The sun rose over the ocean, the first shards of light illuminating the few clouds scudding over the soft swell, announcing daylight had begun. Above a small deserted beach, the tall lighthouse shone its beacon out one last time, then shut off for the day to stand unlit and silent. As the sun's warmth struck the soft blanket of white fog, its heat began dissipating the white mist. And within 30 minutes of the sun rising in the morning sky the night fog had burned off, leaving a bright, still morning in its wake.
As the last tendrils of fog evaporated in the warmer air, the silence on the beach was broken by the distant sound of rotors. Approaching from the west the two dark blue helicopters flew in tandem over the ocean as they approached the island. The lighthouse clearly in their view, they descended, flying in low over the small, boulder strewn beach and touched down lightly on the grassed area above the small cliff face.
Cutting their engines, silence returned to the deserted beach as the choppers sat on the grass. As the doors opened, the white FBI logo glinted in the morning sun as the occupants disembarked, standing in the morning sun with heavy jumpsuits and work gloves in place. They had come to work. To finish the job. And below them in the cliff face the half uncovered tunnel waited for them to open it up once more.
Filing down the path to the lighthouse walkway, they moved together, lugging the equipment needed to dig out the last of the rocks and secure the tunnel. The six men moved down the walkway and stepped onto the rocks with a good-humored banter between them, yet intent on the job at hand. Putting their equipment in the command tent, they stepped through the boulders and came to stand at the cave entrance.
And in the morning light with the soft sound of the waves onshore, they surveyed the scene and prepared to begin the task of moving one boulder at a time, clearing the path for the task force to arrive later that day.
###
Ressler was arguing with his nurse. "Look, I've been shot up and still out in the field far worse off than I am right now. I'm going," he told her, then quickly looked around. "As soon as I can find my clothes..."
Sitting in the recliner beside his bed, Liz spoke up. "They're in the hospital laundry. Looks like you'll just have to stay here a bit longer," she told him, trying not to smile but failing miserably.
"And I thought you were on my side," he told her, rolling his eyes at her snort of laughter.
Red was sitting at the table next to Aram, turning his nose up at the fare they'd presented in front of him and called breakfast. "Let common sense prevail, Donald. You do have some of that, correct?" he asked, then continued as Ressler scowled. "According to Aram here, the team only just arrived at the cave entrance. It will be hours before they're through. Take a moment. Rest. Relax. Convalesce," he told the bedridden agent, grinning broadly.
Ressler was beginning to wonder why he hadn't let that Cheshire cat grin go hurtling over the cliff after all.
Returning his eyes to the nurse as she removed his BP cuff, he continued his discussion. "I don't need to rest. I just need to get back to work."
"The doctor will be on rounds soon, and you can take it up with him," she told him, having finished getting his vitals which were surprisingly good despite his protests. "You should also eat something," she added, smiling. She'd had far worse patients than Ressler and was taking it all in her stride.
Ressler sighed, looking at the assortment of clear liquids and orange jello on his breakfast tray. "Anything that I have to eat through a straw isn't food," he told her. Liz turned away so he couldn't see her burst of laughter. He saw. But as a compromise he took the coffee which stood alone as the most palatable liquid on the tray. He was taking a tentative sip of the warm liquid when the doctor came striding into the room, sweeping past Red and Aram at the table.
"So, now you can go for it," the nurse whispered, motioning her head to the doctor and giving him one last smile before wheeling her squeaky little cart out of the room.
"Agent Ressler, let's have a look at you, shall we? If you could step aside please ma'am," the doctor told Liz, barely giving her a cursory glance.
Ressler nodded to her as she composed herself. Stepping past his bed she gave him a smile as the doctor drew the curtain around them and proceeded to examine Ressler's incision.
"Looking good. We'll keep you on fluids and a liquid diet today and look at it tomorrow. For today, I want you to rest.
From behind the curtain Red added. "Relax. Convalesce. You see? We're all in agreement, Donald."
