10x22 - Raymond Reddington (No. 00): Good Night

[bunniefuu]

Miss, Miss, the doctor on duty...

We need someone here, now!

Oh, my God.

- No police.
- I wasn't.

I was just gonna call an ambulance.

There's no time.
He won't survive the wait.

You need a hospital.
This is a nursing home.

You. Are you a nurse?

- Y-Yes.
- Can we have that chair, please?

This man needs your help.

He's losing too much blood.

He needs a transfusion immediately.

- He's been sh*t?
- You have a medical unit on site?

Yes. But it's not an emergency room.

- We don't have a large supply
- Stay here.

- of blood on standby.
- Keep an eye.

We won't need it.
I'll supply the blood directly.

A direct transfusion?
That's highly unusual.

It may not even be possible

if your blood types aren't compatible.

- We are compatible.
- There are protocols.

If you supply him directly,

whatever blood he gets
is blood you lose.

I don't know anything
about your history.

It could have a serious impact
on your health as well.

Hook us up. Now.

Okay. Cooper's here.

He's coordinating the search
for Dembe and Reddington.

- Are you all right?
- Yeah. I'm okay.

Dembe was sh*t... bad.

He was hit in the neck.

Hudson got ahold
of Nixon's g*n and panicked.

Hudson's dead.

Reddington dropped him
right where he stood.

- Where's Dembe now?
- Reddington took him.

Chuck was here.

They threw him in a van and took off.

The closest hospitals aren't that close.

We'll check them.

Uh, what about one of those
"medical cubes"

Reddington has at the ready?

- He could've called for one.
- No. Even those take time to stand up.

The equipment,
the doctors have to travel.

Dembe wouldn't make it.
He was bleeding badly.

We'll find him.

Donald, listen to me.

We'll find him.

All right, let's get you checked out.

My guess? Multiple rib fractures.

But we'll take you in,
we'll get you checked out.

No. I'm staying here.

You knew, didn't you?

You knew Reddington
wouldn't abandon Zuma.

You let us roll right into an ambush.

Are you kidding me?

What do you think, we planned this?

Reddington got his intel from somewhere.

- Zuma's gone.
- You were knocked out.

You didn't even see what went down.

Hey, that's enough. Believe me,

nobody on the task force
wanted this to happen.

Reddington did this on his own.

You expect me to believe you?

Arthur Hudson is dead.

Agent Nixon, I am doing
everything in my power

to keep from losing my composure.

I suggest you do the same.

Look at that.

Three in the body armor.

Reddington's a cr*ck sh*t,

and, what, you just got lucky, right?

Oh, you can't help yourself, can you?

Our focus should be
on finding Reddington and Zuma,

not pointing fingers at each other.

I'm onto you guys.

And I'm coming for all of you.

And if you think
Hudson was relentless, man,

you ain't seen nothing yet.

Hey, pal, my partner
just got sh*t in his neck.

Yeah. I guess Reddington
didn't factor in

Hudson having the stones to
grab my g*n and try to stop him.

What? Stones? He got himself k*lled.

Agent Zuma got sh*t
because your boy Hudson

had no idea what he was doing.

I mean, what the hell was he thinking

pulling a w*apon
on someone like Reddington?

So he should've just let Zuma escape?

Jordan, man, you're wrong on this.

No, Agent Zuma refused to escape.

He never intended to go with Reddington.

I don't believe that.
And you're lucky I wasn't there.

You weren't. But I was.

And it's true, Jordan.

Zuma wasn't going to leave
with Reddington.

He told him he wasn't going anywhere.

And you don't think that
was part of the performance?

Performance? You're not hearing me.

Zuma was unarmed.

When Hudson drew on him,

Zuma was the one
trying to calm things down.

He stepped in front of the g*n.
I saw it happen.

Zuma did everything he could
to diffuse the situation.

Agent Malik?

- I think we found him.
- How?

We reached out to DC Memorial.

One of their surgeons was medevac-ed

to a trauma in the field about
an hour ago. g*nsh*t wound.

Where "in the field?"

