Chapter 2 - Meeting Blackburn

Hannah ran hard. For three blocks, she ran as fast as her feet could carry her. If her memory served her right, there was a police station some where around here. She took a deep breath, calming herself. She didn't need to go crazy right now. Looking both ways she smiled in relief as she saw the sign for the station.

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Her violin was trashed. It couldn't have happened at a worse time. Opening night for the symphony's winter season was ten days away. She should have been practicing, but at 3 in the afternoon the day after her violin bit the dust, all she could do was stare woefully into her cappuccino. She didn't know what she was going to do.

Someone slipped into the seat across from her and her eyes flew to her new companion. It was the man who had saved her from the speeding car. Her back stiffened and she leaned back, away from the man. He was strikingly handsome, but she had no idea who he could be.

"Are you following me?"

The man chuckled and shook his head. Waving over the waitress, he ordered a latte with soymilk. Turning back to Hannah, he crossed his hands on the table in front of him. "Actually, I live just around the corner. I just saw you through the window as I was passing by."

She nodded, taking a sip of her drink. "Likely story." She looked over the rim of her cup, laughter dancing in her eyes. He grinned.

"Well, it's good that I ran into you. I've been trying to track you down all day."

"Why? How could you possibly track me down in a city as large as this one?"

He didn't say a word, just reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. Flicking it across the table at Hannah, she picked it up. It was a sheet of the Mozart piece from the symphony.

"Did you pick this up after I left?" He nodded. "Thank you, for you help. I know I didn't say anything last night. I left a little early. I had to get to the police station."

He nodded again. "That's no problem. You know, I'm glad I could help. It would have been a tragedy if someone as beautiful as you were to get hurt." She blushed down to her roots, and looked away. She wasn't used to people complimenting her. They both fell to silence, until the man's drink arrived. Hannah watched his as he took a deep sip. He was so god damned familiar.

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He could feel her eyes on his body. She was watching him. He wondered if she recognized him. It was so hard to step outside without being mobbed. Not that he was complaining, it just made relationships a bitch. The woman sighed. Orlando raised his eyes, and caught her gaze. She blushed again, before looking away. He looked down at the books and papers scattered around her in a half-circle on the small table. It looked like music and Anne Rice. Picking up the book closest to him, he flipped it over and read the back. 'Hmmm, Pandora. A mystery. Just like her.'

She was looking at him again. He challenged her gaze, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry." She shifted uncomfortably on her seat. "You just look so familiar. Are you a musician?" He shook his head woefully. Now, she'd go crazy, he was sure. That's what always happened when women found out. Damn long blond hair.

Squinting her eyes, she leaned a little closer. "Can you do me a favor?" He nodded. "Can you ask me what it's like, with a god awful southern accent?"

Orlando's jaw dropped. A southern accent? What the fuck for? He obliged though, and asked her what it's like. She gasped, a hand flying to her mouth as her eyes widened. "Blackburn!"

She started to laugh at his surprised expression. No one in England ever said anything about Black Hawk Down. It was always "Oh Legolas this!" and "Oh Legolas that!" He was relieved though, that she had at least recognized the *real* character.

"I loved that movie! I cried when you fell by the way." It was like an opened floodgate. The woman started to gush for five minutes about the movie. Orlando nodded politely, getting the feeling that he was being sucked in by a fangirl. A cell phone rang among the bunch of papers scattering the table. "Excuse me. I need to answer this." She smiled at him and flipped the phone open. "Hello, this is Hannah."

'So her name is Hannah.' Orlando listened as her low, southern-toned voice rolled through the area. She was talking excited now, and the small bookworm violinist that he had assumed she was at first disappeared. The woman there now was smiling and laughing into the phone. Orlando watched her. She carelessly toyed with a strand of her long, dark chestnut brown hair and her stormy gray eyes danced. She was talking about a violin. From her end of the conversation, Orlando perceived that she had found a replacement violin. She gave the caller on the other end a true smile and what a beautiful smile. Her delicate features came alive.

"Sorry. That was my first chair. They found a violin I can use until I can scrape together the insurance money on the one that was broken. I'm going to the practice hall now so I can pick it up." She pushed her chair back, shuffling her things together and stuffing them into the backpack he hadn't seen before. Standing, she took one last drink of cappuccino. "I'm sorry I have to run. It's very nice of you to be concerned, and I was very glad to meet you . . . " She paused and Orli realized that he hadn't even told her his name.

"Orlando." She smiled and nodded.

"Well Orlando. It was great to meet you and perhaps we'll run into each other again." He stood, and waited for her to make her exit before sitting back down. What an interesting woman. The waitress behind the counter was pointing at him and whispering to her friend. Orlando brought a hand up to his face, trying to hide it. 'Damn long blond hair.' He looked at the table, and noticed Hannah's cell phone She had left it.

He pulled out a few bills and threw them on the table. Grabbing the cell phone and his coat, he dashed after the musician.

The streets were crowded and cold, even though the sun was making an uncharacteristic appearance. He didn't see her anywhere. Running a hand through his hair, he frowned. A cell phone was not something to lose. He sighed. Should he go to police or maybe see if there's a number in the cell phone. He decided against the latter. That would be such an invasion of privacy. Something she said rang in his head. 'I'm going down to the practice hall now . . . ' A plan started to form in his head and he signaled for a taxi