Ressler ignored Red and the unseen grin he could hear behind the words as he shook his head at the doctor. "I'll be out of here this afternoon."
"I would not advise that. You've been through a lot."
"Nothing new there. I'm fine."
Doctor Gregory regarded him a moment. "I can't stop you leaving against medical advice, but you make sure you follow up with your own doctor or your Bureau medic as soon as you return to your field office, got it?"
"Got it," Ressler replied, meeting the doctor's eyes.
"Very well then," he said, tossing his latex gloves in the trash. "Best of luck to you, Agent Ressler."
Ressler thanked the doctor and with a last shake of his head, Dr Gregory turned and left, sliding the curtain aside to reveal Red tilting his head at Ressler, the grin not far from his features.
Ressler turned to look at him. "Eat your breakfast," he shot at Red before dropping the head of his bed down to 'rest'.
Red laughed out loud. "There's our feisty, door kicking Donald again."
###
After spending the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon at the hospital, Ressler had had more than enough rest - and never wanted to set eyes on a jello cup again. Things were looking up though when he found his clothes. Folded neatly on the window ledge, they were the first thing he saw as he woke up from a nap he hadn't even been aware he'd been about to take. Liz's voice came to him from the recliner, the chair creaking as she lowered the foot rest.
"Feeling better?" she asked him, leaning forward on the chair.
He actually was. "Yeah, and more than ready to get outta here." He looked around the empty room. "Where are Reddington and Aram?"
"Red organized a car for us to get back to the coast and from there Dembe will meet us. Aram went down to see the driver, while Red is at the nurse's station getting your escape orders under way."
Ressler gave his half smile, looking toward the doorway and then looked down at his gown. Seeing the look she rose from the recliner. "I'll let you get dressed," she told him, pulling the curtain around his bed before sitting down at the table. He talked to her from behind the curtain as he dressed, feeling more human with each item of clothing he donned.
"Any more news from the crew out at the cave?"
"Yes! Aram spoke to them a little while ago. They're through to the cave!"
"Oh, finally," he said quietly, grimacing as he reached down to put his boots on, squashing his incision.
She heard, and almost went to help but decided to let him be. "They're making the tunnel safe so we don't have any more... cave ins..." Her voice drifted at that. He heard it, knowing where her mind had gone.
"And before you ask," she added, changing the subject, "No, we're no closer to figuring out what 108 is."
He pulled the curtain back, his jeans and t-shirt on then drew his shirt about his shoulders. "Because the answer is in that cave, Liz." He looked at his watch, having found it in one of his boots the hard way. "5:10pm. So we have about three hours of light."
"And we have a vehicle downstairs waiting," Aram informed them, spinning the keys on his finger as he entered the room. "And I just saw Mr Reddington limping this way with the paperwork lady in tow. Looks like you're getting out of here, Agent Ressler."
"About freakin' time…"
Red came into the room, resembling Cooper on his cane with a Fred Astaire flair. Ressler had to look away and smile. Some time while he'd been asleep Red had apparently had a new suit, shirt and tie bought and delivered. He looked impeccable, as usual and addressed the three of them standing before him.
"Excellent, we're all here. Donald, sign your life away then then we can head back to the island. Dembe will meet us in Rockport with the speedboat."
Ressler groaned beside Liz as he took up the offered pen to sign his discharge papers. "Of course he had to get us on another boat," he whispered to her as she swallowed a smile at her non-seaworthy partner.
###
With just under an hour of sunlight remaining, the boat powered down and entered the small inlet below the lighthouse. Under the late afternoon sun the limestone cliff face had taken on an orange hue behind the dark forms of the men in the clean up crew. Cutting the engines, Red drifted in and as the boat slowed Dembe dropped anchor when Red gave the word.
"Well, this has a familiar feel to it," Ressler told Liz as they sat on deck under the canopy "Let's get off this thing," he added, gasping as he carefully rose to his feet against the pain in his belly. But even Ressler had to admit, this was a cool boat. 32 feet in length, sleek and fast on the water she had made the crossing in no time at all.
