Previously...
"Of course, how careless of me! You're right, Donald, of course she can't take care of him alone."
Ressler begins to relax at Reddington's words (though, really, he shouldn't have, considering how long he'd known the man).
"She'll need to stay with you. That way, you can keep her safe!"
What had he gotten himself into?
8:30 PM (Toys 'R' Us)
"Keen, what are we doing here?"
Ressler was comfortable in a variety of situations — he felt confident in a shoot out, loved the thrill of a chase, enjoyed a good stake-out — but here, he felt very, very uncomfortable.
He was surrounded by toys, and baby things.
"Babies need a lot of stuff!" Liz says in exasperation, throwing her hands into the air before wincing, afraid she might have woken the baby. She looks over, but baby Sammy is still sleeping peacefully against Ressler's chest. He looks uncomfortable in the sling, the fabric wrapped tight around his diapered butt and crossing behind his back before disappearing behind Ressler's chest. It looks uncomfortable, but according to all the books she'd read when preparing to adopt with Tom, babies felt safe in the sling because they could feel the warmth of the human holding them and hear their heart beating (which had something to do with them liking the sound, because they listened to their mother's heartbeat while in the womb, but Liz had been afraid if she'd mentioned anything to Ressler about mothers or wombs while he was wearing the baby, she wouldn't have won the argument that she did).
"You have to wear the baby," she'd told him a few hours beforehand. When he'd questioned why and started tensing up for the inevitable fight, she cut him off. "Because we need to go shopping, and you know nothing about shopping for a baby. I do. Therefore it makes sense if you take the baby and I shop, so we can get out of there quicker and home at a reasonable time."
"Do we really need a crib? I mean, this isn't exactly a long term thing," he says, waving in the direction of Liz's preoccupation. She was staring at the cribs with the type of concentration she usually reserves for interrogating murderers.
"I was just thinking that," she murmurs, pushing the cart past the wooden cribs. She stops next in front of something called a pack and play. "One of these should be good. They're cheap, and will serve our purposes."
It looks just fine to Ressler, and the reduction from $399 to $58 looks pretty good, too. It's a metal and mesh playpen that has an attachment halfway up for the baby to lay in. He assumes people use it when traveling with their babies, which will serve them just fine because they never can tell where they'll be from one day to the next.
He helps Keen heave it onto the bottom portion of their cart, being careful not to squish Sammy.
"Ok. We have somewhere for him to sleep. Now what?"
'Now what' was apparently the wrong thing to ask, because before long Ressler's head is spinning.
Bottles, formula, soft baby food ("how old is he, anyway?" Liz asks, because babies should start eating soft food at about six months), burp cloths, diapers, wipes, butt paste (God, he hopes that's for rashes, because who decided on that name, anyway?), powder, baby shampoo ("No, Ressler, he can't use yours") baby washrags, baby towels, socks, shoes...
"Oh, my God, my poor credit card," Ressler moans, absently stroking Sammy's soft hair before realizing what he's doing. Nervous habit, he assures himself. Not forming any attachments, nope.
Liz chuckles, steering them in the direction of baby clothing.
"Your assumed chivalry is appreciated," she notes. "But Reddington gave me his credit card. I don't necessarily want to know how he applied for - or qualified for! - one, but he said that the baby expenses would be reimbursed by Sammy's parents when we find them."
"Ah," Ressler says, eyes darting around in panic as he becomes engulfed in baby clothes.
Liz pauses amongst the chaos, taking everything in before forming a plan of attack. "Alright. We need onesies, pants to go over them, sleepers, socks, shoes, and a warm coat. That should cover all his needs for the foreseeable future."
Confident in her plan, she proceeds to throw upwards of 20 onesies and sleepers in the cart. Ressler blanches.
"How much clothing does he need?!" he demands, absently soothing Sammy as his loud voice causes the infant to begin twitching in his sling. "He's the size of a cat, for God's sake. I don't even need that much clothing and I'm a grown man!"
Liz chuckles, tossing a few more into the cart for good measure. (Hey, they have cars and trains on them, they're cute!) "Yes, but Ress, you don't throw up, pee, or poop on yourself often."
Ressler colors slightly at the comment, but grumbles his agreement before following behind Liz as she picks out a few pairs of baby sweatpants to keep Sammy's legs warm.
