Author Notes:

Since there is no established canon where this story breaks off from, I guess you could call it elseworld. However, I borrow dialogue heavily from the show from the Pilot, Strange Visitor, and a bit from Neverending Battle.

This story is complete, but it is very long. I will be adding parts as I get them formatted, but it may take a while. Thanks for your patience :)

I also just wanted to give a shout to my beta readers. Thanks so much!

Waking a Miracle - Part 1

Overwhelming was the first word that came to her mind.

Janice Forrester stood, heavy shopping bags clutched in her hands, an island of inactivity in a sea of frantic bustle. She imagined that she could hear every rushed breath, every frenzied heartbeat, every curse and shout, every belligerent car horn, and every other noise from there to the end of three blocks down, even despite the harsh, chest-melting thrumming of bass emanating from a nearby boom box. Casting a disapproving glare towards the adolescent with the monstrous stereo perched on his shoulder, she shifted her bags and glanced to her left.

A handsome young man stood next to her, a brown, ragged suitcase resting at his feet beside him. He was relaxed, not fidgeting like the rest of the frenetic crowd around her. The movement of air generated by passing cars kicked his trench coat into more the guise of a cape flapping in the wind, and in the breeze, his suitcase bumped into his leg in an odd rhythm. Bright golden letters, 'CK,' glinted unevenly in the light.

She wondered briefly what the 'CK' might stand for. Carl? Clay? Chris? No. He looked like a Charlie, she decided.

He was a striking man. Dark black hair fell unruly almost down to his shoulders, but the muted sunlight that pushed through the canopy of buildings overhead glanced off it brightly enough to make it appear dark brown. Glasses framed his oval face, but unlike some folks she knew, they did nothing to detract from his olive complexion and wide, soulful, brown eyes.

She met his gaze by accident and quickly averted her eyes, as was the appropriate thing to do, but couldn't suppress a gasp at the spark she had received in just that short set of moments. The pain and desolation that hovered in his stare was enough to make her shudder, even though the air passing capriciously about her was balmy. She had seen that look before once in a puppy she had found abandoned and stranded in the alley by her apartment.

A handsome man, yes, but not an unmarred one, she decided. That man had known pain.

The acrid scent of exhaust bled into her nostrils as the sudden roar of traffic to her left made her realize that the walk light had come on in her corner. She was struck and jostled about as the crowd standing behind her refused to wait for her to move. Wobbling like a bumped bowling pin, she nearly lost her footing, but a firm, reassuring grip around her arm righted the tilting horizon.

"Are you all right, Miss?" Maybe-Charlie asked. His voice was soft and he wore genuine concern on his face.

Janice stared back into those chocolate eyes, trying and mostly failing not to drown in them. "Y-yes. Fine, sorry, and thank you," she stammered as he released her. She brushed off her light coat and righted her shopping bags.

He gave her the smallest of smiles before she stepped gingerly out into the crosswalk. Her heel caught a nick in the pavement, but she saved her balance, this time under her own power. In several minutes, she knew Maybe-Charlie would be only a fading memory.

The main group of pedestrians was already out in the middle of the street, and Janice was lagging slightly behind when she froze mid-step. She noticed sounds of distress and glanced up the hill. A metro bus was careening down the road, swaying drunkenly back and forth in its designated lane. The driver was gesturing, and the horn blared obnoxiously, over and over like a steady stream of insults.

"Look out for the bus!" Maybe-Charlie's rich voice pierced her panic.

People were scattering. The young man carrying the boom box rushed back toward her, and suddenly, she was yanked out of harm's way.

The bus whipped past her as cars down below on the street flew up onto the sidewalk to avoid the oncoming battering ram. She heard the terrified screams of the bus patrons through its open windows as it barreled past her, only several feet away. The gust of air that accosted her as it swerved by set her hair on ends.

A banshee's wail of torn and twisted metal echoed off the towering buildings up and down the street as the bus collided with a line of parked cars. Glass shattered, and the tires of the bus left ugly black scars on the road. The behemoth came to a slow halt, and people began evacuating, spilling out the rear and sides like disturbed ants. Several of them were staggering about, clutching wounds of varying severity.

The driver had not yet emerged.

Not knowing what possessed her to do so, Janice glanced back at Maybe-Charlie. He was standing there, his face pale as fresh whitewash, eyes squeezed shut. His fists were jammed into his pockets and his lips were clenched into a tight, straight line.

Janice stumbled to her feet, thanking the young man with the stereo for pulling her out of the way.

"Sir, are you okay?" she asked pointedly toward Maybe-Charlie as she brushed off her coat. He had not moved an inch yet.

The man's eyes opened and he glanced around haphazardly, as if he had forgotten he was standing in the middle of a crowded sidewalk, until his gaze came to rest upon her. "No, not really," he whispered. And then he was gone, rushing down the street in the opposite direction, suitcase in hand, as the dull whine of sirens began in the distance.