Liz grinned at him. "Oh come on, even you liked that," she ragged him as he shrugged beside her, the glint behind his eyes telling her she was right.
Liz leaned on the railing, looking out and the sun glinting on the soft swell of the waves. "You know, I think I could live on a boat. Maybe in a different life, I could have sailed away with someone and lived a simpler life on the water," she mused. Ressler was watching her, seeing the look in her eyes as she looked out at the ocean. He leaned close.
"You know, the more I'm around you, the more I see it," he told her.
"See what?" she asked, moving her hair back behind her ear in the gentle breeze.
"How much like him you are," he told her quietly, blue eyes catching the setting sun as he motioned back to their captain.
She followed his gaze, suddenly serious. "I know... and sometimes that scares me, Ress..." She met her partner's eyes as he stood close. "But I have you to keep me on the straight and narrow, right?" she asked, lightening the mood.
"Always," he told her, then held her elbow and steered her to the dinghy to exit the boat. She was right about that too. He would always try to keep her safe, to the best of his abilities.
###
"Oh, excellent! They've even restored the power!" exclaimed Aram as they entered the cave. They weren't alone. A couple of agents were documenting and preserving everything, taking masses of photos of Conrad's belongings. A man sat at the computer desk with the stripped down boards of computers in front of him. "Freaking Osborne!" Aram cried out in welcome, then went and pulled up a chair beside his colleague.
"Where do we start?" Liz asked Ressler beside her as they quickly scanned the cave.
"The bookshelf," he told her, leaning over a little after walking down the tunnel. "Clear a spot on the table so we can look at each book," he instructed, taking charge instinctively.
Red was walking over to Aram and Osborne. "Gentlemen, can they be revived?" He got more than he bargained for when Osborne answered him, his words tumbling over themselves in his haste to explain about the burnt out boards, chips, fans and circuits and the limited replacement parts he had with him. Red held up his hand. "A simple yes or no will suffice."
Aram looked up at Red. "It's not that simple though, Mr Reddington. Osborne is correct. This is a complex job and there is no guarantee we can ever get anything off these hard drives."
Red leaned on the backs of the two chairs, facing each man in turn. "I have the utmost confidence that if there is a way, you will find it," he told them, and then headed to the couch and eased himself down. He may have looked like he was resting, but he was surveying everything before them, one item at a time. Dismissing one, then moving onto the next to find out where 108 might be in this cave.
Eyes resting on the tall cabinet, Red eased up from the couch, using his cane to pull him up then opened the doors to reveal Conrad's sketch books, notebooks and assorted pencils. Making sure the agents had photographed everything, he took two of the thick stenographers notebooks and sat back down on the couch and began to go through each page.
Ressler was talking to the guys taking photos. "You've documented the bookcase also?"
"We got it, sir. Should be safe to look at the books now. We know the order they started in."
Red called over to him. "Donald, before you look at individual books, count them, because it looks about 100 to me."
Ressler was way ahead of him and stopped after he counted the books on the top shelf. "Thirty seven," he told Liz who jotted it down in her notepad. And counting, they documented the number of books. 113 all up," he said, looking at her. She leaned down and counted back 5 books on the bottom shelf.
"So this might be book number 108, depending on how Conrad may have counted them," she told him, pulling it from the shelf and taking it to the small kitchen table where they sat and looked at it together.
"Birds of Maine Field Guide," she read, looking at the cover.
"What's on page 108?" he asked, but she was already flipping through the book. In disappointment they looked at the bird on the page. "A Yellow Bellied Flycatcher..." Liz said. "I guess I was hoping for-"
"A raven?" Ressler interrupted. "Yeah, I think I was too. Damn." He looked up at her as they leaned over the book. "That would be too simple, of course." Putting the book back in its place, they pulled the fifth book on the top shelf, in case the books were meant to be counted from the bottom right corner. As they studied a worn medical journal from the 1960's, they again found nothing of any significance on page 108.
