Baltimore, MD – October 2014
Her neck is killing her by the time her flight lands. She feels anxious and scared. Her palms are sweaty, and she keeps checking her watch. The flight was packed tight, and she felt like she couldn't breathe. She hasn't flown since coming back from Germany. Elizabeth doesn't remember that flight being this bad. But it had also been a military medical transport, and she had been so drugged up she didn't remember much, only George's hand in hers, which was where she wanted Henry's. Flying has never been her favorite thing, but now, after everything that's happened, the trauma, the pain, the memories, the flashbacks, she can't sit still. Her mind is racing, and she can feel the walls closing in around her. The air is too thick, and it feels like it's pressing down on her, crushing her chest, constricting her lungs, making her feel like she's drowning.
Although, she has to wonder, when was the last time she didn't feel like she was drowning? The last eleven years, her deployment, her captivity, the addiction, and the partial healing have all had a suffocating effect on her. She feels like she's always fighting for air, always struggling, always barely hanging on. Maybe it was the absence of her family. Maybe it's the change that has occurred in her body, mind, and soul. She doesn't spend much time dwelling on the barely scarred wound that her time with Samuel Rodriguez left her with. But sometimes, if she lets her mind wander to those days, she can feel him. His breath hot against her neck, his hands holding her down, the pain and the humiliation. She lets herself think less often about how it felt to kill him, to end his life. The satisfaction of it makes her feel like a monster. She looks at her hands, almost expecting to see the blood staining them, but she sees nothing. The only proof that what she's thinking of happened is the ache in her bones and the way she can still hear him telling her that she is his, that she belongs to him, and that she will obey him.
There are other times in which Samuel's voice morphs into Conrad's. This mostly happens in her dreams. She's thought about getting the sick satisfaction of killing him, too. She has wondered what his death would be like, whether he'd beg for his life. If he'd say, he's sorry. She has imagined a thousand ways to make him pay. But most of all, she wonders what the feeling would be like after having his life in her hands, after all the years of him controlling her like a puppet. He gets sick satisfaction from knowing she's out in the world alone. He's trapped her in a permanent prison. And he will have the sick pleasure of watching her suffer and live with her demons. She wants to watch him break. She wants him to be afraid, to beg, and to know that she has won.
She startles when someone pushes into from behind. She's standing in the aisle, blocking everyone behind her as she stares at her hands and thinks about her past. A few more people bump into her, and she snaps back into reality. "Oh, sorry," she says as she forces her legs to start moving toward the exit of the plane.
The airport is busy, and the crowd presses in around her. It takes a lot of effort to stay calm and focused. She doesn't remember the Baltimore airport being this busy. She keeps waiting for her spy training to kick in and override her anxiety. But the anxiety is so much a part of her now that she's not sure her spy training ever stood a chance against it.
"You don't need to rent a car," A voice so familiar yet so foreign tells her. She turns, unable to keep the small smile from her face.
"Isabelle, you're a sight for sore eyes," Elizabeth says. Isabelle wraps her arms around Elizabeth's shoulders. It's weird to Elizabeth how the roles have reversed at this moment. Elizabeth used to love hugs and being held, while Isabelle shied away from most physical contact.
"I can't believe you're alive. I mean, I cried at your funeral," Isabelle says. It's a vulnerable statement. If Elizabeth remembers correctly, Isabelle has never been one to wear her heart on her sleeve. They had always foiled each other. Maybe that's what built the friendship between them, their ability to see the truth of one another. Elizabeth had always seen through Isabelle's facade of strength, and Isabelle had seen through Elizabeth's.
"I know, and I'm so sorry for that." Elizabeth feels her eyes tear up with her apology. It takes two seconds, however, for her to become completely suspicious, "How'd you know I'd be here?"
"I checked your alias," Isabelle is almost proud of Elizabeth for questioning her, "Lisa Aldin sent the email. She, meaning you, work in Los Angeles. You would be flying from LAX. I found you in the flight manifests."
"Why not wait to meet me at the clubhouse?" Her interrogative tone comes second nature as, finally, her training works in conjunction with her anxiety.
"George," Isabelle says. For a moment, Elizabeth feels relieved. Maybe he's not dead. But Isabelle pulls a five-dollar bill out of her pocket and holds it in front of her, "He sent me this. It was post-marked a day before he died."
Elizabeth inspects the bill as the weight of his loss crashes back onto her shoulders. Trust no one except Bluebird. George had told Isabelle to trust her, and in a way, Elizabeth believes he's telling her to trust Isabelle. But are the posthumous words of a dead man to be taken seriously? Elizabeth doesn't trust anybody. George was the one exception. And she found herself getting lost in emotion with Henry—and yes, maybe that was trust. She did trust him, but did she really? She let him get close. She let him get into her head, and she told him all about their years apart. But was that trust, or was it her desire to reconnect with someone she had a connection with?
"I'm not sure what you've been through or what you're here to do. But I know that George wanted me to help you. He trusted me to help you." Isabelle's words are matter-of-fact.
"Did Juliet get a note?" Elizabeth asks. That email had gone to two people, and only one of them are here. She doesn't know what to make of that.
"Honestly, Bess, I don't know. But I do know that I didn't think it was a good idea for you to walk into a meeting at the clubhouse on your own. I can feel it, Bess. Something is off. So, I wanted to talk to you first. I want to know what's going on. I want to know what your plans are. I want to help you."
Elizabeth wants to believe her, but she knows better. Trust is dangerous. Trust is something she hasn't been able to afford in a long time. But does she have another choice?
"I drive." Elizabeth motions to the parking garage exit. Elizabeth won't be caught dead being in a car she doesn't control. She knows she has to think about every move she makes. Everything needs to be carefully considered.
