A/N: All right, this is a really big, interesting project for me. Usually, modern AUs bug me. But I was struck my this idea when walking home one day and it wouldn't go away, so I began to write it. And it just exploded and grew in to way more than I intended - which is actually really fun. So, here is my next big Daine/Numair TP piece.

It'll be multiple chapters. This is just the first part. It's oneshots, going chronologically as best I can, somewhat connected and varied. I have a lot of it already written, but lots still to go, so I don't know how many chapters it'll be. I'll try to get out one chapter a week, maybe one every two weeks? We'll see. I'll try to keep chapters around the same length: 2,500 words. The rating is a little bit "just-in-case" and more applies to what will come.

Anyway, please give this a try, even if you were like me and not much in to modern AUs. I've done my best to make it smooth and realistic. Please, please tell me what you think - does it feel natural? In character? Thank you!

Hope you enjoy, here goes nothing!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, they belong to Tamora Pierce; this applies to all chapters to come as well!

EDITED

Stars glittered coldly overhead, distant and uncaring. The night was darkly oppressive - quiet and still. It was a smooth, unbroken blackness; there was no moon or stray window-light to bathe the world in an eerie glow. Only one person was venturing through the shadows. A young girl who could not have been more than thirteen years old took cautious steps forward, her bare feet padding lightly against the asphalt. She wore old, ragged clothes, and carried a dark backpack that looked as if it had seen better days. She was alone, save for a stony-colored kitten that prowled by her side, its vivid hazel eyes like lamps in the darkness.

The girl glanced from dark house to dark house. The pitch-black gloom was no obstruction to her – she'd always been able to see well at night. She stole silently across the street, stopping in front of the dark form of someone's truck parked in the road. Circling it, the girl inspected it closely, her eyes flicking to the house nearby. The house was large, certainly, but unkempt. All the paint was chipping and peeling. Many shingles were loose, and an upstairs window looked as if it had been shattered by a wandering baseball. In the front yard, weeds commanded the ground, creeping across the grass and devouring everything in sight. A few ivy-covered trees that had never seen shears towered up from behind the house's weary roof.

It was probably deserted. Every other house in this neighborhood was smaller, but much better taken care of. All appeared inhabited. This one, however, did not. Even though there wasn't a For Sale sign in the yard, the girl figured it was her safest bet. The truck was in the same condition as the house – perhaps it, too, was rarely used. It would be so much better than the ground.

Shivering in the cold, she climbed up into the back of the truck. She pushed away all the clutter, clearing out a small corner for herself. With a sigh, she dropped her backpack and settled onto it like a pillow. The kitten curled up beside her.

"G'night, Cloud," the girl murmured sleepily.

The kitten purred and brushed her tail across the girl's arm. Smiling, the girl ran her hand over tousled gray fur until the gentle purring, steady breathing, and soft warmth lulled the girl into sleep. Everything around her faded – the darkness, the cold, the memories.

She welcomed the brief oblivion.

A man was lying sprawled across his bed, leaping awake when an alarm clock buzzed jarringly from his bedside table. Sheets tangled all around him as he rose. Cursing, he fumbled around until he located the off button. With one swift push, there was peace at last. Sighing, he tried to drift back into his dream – it had been unusual. Intriguing. He had dreamed he was in a dense forest, alone, save for a gray cat with burning amber-green eyes. The cat would stare at him relentlessly until he took a step forward, and then it would whip around and disappear into the endless woods. Every time he tried to follow, he would get hopelessly lost among the towering trees, alive with wind and rustling leaves – but then the cat would appear again, its eyes striking and challenging. He had never had any other dream like it before.

He didn't have dreams often in the first place, anyway. He was usually too exhausted. But now that he was awake, his mind refused to rest any longer. Grumbling irritably, he climbed out of bed and dragged himself over to the mirror. A man in his mid-late twenties stared back at him, black hair mussed due to too much sleep, and dark eyes red due to a lack of sleep. He had swarthy skin and was grateful for it; he never had to worry about looking pale in approaching winters. After splashing water over his face, forcing a brush through his hair and pulling it all back, he threw on decent clothes and looked somewhat presentable. He'd have preferred to have more time to look his best. It was always a balance, though - sleeping in or having more time to prepare. One or the other. Never both, of course. Today, it seemed like he'd chosen sleeping in. He sighed and grabbed an apple, his car keys, and his briefcase.

By the time he stepped out into his overgrown front yard, he had completely forgotten his odd dream. The morning cold clawed through his jacket, slung haphazardly over his broad shoulders. Sighing, his used one hand to pull it tighter around himself in a pitiful attempt to block out the chill. Out on the street, his truck – desperately in need of some work and a wash – blinked as he clicked it on. Checking his watch, he realized he was running late and picked up his pace, hurrying around the back to reach the driver's side. The back of his truck was full of junk and clutter as usual. He passed by it without even a second glance.