"It's just a blank page between chapters," sighed Liz as they returned that book to the shelf. Repeating the exercise with all four corners of the bookshelf, none of the books revealed any secrets on their 108th pages.
"You're going to have to look at page 108 on every book," suggested Red, coming to stand by them as they stood perusing the books on the book shelf.
Ressler nodded, taking the first book as Liz took the end book on the top shelf, being careful to keep the books in the same order as when they'd found them. And in that manner, they began leafing through each book on the shelves in turn. Some had more than 108 pages. Many had far less.
But not one of them offered up a significant clue.
###
"I think we can safely say it's not in the books on the bookshelf," said Ressler, sitting at the kitchen table resting his chin on his right hand. Dembe had filled several jars with fresh water from the cave spring, and sitting together they sipped on it. Moving to sit on the couch, Liz leaned back and eased out her back muscles that were tensing up. One of Conrad's sketch books lay on the small end table beside her and taking it in her hand she opened it. As the beautiful drawings appeared before her, page after page, she found herself tearing up.
"He was so good... so very talented," she told Red at the other end of the couch.
"That he was, Lizzie."
And opening the page to his final drawing, a tear rolled down her cheek as she held the page with the drawing he'd done of her and Ressler. "Oh, gosh..." she sniffed, looking at their likenesses on the page and the beauty with which he'd captured them while sitting right here on this couch.
Red scooted over to her, putting his arm around her shoulders. "I hadn't seen this one... let me look," he asked as she handed him the sketch pad. Shaking his head, he looked at it. "He saw it straight away," he said quietly. Liz looked at him in question as Red smiled at her, before handing her the sketch pad. "Don't let that be hidden away in some evidence box in the bowels of the FBI. You keep that, Lizzie," he smiled at her.
Aram came over and looked at the drawing. "Wow..." he said quietly, gently taking the sketch pad from Liz. "He was good..." His eyes narrowed as he studied it, then quickly moved to the table with it, taking out his phone and shining the flashlight on the sketch.
"What is it?" Ressler asked, sitting at the table and looking at the drawing.
"Oh, my God." Aram's wide eyes met Resslers. "Look."
Ressler leaned forward. In the bright light of the phone he saw it. Initially thinking it part of the chair that Liz had sitting been on, now the pencil marks became clear.
They weren't random lines and curves. They were numbers.
"108!" exclaimed Aram, looking up as Liz came over to stand beside them.
"What?!"
"Right there in the drawing, see it?! And there are other numbers, look here!"
Now that they were more in tune with what to look for, they saw them. A series of tiny numbers along the base of the cot Ressler was laying on in the drawing.
"What do they mean?" Liz asked Aram, staring at the numbers on the page.
"I don't know... Yet…" he told her, distracted as his mind raced. "But let's start by looking at his other drawings!"
###
An hour later, their excitement had been replaced with more confusion. Scores of Conrad's drawings had hidden numbers within them, some with more numbers, some with less, but all were different.
"I think these numbers represent names. In code," said Aram, looking up from yet another drawing, pinching the top of his nose and closing his eyes as his brain ached. "If we could work out what the numbers are on yours and Agent Ressler's drawing, we might be able to use it as a cipher for the others."
"Exactly what I have been attempting to do. I've tried every combination I can think of and compared it to some of the other drawings," Red told him, having scribbled down the numbers on a notebook that now had his marks all over it. "Nothing is panning out."
"Osborne, what do we know about simple codes?" Aram asked him.
"That we need the main cipher. Without that, we're just guessing. Who says it's simple though?" Osborne replied from the computer desk, delicately cleaning a circuit board.
"Whoa!" Ressler stopped on a page in an older sketch pad and looked up at Liz across the kitchen table from him. "Recognize this guy?" He turned the notebook to her and she stared for a moment, narrowing her eyes.
"I don't... wait..." she leaned forward.
