Washington, DC – October 2014
Isabelle flips over the five-dollar bill again. George is dead. It was a car accident. That was already suspicious. She got this five-dollar bill in the mail. She got an email from someone claiming to be Bluebird. It's all a little too orchestrated. She reads the penned words in blue ink. Trust no one except Bluebird. There is a huge part of her that cannot believe the words. Bluebird. Bess.
She had thought she had lost her two closest friends on this earth. Bess being alive makes sense if she thinks about it hard enough. George had all but disappeared for a few months, a little over a year after Bess died. He came back less sad—a lot less sad. She thought maybe he had gone somewhere and gotten a therapist or even just taken the time to grieve. George had been a little more cheerful after for a while. And then he started walking around with a perpetual state of worry written on his face. Isabelle had asked him more than once what was going on. He'd only smile and shake his head, but he'd never told her what was wrong. He'd gotten more distant as those few years passed. He had disappeared again for a few months. She had thought he had been on an OP, and maybe he was. But if she goes back to that time, he had seemed a little lighter when he came home. And he had started taking phone calls on his personal phone in private. Maybe it had been a lover, or maybe it had been Bess.
Of course, there is also the Conrad Dalton of it all. George had gotten cold towards him. He'd had a short temper with the man, and she'd known the two had butted heads more than once. George had been vocal about not liking him, but he'd never told Isabelle why. He had, however, been adamant in his warnings never to trust the man. And she'd ignored him, of course.
The first time she met him, the man smiled and made her feel welcome, like they were all going to be the best of friends. George was charming. And he was funny. But if you looked through his external covers, he was above all kind. She knows that if she were in a position for whatever reason and needed to fake her death, she would've trusted George with the secret. She wonders if that's the best option Bess had. However, Isabelle can't imagine Bess leaving her family. It's the one thing that keeps her from fully believing Bess is alive. What could've happened that Bess felt her best option was to be dead?
And George. She has to keep telling herself that he's dead. That he was murdered because that's this five-dollar bill tells her he was murdered, and he was prepared for it. Her eyes water, and she blinks away the tears. George was a good friend. She hasn't gotten the chance to think about the fact he's dead. She hasn't come to comprehend it or believe it fully.
She feels Juliet's gaze from the desk across from her. She knows everyone processes grief differently. She knows not to judge how badly someone is doing based on their external reactions. But something twists in her gut, the same feeling she gets when she's close to a break in a case. And it's telling her something isn't right. She tries to pinpoint it. The fact she's been lied to by George, no doubt. He didn't trust her with whatever the hell he had gotten himself into, and that hurt her. She hasn't trusted Conrad since George told her not to. But Juliet was his number one agent. And she's Munsey's—another person she doesn't like but has no reason not to trust somewhat. Juliet shows no signs of not trusting those two. It's quite the opposite, actually. Isabelle wonders if George trusted Juliet. Did Juliet get the same five-dollar message she did?
The feeling continues to twist at her. She doesn't know what is true, but she does know she doesn't like the way she's feeling. Something isn't right. But she has no clue what it is, and it's driving her mad. She needs to work to find some sort of answer. And in the very back of her mind, a small voice is telling her to get to Bess before Juliet can.
Pittsburgh, PA – October 2014
"Good Afternoon. We are approaching Pittsburgh International Airport. Please make sure your seats are upright; your tray tables are stowed."
Henry rubs his hand over his face as he listens to the Captain make the announcement. He's surprised that he was able to sleep at all. The pit returns to his stomach, this time accompanied by nausea. Whether he's ready or not, the time to act is upon him. The wheels touch down on the tarmac, and he feels his body jerk against the force of the brakes. It's a feeling that's always welcome to him. The lunge forward always meant the arresting cables did their job and kept him from plummeting a multi-million dollar jet into the ocean. The plane taxis toward the gate, and he grabs his bag from under the seat, not wanting to waste any time.
"Please stay seated until the aircraft has come to a complete stop, and the fasten seatbelt sign has turned off."
He desperately turns his cell phone on as the light comes off, and he stands quickly enough to make himself dizzy. He has to wait for it to power on, and the seconds drag by. The flight attendant tells him that he can leave, and he walks past her without looking up. His phone lights up with the welcome screen. His muscle memory more than his brain calls his wife's cell phone. He waits for it to ring.
