell don't.
"With my life," the woman assures him, and Ressler sighs, because though it seems good enough for her, it's not for him. He'll have to take everything in this file with a grain of salt. "He and I go way back. He works on the President's security detail, and of course when he heard of this plan he thought for sure it was a conspiracy. He tried to tell the others on the detail, but they laughed him off - I mean, the Vice planning the President's murder? Come on."
"Right. So he came to you instead."
Ressler flips to the next page, and quickly scans the firsthand account of what was overheard.
Vice President Cole Mathewson was overheard telling others that 'the plan had been put into action' and that Mathewson would soon take over the presidency.
"He came to me and told me what he'd heard. He knows that I am an … open minded journalist. I have reported on things that seem crazy, but that are true. It earned me my reputation. If I report on something crazy, people are more likely to believe it, because I've always been right. I do my research, and crazy or not, if it's true, I report it."
Ressler nodded, closing the file and tucking it into his suit jacket. "Thank you so much for meeting with me, Ms…"
"Kuhn," she responds. "Jamie Kuhn."
"Thank you. I know what you're doing with Mr. Reddington is dangerous, and we appreciate it."
She smiles and nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"You're welcome. Let me know if there's anything else you need. Mr. Reddington can always get in contact with me, or if you'd like my phone number…"
Ressler shakes his head quickly, because he doesn't need to go there right now. "No, Mr. Reddington should manage our conversations. It's safer that way," he adds, because surprisingly he doesn't want to seem like too much of a dick. "Good night," he adds, and he makes sure the file is still in place before heading toward the car Dembe is waiting in. He looks back to make sure she's headed away from the meeting site as well, because lingering is sure to get you noticed. She is - she's climbing into a small, blue car and, satisfied that she's safe, Ressler climbs into his own car (well, Dembe's car).
"Is there anywhere else you need to go, Mr. Ressler?" Dembe asks politely, and Ressler shakes his head.
"No. But, uh, is there any way you can put me in touch with Mr. Reddington?"
Dembe nods. "I will have him call you," he says, and shifts the car into drive as he pulls out of the parking lot.
May 16th, Ressler's Apartment, 9:12 PM
Riiiiing. Riiiiing.
The shrill noise wakes Ressler from a fitful sleep. He rolls over to find that he'd apparently fallen asleep on the couch, because he falls off as he reaches for his phone.
Damnit, that fucking hurts, he moans internally as he cradles his injured shoulder. He reaches for his phone despite the pain, however, because it could be Liz, or Reddington.
"Hello?" he grunts out, already trying to pull himself into a sitting position. He leans heavily against the couch and pants in pain, screwing his eyes shut as he tries to will the dizziness away.
"Donald! How nice to hear your voice. You sound like you're in pain - have you injured yourself again?"
Damn that smarmy bastard.
"No, remnants of your parting gift, last time we met."
Reddington clicks his tongue on the other end. "Pity. We only have one hundred and nine seconds left. Dembe said you wanted to talk to me?"
"I'm not tracing you," Ressler says, and then, "I met with Ms. Kuhn today. She told me the plan to assassinate the president. Also, Agent Mojtabai has been compromised. Someone named Yvonne got to him. He's reporting on my moves, within reason and without compromising you or Liz."
"Does he need extracted?"
Ressler is sure Reddington has more to say, but they both know they're on a strict time limit.
"No, he's fine for now. I need him here. If it comes to it, we'll all leave. Agents Mojtabai and Navabi and myself. We can do more good here for now, but if it comes to it, Reddington…"
"If it comes to that, we will come collect you personally," Reddington confirms, and though Ressler knows he shouldn't wish for it - knows he can do more good from inside the system than outside it - he almost wishes it was necessary, because he could see her again.
"We're out of time," Reddington says, and Ressler sighs.
"Say hello to Liz for me," he says quietly, and Reddington chuckles softly.
"Will do. Be careful, Donald," he warns, and then the line goes dead.
Ressler flops back on the couch, hissing as he forgets once again that he was shot in the shoulder six days ago.
What the hell do I do now? he wonders, and sighs as he realizes he won't find the answer tonight. Instead, he opts to head for his bedroom, to get some rest before following up on the leads Jamie provided.
Goodnight, Liz, he thinks, and as has become the norm, she is the last thing he thinks of before falling to sleep.
Welp, I have reached the end of my outline... I need to decide where this story is heading! Tips would be appreciated! ;) As always, comments with ideas/tips are loved much like Ressler is loved by me (and Liz).
Please Review!