Red came over and looked at the sketch. "Put a few years on him and add a bruised and bandaged nose and we have our broken nosed friend."
"Oh, my gosh, you're right! It IS him!" cried Liz, looking at the drawing again.
"Was." Red corrected her as Ressler looked up at him. The cold blooded killer was still there, hidden under the tired man leaning on his cane. It was hard to come to terms with the stark contrasts within Reddington at times. He drew his attention back to the drawing of Broken Nose.
"These aren't random drawings. We know this guy was Cabal, which means-" Ressler told them, pointing at the drawing as Liz broke in.
"His drawings are his list!"
"Hidden in plain sight," mused Red, shaking his head.
"But we don't know their names until we can decipher his code..." Aram said in frustration, turning back to his notebooks and wandering off studying the numbers yet again. "We still need the cipher..."
###
A while later Liz stood up to stretch her back again. Ressler looked up from the numbers on his notepad, unable to make sense of any of them. "You alright?" he asked quietly.
She nodded tiredly. "Yeah. The meds they gave me have long since worn off. How about you?"
"I'm fine. This is much easier than running around the island and..." his words drifted off as he shrugged.
"And saving people from falling over cliffs," she smiled. "Actually, I'm hungry," she added, looking toward the meager supplies on Conrad's kitchen shelves.
Ressler followed her eyes. "He's not going to need them anymore, Liz," he told her, putting his hand on her arm as she quickly looked at him.
"I know. I'll see what I can rustle us up to eat," she told him, blinking tears away and moving to the simple kitchen that was actually an outside BBQ unit nestled against the rock. Cupboards had been screwed into the cave walls either side of the shelves, completing the compact and functional kitchen.
Dembe stepped up from the back of the cave where he had sat, keeping out of their way while also guarding the dark tunnel. "Elizabeth, I will do that. You sit down," he told her, glad for something to do as he made his way to the kitchen area to prepare a meal. Opening and closing cupboard doors, he found several cans and boxes of food with which to throw something together. Behind him, Aram caught sight of something.
"Wait, open that again," he asked Dembe, scrambling from his seat near the computer area.
Aram pointed to one of the closed cupboards as Dembe opened the door revealing a sheet of paper stuck to the inside. Stuck down with old, yellowed tape to the inside of the door, the corners curled and soft, the paper had obviously been there a great many years.
"What is it?" Ressler asked, turning to look at Aram who was apparently just standing there.
"It's..." Aram stopped, his mind racing. Counting. "Eighteen... six in each..." A grin broke across his features as he turned to them. "It was right here all along, and we didn't even..."
Red spoke up from the couch. "Aram, perhaps you had better explain."
"It's Conrad's copy of The Raven, taped to his door here. Guys, it's the poem, but it's the cipher!" he told them. "Hidden just like his drawings, in plain sight."
Ressler and Liz stood up slowly, coming to look at the sheet of paper as Aram pointed to it, and continued.
"The poem consists of eighteen paragraphs of 6 lines each," he explained.
"Making 108 lines," said Red quietly, as Aram beamed, holding his hands out and bowing his head to them.
###
Reluctant to take down Conrad's copy of his poem, they left it where it was as Aram hurried to his laptop. Attaching his phone to receive an internet signal, he quickly found a copy of the poem online and copied it to his word processor.
"Okay, now we can work with it," he told them, as he went down each line and numbered it. What are the numbers from your drawing, Liz?" he asked her.
Red answered immediately. He'd studied them enough that he'd memorized them. "13.3.3 36.6.2 72.4.3 94.8.3"
Osborne was leaning over, pointing as Aram jotted the numbers down, but Aram had already seen it. "Yes! Line number, then the word number on that line, then the letter of that word..." he said, his eyes flying over the poem. First letter is… L," he told them. "Well, I'm pretty sure, it is."
"There," pointed Osborne.
"Second letter is O...I think," said Aram, moving down to line 72.