Then he whipped around. It wasn't the just the same junk.

There was a girl. She was small, a young teenager, not old enough to be on her own. Not young enough to be lost. She had curly brown hair that fell all the way down to her elbows, dark with dirt and tangles. Fair skin was coated with a thin layer of dust. There were goosebumps all along her bare arms, and her small, roughed-up feet stuck out as well, exposed to the cold. The clothes she wore couldn't have provided much warmth, either. Every inch was torn and threadbare. But she was sound asleep, her slow, steady breathing floating visibly from pink lips and tickling the matted gray fur of a kitten by her side. Tiny hands fisted on the straps of her backpack. A slender body curled around the cat, as if her bag and her companion were all she had. Her face was smooth and calm in sleep, but he could see a delicate nose, stubborn chin, and pink cheeks brushed by dark eyelashes. She was thin – too thin. She looked worn and exhausted - exhausted enough to be willing to sleep in a stranger's truck. He blinked, the cold forgotten as he stared.

Fumbling, he pulled out his cell phone and quickly dialed one of the few numbers he had memorized. The phone rang five times – his heart speeding up a little with each tone – until, at last, a groggy voice made it to his ears.

"What the hell are you doing, Numair? It's barely six in the morning."

"Onua, listen, I need you to come over here. "

Her voice was still slurred with sleep, but Numair could tell that Onua was rapidly shifting into her usual, snappy self. "Come over there? Are you insane? You just woke me up!"

"Onua, listen," hissed Numair urgently. "There's – there's a girl in the back of my truck and - "

"Numair, it's not my problem if you were too drunk to remember who you slept with last night!"

"Onua!" Numair whispered hotly. "She's a girl. She can't be more than thirteen, and she's alone."

Over the line, Onua fell silent for a long minute. The static hummed in Numair's ears. Onua was either speechless or thinking about what to do; he couldn't tell. "Onua, you have to come – if I woke her up, she would probably think I was some creepy kidnapper. You've a way with people that I don't have."

Snorting, Onua's voice was as flat and dry as ever. "And I'm a woman. You could definitely be seen as a creeper, Numair – and you know, me being over at your house at six in the morning will not help the rumors that we're sleeping together."

"Just – will you come?"

There was another pause, and this time when Onua spoke, her voice was little different. "I'll be there," she said, softer and kinder.

"Thank you, you have no idea how much I – "

But he was talking to a dial tone. It was Onua's style - straight and to the point, even at six in the morning. She had better come soon, Numair thought. As he waited, tapping his foot and glancing around constantly, a sudden breeze fluttered across him, bringing loose leaves and dirt into his hair and eyes. The girl's nose twitched. Her small hand moved up to rub it. She blinked – once, twice – lifted her head, and turned around, facing him dead-on. Her eyes were a stormy blue, every shade swirling into a sea of emotion. Powerfully alert, she looked as though she'd been awake for hours; her gaze was clear and bright. Something spoke of strength – and fear. But what struck Numair most was the fierce challenge. As though she was daring him to make even the slightest movement. And beneath it all, there was loss, pain, anger. Everything.

"Um – hi," said Numair, slightly stunned. "You – are you – lost?" It sounded pathetic, even to his own ears.

She didn't respond. Her eyes flashed, and with a tiny nudge, the cat beside her woke too. It stretched and wound itself around the girl's legs, and now Numair could see that it was only a kitten, thin and dirty, with glinting hazel eyes. It looked oddly familiar. The silence stretched out for what felt like hours, Numair blinking stupidly under the girl's penetrating eyes. It was as if she were sizing him up.

Suddenly her stomach growled fiercely, breaking the spell. She didn't look away, but Numair's mind kicked back into action. He stared at her, glanced at the apple in his hand, looked back at her, then held it out. "Do you want this?"

The girl narrowed her eyes, and the kitten hissed softly.

"It's not poisoned," said Numair, rolling his eyes. Tossing the apple deftly into the air, he caught it with one hand and took a large bite. "See? Perfectly fine. You can't poison a whole apple."

He threw it to her, and, despite her silence, she snatched it out of the air. Flicking her eyes from him to the fruit, she seemed to be wondering whether or not to trust him. But, with another protest from her stomach, the girl bit into the apple, a drop of juice lingering on her cheek. Numair watched her pause, stare at the fruit, and then take another quick bite.

"What's your name?" asked Numair.