"Hey, you've reached Jess. I can't come to the phone right now. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you."
Henry's heart stops beating. Jessica's frantic phone call in Elizabeth's apartment, plus the current situation, doesn't bode well. "Jess, honey. I'm in Pittsburgh. I'll be home soon."
He finds himself jogging to the parking garage. He has a feeling of urgency he can't shake. He fumbles with the keys and the locks on the doors. The traffic is a nightmare. His mind races, and he has no idea what to do next. All he can think about is his need to lay his eyes on his children immediately. There is a certain calmness that washes over him as he pulls into the driveway. He sits in the car for a fraction of a moment and looks at his home. The lawn is freshly cut. The mums that have replaced the summer flowers are in bloom. The house looks just as it did two days ago. The van is in the driveway, telling him Jessica and the kids are home.
He rushes into the house. "Jess?"
He lays eyes on her, waiting for him on the bench in the foyer. He drops his backpack on the floor as he studies her. He looks her over section by section, not quite knowing what he's looking for. Her head- eyes downcast, frown present. Her shoulders- sagged. Her hands- tightly gripping her knees. Her feet- nervously tapping the floor.
"Henry," She sounds relieved as she stands in front of him. She wraps her arms around his middle, and he hugs her in return. "I'm so glad you're here."
"What happened?" His words come out in a desperate breath, "Are the kids okay?"
"They're fine. They're with your dad. I'm the one that's not okay." her voice is small. Henry backs away from her slightly to study her face. He's seen her upset, but this is a new level of anxiety. She's scared of something. He swallows. Suddenly, he's not sure he wants to know.
"What's going on, Jess?" He asks. He watches as she sniffles and then swallows.
"There is something I have to tell you. And you're not going to like it."
Henry's heart drops. He's not sure how much more he can take. The last two days have been the worst roller coaster. He wants off. He feels like he's in a nightmare, and he can't wake up. He wants off this ride, and he wants it to stop. His mouth is dry, and he can't breathe.
"Henry," She starts. Jessica looks him straight in the eye, "I need to tell you something about Elizabeth. And it's going to be very hard to hear. I'm very sorry, but I need to protect you."
Henry takes a deep breath. His mind is reeling. The look on his wife's face tells him that he's not going to like whatever she has to say. He's not sure if he's mentally strong enough to take much more. He looks his wife in the eye, trying so hard to hold onto his sanity. "What about her? You don't even know her."
Jessica catches his use of present tense and lets out a slow breath. It's true. He does know she's alive. She doesn't know how he knows, and she's not sure she wants to ask, but he does know. She forces the tension in her shoulders to release just a little bit. "You're right. I don't know her. But I... Henry, I am so sorry. I work for the CIA," She starts with a confession centered on her in hopes of regaining his trust quickly enough to get him to read the Bluebird Dossier.
"You're a... What?" The blood drains from Henry's face. Jessica has a sudden look of dread on her face. He doesn't have the time or the patience to listen to this right now. His entire world has flipped once again. He has not had any time to process seeing Elizabeth or her story. And now this? He feels himself almost fighting for air, "What? Oh, God. What is happening?"
He's suddenly angry and overwhelmed. The weight of the last 48 hours and the events from the day before weigh heavy on him. He feels like he's in quicksand. Every time he tries to pull himself out, it sucks him back in further. He looks at his wife as if she's suddenly a stranger. He loves two women, and both of them have succeeded in breaking his heart into microscopic pieces. He's not sure if it's even worth the effort to try and put them back together again. "Are you going to say anything?"
"Henry, please listen." She reaches for his hands, and he jerks them away.
"I need you to explain." He says, trying to regain any sense of composure. He doesn't feel like he's in control of his life. The thought dawns on him that he might not have control. Jessica is CIA. Elizabeth, Conrad, George—all CIA. He looks into his wife's green eyes and sees the pleading there. He's not sure if the emotion he's feeling is fear, anxiety, or anger.
