A/N:

Hey!

Many thanks to TheArrowess, LydsLife, BaconBabe77, Gazza, partial hope and the other unnamed guests who reviewed on the last chapter.

I'm not surprised to see that the MR community has dwindled in the way that it has (considering the last book) but I'm still upset about it. I left the fandom and came back mainly to get this idea (which I've had for years) out of my brain but its still sad to to see one of my favorite books from my childhood be reduced to such a small fanbase. I understand that all things have to come to an end but it's still saddening.

ANYWAY, ON WITH THE STORY.

Chapter 3: Amore

Hamsmith and Brown were already belted into the car the next morning when I clambered into the backseat. Brown smiled and asked me how I slept. I told her that it was fine when, in actuality, it had been far from "fine".

I had spent most of the night crying like a three-year-old who had lost her mommy while shopping in Toys'r'Us. Overall, it was awful and I hadn't slept more than three hours. My left eye itched irritably and so did my temper when Brown made a few more attempts at conversion. Eventually, she gave up, realizing that I wouldn't provide her with more than one-word responses.

I gazed out of the window at the passing scenery while lost in my thoughts. I couldn't think of a way I could complete this mission without revealing my identity to the Flock. Which would go over just swimmingly! I mean, you disappear for three years and then suddenly turn up on their doorstep, acting like you didn't totally abandon them and they'll obviously be fine with it! Yep, the Flock is just going to accept I'm back, no questions asked. Then we'll all join hands and skip off beaming into the sunset!

At that thought, I am almost snorted out loud.

No, that was most certainly not going to happen.

They'll slam the door in my face. They'll demand I leave and even if they don't they'll demand I tell them what happened, which is almost as impossible. Because truth is, what happened is almost as unexplainable as it is unbelievable.

I was stuck. I didn't know how to proceed. Then, Hamsmith, spinning around to face me from the front seat, asked me the one question I was dreading, "Where are we dropping you?"

I looked at him, taking in his shaven blonde hair and light, open eyes (which in no way reflected his personality) and attempted to formulate a reply. I came up blank. I simply didn't know how to respond. He waited and when I still didn't say anything raised an eyebrow, "….A hotel maybe?" He asked.

I looked back out the window. We were in the city now, passing buildings that were pressed closely together and high rises which grew out of the pavement like ginormous, chrome trees. The lights of the crossing ahead of us turned red and our car drew to a stop parallel to a small, red brick building, nestled among the modern city constructions. As I watched, two people in their mid-twenties came out of the restaurant, holding hands and laughing. They'd probably just finished a romantic lunch date and were heading somewhere to make out. The sign on the building above them read, "Amore." Which I knew meant "love" in Italian. Ugh, disgusting.

"Sargent Ride?" Hamsmith asked. I didn't answer him. Something stirred in my brain, wriggling around in my short term memory. I remembered hearing something about a restaurant in San Francisco called Amore. Where had I heard- no, read that name before? I began searching my memory, shuffling through the information stored there. Hamsmith called my name once more, then, when I still didn't respond, Brown joined in, "Max?"

Suddenly, I remembered where I had heard it before.

I knew what my next move was.

The light turned green and the car shuddered forward. "Stop the car!" I yelled. I grabbed my duffle bag and opened the car door as we were still moving. The driver had slammed on the breaks and the car jolted to a stop. I started to climb out of the open door but Brown caught my arm, "What do you think you are doing?"

The car behind us honked, "I'm getting out! This is the perfect place to drop me!" Brown still looked skeptical (and like I had a few screws lose, which I probably did at this point) but dropped my hand anyway. I pulled out of the car completely and slammed the door closed. I put a hand up in apology to the car which had honked me and then sprinted across the road to avoid getting hit by traffic. I stopped in front of Amore, my bag slung across my back. I waved to Brown and Hamsmith who were staring back at me through the rear-view window of the sleek, black car which drove them away.

I took a deep breath in and pulled open the door to Amore, pushing inside.

