Braxton took one last look around his empty house before exiting and closing the door behind him. He got into his car and drove though the subdivision to the highway. The moving truck had left 15 minutes ago. It was just over seven months since Marissa had left. He'd tried to move on, as Logan had suggested, but was failing. He even moved out of the master bedroom, thinking that would help, but it didn't. When he realized he was not being as good a therapist to his patients because of being distracted, he closed up his practice and referred them to other psychologists. His sister got him a teaching job at a university in LA. He hoped that a change of scenery would do the trick and help him get over her.

Before he left, he'd called Logan and asked him to give Marissa his new phone number should she think to call him if she tried calling and found his numbers disconnected. Logan balked at first but relented when Braxton pushed, insisting he was not pining for her but wanted her to be able to reach him should she need or want to. His friend finally promised that he would. Braxton was going to miss Denver and being so close to his parents, but deep down, he knew this was for the best. Perhaps he could return sometime in the future and start a practice again.

=================================

Marissa went on with her trips. The Cartel had finally managed to break her, but she had to put on a facade when going through customs and out in public. At home, though, she kept to herself, spending most of her time in her room. April tried to engage her, but she declined as much as she could. Once in a while, her roommate wouldn't let her be, so she'd sit with her in the living room for a while, making small talk or watching tv.

One day, Mark called her. “Lydia, are you okay?” he asked.

“I'm fine”, she replied listlessly. “Why do you ask?”

“Your voice belies your words. What is wrong? Is it your living situation?”

Marissa decided to run with it, rather than tell him about Nola. “Yes.” It wasn't a total lie, her living situation was depressing.

“I thought so. April tells me you aren't happy there.”

“April has talked about me?” So, her suspicions about her roomie were correct!

“She's concerned, Lydia.” Concerned, my arse, Marissa thought to herself. “Would you like to have your own apartment again?”

“I would.”

“Then it will be done. Give me a bit of time to arrange it. Is your furniture still in storage or did you dispose of it?”

“It's still there.” She hadn't bothered with it, and had been paying the storage fees.

“Good. You won't have to worry about that. We will take care of getting you moved.”

“I can hire a moving company, Mark.” She didn't want to feel indebted to him.

“Nonsense. We put you in with a roommate and we'll get you out. We didn't know if it would work or not. Sometimes things don't.”

Three weeks later, when she returned from a trip, Mark came to see her. He told her she was being moved to a building a few blocks away from her current one and that she had a week to pack, which he felt was enough time given she only had a bedroom to move. He also asked for her phone and laptop. “What for?” she asked.

“I told you we'd be checking them at random intervals. This isn't my doing, Lydia – it comes from someone higher than me.”

“It's okay, Mark. I don't have anything to hide.”

“I'm glad of that. I'll get these back to you tomorrow.”

Damnit, she thought. I really want to contact Braxton but I don't dare. While she knew she could wipe her history on the laptop and delete the call history on her phone, she figured the Cartel would have people with the skills to restore anything that had been deleted. She would have to think of something.

Things got a little better after that, at least for a while. She was much more comfortable now that she was in her own place again and didn't have someone hovering over her, though she was still listless much of the time. She did put on a good facade whenever she went out, though. She made a point of going out at least every couple days, even if it was only to the park to sit and watch people go by. She tried to figure out if anyone was following her – there didn't seem to be, but she admittedly wasn't in the know about how to tell.

A few weeks after her move, she took public transit to one of the city's library branches. There, she arranged to use one of their public computers to sign up for an anonymous email account which she used to send Braxton a message letting him know she was okay. She told him this was the soonest she could get word to him as she had been on a very tight leash. “If you choose to reply and let me know how you are doing”, she wrote “please be aware it might be a long time before I get to check this email again, if I ever do.” It was now 9 months after she'd left Denver. Had she not logged off right away, she would have seen the email bounce back with the message “no such user”.

Marissa's next trip was to the Bahamas for a week. She loved this place, though she could do without the extreme heat. Being from northern Alberta, she was used to cooler temperatures. She'd been unable to get used to the hot summers in Colorado. At least Seattle was much more pleasant, even if it didn't get snow in the winter. The hotel she was staying at had a bar with an outdoor portion. Marissa loved sitting there and watching the ocean. Sometimes, she would walk barefoot through the sand and into the water, just enough to get her feet wet. But not often, as she found it very hard walking on the beach. Some afternoons, she would take a towel and a book and lie on the beach, reading. She always had to slather on the highest sunblock, though, as her fair skin burned way too easily.

