Hi everyone :). So after my computer crashed and I lost everything, I really needed to work on something different. I'm not going to abandon my stories Wrecked or Shield. I just needed a little break.

Edward

I hate the rain. And the cold. And stupid, pointless meetings that don't involve being an actual doctor. I especially hate stupid pointless meetings that take place at six pm and go until almost ten two at night in the dead of winter, with rain pounding down mixed with sleet and ice on nights when I, for some reason unbeknownst to even myself, decided to take a cab.

And, because I was already having such a great day, after the stupid pointless meeting that ran for almost four painfully long hours, standing on the street corner, waving down taxis that didn't stop and hoping no one took me for a male prostitute, I decided to walk home. In the ice rain. With an umbrella who had seen better days.

I found myself grumbling under my breath, speaking to myself and the empty street about winter and cold and stupid pointless meetings with the other residents at the hospital about bed pans and IV needles and books full of procedures that I'd memorized a year into medical school. Having a dad as the chief of surgery had lots of perks, but those perks did not include getting me out of meetings for obvious reasons. Heaven forbid he show favoritism. He had chuckled under his breath when he'd caught me drawing a diagram of a cell on my notes, then a frog, and then a few cartoon ducks. The woman next to me had shaken her head disapprovingly, but I couldn't care less what Doctor Alice Cullen, my beloved little sister who was hoping to specialize in pediatrics and who had been kicking me under the table for at least an hour?

I kept my head up, looking around and making sure I was really alone. This wasn't the best part of town. Of course, I could have asked my dad for a ride, but he was driving Alice home and I knew my mom missed him...he'd been at the hospital for nearly a week straight, never taking time off and barely seeing his wife. I wasn't about to take away any more time from my mother when it was my own stupid fault that I hadn't taken my car. 'Idiot.' I snapped under my breath, pulling they collar of my coat up against the wind.

I paused on the sidewalk when I heard something strange...sniffling. Two years as a doctor and I was trained to hear people crying. Sometimes they cried when they were scared. Sometimes they cried because the pain was too much and it spilled from their eyes and mouths in agonized sobs. Sometimes little children curled up in the corner and cried because they didn't understand why their mom or dad or bother or sister wasn't waking up...or why they were suddenly alone in a waiting room surrounded by strange adults in white coats trying to explain things they wer too young to comprehend. Just a few days ago, I'd sat on the floor across from a tiny girl huddled in the corner who'd watched her father beat her mother to death. She'd called 911 like they'd told her to in school, and then she shut down, huge tears pooling in her baby blue eyes. Eventually, she'd let me pick her up, curling her fingers around my white coat and sobbed into my neck. I'd almost joined her when the woman from social services had come to take her.

It sounded like a woman. I looked around, checking the doorways of shop-fronts and even the street. Maybe someone had been hit by a car. But there were no bodies on the sidewalk. I walked toward the sound as best I could with the wind screaming at me. But there was definitely a woman crying somewhere, and I couldn't exactly leave her out in the street alone. "Hello?" I spoke tentatively into the wind, knowing my voice wasn't going to carry, but hoping none the less.

And then, just when I was starting to doubt my own sanity, I saw her. A tiny woman, soaked to the bone, huddled against a building in the narrow alley, rocking back and forth with her arms around her legs. She was dressed only in a sweatshirt and jeans, her feet covered in worn tennis shoes. "Hello?" I moved closer, crouching across from her, my umbrella almost covering her, but she didn't look up, only rocking back and forth and crying, her entire body trembling. I knew she had to be freezing, but I was afraid to touch her or startle her. "Miss? I'm a doctor...my name is Edward. Are you okay? Do you need help? Miss?" It took a while, but she finally looked up. In the dark alley, all I could see were large brown eyes in a pale, frightened face. "Are you okay?" I asked again, tilting the umbrella and trying to cover her without getting too close.

"He took my purse." She sobbed, looking at me as though I would somehow have all the answers to her problems. "He had a gun...why?" She choked on her words, burying her face in her knees again, and I chanced scooting a little closer to cover her with my umbrella and she didn't seem to notice.

"Did he hurt you?" I asked gently, starting to reach out, but before I could touch her, she looked up, startled at my hand frozen in mid air.

"He took my purse." She repeated, wide eyes pleading with me as though I could somehow get her purse back for her. "Everything I had...all my money, my phone...my medicine..." She broke off, burying her face once more, and I put a hand on her shoulder.

"Medicine?" I asked, my thoughts racing. "Do you need me to take you to the hospital?" I asked gently, squeezing her shoulder, then letting go when she flinched as though I'd hurt her. "Miss? What kind of medicine?"