And counting, he looked at the next two letters and suddenly smiled up at Liz. "The word is LOVE. He wrote 'love' on your drawing, guys," he told them, looking at the two agents who were leaning down either side of him and looking at his laptop screen. The white light shining on each of their faces, they both turned to Aram.
Red smiled, stepping back and looking at Ressler and Liz whose eyes had now slid across to each other, locking on their partner.
"Um, yeah, so…so that's what he wrote," said Aram, suddenly flustered. And really wanting to distance himself from the look his colleagues were now giving each other right in front of him, he tried to return to the business at hand. "So, um, now we can decipher all the names on the drawings."
Leaving Aram and Osborne to decipher the names, Liz and Ressler moved back to the kitchen table as Dembe served them the meal. Eating automatically now, her mind barely on the food, she looked across at Ressler. They hadn't said anything to each other. He sipped coffee as she ate, and placing her fork on the plate, she looked up at him.
"I think..." she said, then stopped. "I mean, I don't think he told us anything we didn't already know deep down..." she said quietly, looking at him warily trying to gauge his reaction.
When he was a kid, Ressler had watched Han Solo tell Princess Leia "I know," when she'd professed her love for him. And as a kid, he'd always found that kinda cool. Also kinda annoying when all the girls sitting around him yelled at the screen that he should have told her he loved her too. Now he understood more. Just as Han Solo couldn't say it, he also could not openly utter the one sentiment that Conrad had observed between himself and Liz.
He and Liz might have feelings for each other, but neither of them could ever act on them while they were partners. And more to the point, while they were each dealing with their own losses and uncertainties in their own lives. For now it was enough to know they worked with their best friend. The one they trusted. The one they leaned on. The one they shared secrets and lies with. And the one they needed more than they could admit.
Watching the cogs turn in his mind while knowing exactly what he was thinking, Liz waited.
"I know," he told her, finally answering her, then gave her one of his rare, beautiful smiles.
She smiled too, breaking the sudden awkward awareness and returning them to their comfortable ease in each others presence.
###
Aram and Osborne were now systematically going through every sketch with numbers, decoding the name and then moving onto the next sketch. Working with one of the photo guys, who seemingly had a never ending supply of memory cards for his camera, they were taking a digital photo of every sketch.
Aram looked up at them. "With all these names, I'm not sure how we're going to know if Conrad's Cabal informant is one of them."
Red spoke up from the couch. "I believe he will have left a clue to that. He's got us this far."
"You're right. I have faith in our dear Mr Lucas," said Aram, stopping and looking around him at the cave. "But this is going to take a while. We're getting names, but that's not telling us who these people are. Or who they were, if they were the Cabal's victims. I think it would be quicker to do this back at the Post Office," he informed them. "I mean, if you think that's what we should do, of course," he added, looking to Ressler for confirmation. The fact he suddenly longed for his comfortable desk with Samar sitting across from him had nothing to with it. Not at all.
Ressler was already coming to the same conclusion and nodded. "I think we've done all we can here. Now let's have the crew come back in and take this place apart and move it piece by piece to a large room in the Post Office."
"Aaaww…"
Ressler turned back to her. "What?"
"It's sad. We're pulling his home apart as evidence now," she told him.
He looked down and leaned closer to her, hand to his belly. "Well, look at this way though. You can go sit in his cave any time you want to at the Post Office," he told her, "And you won't have to get on a freakin' boat to do it."
She smiled at him then, nodding. "Right."
Ressler took a last look around the cave. This had been Conrad's home for years. It was well lived in. Even comfortable, as far as caves went. His eyes dropped to the cot and the discarded medical supplies nearby. He'd had a surgery in this cave. He'd come into it whole and left with a little piece less of him. His life had been saved here. And a kind man with blue skin had made them feel welcome and become part of their team for a little while. She was right. It was sad.
Liz was watching him. "You can't fool me, you know," she told him softly, smiling up at him.
