AN: Over 100 reviews! That is SO FREAKIN' AWESOME! You guys just rock so hard! You make writing this story so much fun and so rewarding. Thanks so much. I loved some of your ideas about grandma's letters. I didn't see any that tempted me away from my original idea, but some were really funny. (Owl post anyone? :) ) And suzyq59, great guess!

WARNING: this is high angst, with an eventual Babe HEA…
Disclaimer: Story told from Stephanie's POV. I own nothing, just playing with JE's world.
SPOILER ALERT: From here on, spoilers for the 'Wicked' books as well.

Chapter 10

I sat in my favourite café, sipping coffee and enjoying their amazing French toast; it had become my preferred breakfast since coming here to Boston. The café was around the corner from my apartment building, and I walked down here at least three or four mornings a week. My job had one thing in common with my old bounty hunter lifestyle, the days started slowly and not too early. I could make my own hours.

I had been living and working in Boston for nine months now, and it was starting to feel a little like home. I still felt isolated, and frequently lonely, but I was trying a few new things to make some friends. One thing I had not realised about my life and my job in Trenton, until it was gone, was that it exposed me to a lot of people, and I made a lot of friends, or at least acquaintances. It had been a social life, even if I lived alone. Here in Boston my job was mostly done online or on the phone, and it was not conducive to meeting people, especially when I was basically hiding from everyone I used to know. The only daily contact I had had for months was with Rex, and honestly, that didn't really cut it.

I had managed to find a way to keep in touch with grandma, at least occasionally. Diesel had laughed when I had suggested it, I thought it was a little bit clever and sneaky of me. I had paid the funeral director at Stiva's $500 to pass on my letters to grandma, and to keep it quiet. He had thought it was a bit of a laugh, but had agreed not to tell anyone. And Diesel had agreed to get different people around the US to post them to the funeral parlour, so they couldn't be traced back to Boston. I wouldn't be able to write every week, but every couple of months… at least grandma would know I was still alive, and she could tell Mary Lou. Maybe I should include another $500 in my next letter, for grandma to give to the funeral director? It would be important to keep him on side. Despite my best efforts I couldn't think of a safe way for them to contact me. But Diesel had promised me that the BUM would monitor my family and friends in Trenton, and let me know the second anything happened to anyone.

To break out of my slough of isolation, I had decided to take up some hobbies or interests, and I was looking for things that were far removed from my previous life. Two weeks ago I had enrolled in a drawing class. I wasn't sure I was going to show a lot of talent, but it was something different, and I got to chat with the other students during class. A few of us had even agreed to have coffee after the next class. I had to be so careful of what I told people about myself, but I was looking forward to that coffee date so much, it made me realise how lonely I truly had been.

My work online had also made me realise I wanted to learn more about computers. Not that I wanted to go work for Apple or anything, just to know more about how information was organised, and how to use computers for research. I had started looking into some courses at community colleges, but so far nothing had appealed enough to enrol. It made me think back to the opportunities I had in the past that I had never taken advantage of, to learn from someone like Silvio or Hector. I had a lot of regrets about my previous life, but I had to try and just keep moving forward.

Diesel had been as good as his word, introducing me to his contact in the BUM and setting me up in Boston. I had travelled to New York first, where another BUM specialist had taken me for two days for a complete makeover. My hair had been chemically straightened and trimmed to a feathery, shoulder-length style, and I had auburn highlights added regularly. I had to travel back to New York for my hair treatments, Diesel was being very careful about my profile in Boston. I really liked it, actually, I thought it looked awesome, and the red in my hair seemed to really change my whole look. I had been given green-tinted contacts for my eyes, and they also looked amazing with the red highlights.

I had also been taken shopping for a whole new wardrobe in New York. The wardrobe was a big adjustment for me, it was far removed from my usual style. I had a couple of pairs of jeans, but very few t-shirts, and no CAT boots and definitely no black. Everything I had been fitted with had been very feminine. I had put my foot down at ruffles, so Deidre (my makeover stylist) and I had finally compromised on a feminine 'peasant' style, with off-the-shoulder blouses and flowing skirts in earthy prints for summer, and colourful wraps and suede pants and skirts for winter. The point was to look very different from my previous lifestyle, so people would not recognise me as easily. I guess it should work, I certainly don't think you would look at me and see the Bombshell Bounty Hunter!

The last phase in my transformation had been to get me a new identity. I was now Michelle Parkes, going by Shell Parkes. Diesel's contact in the BUM said it was better to keep the same initials, some kind of psychological benefit, and since Michelle was my second name, it wasn't as hard to adjust. My new ID had me a few months older (why not younger?!) but still born in the same year. Still it was nice that, on my real birthday, I had woken to find a beautiful white rose on my pillow. I knew that Diesel had left it, a silent but heartfelt 'happy birthday' that only he could say.

According to my new background, I was born and raised in Williamsburg, Virginia. I thought that was a master-stroke, since if I slipped up and called it 'the Burg', it could still be excused. I was still as business major, but I had gone to William & Mary College. I had enjoyed looking at their website online and the glossy brochures and maps that Diesel gave me to familiarise myself with the college as much as I could. I almost wish I had gone there, but my grades had not been that great.

Diesel and I had found a nice little one-bedroom apartment for me in Medford, north of Boston. It was a quiet, residential community, with a predominantly Irish-American population, and it was easy to fit in, with my red-brown hair and green eyes. Diesel had me working with a BUM-approved vocal coach for the first few weeks to bring a hint of an Irish accent into my voice, when I tried. Surprisingly, it had come fairly easily to me, and I could lapse into a hint of Irish brogue on occasion. It helped to sell my Irish-American background.

