Previously...
"Great," Ressler says. "How long will it take you to put on pants and be here?"
"What?" Aram says, and Ressler has no patience.
"Aram. I need you here, like ten minutes ago."
"Why the hell do I need to come back in?"
"Because," Ressler says, grinning and pressing 'play' on the recording. "I think we may have found Liz."
The Post Office, 12:01 AM
The eye-rubbing and yawning has yet to cease, but at least Aram is working, so Ressler isn't going to complain.
He will, however, pace, because Samar keeps giving him these looks, and he's not quite sure what to make of them. If she had looked at him with pity or sadness before, the look had increased tenfold as she listens to the recording for the fourth time.
"Are you sleeping?" Liz'z voice asks, and Ressler swallows hard, because she's concerned for him, even though he's hunting her, even though, right at this moment, he is betraying her by trying to uncover her location based on a phone call she had made because she cared about him and wanted to talk to him even though she was on the run.
The voice he misses so much pleads, "Ress, take care of yourself," and he walks over, pressing the fast forward button, unable to listen much longer with both Aram and Samar giving him these sideways glances.
"How long?" Aram asks, and Ressler knows what he's asking. How long has she been calling you?
He shrugs and presses play again. He doesn't need to answer that yet. He knows when he does it'll be a toss-up as to if either of them will report him (they won't) and if they'll understand why he did what he did (they will, because they are good people who understand Liz is innocent and are understandably conflicted about her looming capture).
Aram pauses the recording right as the bells start chiming and swivels around to the other computer, clicking and clacking until he has a program pulled up on the screen. He opens a new window and the computer says listening... as Aram presses 'play' again.
They all wait in silence, hopeful yet filled with dread (if this is an actual lead he'll have to follow it, and he might catch them).
The computer screen begins blinking.
Searching...
The words move across the screen faster than Ressler can keep up with them. Places, things, all different titles of sounds fly past his eyes as the computer searches. Air horn, ambulance, and breaking glass, are just a few of the ones Ressler manages to see, and he is overwhelmed by the number of things Aram's program can hear and trace. It takes several minutes to work through the 'b's and the computer chirps as five words flash across the screen: Bell (Mingun Bell, Myanmar (Burma).
Aram, looking quite pleased with himself, spins around in his chair.
"Found her. She's in Republic of the Union of Myanmar, which some people still know as Burma."
Ressler wants to throw up because he found her. He hasn't felt more excitement in the two months that she's been missing, but he also hasn't felt more dread and the two fighting for dominance is making his stomach roll.
"I..."
He swallows thickly, and Samar moves closer. She places a hand on his arm.
"Ressler, you don't have to - "
He cuts her off because yes, he does, because if he doesn't do his job he will lose his position as Acting Director of the Post Office and he won't have any power to continue working, to keep trying to clear her name. He has to because if he doesn't he might never see her again. If he doesn't follow the rules - fucked up though they may be, corrupt and based on the whims of the Cabal - he will be removed and he'll be useless. This is the only way he can continue to fight for her, for everyone under the influence of the choices the Cabal makes.
"Book me a flight," is all he says, and he turns to stalk off to is office.
Samar sighs, and glances at Aram. The younger man looks a little sad as he reluctantly turns back to his computer and pulls up the FBI's travel agency.
Ressler walks into his office and closes the door with shaking hands.
Liz, I'm coming.
Delta Airlines - Mid-flight
God, it was a long ass flight to Myanmar. Ressler had been on the plane for 16 hours in coach because he had booked his flight so last minute. The attendants had just announced over the intercom they were a little more than halfway there, and that they'd be passing blankets around so passengers could go to sleep for the night. Ressler is cramped, cranky, and tired as the flight attendant approached him with a blanket.
"Thank you," he whispers, accepting it and shifting his body away from the sleeping child and mother pair beside him so his voice doesn't wake them. "Can you tell me anything about the Mingun Bells in Myanmar? I was wondering how far away they are from the airport we'll be landing in."
The flight attendant, who apparently speaks very broken English, stares at his for a few minutes before working out what he wants. "Oh, Mingun Bells! Yes. Not far, not far. 20 minutes? Yes, by taxi."
God bless Aram for using an airport so close, he thinks, thanking the attendant again and turning back to his iPad. He pulls up Aram's most recent message, which contains information about the Mingun Bell. It was, apparently, the second largest ringing bell in the world and was made of bronze. It was rung when someone hit it with a wooden paddle, which explains why he had thought it sounded weird and not like a normal bell. Ressler clicks on the link Aram included, which notes that the bell could be rung by tourists, and that people often stood inside the bell while someone on the outside rang it.
Sighing, he types out a quick message to Aram, thanking him for the information and asking him to please research the city to give him a clue where to start (hotels, unusual sightings, happenings, anything that could give him a clue as to where Liz was). Look within a few miles of the bell, he types, realizing that Liz had probably called him while taking a walk alone. He couldn't imagine she'd call him while with Reddington or one of his protective minions, so it made sense that she wouldn't be far away from where they were staying (because Reddington was paranoid like that). Reddington would have told her to stay within a certain range so he could get to her easily in case of trouble.