The apple was gone before the girl replied. Tossing the core into nearby bushes – Numair's "garden" – the girl glanced at him again with her fiery eyes. Her voice was soft and clear, a slight accent marking her home – or, at least, where she had been raised - as someplace out of town.

"I'm Daine."

"Daine," repeated Numair, thoughtful. "That's a very pretty name, you know."

She nodded curtly, a tiny acknowledgement. On her feet now, it was clear that she was much shorter than Numair – but then again, most people were. Underneath her, the kitten wound itself between the girl's legs and over her bare feet, no longer hissing. Its relentless eyes still stayed focused solely on Numair. Another cool wind breezed over them, pulling leaves off autumn-tinted trees and making the girl – Daine – shiver.

"Oh – you must be cold. Take this."

Shrugging off his jacket, Numair held it out, too, and waited for Daine to take it, even though she didn't seem like the type who would accept charity. Sighing, Numair was about to give up when Daine walked cautiously over to him and took the coat. "Thanks," she said quietly. With careful eyes, she sat down on edge of the truck. Her scratched feet dangled off the edge. Numair's jacket lay crumpled in her lap, where the kitten took to using it as a sort of pillow.

"Well, if you're going to be that way," muttered Numair, hopping up onto the truck bed beside her. He pulled the jacket from her lap, ignored the kitten's protests at the absence of its cushion, and draped the cloth over Daine's shoulders. "Warm things such as jackets aren't much good unless you put them to use."

It was far too big on her, enveloping her small body like an oversized blanket, but it would be comfortable all the same. She glanced at him, her expression guarded and wary. "Why're you being so nice to me?"

Numair smiled wryly. "Sad world we live in, isn't it? When it's normal to question the kindness of a stranger."

The corner of her mouth twitched, and she looked away. "S'pose so. Guess I don't often trust nobody."

Something in her voice made Numair wonder. But he was saved from coming up with a response by the appearance of a woman, walking around the corner with gloved hands and a fuzzy hat on her head in an attempt to stay warm. Beside Numair, Daine leapt to her feet and stood tensely, while the tiny kitten hissed and growled.

"Who's that?" she asked quickly.

Numair grabbed her wrist so she wouldn't leap onto the pavement and disappear. "My friend," he said hurriedly. "Don't run off. I called her and asked her to come over – I figured you might be more comfortable if there was another woman around."

Daine glared at him accusingly. But she didn't move an inch. Eventually, she sat down again, pulling the restless cat into her lap. "Shh," she scolded. The kitten's fur relaxed along its spine, and it give a last growl before falling watchfully silent. Rubbing the back of his neck, Numair watched Onua approach. She had dark hair and eyes like Numair did, but her skin was a different shade, tan cheeks flushed from the cold. A well-built body was covered by jeans and a green tunic-style jacket. With a strong nose and sharp chin, she was an imposing figure - and it was even worse when she crossed her arms and glared daggers at Numair.

"Hey," Numair said, falsely cheerful. "Um – Onua, this is Daine – Daine, Onua. "

"My pleasure," muttered Onua, her eyes flicking to the girl, and then back at Numair. Daine was remaining very still, her blue-gray eyes fixed on the newcomer. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking.

Onua coughed loudly, making Numair jump. He glanced quickly at her, and saw her raise one questioning eyebrow. "Er – Daine, you really shouldn't stay out here," he said hurriedly, stepping back down to the pavement. Turning around, Numair offered his hand to help Daine down.

She ignored it and leapt down on her own. But she stayed close to Numair as she surveyed Onua, nodding coolly. "Hi."

"Good to know you haven't been scared off by him yet," Onua replied, jerking her head at Numair. Holding out her hand, she grinned. "He's quite the character, isn't he?"

"Onua," hissed Numair warningly.

Daine gave a hesitant smile and shook Onua's hand, letting go very quickly. Onua's eyes followed the girl as she drew back, one foot tickled by the kitten's tail. Onua frowned, flicked her gaze briefly to Numair, then motioned towards the enormous, run-down house. "Come on, Daine. We'll figure something out for you. I just really hate being out here in this weather."

Onua started off through the overgrown yard. Weeds tugged at the woman's feet, but she just shook them off, picking the clearest way through. Daine glanced once back at Numair, her face unreadable, then turned and followed Onua to the door. Onua turned the knob – Numair suddenly remembered that he'd forgotten to lock the door when he left the house for work – and the two women disappeared. Watching her go, Numair didn't move for a moment, thinking hard. He'd only just met her, but there was something about Daine that he had never seen in anyone else before. She was young, she was alone, she was in pain – but she was strong. That was undeniable. It was also clear that something had happened to her. He just didn't know what. Numair sighed and followed the women inside, making a mental note to call work and say he'd be late or absent for the day.