Find Your Wings
A/N : I haven't written a fan-fic in years. And I haven't finished rewatching 7th heaven yet, so bear with me. Some details are not canon to the series. Keep in mind that I am setting this right after the road trip. OCs are going to pop up here and there.
Introduction – My Dying Hour
There you go, running again, just like you always do, I thought to myself as I stowed away in the loneliest corner of the Glen Oak airport. I closed my eyes as I tried to imagine a better option. I tried to see where I would be in five years. I tried to calm the waves of emotions flowing through my heart and mind. He hates you. He hit you. There's no going back. I reminded myself. You can't save everyone.
My hand fell to the bruise on my cheek. Traced the swelling of my busted lips. Pain traveled through my face with every touch. Makeup caked to my tearstained eyes as I tried to hide the evidence. I couldn't face the light of day with a face that looked like something out of a horror movie. My hand fell to the deep, painful bruise on my stomach. Internal bleeding. Yet another medical bill I couldn't afford. Three days in the hospital, just for a short surgery to stop the bleeding and an overly concerned doctor demanding to know what happened to me. Until he saw my file. Until he saw this was the 15th time in a three year span that I ended up needing treatment for injuries that I refused to report to the cops.
So here I was. Running away again. I had used the last of my savings to fly out to Glen Oak. A friend I met years ago while I was staying with family in Buffalo once recommended the quiet suburb. Camden, Mary Camden. It had been years since I saw her last, but I trusted her. She was such a kindhearted young lady. Maybe she was right. Maybe a change of scenery was exactly what I needed.
God knew I needed to escape my boyfriend. Boyfriend? Can you even call him that? He beat you half to death then dumped you in an ally like a piece of trash. What kind of boyfriend does that?
"Ma'am?" a deep voice broke me from my thoughts. "You can't loiter here."
"Sorry, I'm leaving," I said softly. I didn't need this crap too. I grabbed my small carry-on bag. All it held was my wallet and a few personal belongings. I slowly made my way out of the airport and into the cool spring air. I looked around, trying to see if I could figure out where exactly I could go. There weren't any nearby underpasses. There weren't any dark allies. All the places I would have normally found refuge in were not there.
"Where can I go?" I asked out loud, to no one in particular.
"Can I help you?" a voice called from behind me. I turned to see a tall police officer standing by the side of the airport. "You look lost."
"I'm okay," I said quietly. Cops. Definitely not people I want to be around. My stomach ached something fierce. Thanks to my lack of insurance, while the hospital was more than willing to treat my bleeding, they did not believe in letting me heal afterwards. I was sent on my way just hours after the surgery was done. With nothing but a note to follow up with a doctor in a few weeks. Because that was going to happen.
I tried not to double over as I started walking away.
"Wait," the officer called again. "You look hurt."
"I'm fine," I said again, this time my voice cracking just a little.
"What's going on?" a brown haired woman asked. "Harleigh? Is that you?"
My mind flashed back to an easier time, years ago, when my mother was alive. "Mary?" I choked out. It had been nearly eight years since I saw her last. "Mary Camden?"
"Harleigh Richardson, what in the world are you doing in Glen Oak?" Mary asked, coming over to me, wrapping me in a tight hug. I cringed. Her hug made my body ache even more. "Are you okay?"
''Not really," I admitted with defeat. This made her release me from her hug and look at me closely, her fingers tracing the now visible bruises on my face.
"Kevin," she turned to the cop who was watching us with concerned eyes. "This is Harleigh. I met her in Buffalo ages ago. She was the only person there who took the time to actually get to know me."
"Nice to finally meet you. Lucy used to mention 'the girl who saved Mary' all the time," he said with a smile. "What happened?"
I looked up at the sky, my heart torn between finally turning my abusive son of a bitch boyfriend in and staying the silent, obedient girlfriend I always prided myself on.
"It's a long story," I said after a long pause.
"We've got time, c'mon, you can finally meet my parents," Mary said quickly, before I could say anything else. "We're already late. Mom will have a fit if we take any longer. She keeps calling me," Mary said, motioning to her purse. "Besides, you look exhausted. C'mon, we'll give you a warm place to stay for a while."
"I can't ask that of you," I said softly. I was always someone's problem. I didn't want to put this woman and her family out of their ways.
"Harleigh, you let me stay with you how many times back in Buffalo? Your mom used to insist I stay at least twice a week," she laughed. "Besides, taking people in is just what my folks do. You'll see."
I sighed softly before nodding my tired head. I was too exhausted and in too much pain to keep on complaining. Besides, maybe it was time to get help. Maybe this was how I could start over. I looked up at the sky one last time and thanked whoever was listening for letting me cross paths with an old friend. For the first time in years I felt safe. I felt like maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't wind up dead somewhere.
When Mary told her father and sister, Lucy, who I was, they both were more than happy to push endless questions on me. It wasn't until Martin, one of the kids they had helped over the years, stepped up and gave me a knowing look.
"Give her a few minutes to take everything in," he suggested. "She looks a little shell shocked."
"Sorry," Reverend Eric Camden and his daughter, Reverend Lucy Kinkirk, both said at the same time. "Martin, why don't you show her the garage apartment? We figured she might be more comfortable there, for the time being at least," Eric said.
"Sure," he agreed. As he led the way, I couldn't help noticing how he looked like he had seen things in his time. He was about my age. Quiet. Observant.
"Kevin's a cop, right?" I asked suddenly, getting a little courage.
"Yeah, why?" he asked, turning to me. His eyes landed on my bruised face, my busted lips, my tired, wary eyes. "Who did that to you?" he asked. His hand reached for my cheek and out of habit, I stepped back, my heart suddenly racing in my chest.
"It's a long story," I choked out. Tears filled my eyes. You're never going to be the same, I thought. You're always going to be afraid of people coming near you. What kind of life is that?
Suddenly my head started to ache and my vision blurred. I struggled to find my ground. I tried to take a deep breath, but my lungs wouldn't work with my brain. And then there was nothing. Silence. Darkness. And endless cold that hit every fiber of my body. Am I dead?