Medford was far enough away from Wulf's apartment in Beacon Hill, and the Rangeman office in South Boston, that I felt relatively safe here. My cover was that I worked as an online researcher for a non-profit – I guess that was close enough to the truth, although I didn't know if the BUM made any profit from their activities! I guess they had to do something that made money, they certainly seemed to have enough of it to throw around at will; cars, apartments, travel, clothes, bribes… nothing seemed to cause them to blink.

I had been allocated a company car, a new, blue Ford Escape, and I was thrilled that nothing had happened to it in nine months! It was almost a new record for me, although one that nobody knew anything about.

So far, I had not run into anyone from my former life, other than Diesel. I had managed to even avoid any contact with Wulf, and I was hoping that was a record I could maintain.

A beep from my phone drew me from my reminiscences.

911 call me now! L

I really liked Lizzy. I would have liked her if she didn't bake the world's best cupcakes, but it sure was a bonus! I wished I could live in Salem or Marblehead so I could eat them more often, but Diesel felt it would put me at too much risk from running into Wulf. At least I had found out that Boston Crèmes were really the official state donut! Although donuts and sitting in front of a computer most of the day turned out to be a bad combination. I ended up joining a gym a few months ago when my pants were getting uncomfortably tight. For now, an hour a day on the bike and Zumba classes twice a week were keeping my jeans buttoned.

"Hi Lizzy, what's up?"

"Hi Shell," I could hear the barely repressed laughter in her voice. "Diesel made me call, 'cause he's too chicken to call you himself, and he's sulking. He needs another new car!"

I couldn't repress my own giggles at that; it seemed like Diesel had somehow taken over my bad car karma. "What happened this time?"

"He fed Carl something, I really don't want to know what, and he got sick. Kinda really sick, at both ends!" Ewwww! "Anyway, it's really not drivable. Don't know what you're going to do with it when you drop the other car off, but I'd suggest you bring a gas mask and a hazmat suit."

I sighed at that, but this is part of what I was being paid for. "No problems. Give me an hour. Any requests?"

I heard Lizzy consulting Diesel. "The usual. SUV, any color, child restraints and car seat for Carl in the back."

"OK. Tell Diesel I'm requesting hazard duty pay. And I may need two boxes for this time."

Lizzy laughed, "Absolutely. Peanut butter chocolate truffle and pineapple upside down cupcakes?"

I moaned. Since I moved up here, Lizzy had added my all-time favourite cake to her regular baking rotation. They were really popular too. I'm going to have to do an extra hour on the bike tonight.

Lizzy laughed again, "I hear you Shell!" before saying goodbye and disconnecting. Oh well, guess I said that out loud again.

I dialled the car dealer I had on speed dial, and requested a new SUV, any high-end model he had in stock, and asked he put in the car seat before I picked it up. He requested 40 minutes to organise the car seat and the paperwork. I told him 30, and then hung up. I was learning to be more assertive. Besides, Diesel got really cranky when I was late. I got out some money to pay for my breakfast, and stood to go the counter to pay.

A flash of sunlight reflected from a car mirror through the café window, across the street, and caught my attention. I felt the blood drain from my face and I had to grab the table to steady myself. I sat back down abruptly and put my head down between my knees, trying to breathe through my nose to quell the dizziness and nausea. When I finally felt like I could sit back up without passing out, I slowly raised my head.

Across the street, a black Porsche Cayenne was parked, and it was unmistakably Ranger and Tank getting out of it. Ranger's eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, and he was wearing his usual attire of black cargoes, black boots, moulded-on black t-shirt and black Rangeman jacket. It was overwhelming to see him, and I felt my world tilt on its axis. As he stood beside the car, he seemed to gaze over into the café window, seemingly looking directly at me. His hand started to lift towards his neck, as if he was going to rub it, and I saw a line appear between his brows.

I felt another wave of nausea roll through me at the thought the he could see me, that he could sense me, that he would recognise me. After a moment, though, he looked away, and I felt relief wash through me like a shiver. My hands shook as I watched them walk into the building opposite the café.

I wished I could believe that I was over him, but just seeing him again brought the memories and buried feelings to the surface in a rush.

I jumped when a voice sounded beside me, "You OK, Shell?" Mandy enquired. Mandy was the waitress at the café, and we had become friendly acquaintances over the past nine months.

"Yeah, I think I just stood up too quickly, I felt dizzy for a second. I'm fine, Mandy really. I was just coming over to pay the check."

She put a sympathetic hand on my shoulder, "You stay here, I'll go get the check and bring it over."

"No! I mean, no thanks, that's fine. I really need to get going, I got a call from work, and I have to be somewhere." I smiled weakly at Mandy, "Thanks for everything."

I stood and Mandy held my arm lightly as we walked to the counter. I paid my check and thanked Mandy again. I rooted through my large beaded bag that went with my hippie/peasant image, and found a pair of large, round sunglasses. I put them on, before slipping out of the café, and walking as quickly as I could around the corner to my apartment building to pick up my car.

I would drive my car to the dealer to collect Diesel's new car. I would have to drive the Carl-damaged car back from Salem to the dealer. He could dispose of it however he wanted. I just hoped I could make it back without puking, if it was as bad as Lizzy had said.

I refused to think about seeing Ranger. I had no idea why he would be in Medford, but I supposed it was some kind of Rangeman business. I had to remind myself that I was heavily disguised. Even if he had seen me, and I was sure he hadn't, surely he hadn't, then he couldn't recognise me! I pushed it from my mind, as I tried to focus solely on my mission for Diesel.

I chanted it like a mantra, over and over. He didn't see me. He couldn't recognise me. It is over.

AN: Did he see her? Did he recognise her? Ooooh the tension! :)