Previously...
"We're out of time," Reddington says, and Ressler sighs.
"Say hello to Liz for me," he says quietly, and Reddington chuckles softly.
"Will do. Be careful, Donald," he warns, and then the line goes dead.
Ressler flops back on the couch, hissing as he forgets once again that he was shot in the shoulder six days ago.
What the hell do I do now? he wonders, and sighs as he realizes he won't find the answer tonight. Instead, he opts to head for his bedroom, to get some rest before following up on the leads Jamie provided.
Goodnight, Liz, he thinks, and as has become the norm, she is the last thing he thinks of before falling to sleep.
May 19th, Moscow, Russia, 3:45 AM
Liz is out of breath as she rounds another corner, nearly tripping over her own feet as she uses the wall for support, gasping desperately for breath.
"We have to keep running, sweetheart, come on," Reddington prompts, a gentle but insistent hand on her shoulder. She can see that he's worn out as well, though he must be more used to running away from those who would harm him than she is. He's a seasoned runner, she muses, gasping in another breath before nodding, giving herself a mental pep talk (you can do this - you have to, or you'll die) as she shoves away from the wall and continues to run down the poorly lit streets. Her footsteps echo across the concrete buildings, giving away her presence (but she can't slow down or quiet herself, or they'll catch her for sure).
They run for two more blocks, and by the time Reddington sticks out a hand to stop her, her lungs are on fire and her vision is questionable. She falls to her knees, gasping, and wonders if she'll make it out of this one alive.
"Phone," Reddington gasps, and she can see that he's struggling as well. They hear footsteps behind them and both of them flinch - but it's just a drunk couple shoving their wait noisily out of a bar, and they relax slightly.
Liz digs through her pockets with shaking hands, silently bemoaning the fact that her current number is the only on Ressler has - he won't be able to contact her, though she can still call him if she makes it out of this alive. She hands her phone to Reddington and he removes the SIM card, crushing it beneath his foot, before breaking her phone in half and tossing it into the trash can they're standing by. She watches as he does the same to his, breathing deeply and preparing herself for another sprint across Russia.
"How much longer?" she asks, standing shakily to her feet once more. It feels like they've been running forever, but in reality it was probably less than an hour ago that their hotel was raided. They'd left everything behind - computers, money, clothing - and Reddington had shoved her out of a window before her sleep-addled brain was able to catch up and realize that oh, their room was filled with smoke, and that was probably why Reddington was coughing and his eyes were red and why the hell they were jumping out of a window.
"Archer should be approaching with the car now. He said to meet him at 36th and Main - we're two blocks out," Reddington says, and Liz nods. Archer is the on-the-run version of Dembe, and though she likes him a lot less, he's just as adept at finding exfil points and keeping their asses out of jail.
"We should get going then," she says, and Reddington smiles at her, fixing the position of his fedora.
"You were made to be a spy, Lizzie. I'm so glad you decided to join the dark side."
She rolls her eyes, but figures her snappy retorts will have to wait until later. She nods at him and they begin running again, in the direction of safety, of yet another hide-out.
They're running out of places in the world to hide, she thinks, rounding a corner and almost collapsing with relief as she sees Archer's car in the distance. There are too many people searching for them.
"Almost there," Reddington says, reaching out to let her know with a gentle touch to the shoulder that she should begin running on his other side. She understand why immediately - he wants her to enter the car first, which should have been touching but was only more concerning, because were their attackers really that close?
She doesn't dare look back.
"Mr. Reddington!" Archer shouts, and he climbs out of the car to open the side door, which is a mistake, really, because before Liz knows what's happening, loud shots are ringing through the air and Archer is on the ground, blood pooling beneath his body, and it's a shame because he had been very good to her and Reddington.
"LIZ! Get in!" Reddington shouts, changing his course to intersect with the driver's door. Liz is just barely inside the car when Reddington throws it into 'drive' and peels out of the parking lot. The rear window shatters, and Liz simultaneously crouches and pulls her door closed as they tear through the darkness.
It takes her about twenty minutes to stop shaking and gasping before she is able to sit up and take in her surroundings.
Reddington is driving with grim determination.
"Archer was a good man," he said mournfully, because they hadn't even had the time to check and see if he was alive. They had left without seeing if they could save him and the thought makes Liz feel sick.
"What the hell was that?" she asks, because less than an hour ago she'd been sleeping peacefully and now she was running again with only what she was wearing and the knowledge that they'd been found in less than 24 hours this time.
"That," Reddington says slowly, regretfully. "Was the icing on the cake. Liz, we are running out of places to hide. It is becoming harder and harder for me to find places with people I trust, people who are in my debt and who will not turn us in. I'm afraid this time we're headed to a safe house. Safe, yes," he muses, bobbing his head in consideration. "Yet utterly boring to me. No civilization, no red wine in five star restaurants, no soft pillows fluffed daily by french maids."
Liz almost chuckles at Reddington's dramatic monologue.
"Where is this safe house?"
