Summary: Number Five stumbles accidently into John and Henri at their house in Paradise. They expect to see a sixteen year old, but instead find themselves with a thirteen year old girl, battered and bruised. Can Clara find a new life in Paradise?

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lorien Legacies and am not making any profit from this story. It is written merely for entertainment.

Word count without AN: 1782

One

NUMBERFIVE'SPOV
PARADISE,OHIO
I look up at the house looming in front of me. I need help, desperately, and this seems to be the only house for miles. MaybeIshouldn'tknockonthatdoor, I think to myself. But then the wind blows strongly against my body, and there is a sudden downpour of rain. Taking this as a sign, I hurry to the door and knock fiercely on it. My only reply is silence. I bite my lip so hard that I can taste blood, but I ignore it; I have bigger injuries that needed medical attention. I knock on the door again, more loudly this time. I hear footsteps coming towards the door, and it opens. I'm met with a tall man with brown hair and kind hazel eyes. "Can I help you?" he asks me.
I nod, shivering. "Please help me. My name is Clara, and I'm being chased, but I've lost them. They killed my Cê-" I catch myself from saying Cêpan - "My father, and now they're after me." It is all said in a rush, and I'm not sure if the man understood a word I said. But to my surprise he nods and opens the door for me, ushering me inside. He instructs me to sit down in a couch next to the fire hearth. He disappears for a few seconds before returning with two fluffy black towels and a large t-shirt with jeans and a hoodie. "It's going to be too big for you, but at least it is dry." He sounds apologetic, but I give him a grateful smile and take the offered clothes. He directs me to a bathroom and tells me that I should take a shower, get dressed, and meet him back in the living room. He closes the door gently.
Taking a deep breath, I strip from all of my clothes and look into the wall-length mirror. I look terrible. My dirty-blonde hair is stuck to my forehead with rain and sweat. It's all tangled, and has a few twigs and leaves in it. My body is pale and not completely developed yet. I wince as I spot the bruises covering my stomach, upper thighs and upper arms. Some of them are blue and purple, while some of the others are yellow and sickly looking. There is also an infected-looking gash on my right arm, and my left foot is covered in blood. I grimace and clutch the Loralite gem hanging around my neck tightly, before sighing and climbing into the shower. The warm water soothes the aches in my body, and loosens my tight muscles. I look around the shower and spot some strawberry scented shampoo and conditioner (it looks brand new). I open the shampoo bottle and massage the liquid into my hair. After a while I rinse and repeat the process with the conditioner. When I'm done with my hair and the rest of my body, I turn off the water and climb out of the shower. I cover my hair with one towel, and with the other I quickly dry myself off, mindful of my bruises. When I'm finally done I dress into the offered clothes and towel-dry my hair. When I look into the mirror again, I fluff my hair around and scrunch it a bit so it wouldn't frizz.
Everythingisgoingtobeokay, I tell myself.

I walk into the living room, noticing that with the man that gave me the clothes was a younger man, probably his son, who looked to be fifteen. They stopped talking when I arrive. The man introduced himself as Henri, his son as John, and motioned for me to take a seat. He also handed me a warm blanket. I snuggle into the blanket and watch the two men wearily. Henri leans forward, looking at me intensely. "Are you in some kind of trouble, kid?" he asks me.
I open my mouth, but quickly close it again. What am I supposed to tell this kind man? I can't tell the truth, he'll send me to a mental institute for sure. Seeing my reluctance to talk, Henri sighs and ask me if I would be more comfortable talking to someone my own age. I give him a blank stare and shake my head. "I need medical attention," I say instead of answering the question.
Henri narrows his eyes and inspects my body. "What's wrong, Clara?"
Calmly, not showing the pain I've been feeling all along, I say, "There is a large gash on my right arm, I'm covered in bruises, and I think there is a nail in my foot."
Henri and John gapes at me. "How in the name of . . . how can you just sit there calmly?" John asks, astonished and worried.
I shrug and tell them that it's not that bad. Instead of arguing with me, Henri cleans my wounds and removes the nail from my foot, and tears were definitely involved. Luckily they didn't notice my scars from the three dead Garde; it would've led to uncomfortable questions. After it all I'm exhausted and just about ready to collapse. They always say that crying made you tired; it seems that they're right. Henri notice just a little too late, and I was already asleep when he finally carried me upstairs and laid me in his bed.
That night I didn't sleep too well. I kept dreaming about the death of Hilary, my Cêpan. I remember how her eyes looked in her last moments: desperate, sad, defeated . . . dead.
I'm sure Henri and John heard me crying all night, but I'm glad that they respect my privacy enough to leave me alone. But . . . even though I wanted to be alone, I also wanted someone to hold me and tell me that I was going to be okay and tell me that I'm not alone; that everything was just a horrible moment in time that would pass by eventually.
Eventually my wish came true. Henri's bedroom door softly opens and he peeks inside. Seeing me awake and crying, he sighs softly, closes his bedroom door and makes his way over to the bed. He sits down on the edge. He doesn't offer me any comfort words, except the occasional 'Shh'. He softly strokes my hair, and it gradually calms me down until I'm not crying anymore. I sniffle and close my eyes. "Thank you, Henri." I say it so softly that I'm not sure if he even heard it, but a soft squeeze on my shoulder told me that he did. Finally completely tired, I succumb to sleep.