Uh, it's a nursing home
called the Grandview.

Just under five miles
from the crash site.

Send me the address. We're on our way.

Ressler, we have a lead
on Agent Zuma's location.

- Is he alive?
- I don't know.

But it's possible he's at a
nursing home a few miles away.

Wait, if you are still working
with Reddington,

your lead could take us
exactly in the wrong direction.

Does that mean you're not coming?

Officer.

Assistant Director Cooper, FBI.

What's going on here?

Apparently, some guys with weapons

brought in an unknown subject
with a g*nsh*t wound.

- Where is he now?
- Medical clinic, end of the hall.

If Reddington is in there,
follow my lead.

Out.

I said get out now!

He's lucky to be alive.

His airway's intact.

The b*llet missed his carotid
and his spinal column,

but it nicked his jugular.

He should stay here until he stabilizes.

The man who brought him in. You saw him?

Briefly.
He left shortly after I arrived.

Dr. Halloran, we believe
that man was Raymond Reddington.

I don't know who that is.

Regardless, maybe he said
something before he left?

Something to indicate
where he was going?

No. But wherever he is,
I hope he's resting.

Why is that?

Because based on what I saw,
he's not well.

You have to understand that,

as the recipient, Agent Zuma
was saved by that transfusion.

But not everyone is a candidate

to be the donor in a direct transfer.

Was he exhibiting any symptoms?

No question. He was weak.
He had shortness of breath.

My sense was he wasn't oxygenating well.

I urged him to go to
an emergency room when he left.

Then maybe he did.

I don't think so.

"That, my dear, will have to wait.

I need to be traveling."

Traveling?

That's what he said.

Sorry, fellas. That's all I got.

Okay.

That was Ressler.
They're on their way back.

Dembe's gonna stay put
until he shows more progress.

He's still not conscious?

Reddington told the surgeon
he'd be traveling.

Ah, well, that's what my wife, Holly,
would call unhelpful information.

We could start
with the airports and airstrips

within maybe miles or so,

see how many private flights left

after Reddington was last seen.

Okay.

- I already spoke to Rutherford.
- Then go over her head.

She's the Deputy Director
of National Intelligence.

If anyone knows, she knows.

At this point,
none of the federal agencies

have any solid intel
on Reddington's location.

- How is that possible?
- It's Reddington.

Half the world's been looking
for the man since the mid-' s.

Yeah, well, you mark my words.
His time's running out.

I just heard a doctor
say he was compromised.

- What does that mean?
- It means you watch.

Reddington's gonna make a mistake.

And when he does, someone will find him.

And I'm telling you now, if it's me?

I won't be needing these.

Because I will put the man down...

just like he did to Arthur Hudson.

So... that happened.

He knew we were standing here.

He saw us.

That's what this is.

That's what we're doing.

- Herbie.
- You heard him.

A federal agent,
a sworn officer of the FBI,

brazen enough to openly say

he intends to m*rder his target.

Well, his friend was k*lled.
H-He was upset.

Meaning what?

You don't think he'll do it?

'Cause he will.

No, he won't.

Because we're gonna
find Reddington first.

Sorry. I can't.

Finding Dembe, that was different.

But hunting Red? Helping them?

We're not helping them.

We're helping Ressler and
Cooper avoid prosecution.

I like it here.

It's been fun, being part of the team...

but I never signed on for this.

I love Reddington.

And Holly and Sue adore him.

If I helped the FBI capture Raymond...

or worse?

They would never forgive me.

I would never forgive me.

I understand.

I-I'm also ready for this to be over.

I'll let Cooper and Ressler know.

Are you sure you're on the right side?

He's not wrong to ask.

This is hard for all of us.

I still can't believe it happened.

I mean, Hudson was a pain in the ass.

But ultimately, he was
one of the good guys.

I may not have liked him,
but he wasn't wrong.

God knows we crossed the line

more times than I care to admit
or remember.

We need to find Reddington.

I did some research.

Turns out, there were around
two dozen private planes

that left DC in the first few hours

after Reddington was last seen.