"We need a car seat!" she yells suddenly, and Ressler rolls his eyes before following her once more. His poor, manly FBI issued SUV is about to be taken over by a baby's car seat. Thankfully, once they reach the display, Liz picks out a reasonable, solid colored car seat and steers clear of the ones covered in garish animals or printed in painful to look at patterns. The one she chooses has a black base, handle, and outline, but the inside is a soft blue, like the color of the sky on a sunny day. Liz seems pleased with her choice, hefts it into the cart, and sighs deeply.
"I can't think of anything else. I think that's it."
"Thank God!" Ressler responds, taking over the pushing of the cart. He steers them in the direction of the checkout, and as he begins piling things onto the convener belt, his phone rings and Sammy wakes up - loudly. "Uh, Liz...?" Ressler asks helplessly, gesturing toward the full cart and holding out his phone. Liz nods and takes over immediately as Ressler swipes his phone to unlock it and presses it up against his ear.
"Ressler," he greets the caller on the other end.
The chuckle that follows his greeting is entirely too amused for Ressler's liking.
"What did you do to him?" the voice of Raymond Reddington asks over Sammy's wails, which are increasing in intensity as he realizes he's been woken from his nap for a simple phone call and that he's in the middle of a crowded, noisy store. "You've had him for, what, three hours?"
"Shut the hell up," Ressler snaps, patting Sammy's back in an uncomfortable effort to calm him down. He tries not to be offended when Liz rolls her eyes at him and gently untangles the baby from Ressler's sling, pulling him into her arms. She begins to coo at him and make funny faces, and if Ressler weren't so shocked to see this side of his partner, he might have thought it was cute. "What do you want?"
"Manners, Donald!" Reddington admonishes, and though he sounds scandalized, Ressler can prctically hear the man's smarmy grin. "Regardless of your child caring skills - which are frightening, really, Donald, have you never taken care of a baby before? - I need your assistance fairly immediately."
"We're in the middle of Toys 'R' Us," Ressler responds, glancing up to see the lady at the checkout counter eyeing him warily. Liz is grinning at her, Sammy is wailing, and they must look pretty interesting, the three of them. "The cashier is looking at us like she might call DFS. When do you need us?"
"Not 'us', Donald. Lizzie needs to stay with Sammy. Dembe is going to meet you two at your apartment, where he will take over looking after Lizzie and Sammy. I'll have a car waiting for you. We may have a lead on The Repo Man."
"Great," Ressler says, excited at the prospect of getting somewhere with this case. He isn't used to sitting back and waiting. Normally, they have more to go on, an actual face or facade to hunt. "Um. Liz isn't going to be happy, sitting this one out."
"I'm confident you'll find a way to make her realize it's really for the best," Reddington says, and Ressler's sure he's not so much confident in Ressler's abilities as he is happy he's not the one that has to tell Liz - who enjoys shooting first and asking questions later - that she has to sit quietly at home with the baby while the men figure this one out.
"Right. Thanks."
"See you soon, Donald!"
Ressler hangs up on him without saying goodbye, which he figures is the least the man deserves for interrupting their shopping trip and causing Ressler to pass on unfortunate news to his partner.
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear about the fire!" the cashier squeals the second he hangs up the phone, clapping her hands over her heart as she turns to Ressler, sensing he's a viable target now that he's off the phone.
"What the hell-" Ressler begins, confused.
Liz smiles a wide, innocent smile up at him, loops her arm though his, and looks up at him with a sickeningly sweet gaze. She tucks a lock of brown hair behind her ear and let's her free hand rest on his chest. Warm, he thinks. Sammy, who is now squished between them, is gurgling happily, chewing on his fingers with his toothless gums.
"I'm sorry! I know we said we don't like to talk about it, but Sara here was so curious as to why we needed so many things for Sammy, since he's already four months old, and I just had to tell her about the fire!"
Ressler is looking at Liz like she's an alien until she kicks him in the shin (fairly hard, ouch) reminding him that, yes, she is an FBI agent and that he'd better act along with her, or he'll be receiving more than just the one bruise.
"Right. Ah - thanks. It was... a shock," he says, and really, his acting skills are appalling. It's a good thing their cashier is like, twelve, because she soaks it all up and Ressler is shocked and awed to see tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
Is it time to go home yet?