"I am in the CIA. And while I never met Elizabeth. I know things about her. Things that are going to upset you. But it's really important to me that you know how much I love you and how much I love our family. And you need to understand that my feelings for you are real." Jessica's words are nothing like the preamble she had rehearsed. Having Henry in front of her is much harder than she had expected it to be. He looks so sad. She takes a deep breath and lets her instincts take over, "But there are things you don't know. Things that are going to hurt you. And I don't... I never thought..." she stops speaking. Never once has she ever run out of things to say. Never once has she not known how to talk her way out of trouble. Manipulation has always been high on her list of spy skills. She doesn't know when she got so rusty at lying. Her mouth hangs open.
Henry feels his body slump. He can feel his knees threatening to give out on him. He needs more than apologies. He feels the same rage he felt in Elizabeth's office, starting to bubble through him. He needs the entire world to quit lying to him. He needs one person to start playing fair.
"Just tell me," He says with a resigned tone. He wants the truth.
Jessica looks into his eyes. He's looking back at her with so much anger and sadness that she doesn't even know where to begin, "Before we met, I ran Black Ops for Conrad Dalton."
This piques Henry's interest. He's learned so much about Conrad Dalton in the last two days. He's disgusted about the man's secret life as a psychopath. He braces himself to learn that Dalton hurt another woman he loves. His stomach twists, and his throat goes dry, "What happened?" He asks, his voice softer.
Jessica mistakes his sympathies. She assumes his love for her is completely overriding his newfound anger at her newly told truths. She takes a deep breath. It's better this way. Let him be angry; maybe she can get him to direct it at Elizabeth. Then he'll be less angry at her, "One of my last Operations was code-named Liquidate Bluebird."
Henry's eyes flick to hers. His gaze is firey and intense. "No," he chokes out. He's read the Liquidate Bluebird file in its entirety. He paced Elizabeth's apartment and read the lies and accusations. He read the plan that led to her kidnapping. He read the faked DNA reposts and the doctored medical reports. He read the plans and the contingencies for his children and himself. He read the entire file. "Tell me you had nothing to do with what they did to her."
Jessica looks at Henry, "Henry, you can't possibly believe her." She says desperately.
"You didn't answer my question. Did you have a part in what happened to my wife!" He yells.
"I'm your wife!" Jessica's cold voice responds. Henry hadn't even realized his slip of words. "And I had no choice. You have to understand. There are rules. You follow orders." She pleads, trying desperately to make him understand.
Henry's body trembles with anger, "Did you help Conrad Dalton give Elizabeth to that man?" His words are clear even through his set jaw and gritted teeth. He's thankful for the anger. It's helping to override his heartbreak.
"Conrad gave the order, and I followed through." She's still pleading, still begging him to see the reality of the situation. She needs him to understand the position she was put in. She needs him to understand what she knows: Elizabeth is a traitor. Elizabeth was a shitty wife and a bad mother. Jessica pleads for her husband's trust with her eyes, big and doe-like, and staring straight into his.
Henry shakes his head. "Why are you telling me this?" His voice is low and soft. He's no longer yelling, but the fire in his belly burns hot.
"Because I know you saw her. I know that George Peters led you to her. But Henry, she lied to you. Okay? She's a liar." There is a desperate need to be believed in her voice. It sounds so similar to Elizabeth's plea for him earlier. But there is a stark difference, Elizabeth was sure about what happened to her. It had been hard for her to talk about. She had been emotional. But she was sure and concise. She knew exactly what had happened. Elizabeth didn't waver when she told him her story. Jessica's desperation is her downfall. Her words are tinged with doubt.
"She wasn't lying. And I think... I think you know that. Or at least you doubt her guilt." Henry's words are quiet and thoughtful. Jessica is not sure how to respond. This is not the conversation she had been expecting. He's not reacting the way she thought he would.
"Henry, you need to listen to me. She is a tr-"
"Don't," Henry says forcefully, "Do not call her a traitor. She isn't. She would never sell out our military. She would never put our men and women in the line of fire. You know that. And I know that. And I don't want to hear it."
"Okay," Jessica says slowly. She's confused. This was not how this was supposed to go. Henry was supposed to believe her immediately and implicitly. This, whether it's fair or not, confirms her worst fear. Henry would choose Elizabeth. He would pick her over Jessica every time. There is no winning here.