I was able to narrow them down,

because not all of them

were capable of international travel.

But even those will take
some time to check out.

One went to Montreal.

The others to Mexico City,
Caracas, Marseille,

Tokyo, Kingston...

Let me guess.

All the manifests you've
reviewed so far are clean.

They are.

I don't think we're gonna
find Reddington on any of those.

He was the best in the world
at moving around

without raising suspicion.

What if we start at the bathhouse?

He won't be there.

No, but his things are there.

Maybe he went back for something,

or left something behind that
might tell us where he's going.

That makes sense.

What about Nixon?
Are we bringing him into the loop?

I wouldn't do that.

I think we have to.

He already doesn't trust us.

At this point, I don't see
any reason to hide anything.

Well, then it's a good thing
I'm still here,

because I can give you
a damn good reason.

Nixon.

Hey.

We may never find Reddington,

but we need to talk about
what happens if we do.

And why's that?

Because I hear you've been running
your mouth about putting him down

instead of bringing him in.

Running my mouth?

I don't care if you are
an Assistant Director.

You need to change your tone
if you expect me to hear you.

I expect you to act like a professional.

Oh, that's good,

coming from the man who
facilitated Reddington's treason.

I stand by my actions.

And I stand behind anything
this task force has ever done.

If someone well above your pay grade

wants to hold me accountable
for anything we've done,

they know where to find me.

But that goes for you, too.

If you execute Reddington,

if there's even a whiff
of excessive force involved,

I will make sure
you are held accountable.

Are we clear?

That man k*lled a congressman.

An honorable man. A public servant.

And you're concerned about him?

This isn't about him.
This is about me and you.

When this is finished, Reddington
will be judged for his crimes.

And so will I.

But so will you.

Time's up, old man.

The days of you protecting Reddington,

the days of your "task force"
embarrassing this Bureau...

- Take a step back.
- Why?

I thought this was about me and you.

I won't tell you again.

You won't tell me anything.

Whoa, easy, easy, easy, easy, easy.

Break it up. Neutral corners, fellas.

You all right?

Good talk, Grandpa.

You gave me a hard time
for hitting Hudson,

now you're getting physical?

We'll call you from New York.

I didn't expect him to be here,

but part of me thought maybe,

if he's not well...

It feels a bit eerie.

Reddington filled this place, you know?

This place and our lives
for a long time now.

The man's worn many hats. Friend.

Confidant. Nemesis.

He's a grandparent to Agnes.

And an international fugitive.

With books on advanced econometrics,

astrophysics, Micronesian art,

and Digital Literacy for Beginners.

It's Agent Ressler.

How's Dembe?

Harold.

My friend. It is so good
to hear your voice again.

Dembe, thank God you're all right.

How you feeling?

Mm. Tired.

Raymond?

We're in New York. At the bathhouse.

He knows. We talked about everything.

Hudson, Nixon,
what happened with Reddington.

We have to find him.

We're trying.
But there's no sign of him here.

It's been a minute since I was here,

but everything looks just as it was.

That's what he does.

He'll walk away from everything

with nothing
but what's left in his pockets.

FBI! Federal agents!

Everyone stay where you are!

You've got to be kidding.

Agent Ressler, I'll call you back.

Clear, sir.

Reddington's not here.

Director Cooper.

Tell me again about how
we're all on the same side.

What is this?

You want to catch Reddington, right?

That's why you failed to disclose
you knew exactly where he was living.

How did you find this place?
You followed us here?

Damn right.

You want to tell me
what you were doing here?

Looking for evidence.
And if we'd have found any,

we'd have shared it with the Bureau.

Let me guess. You didn't.

Find any.

No. There's nothing useful here.

We won't be taking your word for it.

Fine. Have at it.

Agent Malik and I were just leaving.

Good morning, Angela.

It's not morning anymore.

You slept for a very long time.

- I did?
- Mm-hmm.

The soup was delicious.

- Thank you.
- You're welcome.

How are you feeling?

These are quite something.

Azahar.