"No." She whispered. "No hospital."

"Okay, do you want me to call the police? Or is there a family member I can call?"

"No."

"Okay..." I sighed. "Can I take you home?" She shook her head, her face hidden in her arms. "I can't leave you here, miss. You need to dry off...you'll die out here." She didn't respond and I was at a loss. Finally, I reached out under her arm, pulling her gently to her feet. She followed dumbly, letting me help her to stand and tuck her under my arm and the umbrella. She was shaking in my arms, and I wanted to get her to the hospital, but I she'd asked me not to take he there.

I helped her to the side of the street and waved an arm. Something about having a woman with you seemed to convince taxi drivers to have some mercy, and I helped her into the back of one, barking out my address to the driver and, as soon as we made it to my building, I threw some bills into the front seat. "He took my purse." She mumbled as I nearly carried her into the house, and I hoped she wasn't getting sick...that she didn't need whatever medicine someone had taken from her immediately.

I almost had to carry her through my front door, fighting to get my key in th door and push it shut behind me. Immediately, I headed to the bathroom, swinging the girl into my arms and turning on the warm water to fill my giant tub. She was pale, huge brown eyes leaking tears as she repeated once more that the nameless man had taken her purse. "I know honey." I spoke as though she were my sister, crying and frightened. "I'm going to get you in a warm bath...you're going to get sick if I can't get you warmed up, and then I'll have to take you to the hospital." She didn't respond, but she did nod just a little, and I shut off the water, testing it to make sure it wasn't too hot.

Kneeling in front of where the girl sat on the toilet, I untied her tennis shoes, glancing up at her to make sure she was okay with it. She just stared at me wide-eyed, the expression making her look like a frightened child. I wondered how old she was...and why she didn't have anyone I could call. Her shoes and socks revealed wet, pale feet, and I smiled a bit at her red toenails with little white flowers painted on the big toenails. "I never had one before." She whispered, and I looked up at her, noticing that she was looking at her feet. "A pedicure...I thought they were pretty..." She broke off in a sob and I straightened, putting my hands on her shoulder and steadying hr.

"They are pretty...but they might fall off if I don't get you warmed up." I tried to tease, and I was rewarded with a tiny little smile. "Can you get undressed? I'll leave you some clothes to change into, okay? You need some sleep...I'll sleep on the couch tonight, and we can talk tomorrow, okay?" She took a deep breath, obviously trying to gather herself, and nodded. "Okay, I'll leave the clothes on the bed. You can lock the door if you want." This woman was staying with a strange man...who knew what she'd been through. She'd flinched when I'd squeezed her shoulder...maybe she'd been hurt. Maybe a man had hurt her. I was just glad she was letting me help her now. She hadn't seemed too skittish but that could be because she was in shock.

I heard the quiet splash of water and smiled to myself as I dug through my dresser, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a shirt that might almost fit her. She was a tiny thing...almost too small around her waist and arms. Folding the clothes, I sat them on the bed and debated about calling my brother's wife. Rosalie worked at a women's shelter, and specialized in helping battered women. It was possible that the young mystery girl fit the bill...then again, it was probably to late to call her. Emmett had mentioned taking her out to dinner, and I assumed that they were...busy after his anniversary gift.

After placing the clothes on the bed, I went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water, a few granola bars, and a pop tart...sadly the only things I really had in my kitchen besides eggs and bread...and a few ham and cheese breakfast sandwiches. Placing the water and food on the nightstand, I shut the door behind me, hoping that the girl would speak to me in the morning. It wasn't like I could just turn her out on the street, not knowing that she'd just been mugged and had no money to her name...and apparently no family or place to stay.

I grabbed some blankets and threw them on the couch, about to call it a night when the bedroom door opened and the girl appeared once more, her face peeking around the corner. "Hey. Everything okay?" I asked, wondering if she'd ever tell me her name. She didn't...instead came around the corner, her hands full of wet clothes and her face covered in a soft blush, framed by her still-wet hair. I stood, walking to where she huddled against th wall, but froze suddenly when I noticed that the shirt hung lower on her body than her sweater had, giving me a view of her lovely, thin neck and shoulders...that were covered in black and blue bruises that hugged her neck and both arms. My eyes softened when I met her shame-filled ones, and I reached out my arms. "I'll dry your clothes...they'll be ready to wear in th morning, okay?" I asked gently, making sure this time not to touch her.

