Warning!: This chapters contents and its characters begin to veer from canon and become very OOC. Stephanie becomes darker than you've known her, so if that's not your thing best to leave now. There is also plenty of indirect speech and time hopping.
Truthfully, Stephanie leaves Trenton like she does most things.
With 12% of a plan and 88% hopeful thinking.
Although she hadn't planned for it she's glad that Tank's right there with her as she moves to put things in motion.
She's already taken care of money and bank accounts (not that there was much to take care of in the first place). She's taken the coward's easy way out with notes for various people of significance, telling herself this way it seems more temporary, like she could come back at any moment if the mood strikes her.
This is a lie.
She knows she may not be back for a long time.
She also knows there's a good chance she may never come back at all.
Her knowledge of the habits of skips and little pieces she's picked up here and there from working with Rangeman has been exceptionally useful.
Even better is having Tank there to dispel any foolish notions she may have had and to focus on the important things, where she may go, what she might do.
Tank points out that getting out of Trenton is only the beginning of a solution, and there's more at work here that she needs to fix.
"You should take the opportunity for everything that you can. I can give you a few names, numbers. People that Ranger's not regularly in contact with"
Ah. Ranger.
Whilst Steph's under no delusions about their relationship (or lack of), she knows there's no way in hell Ranger's gonna let her go so easy.
"Once you leave, you've got hours tops before flags start to come up. You're lucky I'm in the know and not the one to raise the alarm" his large grin has the desired effect of making her laugh. She knows Tank is worried about how she's taking everything he's throwing at her.
Glancing at the clock on the wall she knows they've got perhaps another hour before she's got to hit the road and there's still so much they haven't gone through.
"I know I'm lucky. How long 'til somebody tries to search for me?" Tank stares at her for a minute, not at all fooled by the fact that 'somebody' means Ranger.
"Ranger's not expecting this in the slightest. We've been busy lately, you've been relatively safe and Morelli's been relatively reasonable. There's no need for him to worry" Tank jots down some more digits on the notepad that's to be her new bible. She waits for the but she knows is coming.
"That being said, Ranger always worries about you. He's not just going to accept a note saying you're off on a jolly adventure and there's no need to freak out, you'll send postcards" at this Stephanie looks guilty at the set of envelopes laid out on the table before them.
She sighs, "I know. I just can't do this to their faces. I'd never make it to the city limits let alone another state"
"Hey" Tank says, using his pointer finger to lift her chin and catch her eye. "You're gonna do this okay? You're gonna get outta here and do what you need to do and ain't nobody gonna stop you. You've got me and I'm going to make sure you have nothing to worry about even if it gets me killed" Tank's tone is soft and the low rumble of his voice is comforting enough that she relaxes.
He continues, "and you're gonna call me at even the slightest whiff of trouble you get, aren't you?" his stare is more meaningful but still gentle, and she can tell under the gruffness he genuinely is worried about her being on her own.
She places her hand over his still clutching that pen, "Of course I will. You've done so much for me Tank I-"
"None of that" he cuts her off, taking back his other hand and placing it over hers like she was made of glass. "We're going to make certain there are no holes in this half assed plan of yours and you're going to carry it out like soldier. I'm your new CO and you're going to thrive, you hear me?
Tank was right. She did thrive.
She's not sure this is quite what he meant though.
Stephanie makes it out of Trenton just fine. The days beginning to break and she's certain half of Rangeman is now up and around.
It doesn't make a difference.
She hugs Tank goodbye, his arms tight enough around her she finds it a little difficult to breathe. It's nice to know somebody cares, unreservedly.
Steph's originally plan had been to drive out of the city in her POS car before dumping it and making her way forwards through public transport before she bought another car cash in hand.
Tank had given extra money despite her protests ("Think of it as a rainy day fund, Steph. This is a rainy day").
It wasn't a rainy day, it was beautiful. Blue sky and the sun beaming down on her so that the sunglasses she wore were not at all out of place.
So Tank drove the POS car, and he was the one who dumped it. They part ways at a non-descript service station and she makes her own way.
It begins.
Through the months that follow she travels mostly on buses, hopping and criss-crossing across states always using cash wherever she goes.
She keeps her old cell, though she never turns it on. She gets a cheap cell she doesn't mind losing, changing it every so often just to be sure.