Yes, orange blossoms.

So beautiful here this time of year.

You know, they say the
golden apples of immortality,

the ones Hercules went looking for,

they weren't apples at all.

They were bitter oranges.

You should go back to bed.

Ah.

Actually, I was thinking
about taking a walk.

See how I do.

When you're feeling up to it,

you should try going
over the hill in the back.

I grew up over there.

It's very beautiful.

Por favor.

Si, si.

Ah-da-da-da-da.

Gracias.

Ahh.

I love these!

Last year...

I paid six euros...

for...

...half.

Si.

I'd love to buy one.

Carolina, my daughter...

Can you help this gentleman?

Carolina is your daughter?

My daughter, yes!

Yes. I speak some English.

Gracias.

I'd love to buy one,

but I walked a long way,
so I can't carry it home.

This's not a problem. We can, uh...

uh, how do you say it?

Um, bring them later?

- Deliver. Si.
- Yeah. Deliver.

Deliver. Excellent.

Uh, in that case...

Two, please.

I'm sure Nixon is realizing as we speak,

the bathhouse was a bust.

So we're back to square one.

I can just imagine him walking around,

checking out
all of Red's eccentricities.

Perhaps we should find Edward.

One of the wealthiest men in the world

and sleeping on what's
basically a cot in a locker room.

That's usually my first call
when I need to find him.

No television, no Wi-Fi,

just a few books,
a hot plate, some clothes,

and a huge burlap sack with the...

Oh, my God.

Yeah, well, Edward might be
a little less helpful

now that Reddington blew up his plane.

It wasn't there.
The sack with the horns.

It wasn't at the bathhouse.

- You said nothing was missing.
- I was wrong.

A sack with the skull of Islero,

a Miuran bull

that gored the famous matador,

the one that was k*lled, uh...

- Manolete.
- Yes. Manolete.

Raymond's always been
very interested in him.

He told me all about him.

A man who found it easier
to risk his life

than live his life without risk.

Reddington went to Mexico.

He said a noble beast like that
doesn't belong on the wall

above the bar
of a dingy Mexican cantina.

What are you thinking?

That he did go back to the
bathhouse. To get the skull.

- To bring it home.
- That's what he wanted.

You could see, it was important to him.

So that would mean he went to Spain?

To Seville. Uh, Andalusia.

I think the ranch is there,

where Islero was raised.

My God. Marseille.

One of the flights we looked at
was from DC to Marseille.

From there, it's what, maybe
a two-hour trip to Seville?

Raymond knows that area well.

There's a villa in a town near
Carmona, northeast of the city.

- He's stayed there many times.
- I like it.

Strange as it is,

it feels like something he would do.

Pinky!

Ah!

And here I thought I was just
gonna be leaving you a message.

What are you doing at home, sweetheart?

Ugh, working on this
science fair project. Alone.

Wasn't that supposed to be
a group project?

Supposed to be.

But Becky has relatives
visiting town and Andy, well...

I don't know, he, um...

Anyway, so I'm finishing it up myself.

Sometimes the greatest flights
in history, my dear,

have been solo.

What does that mean?

It means "keep up the good work."

I don't...

Pinky,

I heard Pops on the phone.

Is he... looking for you?

Are you okay?

I am.

It's nothing for you to worry about.

So Becky has relatives in town

and Andy, what, he's too busy to help?

Andy has been... acting really weird.

He told Caitlin in third period

that he kind of "liked me,"

but then we got assigned
this project together

and now he won't talk to me
or help me with it.

I'm not surprised.

Why is he acting so goofy?

I'd imagine he's nervous.

We often stumble when we're closest

to the object of our endearment.

It's just one of those little
twists of fate and affection.

Agnes, sometimes boys can be so slow,

and so dumb.

Give him time.

He's just trying to come to
terms with his feelings for you.

Just keep crushing,

but keep cool,

and soon enough,

he'll figure out how to crush back.

Pinky, you're being such a mom.

Yeah.

I guess I just can't help it.

I thought I knew what pain was.