The next morning I wake from the sunlight streaming through the bedroom windows. I groan and roll around in the bed, yelping when I forget that I had a large gash in my arm, and was now laying on it. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," I mutter to myself as I sit up, rubbing a hand over my face. A huge yawn nearly splits my face, and after stretching, I get out of bed. I turn around to look for the door, and scream super loud when I notice someone standing there, watching me. It is a beautiful teenage girl with straight blonde hair that falls past her shoulders. She has ivory skin, high cheekbones, and soft blue eyes. "Oh my freaking God!" I gasp, "You scared the shit right out of me!"
The girl looks worried as she says, "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you, I really didn't!"
"It's okay," I say, my hands on my wildly beating heart. Just at that moment the door bursts open and Henri stands there, looking ready to battle a murderer. He scans the room, but when his gaze falls on the girl, he lets out a relieved sigh. "Oh, Sarah, it's only you."
She pretends to be offended as she says, "Just me, huh? Wow, I didn't know you disliked me thatmuch, Henri."
Henri waves a dismissing hand at her and replies, "You know what I mean."
The girl, Sarah, laughs at him before turning back to me. She looks sheepish. "I'm sorry I scared you. Henri and John asked me to watch over you while they worked on some things." She walks over to me and extends her right hand. "Sarah Heart," She introduces.
Hesitantly, I shake her hand and say, "Clara. Just Clara."
If she founded that strange, she doesn't show it. "So you're the one who has kept my boyfriend up all night," she jokes.
I smile and shrug. Henri asks if I am hungry, then leads me to the kitchen. Sitting at the table is John eating some cereal. Sarah tells me to sit down and fixes me a bowl with cereal. She warms the milk then hands my food to me. "Thanks," I say as I accepted the bowl.
John looks at me and jokingly asks, "Are you some evil little girl that I'm supposed to be scared of?"
I smirk evilly at him, grab my bowl and spoon and hold it in front of my face, saying, "Oh yes, John Smith, I'm a cereal killer!" To prove my point I harshly stab my spoon into the bowl of cereal, smashing it into tiny pieces. Sarah and John laugh at me, and I reply by sticking out my tongue. Just then something hanging around John's neck catches my eye. It was a gem . . . a Loric gem exactly like mine. I immediately clutch my gem in my hands over John's t-shirt that I am wearing.
"Are you okay, Clara?"
I look at John and breathily say, "Just peachy."
John gives me a weird look. "So, um, Sarah brought you some clothes. She said that no girl should wear men clothing, and I agreed. So you can take a shower, and Sarah will leave the bag with the clothes and towels on the bathroom counter." He scratches his chin. "Actually, it's already there," he adds.
I stand up and throw my arms around a stunned Sarah. I whisper a thank you into her ear before bounding up the stairs and into the bathroom. I immediately strip and climb into the hot shower, letting the hot water work its magic all over my body. It actually seems as if everything will be okay, and I hope that it stays that way. I've been disappointed one time too many to handle another one.
Please,I pray to the heavens. I don't know what I'm asking for, but I guess the answer would soon present itself to me. And it did. Hope.