I slurped up the last of my penne and put down my fork, contented. A waitress came over, seeing I was finished and asked how my meal was.

"Excellent." I said as she picked up my plate, "Complements to the chef."

The girl, whose name tag read Madeline, laughed, "I will pass that on! He'll be pleased."

For the next few seconds, I thought about what I was going to say next, then, right as Madeline was leaving, I asked, "Can you tell him I said something else?"

The waitress smiled and turned, "Sure! What is it?"

I glanced over to the kitchen, where there was a wide glass panel allowing diners to witness the preparation of their meals, "Tell him I said... that I haven't had pasta like that in years."

The girl nodded, her blond curls bobbing and shuffled off to dispose of my plate. I turned my gaze back over to the kitchen and watched a boy, with reddish blonde hair season a dish expertly. He placed the pepper grinder back in its exact place deftly and served up the meal, hitting the serving bell for a waitress to collect it through a little window. Madeline went to collect the meal and, as she did so, said something through the window to the chef. He grinned and laughed heartily. He said something to her in return which I couldn't make out over the general restaurant chatter and went on with the next order.

I continued to watch the chef's experienced movements until Madeline came back to my table, apron flapping. "The Chef said that he was glad to hear you liked it so much. Can I get you anything else?"

I shook my head, "Just the check, thanks." Again, just before Madeline headed off, I asked, "He's blind, isn't he?"

Madeline looked startled and asked how I guessed. I shrugged and she left to collect the bill, confused.

I paid in cash with money I had had a lower rank soldier withdraw for me from my bank account before leaving the base this morning and tipped Madeline generously. When she collected the bill, I asked her if I could just sit inside for a while and Madeline, pleased with the extra money, said of course.

"Is it hot outside today?" She asked curiously. I speculated that she probably thought I might be uncomfortably warm in my long skirt and skin color pantyhose (which I hadn't changed out of from yesterday) out in the San Francisco heat. I was about to reply affirmatively when I noticed the blonde haired chef taking off his apron.

"Actually, I will be going. Thanks for everything." I left, hurriedly abandoning my table and grabbing my bag. Madeline called goodbye after me but I was already pushing the front door open.

On the street, I looked around for an alleyway which may lead around the back of the restaurant. I caught sight of one, near a grouping of bins, and then of the blonde Chef leaving the alley, backpack slung over one shoulder casually. I followed him as he walked down the street, always a few paces behind. I pushed through the crowds of city workers on their lunch break to keep up with the boy and not lose him as he continued to walk briskly, one hand trailing across the building facades as he went. It was probably how he kept track of where he was considering he was blind. Occasionally, someone would bump into him, apologize and move on quickly. The people thinned eventually and I knew we were reaching the outskirts of the city district.

The sun, which had been blazing summer heat down upon the city, was covered by dark clouds unexpectedly. The city was plunged into relative darkness. Lightening flashed and thunder cracked overhead, but no rain fell, yet.

Soon, when there were no more people passing us and the streets had begun to look more run down, the boy stopped.

So did I.

There was silence.

After a few moments, he said, "I know you're there."

My blood froze. Tears threatened to fall from my eyes again and I mentally cursed. His voice was so familiar and I resisted the urge to hug him fiercely.

I didn't speak, breathing steadily and quietly in the hope that he'd think he'd been mistaken and just keep walking.

"I may be blind, but I'm not stupid." He turned around. Even in the limited light, I could make out his pale blue eyes. They bored a hole through my heart leaving me feeling hollow. He folded his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. "If you're going to try and mug me, please hurry up. I have been working since 6 am and would really appreciate getting home and taking a nap."

That was my Iggy: wonderfully defiant.

I balled up all my courage and threw out the question I'd been dying to ask since I first saw "James Ride" working at Amore just as my brief had said he did, "Iggy?"

A/N2:

What are your thoughts on the MR fandom shrinkage? REVIEW AND TELL ME.

~El