Nobody finds her.
She has no idea if they're trying.
She's not sure which option is harder to swallow.
At the one month anniversary of her departure she sent Tank a postcard from Michigan. She's never stepped foot in numerous states in her life and Michigan's one of them. Nothing to suggest she might visit. She gets a small kick out of sending a post card remembering their conversation and imagining him rolling his eyes once it reached him.
Everywhere she travels she takes the opportunity to look around the area as much as possible, check out the sights. Occasionally she'll take on work for a week or a few days or so. Nothing permanent. All cash in hand of course.
Tank had also given her a fantastically real looking fake ID under the name Hannah Gilbert. Hannah Gilbert has a driving license and a passport. She also has a library card for an address in Washington DC.
She tells people she's travelling.
She never gets an answer from her postcards.
Then again she's not expecting to.
At the sixth month mark she takes the risk of phoning Tank. She's still got some money left thanks to the part time work she's been doing, but soon she'll have to settle. She's made plans with one of the names Tank had left her and soon she'll head to Colorado.
But first she needs to talk to Tank.
Tank breathes a sigh of relief at the sound of her voice, and even though she reminds him of the postcards his tired voice tells her "It's not the same, Steph"
She asks him not to tell her what's happened in her absence. Just as long as he friends and family are all safe, healthy, happy. Tank still sounds tense when he reassures her everyone's fine, though Lula's still flies into a rage at the sound of her name and all of Rangeman avoids Morelli like the plague for reasons Tank won't explain. Just like she asked.
It's not that she doesn't miss everybody or that she doesn't care anymore, it's just that her old life seems so very far away now. She can't afford to let herself think of home lest she breaks and goes running back with her tail between her legs.
Tank starts to talk about Ranger before she cuts him off, "he's okay isn't he? Still eating rabbit food and all right?" she laughs nervously. The silent pause that follows makes her entire body feel cold.
"He's ok. Sorta, look its complicated-" he breaks off with a frustrated huff and Stephanie feels her heart break a little more at the trouble she's caused him.
"I should never have asked you to do this" she says quietly.
"No" Tank comes back immediately at that "You didn't ask me Stephanie, I volunteered. You're heading to James, right?"
Colorado, right. Michael James formerly a US Navy SEAL, now operating out of Colorado providing extreme sports as well as defensive and offensive training.
Basically the guy who's supposed to turn her into Rocky-the-Mini-Version.
"Yep" she tries for cheerful, but doubts it comes across that way.
"Then go. James is a good guy, I spoke to him before you left, warned him he better be good to you or I'd pay him a visit"
She hangs up and immediately moves away from the payphone and on to her bed of the night trying to ignore the tears falling silently down her cheeks.
She wakes the next day, taking a shower to freshen up and ready to start the day by six. Being on her own has changed her schedule dramatically. She has no need to be anywhere or see anyone other than making progress.
It's because she's wandered to a little coffee shop down the road from where she's staying that she sees the familiar black uniform exiting the very place she was heading to.
Making no move to hide other than tugging her ball cap a little more she watches him with her heart pounding. She doesn't recognise him, which means he must be a new recruit. It hits her then just how much time has passed since she last saw Ranger.
She's beginning to relax as surely this man has no idea who she is, (although knowing her reputation the chances aren't good) but she's fairly confident he at least has no idea what she looks like. Her hair is chemically straightened, died dark and in a choppier, shorter style than it was. Convenience is a must.
She's never stopped strolling throughout these thoughts; normality is the best disguise, and now convinced this man is definitely not here for her let alone aware of her existence she even considers continuing into the coffee shop as planned.
It doesn't happen that way.
It feels like time slows down impossibly as she catches the bounce of light of the glossy photograph clutched carefully in the man's hand. Another man in black crosses from her side of the street mere metres away (how had she not seen him?) and shakes his head at the others question.
The first pulls out a cell phone and recites a string of sentences that sound so achingly familiar to what she once knew.
She dares to cross the street to the coffee shop. It's populated even at this time in the morning and she needs to know.
A black SUV pulls closer, a rental judging by the sticker on the rear and both men make a move toward it, but not before she sees the photograph as she passes by into the welcoming warmth and aroma of coffee.
She swallows down her adrenaline as she waits patiently in line.