###
Much to Ressler's relief, the sea was still fairly calm when they exited the cave to find a crystal clear night with no sign of fog. Lit by the moon and the rotating lighthouse above them, the waves lapped calmly on shore, the sound deceptively relaxing. Standing on the beach together, Red drew in a deep breath of air and filled his lungs.
"There is no better air on this planet to breathe into ones lungs," he smiled, closing his eyes momentarily.
Ressler decided against telling the man he'd take his word for it and just let Red have his moment. His eyes fell onto their waiting speedboat bobbing on the ocean waves about 30 feet from shore. An arm found his elbow and looking down he found Liz leaning into him.
"Come on, let's get off this island," she said then looked around them. "Though… I like it here. It's peaceful. I can see why Conrad loved it…"
Ressler lifted his eyes from her and looked up at the lighthouse shining its protective beacon into the night sky. And again, he had to agree with his partner as they walked down the beach toward the waiting dinghy on the shore.
###
Arriving in Rockport, they were surprised to see Mr Young. Two cars stood by for them. The first car they'd had on arriving from the plane days previously, as well as the rental car they'd used to leave the hospital.
"Mr Young, perfect timing," said Red, slapping his employee on the back. "I trust everything went well with our friends at the Coast Guard when you went to get our vehicle?"
Young nodded, then looked to Ressler, smirking. "Oh yeah, I told them I knew the FBI agent who'd just had his guts opened up in a cave, and they knew I was for real. I mean, no one can make this stuff up, right?"
Ressler stood with hands on hips, regarding Red's employee, then smiled and rolled his eyes.
"Oh, and there was a medic there," added Young, "who said to tell you not to go running around on any cliff tops again. Do you know what he was talking about?" asked Young, tilting his head at Ressler in question, still with that goading smile.
"I have no idea," Ressler deadpanned as Liz chuckled beside him.
Red smiled, and faced his employee. "Excellent. Mr Young, if you wouldn't mind taking Agent Mojtabai here back to the plane, we have some last minute business to attend to just up the coast.
"We do?" Ressler and Liz both asked together.
"We do." Red herded them to their vehicle without further elaboration.
Stopping, Liz turned to Aram and wrapped her arms around him, leaning on his chest as his arms found her back. "You can join us in the field any time, my computer geek friend," she told him, smiling up at him as she pulled back from him.
"Thank you," Aram grinned, then shook Ressler's offered hand.
"I gotta say, you surprised me. Well done. And thank you," he told Aram, who grinned even wider at Ressler's praise.
Leaving Aram as he climbed in the other vehicle with Young, they pulled out of the parking lot with Dembe driving. Ressler eyed Liz as they sat together in the back. She shook her head and had no idea either as they left the sleepy seaport town behind them. As the winding coast road took them by the beach to their right, memories of being followed came to them. Ressler found it hard not to look behind them for signs of pursuit. As Liz stole a glance behind them, she swallowed hard and returned her gaze to the front.
The Inn came into sight, sitting back from the road as its inviting lights shone out onto the lawn in front. From the front passenger seat, Red pointed and Dembe slowed and turned into the parking lot. As the car came to a halt, Red leaned back to them.
"Here we are," he said pleasantly before climbing out.
They joined him beside the car, standing on the gravel by the front of the Inn, while Dembe opened the trunk and deposited their overnight bags at their feet.
"What's going on?" Liz asked Red, taking his arm.
Red didn't answer her, but drew his eyes off her and settled on Ressler. "Donald has been to hell and back in the last four days, and you have suffered a terrible ordeal. Consider it a gift. A chance to put your feet up," he told them as Ressler open his mouth to speak.
Red held his hand up. "I'm not going to hear your protests. You wouldn't listen to us or the doctor in the hospital. So now you're going to." He smiled congenially, waving his hand to encompass the inviting Inn. "So you're paid up for as long as you wish to stay. And when you're ready to leave, just let me know. So. Rest. Relax-"
"Convalesce," finished Ressler as Liz took in the Inn beside them, listening to the ocean swell from the other side of the road in the peaceful night.