One afternoon, she was sitting at the outside part of the bar, having a drink and watching the people on the beach. Someone sat down beside her. Marissa looked up and saw a middle aged woman, dressed in what looked like stereotypical gypsy garb. “Hello, dear”, she greeted Marissa in a thick accent. “My name is Kezia.”

“I'm Marissa. Nice to meet you”, she politely replied.

Kezia took a sip from her drink. “I sense a great sadness about you, Marissa, and that a man is involved. Do not worry, my dear, you will see him again. He misses you, too.”

Marissa was a bit taken aback. “I don't mean to be rude, Kezia, but what makes you think you know this?”

“I see things, my dear. It's my living.”

“Are you a psychic?”

“Of sorts. I read fortunes. But I don't need to read yours. I can sense it without any help from the cards.”

“What else do you sense about me?” Marissa decided to test her.

“That you are in a situation that is very distressing to you. I do not know what it is, but you want out. You will get out, but you have to do it yourself and you will have to take a risk. Remember that anything worth having is worth taking a risk for and that includes your freedom.” She finished her drink. “I must go now, but remember what I said.”

“What do I owe you for this advice?” Marissa asked politely.

“Nothing, dear. I approached you, you didn't ask for it.” Kezia finished her drink and stood up. She patted Marissa on the shoulder as she left. “Take care of yourself. Be healthy. Get whatever help you need to do that.”

Marissa sat in stunned silence for awhile after Kezia left. She had always thought that psychics and fortune telling were bunk. But how did the woman know that she was missing a man and she was in a situation she didn't want to be in? The comment about her health was vague enough that it could be said to anybody, but she couldn't get over the other two, especially the one about her situation.

Her dreams about Braxton had been getting fewer and further apart, but that night she dreamt about him. In this one, they were sitting on a blanket on the lawn of her family's farm, just talking and relaxing. He leaned in to kiss her, but she felt something pulling her up and away. She kept floating away until he was just a dot on the landscape. Marissa awoke in a sweat. Attributing the dream to thinking about him after her encounter with Kezia, she went back to sleep, but she could not get it off her mind the next day. She went back to the bar hoping to see the gypsy woman, but she wasn't there. Did the encounter the day before really happen or was it a figment of her imagination – perhaps she had dreamt it? Marissa tried to figure out if there was a meaning behind the dream about Braxton, but all she could come up with was the fact that she'd gone away just as they seemed to be getting close. She knew that she had had no choice about leaving, but it still bothered her that she'd done that to him.

Oh, how she hated the Cartel and wanted out! She was also well aware of the fact that had she not been in Denver running drugs for them, she never would have met Braxton. On the other hand, she thought, maybe it would have been better had she not met him. She missed him so bad some days that it hurt and she hoped that he was dealing with her disappearance better and had moved on.

When Marissa got back to Seattle, she did something she'd been meaning to do but hadn't got around to it. She had not destroyed the ID from her aliases in Denver even though Mark had asked her to. She was keeping them in her safe in her bedroom closet, but she thought it best she get them out of the apartment, just in case someone searched it. The day after she arrived home, she rented a safe deposit box and put them in it. She also put in a burner phone she'd purchased, as well as a card with minutes and some cash.

That turned out to be a very wise move. When she returned from her next trip, she found things out of place in her apartment and her safe missing. It was not a large one, just big enough to hold some small items. Fortunately, the dress and shoes Braxton had given her were still there as were the items of his clothing she had. Marissa just knew someone had been in there. Calling the police wasn't an option – it was obviously someone from the Cartel. She phoned Mark and asked him if he'd been in her abode. “Yes, Lydia – my superior and I were there.”

“Why, Mark? And did you take my safe?” Marissa felt violated.

“We had a report that you were planning to defect.”

“What? From whom?”

“From April, your former roommate.” That clinched it. April WAS watching her.

“Why would she think that?”

“She said you kept to yourself most of the time and she had to really push you to spend time with her. She felt that maybe you were planning something.”

“That's not true, Mark!” Marissa exclaimed. “I'm just not used to sharing my living space with a stranger.”

“I had thought that a roommate was what you needed since you weren't used to living alone, but I hadn't thought of it being stressful to share your place with a stranger. I'm sorry, Lydia.”

“You got me out and I appreciate it, Mark.” She hated having to be nice to him.