"No problem." Isabelle doesn't protest, and Elizabeth feels the knot in her stomach tighten. Isabelle used to have an opinion about everything, especially where her precious 1969 Corvette Stingray was concerned. If one were to hear Isabelle talk about Reggie, one would assume the woman was speaking about her child. Elizabeth always thought that was funny. Isabelle had always been happily child-free.
"No problem? You're going to let me drive Reggie? Just like that?" She questions. She's having trouble deciphering Isabelle's actions. She wonders when she started closely monitoring everyone's motives.
"Is that what you need to trust me?" Isabelle doesn't sound offended or hurt, but her words have a slight edge to them, and Elizabeth wonders if Isabelle is as scared as she is. But there is an olive branch in her statement, and Elizabeth has to assume Isabelle would not kill herself in order to assassinate her. The car is most likely safe.
"No. I just... I remember..." She tries. She sees flashes of their friendship from all those years ago and clams up.
"Bess, for whatever reason, George trusted both of us. Now, seeing as you are miraculously back from the dead, I assume you have a very long and very difficult story to tell. We have time before the meeting. Let's not waste it bickering about cars and driving." Isabelle tosses her keys in Elizabeth's direction, and she catches them easily.
Pittsburgh, PA – October
"Fuck!" Jessica nearly screams the word as she hears the engine of the minivan turning over. She pulls her phone from her pocket. She's not sure she wants to make this call. Her fingers hesitate. She doesn't have a choice. She dials the number.
"How'd it go with lover boy?" There is a slightly amused tone in Andrew's voice. It's almost as if he's excited about the assignment he has to execute today. Or maybe it's a cover. Jessica knows how they left it.
"I need to enact contingency number two." Her heart thuds in her chest as she says the words. She can't tell if it is immediate regret or the thrill of excitement that is making her feel sick. Maybe it's both. She's missed this kind of work. It's exhilarating. But never once has it involved people she's loved.
"You're kidding," Andrew says, clearly shocked. He had not expected her to ask for this. He thought if there would be a need for any contingency he would have to beg Jessica to let him do what he needed.
"I'm not." She takes a deep breath. Andrew listens to her breathing. He can tell that she's emotional. He can also tell that she's not about to change her mind.
"Are you sure? You realize what it means?" He's asking the questions he knows he needs to ask, but he's also hoping that she won't back out. If it were up to him, contingency number two would've been part of the main plan.
Jessica nods as if he can see her. This all feels wrong. Henry was supposed to fall in line and follow orders. He was supposed to trust her and only her. He was supposed to choose her. They had stood in front of God and everyone, and he had vowed loyalty to her forever. It doesn't matter that he didn't actually know the situation. It doesn't matter that Elizabeth lied to him. The vow was still real. And Jessica can't help but feel betrayed. She doesn't know what to do with that feeling. It doesn't fit into the equation. Her mind briefly wonders if this deep-stabbing feeling in her back is what Elizabeth felt when she found out about Conrad. No. Jessica decides it doesn't matter. Her doubts about the situation do not matter. She needs to focus. This is the plan. "I'm positive. Do it. And then we can get back to normal."
"So, you're sure it'll work?"
"It will. He's a good dad. No matter how mad he is at me or Elizabeth. He'll fall in line the second he thinks Stevie is in danger."
"If you're wrong..." He doesn't finish his sentence. He doesn't need to. Jessica knows that Henry's compliance is the only thing that will save his life. He knows now that makes him a liability. She can tell by Andrew's voice that he knows Henry vowed allegiance to Elizabeth. But Jessica can't allow him to take her family from her.
"I'm not. Henry loves me. He just... This is all a shock for him. He needs some time to process. Just… Don't hurt Stevie. Remember, the plan requires Harrison to hang out with her at the White House. It's only the illusion of danger for Henry." Jessica doesn't know who she's trying to convince. She feels a lump rise in her throat. This is her fault. She knows that. But it's the best solution. If Elizabeth is out of the picture, then she can have a lifetime with Henry. Once she's gone, Henry will have nothing to fight for. He'll come crawling back to her, and they'll finish raising the kids together, and they'll be a happy family. She'll give him space to process. And she'll be patient. He'll see that she's the best choice.
"Jessie," He sighs, "I don't want to hurt you by hurting your family. But the deal I made with Conrad requires Henry to fall in line. And I'm allowed to use the kids to do that however I may need to."
"Listen, I'll come to DC, okay? I'll handle it. I'll have him fall in line. Don't hurt my children. Andrew, I've got this, okay?" Her desperation is clear in her voice, "Andrew, please? Please don't hurt my family. Please don't take them away from me. Please." She's not above begging. However, it feels foreign on her tongue. She doesn't beg. She doesn't fawn. But the idea of losing her husband and her children makes her stomach roll and her heart race.
Andrew sighs, "I'll tell POTUS you're coming. Hopefully, Bess is dead or dying by four o'clock, and this all goes away. Then we can talk about the future."
"Thank you," she whispers before ending the call.
She can't bear the thought of losing Henry. There is a part of her that can acknowledge it will never be the same. Henry knows the full truth about her past now. Henry has seen the woman who used to hold his heart. Jessica can't help but wonder if he'll ever truly love her again. She remembers the night she accused him of not loving her the same way he loved Elizabeth. He had assured her that it wasn't true. It isn't true, she thinks. He's angry. But he loves her. And they can get through this. They have to get rid of Elizabeth, and then everything will be okay. She needs everything to be okay. She needs him. She needs her family.
She grabs her purse and walks outside. Her car is parked in the driveway. She has a two-hour drive ahead of her.