"What do you mean okay?" He asks. He's not sure what is going on. She's acting strangely. Or maybe he can't trust himself anymore.
"You're right. I have doubts. But I had orders. And regardless of what you think you know, Conrad is not evil. He's not. There has to be some explanation."
"What do you mean doubts? You said you helped him!" Henry says, exasperated.
"I did, and I didn't have doubts at the time." She starts. She didn't know Elizabeth. She still doesn't. But she's married to Henry, and she's raised the kids the woman gave birth to. Jessica loves him. "It's complicated."
"Uncomplicate it for me." Henry's words are curt. He doesn't have time for games. He has one assignment, keep his kids safe. Being here arguing with his wife is complicating his timetable. It's costing Elizabeth time.
"Okay," Jessica starts. She needs a minute. "Let me show you something,"
"If it's the dossier, I've read it. I have one question: did you know what the man who took her was going to do to her? Do you know what they did to her? How can you possibly justify that?" His voice is rising with his anger. His fists are clenched, and his teeth are grinding. Even if she was a traitor, she deserved a trial, not to be held and tortured and raped.
"I knew. I didn't know the specifics, but I knew she would not be killed."
"I can't believe this." He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair, "You... Was any of it real? You and me?" He asks because he does love her, and to think that their marriage has been an elaborate ruse tears him in half.
"I fell in love with you, Henry. And I've always loved the kids. You have to know that. But this whole situation is complicated."
Henry's blood runs cold. He wants to scream, but his voice is low, "They are my kids, Jessica. And I need to protect them." He should bring her with him. Or incapacitate her. Or something. But he can't. He's hurt and confused. And his brain is not able to formulate a coherent plan.
"Henry," She pleads. He looks at her. It's not that he doesn't care for her. It's not that he's not hurt by what she did. But his kids' safety needs to be the only thing on his mind.
"I have to go. I... I do love you." He admits, "But I have to go. Please stay here. Just please." He begs.
"Where are you going?" She asks as he turns toward the door.
"To keep the kids safe." He's walking quickly out of the house. His life feels tainted and tarnished. Nothing makes sense, and nothing will until he can get to the kids.
"I can't let you do that." Jessica's words stop him in his tracks.
He turns back around, "What?"
"The kids are safe. Okay? They're safe. They only want Elizabeth. Just let them have her, and then we all stay safe." Jessica's pleas turn his stomach.
"Let them have her? What the hell is wrong with you?"
"You're not thinking straight, Henry. You have to know she's guilty. If she's guilty, this is the best way. The kids stay safe. We stay safe. And no one else dies. We grow old together. Everything stays the same."
Henry tilts his head as if he's confused. He is, maybe. How could she think that everything could stay the same? He knows Elizabeth is alive. He knows what happened to her. He knows that Jess played a role in it. The fact that she thinks they can go back to a normal life is incomprehensible.
"How can you even say that? We can't just go back to normal. You... you lied to me." He thinks of Elizabeth's face in her apartment. It's a see you later. Maybe Jess has been right all along if there's a choice to be made. He chooses Elizabeth. She's... Well, she's Elizabeth. And even though he's not sure about their future, he knows that he can't walk away and let her be murdered. He can't just abandon her.
"Please don't leave." Jessica's words are desperate and broken. She's not sure where it all went wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen, "Please don't choose her. She left you! She left our kids!"
Henry looks at her, "Conrad was going to kill my children. That is what he threatened her with—their lives. I can't believe you're making excuses for him. For any of this."
"I'm not making excuses." She's defensive and angry. She has a plan. He doesn't understand. She has a plan, and he's messing it all up. She knows how to keep them all safe, but Elizabeth has to die, "Let her make the sacrifice. Please?"
"I can't lose her again," he whispers. The truth of the statement is not lost on him. It's the only truth he has left. All the variables and all the lies and manipulation. It all boils down to one point. Elizabeth is alive, and he can't bear the grief of losing her. It had nearly destroyed him the first time. The last few days had been a nightmare, and he would gladly take a lifetime of nightmares and uncertainty and chaos to keep from feeling the loss again.
"What?" She feels her chest tighten.
"I chose her." He says simply before turning and running out the door.