"Thank you." She whispered, not meeting my eyes, and I nodded, carrying the clothes and placing them in the washer. The least I could do was clean them as well. When I turned around, she was gone, the bedroom door shutting with a soft click, and I sighed when I heard the lock turn. Although I'd planned to get some sleep and hopefully get her to the police station to report her bag missing early in the morning, I ended up staying awake for another hour, long enough to put her clean clothes in the dryer and watch a movie on cable. Thankfully, I had the next two days off, and I hoped to spend at least one of them figuring out my mystery guest. I hoped that Rosalie would be able to speak with her...to tell her who had hurt her. Rose's shelter worked to get women who had been victims of domestic abuse into apartments and jobs...and to keep them safe from the men who had hurt them. Emmett worked security along with my sister's husband, Jasper, who she'd met through Rosalie. He was a friendly southern guy with an easy, calm manner that the women usually trusted, and both men had taken shifts helping the other staff watch the kids before...mostly children who had been beaten by their fathers or the boyfriends of their mothers and were usually wary of men in general. But it was hard to be scared of Emmett unless you wanted him to be.

My father had been volunteering at his daughter-in-law's shelter for the better part of two years, and I'd started helping as well, and on off days, we were often recruited to help assemble beds, clean bathrooms, or even cook. The shelter could use all of the help it could get. My mom, a psychiatrist, as on the payroll as well, and it might as well have been called a family business since my niece, six year old Emilie, had just started going in after school to join in with the other kids and play with them. Thinking of the women reminded me of the girl. She was in the city, apparently alone, with no money or phone, no family or friends to help her. She didn't live here, or she'd have a house or an apartment to go to? Had she just been passing through when the bad luck had hit? Or had she been running from something...or someone?

When I finally woke up, I was surprised to find it was nearly ten in the morning, five hours later than I usually slept. Jolting upright, I looked around to find the living room empty, the quiet of house worrying me a little. I jumped up, going to the bedroom and knocking quietly only to receive no answer. As quietly as I could, I tried to turn the knob, surprise that it gave easily. I'd thought she had locked the door the night before. The bedroom was dark, since the curtains were still drawn against the morning light. In my bed, huddled in an exhausted ball, lay my mystery guest, rolled up in a tiny cocoon of blankets and pillows. She slept like the dead, her head buried in my thick pillows, and I chuckled softly. Just as I passed her to use the bathroom, she stirred a little.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled, and I turned to her, about to ask why she though she needed to be sorry when I realized her eyes were still closed. "Sorry, sorry...I didn't..." She nestled back into the pillow and spoke again, this time too quietly for me to understand. Why was she sorry? My bladder chose that moment to inform me that it didn't particularly care why the strange girl in my bed was sorry, and I hurried into the bathroom, locking the door behind me, glad that the girl had, at some point, unlocked the door so that I could use toilet.

I flinched when the toilet flushed loudly in the silence, but when I left the small room after washing my hands, the girl was still asleep, her entire body except for her head encased in blankets. PEeking out from the covers, I could see the top of her neck and the bruised skin there and reminded myself to call Rosalie. In the mean time, I noticed that the bottle of water was empty and that the wrapper for the pop tart and all of the granola bars were in the trash by the nightstand. I grabbed the water bottle, taking it with me to throw in the trash and grabbed her another before starting breakfast.

It wasn't too long before I heard my dryer open and the bedroom door close once more, and she appeared in the kitchen, peaking her head around the refrigerator. "Good morning." I greeted, placing a plate full of eggs and toast with a breakfast sandwich on the side in front of her, then handed her another bottle of water. "I'm going to go take a shower, and then maybe we can talk, okay?" Sh wouldn't meet my eyes, nor had she spoken, but she nodded a little. I gave her my best gentle smile and left her to eat her breakfast, sure that since she hadn't tried to leave last night that she would at lest stay long enough for me to try and get her some help.

I shouldn't have been surprised when I came out of the shower, however, to find the apartment empty, but I was. After the night before,I'd honestly thought she would let me help her...or at least take her to the police station to report her purse as stolen. I sighed deeply, rubbing my hand through my wet hair as I searched the small kitchen, then the bedroom and the closets, hoping despite myself that she was hiding somewhere. Her plate was clean, sitting in the drying rack, and she'd taken the bottle of water. Other than that, the apartment hadn't been disturbed. I looked out the window at the flakes of snow lazily drifting from the sky, wondering if I could spot her, but of course, she was nowhere to be seen on the nearly empty streets. As I moved into the living room, I found my little notepad sitting on my coffee table, a pen lying beside it, and she'd obviously pulled it out of my white coat that was hanging by the door. I picked up the note, closing my eyes and dropping into the couch. Thank you Edward. -B.