He's exhausted and barely able to put forth the effort necessary to finish this conversation before he snaps at the overbearing cashier.
"I can give you 25% off your purchase today," she adds as she (attempts) to discreetly wipe her eyes, ringing up the last item (oh, my God, is their total really over five hundred dollars?!) and shoving it into a bag. "I'm not really supposed to, you know, unless you sign up for our credit card, but I can't imagine what you're going through! And especially with such a little one."
Sammy agrees with her with a loud shriek, and Sara the cashier is so busy cooing over him and his bright green eyes that she doesn't notice Ressler rolling his eyes as he loads their cart up with the bags.
By the time they leave the store, he's managed to shift from supremely annoyed to mildly amused.
"You," he says confidently as he takes Sammy from Liz so she can harness the car seat (thank goodness it was already assembled) into the back seat of their SUV. "Have been spending way too much time around Reddington."
Liz grins, as if this is a compliment, and reaches around Ressler to take Sammy and buckle him in. Ressler then moves to load the rest of their purchases into the back of the SUV.
"By the way, that was Reddington. He needs my help," he says, and he only feels a little bit like a coward for using the fact that they have a baby and half a ton of car between them as he delivers the bad news. "You - ah, he said you need to stay with Sammy."
Ressler can practically hear the feminist comments building inside of Liz, so he's quick to attempt to placate her.
"Liz, I swear, this was not my idea. I don't like splitting up any more than you do - we all know it's not safe to go anywhere alone. We've learned that the hard way - more than once."
"Then why the hell are you going along with Reddington's harebrained idea? Normally you're the first one to tell him when something he wants isn't safe," she asks, slamming the door a little harder than necessary once she has Sammy buckled in. She stomps to the driver's side of the car, and Ressler sees this for exactly what it is - she knows why she has to stay, but because she is woman (hear her roar) she is going to continue with the argument while passive-aggressively reassuring him she's just as capable as he is by driving them to his apartment (a job she normally lets him do without complaint).
"You and I both know this is hardly a normal case," Ressler says, climbing into the passenger seat without (much) complaint.
"Of course I do! It's not often - no, we have never been asked to babysit before!"
"Well, our first case - "
Liz cuts him off before he can finish.
"No, our first case we were transporting a little girl who got kidnapped. We were not babysitting and it wasn't an infant."
"No," Ressler agrees, scratching his head as Liz turns out of the parking lot. "But you're only proving my point. She got kidnapped, Liz. Thank God that case ended well, but there's no guarantee that whoever wants Sammy won't torture him to get James Madison to reveal his information. Quit being thick and realize that this is the only way," he snaps, leaning back against his seat as he crosses his arms.
The SUV is uncomfortably quiet for a few moments before Liz sighs.
"Fine."
"Fine," Ressler agrees, still not ready to converse again.
Sammy gurgles happily in the backseat, shrieks, and tosses the stuffed bunny Reddington had given to him into the front.
Ressler grins. "Fine, buddy. We're done fighting."
Liz scoffs. "That was not a fight. That was a friendly argument."
The car is silent for a few more minutes, until they pull into the parking lot of Ressler's apartment. The see a nondescript black car parked in the far corner, and they both know it's Dembe. Liz sighs again, pulls swiftly into a parking space, and shuts the engine off.
"I get to go next time we have a lead," she says firmly, and Ressler grins at her before unbuckling his belt and opening his door. He steps out, then turns around, resting his hands on the top of the car. He glances in and meets her eyes, and her heart does not (absolutely does not) flutter the tiniest amount at the impish grin he gives her.
"We'll see. Have a good night, Sammy!" he calls, beating twice on the top of the car before walking in the direction of the black sedan. Liz leans back, eyes flicking toward Dembe, who is heading their way.
"Looks like it's you and me, Sammy," she says, and when Sammy kicks his feet in delight and grins a toothless grin at her she thinks,
how bad could this be?
I am having SO MUCH fun writing this! Also, wow! That response to the first chapter was definitely motivation to write faster! I'm so glad everyone is interested. I'm happy that you think everyone is in-character. That's one of my biggest worries, because these guys are HARD to write correctly! Ressler especially, because the show hasn't exactly given us much to work with.
Please review! (Reviews are like crack to writers!)