And then I flew eight hours to
Spain with two fractured ribs.

And you can't take painkillers.

No. I'll pass.
I just got my one-year chip.

I don't think I want
to re-set that clock.

Villa Lobo. This must be the place.

You're there. Already?

Yeah. I went to see Commissioner Alvarez

with the National Police
in Seville when I landed.

I spoke to him.

Sounds like he'd be thrilled
to let the world know

his department had a hand
in catching Reddington.

Yeah. No question. They gave me a car,

said that whatever else I need
is just a phone call away.

This place is beautiful.
No wonder Reddington likes it.

Mm. It's owned by one
of Raymond's oldest friends.

Bernardo Lobo.

We met many years ago on a tour

in a winery in the fields
north of Bangkok.

I didn't know there
were wineries in Thailand.

You're not alone.

The two of them were the only ones

who showed up for the tour.

Ressler. Hang on.
We're getting another call.

No. Take it.

Maybe it's a lead on Reddington.

Call us after
you've checked out the villa.

Harold Cooper.

Harold! Sorry to intrude.

I called the front desk
to speak with Dembe,

and they told me
you were in for a visit.

Raymond?

Ah! There you are.

Do me a favor, old friend.

Next time you get sh*t,
make it an arm or a leg.

The neck is just such nasty business.

Reddington. Where are you?
What are you doing?

At the moment, I'm making
myself a little something to eat.

But enough about me.
I wanted to check in,

Dembe, hear how you're doing?

I'm alive.

Which I'm told is thanks to you.

Yes, well, it's the chicken
or the egg situation, really.

Who saves whom and then
gets saved themselves.

It's been so many times
over so many years,

I can't keep track.

Sorry. I don't speak much Spanish.

Ah. You speak English.

- Yes.
- You are an American?

From the United States.
My name is Donald Ressler.

I'm a Special Agent for the FBI.

Is something wrong?

Yes, we're looking for someone.

His name is Raymond Reddington.

We received a tip that he might be here.

Here?

This is the Villa Lobo.

Yes. Maybe you know him
by a different name.

Have you seen that man?

Senor Lobo is away on business

and there are no guests
currently here in the house.

Well, maybe I could
confirm that for myself.

Do you mind if I come in, look around?

Raymond, the doctor here.

She said you didn't look too well.

Oh, no. You're not turning the tables.

This was my call to check up on you.

I'm worried. This feels different.

A congressman is dead.

And I'm afraid.

I'm afraid this time they
won't be satisfied until...

you are, too.

I'm fine, Dembe.

I'll call again, when I have more time.

Oh! I thought of something,
a funny story that...

Oh, God. I have... I have to go.

I'll, uh...

Remind me next time.

Ugh.

That's another suite
for when we have guests.

That door, what's behind it?

It's a kitchen.

Senor.

Senor, I told you,
there's nobody in the house.

Thank you.

It must have been a mistake,
but, um, here's my card

in case you see or hear
from Mr. Reddington.

Hopefully you'll call me.

I'll tell Senor Lobo you were here

and give him this when he returns.

Thank you.

No luck here.

That was Reddington on the other line.

Can you imagine? Cool as a cucumber.

- You got to be kidding me.
- Checking on Dembe.

As if no one even cared where he was.

Well, I'll tell you where he's not.

The Villa Lobo.

A woman on the staff
let me search the house.

Reddington's not here.

It was always just a theory.

Maybe he's not in Seville.

Or maybe he is and he's already gone.

What about the market?

As long as I've known him,

anytime he goes somewhere
for more than a few days

he visits the local fresh market.

You know, that's not a bad idea.

If he is in Seville, someone
there would've seen him.

It's worth a try.
But it's getting late here.

Uh, I got to get back to the city,

find a hotel for the night.

We'll try those markets in the morning.

How long ago?

A few minutes, maybe ten.

Who is he?

An American policeman.

With the FBI. Yes.

Humorless fellow with handsome hair.

Fair play, Donald.

I wonder what you'd
actually do with yourself

if one day you finally got your man?

What does it mean?