She orders a Cinnamon Dolce Latte. Pays the cashier with a smile and a thank you.
Then she runs.
The day passes in a whirlwind rather than the calm pre-travel day she'd planned.
Her new identity has no links whatsoever to her old life. Not a single name was similar to those of her own or her families.
She packs and makes haste like the Devil is on her tail.
At this point she's been travelling by car, a beat up import that's completely unremarkable in a dull colour, bought from someone she'd met in a bar while toiling as a bartender. She's incredibly grateful for it now, driving through the rest of the day, the evening and then some to get to get to where she needs to be.
She berates herself every single mile for calling Tank.
She can't bring herself to regret it.
Eventually she makes it to Hinsdale County, Colorado.
James's place is accessed only by a long trailing dirt track miles from civilisation and is nearly entirely surrounded by forest. The area is sparsely populated and the terrain makes for a wonderful training ground.
James, or Michael as she comes to call him, is a good guy. A great one, in fact.
He makes no reference to Tank or Ranger or anyone else they may have in common.
He asks no questions.
That's good. She gives no answers.
They get along well, training day and night through the days, weeks. She begins to like being cut off a little from the world and the pretty non-existent chances anyone will look for her here.
She tries not to think about what it means that Ranger, or at least Rangeman, is still looking for her in some capacity.
And as the days grow colder so does she.
At first the training is hellish.
Michael tries to treat her like a new recruit, and is distinctly unimpressed by her lack of skill.
He is however, wholeheartedly impressed and surprised by her ability to improvise. She means this quite literally.
The first time she lands him on his back with no way of escape, she's consumed with adrenaline. Weeks of frustration and agony, at the worst of times tears as James took pity and tried to assure her she'd get there, it wasn't like she wasn't trying, she just had to keep going.
On this grey day in November she can feel the cold in her bones, her fingers and toes are numb, the wind is biting and they'd been up since before the daylight began to sink through. It's been drizzling for hours and there's no ounce of warmth to be found in her clothes, dark skinny jeans and a long sleeved shirt that's now tracked with mud and dirt that she can also feel under her nails.
Michael had made sense when he'd told her she may not always be dressed suitably for whatever may come at her. You fight with you have and ignore what you don't.
Her high ponytail is tight and painful, her frustration at the situation is chomping at the bit and okay, she's a little homesick. After the Watertown debacle she cut herself off completely, no phone calls, no emails and no mysterious letters. Only postcards with the two letters O.K. at the end of every month and as before sent from a roundabout trip hours from anywhere she's staying.
Michael looks up at her with no smiles, no words of pride, just a nod, which considering his position in the dirt is quite good of him anyway.
It takes her a minute to back off, realising she'd been holding herself over him like a taut bow string, teeth bared with her weight pressing down on his shoulders and arms, limbs entangled in such a way that an attempt to break out of her hold would result in at best, a dirty fight, and at worst asphyxiation.
She steps away shaking afterwards and he throws an arm around her shoulders as he guides her into his by comparison luxurious cabin with the lure of hot cocoa and cake.
She's forgotten what she used to eat.
She's not sure who she used to be.
Michael and her make a much better effort to get on with each other after that. On occasion he's made Ranger look forthcoming but now he merely shares stories with her in front of the fire providing the only light in the room. She tells him about her own past.
She admits why she's running.
He tells her it's ok. He tells her it's understandable. Some people aren't meant to be some things. She's strong, she'll figure it out.
With a rush of what feels like relief she realises he's right.
They pass Christmas together quietly but snugly, tucked away but no worse off for it. Stephanie's improving by the day, no longer afraid of the tools of her trade and taking to everything Michael gives her like duck to water. He tells her he's not sure what else has to teach her. Tells her she's glad she came to him.
The buzz of worries and stress she used to carry around is gone from her mind. Her thoughts vacant of the simultaneous yearning and hurt she'd often felt around both Ranger and Morelli. That sickening yo-yo of are-we-are-we-not. Her mind is quiet now, she feels less guilty as the days pass with her thinking less and less of home.
She's lost those few stubborn pounds she used to carry around, and months of unsure living have turned her lean; honing her curves with a light layer of muscle so now her deceptively trim physique does not belie the damage it can do. She admires the play of muscle and bone under her skin in front of the mirror of Michael's guest room, recognising it as the power she now owns. It cannot be taken away from her.