"Exactly."
"You've got it all figured out, haven't you Reddington?" said Ressler, shaking his head at the criminal. "You know we need to get back to work and sort through all of Conrad's drawings, right?"
"Aram is more than capable. The rest of it will be waiting for you when you get back, Donald." He looked to Dembe. "Shall we?" he told the dark man and walked back to the car, straightening his hat.
"He's leaving?"
"He is," answered Ressler as Dembe and Red pulled out of the parking lot and left them standing there.
Ressler ran his hand through his hair and looked up at the Inn. "Well, we can't stand out here all night. And I for one don't think I have it in me to walk back to town and get out of here."
Liz looked at him, a smile forming on her lips. "Yeah...we'll just have to tough it out here, right?"
His eyes slid across to her, lit by the porch light. She caught the glint behind them. "Something like that, yeah."
Walking together up the steps to the double front doors, they entered as a bell jingled above their heads. It was late, past midnight and the lobby and desk was deserted. As they stood together leaning on the counter, Ressler hit the bell. From the rear room came a shuffling and then the desk clerk stood before them, wiping crumbs from her mouth.
"Sorry folks, what can I do for-" She stopped when she saw Liz, recognition dawning in her eyes. "Oh." Her eyes shot to Ressler, looking him up and down.
Ressler caught the look and glanced at Liz, who was suddenly refusing to meet his eyes. "Donald Ressler... I believe there is a booking here for us," said Ressler, still wondering why his partner was looking everywhere but in his direction.
The desk clerk recovered and reached for a key behind her. "Of course sir. You and your wife have a room facing the ocean and-"
"She's not-"
Liz stepped on his foot as he barely stifled a retort. She took the key, grabbed his arm and dragged him behind her.
"What-?"
"Come along honey, our room awaits," she smiled back at him, raising her eyebrows at him to comply.
As they went up the stairs, Ressler taking it slower as the pain in his belly woke up, the desk clerk watched them and shook her head, speaking quietly. "That girl is crazy... stepping out with that dark, shifty fella when she's married to THAT. Lordy, if she don't want him, I'm more than happy to take him off her hands..."
From behind her, a tired voice spoke up. "What did you say?
"Nothing honey. Nothing at all."
###
As Ressler and Liz reached the top of the landing, he shook his arm from her hand. "Okay, what was that?"
She smiled at him. "Well, you're my scary husband and I'm cheating on you with Aram."
He stared at her, narrowing his eyes. "I appear to have missed the memo on that one," he told her, then looked at the key in her hand. "Well...wife... we only have one room, apparently."
She smiled at him and unlocked the door to the large, spacious room. "And only one bed."
"Well, wherever will you sleep?" he asked, walking behind her and dropping his bag to the floor and turning to her with an unreadable glint in his eye. "I'm kidding, you take the bed, I'll take the couch," he smiled and walked further into the room.
She held his arm. "It would be okay with me, if it's okay with you," she told him, as he turned his head back to her.
Stepping behind her he turned the light out and moved to her, taking her gently in his arms. "So you wouldn't mind if I just slept beside you?"
She leaned on his chest, mindful of his painful belly. "I would love that."
He held her, resting his chin on her hair. "I know," he told her, giving her his best Han Solo cool reply.
"I'm going to take a quick shower," she told him, and pulled back and headed for the bathroom.
Twelve minutes later, dressed in shorts and t-shirt, she entered the large room and approached the bed. Her partner was already laying on his left side, muscular arm visible in his t-shirt on the outside of the covers. Head on the pillow with eyes closed in sleep he was the picture of peace. Just as Conrad had drawn him.
She almost hated to slip into bed in case she woke him, but did so very gently. He stirred and half opened his eyes.
"Night, Ress," she whispered
"Night..."
Facing him, she lay her head on the pillow. And her resting, relaxing, convalescing partner was the last thing she saw beside her as she drifted off to sleep.
- THE END -