Reddington spares her a glance as he drives through the darkened streets.
"We're going to Disney World, Lizzie."
May 19th, The Post Office, 8:00 AM
Ressler is pacing worriedly inside his office, fully aware that Samar and Aram are watching him warily from their post below. Before coming in to work, he had tried to contact Reddington because -
"God, I'm going nuts," he murmurs to himself, because surely the man following him to his car was just another resident of the apartment building, right? He couldn't have been followed this morning.
Or the other day when you met with the journalist, he mocks himself, because he's a trained FBI agent and he knows he was followed, damn it. He knows he's not going crazy, though it certainly feels like it as he continues his path of destruction. He continues to wear a hole in the flooring of his office, dialing the number Dembe had given him because he just has to make sure he's not going crazy on that front, either.
Nope, it's still the same - The number your are calling has been disconnected or changed. Please -
He angrily stabs the 'end call' button on his phone, missing the way you could angrily snap closed a flip phone and then wondering what the hell is wrong with him because, really, there are bigger things to worry about.
"Boss?"
It's Samar in the doorway, and Ressler is fairly certain that he has never received more pitying looks in his entire life as he has in these last three months.
"Everything alright in here?"
Ressler shakes his head, pausing in his path to pinch the bridge of his nose. He knows they can't talk here. Waving his phone, he turns his attention to his messages app and pulls up Samar's number. He texts her - "being followed. Afraid asset may have been compromised. Cannot raise the alarm for L/R". He watches Samar read the message and then delete it. She looks up worriedly.
"Can I help with anything?"
Ressler sighs, shaking his head. "No. Thank you. I need... I need to make a few phone calls."
May 19th, Florida, USA, 5:00 PM
"Isn't this a little too close to ... well, everyone that we're trying to stay away from?" Liz asks, watching the trees fly past her window as they drive. They'd taken Reddington's private jet across the world and landed in Florida less than thirty minutes ago. Reddington ditched the plane and rented a car under a fake name, immediately destroying that identity afterward. They were driving in the direction of the beach (Destin, Florida, home to Winter and Hope the dolphins, how had Reddington decided on this place again?), and though Liz had always wanted to visit the beach, she never imagined it going down quite like this.
"Sometimes, dear Lizzie, hiding in plain sight is the best disguise one can have. I have a man - he can put us up, provide for us during our stay at the safe house."
Liz grins. "But no red wine?"
"Alas," Reddington confirms sadly, his lips twitching as he tries not to grin.
Liz chuckles and turns back to the window. She toys with her new phone (a flip phone, Reddington is certain they can be traced from a smart phone, and he's probably right, fucking government), flipping it up and down in her hand. She wants very much to call Ressler, to let him know they're very close to home, but of course that's a stupid idea, she can't tell him where they are. She could just talk to him, though - that couldn't hurt anything, could it?
Sighing, she pockets her phone to remove the temptation to call him. She lays her head against the window and relaxes for the long drive.
May 19th, Ressler's Apartment, 9:00 PM
Ressler is more wary than ever as he sticks his key in the lock and draws his gun, clearing his apartment before entering. He's going insane. He's going to lose his mind, he's certain of it, if this doesn't end soon.
Putting his gun back, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. He still felt as if he was being watched, but he couldn't see anyone outside and there's no one but him inside the apartment, so for the moment he feels fine. Not safe, he won't feel safe until this whole fucking ordeal is over, but he feels like he can go to bed and wake up in the morning and the world won't have turned on it's side.
"Going nuts," he muses, but decides he'd rather be crazy than leave his sidearm by the door, where anyone coming in could use it against him. For the first time in a while, it ends up in the bedroom with him, under his pillow in case he needs it in the night.
He's never been involved in anything like this, and he's frightened by how insecure and paranoid it's making him.
Shut up and go to sleep, he thinks, falling face first into his bed. He removes his shoes and loosens his tie, but that's all he's able to accomplish before he falls asleep, exhaustion overtaking him completely.
May 19th, Unknown Location, 10:10 PM
The man is patient, sitting and waiting quietly in the dark. The other man - his target - had come home a little over an hour ago, and the lights in the apartment had turned off almost immediately.
Not tonight, he thinks. He needs to keep watching, to see where this man - Ressler - can lead him. He'd already proved useful thus far.
Reaching for his phone, the man in the dark dials a number quickly and holds it to his ear. Once a voice on the other end answers, the man smiles - the act causes his skin to stretch over his face, revealing an ugly scar running from his lip to his eye.
"I found him."
OMG thanks for being patient! Some FREAKING KEENLER next chapter! WOoooooooOOoo!
This story is fully planned out and should be about 15 chapters long (give or take 1 or 2... if a chapter runs too long/short, I may need to combine chapters/split one into two)... yikes! On another note, I may not update for 4-5 days as I am completing my move this coming week. However, to tide you over, anyone who reviews will get a 2-3 paragraph sneak peak of Ch. 8! I will send this through PM, so please log in!
Please review (to get your sneak peak!)