After rereading his message, he touches the 'send' button and clicks his iPad into sleep mode before tucking it back into his carry-on (his only luggage - he'd packed an overnight bag based on what he'd left at the office to tide him over on all-nighters during the past few months).
Ressler unfolds the blanket he'd been given, and takes some sleeping medicine out of his bag. He downs two (one no longer works any more, he'd been unable to sleep without them for so long - he'd worry about the repercussions of that after finding Liz) and leans back.
14 hours to go.
Myanmar, Asia, 7:45 AM
"Ah, Liz, there you are," Reddington says, smiling as he walks through the hotel lobby.
"Good morning," she says, holding her coffee cup in both hands and staring into the milky liquid. She yawns, rubbing her eyes as he takes the seat across from her, setting his fedora on the table between them beside her phone.
"Normally you're still taking your walk," he notes, flagging down their waitress. "Tahcya kawhpe, ko kyaayyjuutain par," he orders, and Liz is still shocked that he can speak the local language while she still has to point to a coffee cup to get her point across.
"I didn't stay out as long this morning," she says, because she'd left as normal, phone in hand, but had been unable to make herself dial Ressler's number. 7:30 AM her time was around 9 PM his time, when she knew he was still at the office and alone. She hadn't waited a week to call him this last time because they were busy (because in reality, running didn't involve as much physical activity as one would expect, and she was bored out of her mind). She'd waited because she knew she had to stop it, if not because Reddington was becoming suspicious of her walks (walks she insisted she be alone on), then because she knew it would only make staying away harder. She missed them, Ressler and Aram and Samar. She even missed Harold Cooper, though she wasn't sure if he would still be at the FBI (because of her actions).
"Interesting," Reddington notes, his eyes flickering to her cell phone, which is sitting on the table beside his fedora. He leans back and sips his (black) coffee. "Are you ready to move on?" he asks, because he lets her have as much control over their schedule as he can offer.
Think of it as an extended vacation, he had told her once. Explore the wonders of the world. Enjoy it. If we ever clear your name, you won't have freedom like this again.
It made sense, in an odd way. She had seen more of the world in the last two months than she had in her entire life. But it was hard to enjoy it when their trips to famous monuments were interrupted by Reddington's cell phone ringing, letting them know that they'd been sighted, that someone had alerted the local police, that or that Agent Ressler had been spotted in town. Those calls - the ones that informed them that they'd been found by the FBI - Ressler - were the worst, because they caused her to freeze up, to feel that gut-wrenching panic and indecisiveness that she'd felt after Connolly, when she'd been on the street, dialing Ressler's number because she hadn't been sure who else to call, because she had to let him know what had happened even though she knew she would be calling Reddington immediately after.
"No," she finally says. "If we can, I'd like to stay here for a day or two more."
It's easier on her walks, surrounded by beautiful sights and kind people, to be able to put her phone away and enjoy it all. It's easier to convince herself that she doesn't need to call Ressler, she doesn't need a connection to her previous life.
"Of course," Reddington says, and he takes another sip of his coffee. They dine in a comfortable silence, and after they're done, they head back to their room to call Dembe, a daily routine to see what he's managed to uncover in his work with the (increasingly smaller) collection of journalists they'd left back in New York.
Liz grabs her phone and stuffs it in her pocket, patting it to reassure herself it's there and she can still call if she needs to.
Myanmar, Mandalay International Airport, 9:12 Local Time
Ressler steps off the plane, carry-on in hand. He uses his hand to share his eyes. It's nice in Myanmar - no more than 85 degrees, and the sun is shining - and it's beautiful. He can immediately see why Reddington would choose a place like this to stay. Lush green trees, beautiful landscaping and architecturally unique and beautiful buildings.
After navigating the airport and exiting the building, he raises his hand, flagging down a cab. He climbs in, and falters. How to communicate?
Oh, well, the bell should be a fairly popular destination among tourists. He decides to try it. "Um, Mingun Bell?"
"Ah! Yes! Right away," the cabbie says, grinning brightly. His accent is heavy but his English doesn't sound too bad.
Ressler settles in for the (hopefully quick) ride.
When he arrives about fifteen minutes later and steps out, he breathes deeply and looks around, noting the throngs of tourists and locals. Children weave around him, laughing and speaking in a language he doesn't recognize and adults are taking pictures in front of the bell, ringing it and enjoying the monument fully, feeling nothing of the worry and excitement he feels.
I'm here, he thinks. I'm here where she was less than a day ago.
It's the closest he's been in two months.
OMG, your response to this fic is so encouraging! :) I am having a lot of fun writing this, but as it gets more involved in the case portion (the Cabal, Reddington and Liz running, etc.) it's going to be harder for me to write and the updates will take longer.
Please continue to let me know how I'm doing if you have a second!