Disclaimer: I own nothing; am just a fan.

It's not like moving's that big of a deal. She'd done it a bunch of times. It's just…this time it felt weird. Not at all like the others. This time, she moved to a city where no one knew her. No one knew of her scars…the ones that still marred her body. The ones on her soul had been remedied a long time ago…

Boston was colder than she expected. Her system was still used to the warmth of California, but within time she'd adjust. It was just the first couple of weeks, she told herself. Until then, warm sweaters, scarves, gloves, and the cute red wool jacket were her fashion staple.

Her new digs were cute, and the boxes had been unpacked, flattened, and put away. She was slowly beginning to move with confidence through her new neighborhood, and she was beginning to recognize faces in the businesses. A few of them even seemed to be friendly.

"Good morning, Allyson. The usual?" It was nice that the barista at least knew her name. Made her feel a bit as if she wasn't all alone in the world.

"Please. Thanks." She moved to the window seat, also her usual, and pulled out her laptop. Her editor had made it clear that she needed to finish the book…SOON. The crush of "things to do" at home kept her from writing; this coffee shop had become a haven. Thank God it had good coffee, too, not just a quiet place to work.

Two non-fat lattes, a scone, two chapters, one deleted one, and a whole bunch of frustration later, Allyson packed up her computer. There wasn't much more she could do today; her brain was mush. She needed time to think through where to take this next phase of the story, and sitting around in a coffee shop was never the best way for her to do that. She pulled on her blue and gray striped gloves, slipped on her red coat, slung her computer bag over her shoulder, and waved goodbye to the young girls behind the counter.

"Bye, Allyson!!!" they chorused. She smiled, remembering her own days as a barista in college. Those were simple, easy days. Days when memories were sweet…she shook her head, and sucked in a breath as the cold air hit her senses.

"Really? I had to move here?!" she muttered to herself. It made perfect sense; her publishing company was here, meetings would be easier to accommodate as she was in the city, she had been ready for a change…but, man! It was cold! She huddled in her jacket and began envisioning warm, sandy beaches. Palm trees. A hammock. NOPE. Wasn't working. Her teeth began to chatter, and she picked up the pace to make it back to her apartment.

She was just a few blocks from home when she felt it. Almost like a zing of electricity shooting up her back. She stopped still, trying to figure out what had just happened. It was like an extra-sensory shot of memory had hit her; her heart began to beat faster, and sweat beaded on her palms.

Spinning slowly, she stared at every face around her. No one. No reason for this…weird feeling. No reason to imagine that she was being watched. The storefronts looked the same as they always did - filled with Christmas decorations, people walked obliviously by, and cars whizzed past her. Yet, the feeling remained. She spun once more, doing her best to see into every crevice, every dark place, around every corner. There was no one.

Sighing, she started up again, "Too much writing, too much coffee, too much aloneness, and not enough sleep," she muttered. Still, she vowed to make sure to double check the deadbolt when she got home.

Upstairs, looking out the window, a man stared down at the figure walking away. He couldn't breathe; he had never expected to see that woman again. He had known her only for a few fleeting, intense hours; yet she had set up camp in his soul. He greedily memorized her every detail, from the wavy blonde hair, to the way she walked…which had not changed in the three years since he had known her. She still looked as if she was dancing as she walked, as though her body was moving to some unknown music.

"Eliot, man! The game's on!" Hardison's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"What? Oh, yeah…be there in a second." He raised the beer bottle to his lips and took a sip. What was she doing here? She promised she would never look for him; he had demanded that from her. His life was too dangerous for her, and he had to do everything he could to keep her safe. No matter how much it ripped his heart out to not be near her, her wellbeing was more important. He remembered how she had looked when he had first seen her, and he vowed that she would never, ever go through anything remotely close to that again…not on his watch…and sure as hell not because of him.

But, she was here. In Boston. What the hell? "Ally, baby…what's going on?" he whispered. She rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. "Oh, boy…" he groaned. This was going to be tough. She was in his city; obviously she lived here. For her safety, he could only hope that her appearance in his neighborhood was a fluke, and he could keep his presence a secret. Yet, he couldn't help staring a few more seconds at the corner around which she had disappeared. Despite the danger, despite the horrific time they spent together, despite the pain…she was here. He had seen her. It was only for a few seconds, but it was enough. It had to be enough.

"Eliot! Game!!" Hardison yelled it this time. "What's with you, man?"

"Nothing," he replied, turning from the window and walking to the couch. "Nothing," whispering to himself, "absolutely nothing."