“As for the safe, I have it. I will bring it to you and you can open it so I can see what's inside.”

“Just some money I've saved from my pay. You are welcome to see it.”

“I believe you, Lydia, but I have to make sure. I have to answer to someone above me.” Mark took the safe to Marissa and she opened it. He reached in and took out some money and a small box containing the earrings and necklace Braxton had given her. “Why do you keep these in the safe?” he asked her. “I know you have other jewellery that isn't in there.”

Marissa tried to think of a plausible lie. “It's my favourite set and I don't want it to get stolen if someone were to break in”, was all she could come up with and it wasn't really a lie as it *was* her favourite earrings/necklace set.

“If someone breaks in to steal things, they are going to take the safe.”

“Maybe so, but I'm not making it easy for them to get the jewellery.” Mark seemed satisfied with that.

“What are you saving your money for, Lydia?

“I was thinking maybe a car – if that's allowed, of course.” That was another lie as she was saving for a day in the future when she hoped to be able to get away from the Cartel.

“It is – as long as you held a valid driver's licence before you came to us. I know you did, so I would have no problem with it. The only thing I ask is that you get an 'official' licence here in Washington State, so you'll have to take a road test since you cannot use the one from Canada as it is under your real name. The licences we give you as part of your sets of identification are not official.”

“I understand, Mark. I'd have no problem with taking a road test.”

“Let me know when you want to do it and I will take you – you can use my car. I'm surprised you can drive.”

“You mean despite my .... situation?”

“Yes.”

“I can use the pedals as they don't require as much pressure as standing puts on my feet.”

“You're a strong woman, Lydia. Most wouldn't do so well after that.” What he didn't say was 'The Cartel was counting on you NOT being so resilient'.

“I'm stubborn, Mark. It takes a lot to keep me down.” She left her thought of 'I will never stop trying to find a way out of this' unspoken.

==========================

Mark got into his car and took his phone out of his pocket. He pulled up his contacts and hit his immediate superior's number before he set the phone in it's hands free holder on the dash. He started the vehicle and pulled out of Marissa's apartment building's visitor parking spot just as John answered. “Hi John, it's me. I have a potential issue developing I need to apprise you of.” He proceeded to recount his conversation with Marissa in regards to her saving up for a car, finishing with “I know some of our mules have had cars without any problems but I also know there have been incidents with others.”

“You're right. We have had a couple take off on us using their cars. The fact that this Lydia has defied our directives on having friends and how difficult it was to get her to agree to work for us to begin with concerns me. Keep an eye on her. If she buys a car, make sure you get all the details, including the plate number. In the meantime, I'll take it to my superior and see what he says.”

========================

Marissa heaved a sigh of relief when Mark left. She had her safe back. But she did not like the fact that he'd searched her apartment and had taken it. Her spidey senses were tingling. Something was not right. She knew she needed to think of a way to leave the Cartel without her family – or Braxton - getting killed. She doubted they would go after Braxton unless she tried to contact him, but one never knew.

Another danger of what she was doing was impressed upon her the next time she returned from a trip. She was waiting in line at Customs with her escort, Chase, when a woman in the next line suddenly collapsed. Chase saw it happen and ran over to the fallen woman. People gathered around her and someone called for medics. When the paramedics got to her, Chase returned to stand beside Marissa. “What happened?” she asked him.

He leaned in and whispered to her. “Probably a ruptured package.” Marissa gasped. “Act normal, we need to get through Customs without arousing suspicion.”

Just as it was their turn with the border agents, the woman was loaded on a stretcher and taken away. Marissa noticed a paramedic on the stretcher, doing CPR. She tried to put it out of her mind as she answered the agent's questions and handed over her passport. “Are you okay, ma'am?” the female agent asked her. “You look a little pale.”

“She's in a lot of pain”, Chase said to her. “She'll be fine once we get home.”

Marissa couldn't say anything in the cab on the way to her apartment, but once they got there, she asked “Is she one of ours?”

“Yes”, Chase answered without elaborating.

“Do you think she will be all right?”

“No. She won't.” His tone said that would be the end of the conversation.

After he left with the drugs, Marissa lay down on her bed and had a good cry. She had known this was a risk of what she was doing, but to see it actually happen made it all the more real. Oh, how she wished she could pick up the phone and call Braxton! For the first time, she almost wished she had told him everything back in Denver, but she knew she had made the right decision in choosing to keep him safe.