She is vulnerable no more.
Michael is the first person she sleeps with after Trenton. It's different than before. Not that he's unattractive; his skin is tanned from hours spent outdoors; his build resembles Lester in height and litheness with a little extra muscle. Light brown hair forms soft bristly spikes kept short and green eyes make for an overall very enticing package.
He is not a man built for comfort, but for satisfaction of the soul.
She appreciates it.
It's not long after Christmas that they part ways. Michael suggests she go to an acquaintance in London.
It's a marker of how much she's changed that she barely hesitates.
She misses those days filled with nothing but the burn of muscle and rasp of breath as they tussled between trees and in rivers and wherever else they could find.
But now she's addicted to the rush, and if cities are drugs then London is Cocaine.
London is much grittier than it looks on the television. She'd been led to believe it was glittering and glamorous and that pretty much everyone spoke like the Queen.
It has a dark side and they meet pretty soon after her new teacher, Angelo, decided he'd taught her enough about the art form of weaponry combined with skill and grace and that she'd better off providing security for those who wanted a subtle approach.
With her lithe build, and now longer hair down to her waist (she knows it's a liability but she can't help herself) in gentle waves a shining, glossy version of her natural colour and her general appearance of good health. She appears unthreatening; the high and wealthy lap her up.
She looks more youthful now (and oh how she loves it) full of vitality and energy. She plays with their children, chats aimlessly with the women and rebuffs the advances of men with a smile.
Considering they work in twos, her partner Leo of Hispanic descent and military background is taken as the real bodyguard. She's the middle ground to them.
When she proves that she's not, they no longer smile back at her.
The wealthy couple she work for have two children and live out of a townhouse in Kensington. When the mother is taken and a ransom is demanded or the threat of bodily harm, Stephanie feels only the thrill of the chase as they follow the breadcrumbs of a small time mob like operation.
Despite his military background, Leo has actually worked for these kind of people before. He is in short, a mercenary. When she learns this she doesn't react, just watches him carefully, knowing life is never black and white, only shades of grey. Ranger had taught her that.
He'd want her to be safe.
Stephanie's hands are still clean when she methodically takes out their targets guard and delivers a round kick to the face of the man holding a gun to her employer.
Guns aren't as easy to get hold of in Britain as they are in America, but they're plentiful in London.
She doesn't know what it means that she's proud she took down seven men on her own with no firearm.
And so she begins to carry dainty and light but entirely deadly knives at all times.
She knows Ranger prefers a 2:1 gun knife ratio, but she likes it just fine the other way round. She worked hard to be good with her body, she's not giving it up easily.
She may have drawn blood, but she's not maliciously maimed or killed a man yet. There are still lines of morality.
She no longer sends post cards.
She tells herself it's because overseas shipping costs too much.
It's now just one in a string of lies.
She still speaks to Michael occasionally and at the year and half mark she heads back across the ocean for home turf, but not for Trenton.
Angelo has told her of work in South America and her previous colleagues, if that was what they were, had had some experience there. They told her it would pay decently, and she'd live in comfort. They didn't elaborate on what sort of work it might be.
Michael shrugs when she tells him and says, "I've heard of it. Not bad if you keep your head down, just watch out for the spider"
At his cryptic statement she is puzzled. "The spider?"
He shakes his head. "No one I've ever met knew his name. He's a ghost, but a strong one at that. Rumour has it he may head up one of the larger crime organisations. Few pies he hasn't got his fingers into. You be careful" he tips his fingers under her chin and says no more about it as they dig in to dinner.
Michael needn't have bothered warning her. As always, she ended up right where she shouldn't have been at exactly the wrong moment.
It's somewhat worrying that she's comforted by this good old Stephanie behaviour in the light of its repercussions.
And this is how she meets Alejandro.
Your reviews have all been so lovely to read . If we reach the 100 mark with this chapter I might actually cry.
Chapter Notes: I have little to no concept of the USA's geography so I apologise for what I'm sure are many mistakes. I have also breezed over technical details in this chapter, some which i will come back to, some not. Some locations in this fic are based on real areas (like Hinsdale county) but are almost entirely a work of fiction. Please do not take this as a work of fact as despite the research I did for this chapter it is still very rudimentary.
At this point it has been a year and a half since Steph left,