Are you leaving?

Angela, how far is it to
the Miura bull ranch from here?

It's about an hour's drive.

North and east.

Why?

What's at the Miura Ranch?

It's not what's at the Miura Ranch.

It's what isn't.

But should be.

Harold?

I'm sorry for the late visit.

It's been a long and crazy day.

It's okay. Come in.

I'm sure if you're here
it's because you have news.

I just spent the last few hours

in a classified meeting at Main Justice.

The Attorney General's decided
not to file charges against you

for warning Reddington
about the raid at the airfield.

But?

But you've been relieved of duty.

You're no longer an active
agent with the Bureau.

I'm sorry, I tried.

It's okay, Harold.

Really, it is.

No. It's not.

I'm telling you it is.

Sitting here...

all I've had is time to think.

And I think...

it's time for me to...

get out from in front of or behind g*ns.

It's early.

Men will be coming.

They always come.

And before they come, I always go.

Where?

For a walk out back. Over the hill.

Take some water.

Gracias.

De nada.

It's hard to believe
this is how it ends.

I mean, I always knew the
task force would end one day,

that my career would end one day...

but all of this?

After I was sh*t,
lying there on the street...

I thought I was dying.

And in that moment, I was okay
with that being the end.

With all the things
going through my mind...

I also thought of Raymond.

More than anyone I've ever known,

he's always been at peace with death.

He says death is inevitable.

It will come for us all.

And that inevitability robs
death entirely of its significance.

What matters are the things
that are not inevitable.

The things we create.
The things we find.

The left we take
when everything in our life

is leading us right.

How we live.

I've always loved him for that.

For his remarkable refusal

to "go quietly into that good night."

The poem... by Dylan Thomas.

"Rage, rage
Against the dying of the light"

Yes.

Imagine.

Raymond, a man surrounded
by death in so many ways,

so passionately committed
to embracing life.

He could have surrendered
a thousand times over

and Some End.

But instead, he chooses to rage.

To rage against the dying of the light.

To rage against the bad guys
that would do us all harm.

Rage to protect those people he loves.

To find moments of peace and joy...

and fun...

...even though he knows
the light is still dying.

To live a most passionate life,

knowing it will still lead
to the same inevitable end...

is perhaps the most deeply
moving choice one can make.

It is the lesson at the very
core of my time with him.

You never imagined
this is how it would end.

But our time with him,
our time together,

was never about how it ended.

It was about the adventure, about life,

about Raymond constantly reminding us,

showing us, imploring us...

to rage.

To rage.

Excuse me. I was wondering
if you could help me.

I'm looking for this man.

No? Thank you.

Excuse me. Um, have you seen this man?

You don't speak English.
Uh, this... this man here?

Thank you.

Excuse me. This man. English?

He speaks English. This man.

Um, policia?

Uh, yes, yes. F-From America.

Los Estados Unidos.

Ah, America.

No. No, lo siento.

Thank you.

Excuse me.

Si, si, si, si.

You know him?

Si.

That's great. Thank you. Thank you.

Uh, where? Wh-Where was he?

I don't understand.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

- I don't understand...
- Sorry.

My father doesn't speak much English.

Um, he... he said he saw this man here.

Um, yes. Yes, the...
the day before yesterday.

Okay. This man's name
is Raymond Reddington.

He's a fugitive. A criminal.
The police are looking for him.

He's a criminal?

He bought two watermelons.

And we bring them to where
he was staying at the Villa Lobo.

The Villa Lobo?

No. I was there yesterday.

I spoke with a woman. He wasn't there.

Oh, you mean the main house?

But, no, we didn't bring them
to the main house.

- You didn't?
- No.

The man you're looking for
is staying in the small house.

The one that is for the staff,

on the property behind the house.

Graci... Gracias.

Where is he?

Reddington?

Out walking.

Walking? Where? Where did he go?

Out!

How long ago?

This is Agent Ressler with the FBI.

Put me in touch with
Inspector Alvarez right away.

What's that?

Bring it down here.

Harold, I've got him. I've got him.