She walked slowly down the alley. Her hair was mussed and tangled; her feet were being torn up by the road. She held her tattered clothing together for what little warmth they provided. The pale moon lit her way as she turned out of the alley way on to the main road. It was 3AM and no body seemed to notice the blood stained girl with tears in her eyes. Pain surged through her body with each breath she took. She wanted to stop someone and plead for help, but her throat was raw from screaming. She also assumed no one would help her. It was Halloween and she looked like she was in costume. Feeling that she would collapse soon, the brunette found an open door and settled herself in a corner of the lobby. Her eyes lids felt like they had been lined with lead as she shut them.

***********

The music was pounding as he left the party; 7 AM just came too soon for him now days. He waved good- bye to the hosts then made his way down the stairs. They had out done themselves again. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, John noticed the young woman huddled in the corner. He had to give her credit, her costume looked real. Her eyes were closed, but he swore he could hear muffled crying from her. "Happy Halloween." He said, as he passed her. The woman rolled her head and gazed at him. He was taken aback at the site of her face. Blooded matted her hair to the side of her face, her eye was swollen and blood oozed from several different cuts. "Nice costume." He said. She blinked slowly at him twice before her eyes rolled upward in her head and she fell to the ground. John rushed to her side and crouched down. Reaching out slowly, he placed his hands on her neck and felt for a pulse. It was weak at best. "Fuck." He muttered, whipping off the white lab coat from his costume and covered her. Glancing around, he lifted up the woman and carried her off into the night.

Rushing through the streets, he couldn't help but blame Jack for his feelings towards her. Since he had decided to stay on this planet, he had gained a renewed sense of emotions for the human race. Some part of him knew that he should've taken her to the local authorities, but he knew that he could help her better than they could. Running through the doors of his building, John smiled politely at the doorman and cradled the woman closer to him. "Is she yours?" the doorman asked. John cracked a grin and gave a little nod as he waited for the elevator. The woman in his arms, let out a small sob, then nuzzled her head into his shoulder. After the doors shut, John was quick to set her down and in the slightly better light, tried to give her a once over. Glancing upwards, he noticed he only had a few more floors before his own. John scooped up the woman again, holding her close.

The doors opened and he moved quickly to his lofty apartment. Instead of digging out his keys, John kicked the door open and hurried inside. Balancing precociously on his left leg, he cleared off his dining room table, laid the woman down, then went back to shut his door. I'll fix that in the morning, He thought fiddling with the knob. The woman on his table moaned, drawing his attention back to the dining room. Keeping his eyes on her, he made his way to the kitchen where he gathered a couple towels and a bowl of warm water. Setting everything down next to her, John dipped a corner into the water and brought it to her face. Gingerly, he began to wipe the blood off of her cheek. As he cleaned her up, John took in her features. Her medium length auburn hair was caked with dirt and blood. If it wasn't swollen, he assumed that she had more of a heart shaped face. Under her tattered clothes, he could see she had shapely breast and a toned stomach. He was pleased to see that it was only slightly toned and that she had a little bit of a paunch. He had seen one too many twigs lately. With her face somewhat cleaner, John continued on his way down her body.

His stomach churned at the site of her broken body. Black and purple bruises covered her olive skin, while long strawberry gashes oozed and clung to the cloth. She let out a low moan as he cautiously removed the tattered remains of her dress. John cringed as her face contorted when he had to forcibly pull the dress away. Tossing the dress aside, he worked quickly to clean the wounds and place a fresh towel on them. He would take the time to bandage them properly later. With the water becoming dirtier and dirtier and her being less than half clean, John lifted the woman up and carried her upstairs to the bathroom. Doing his best to remain gentle, he sat her in the tub and ran the bath.

After an hour, the water was a dingy color, but she was clean. He carried her to his room, laid her out on his bed then went to his closet and found one of his long sleeved tee shirts. He hated to think what she might do if she woke up bandaged, but unclothed. Then again, he wasn't sure how she was going to react to waking up in a strange place at all. It took almost another hour before he taped off the last bit of gauze around her wrist. John took a few more minutes to clean up the mess he made then covered her with a blanket. "Rest well, luv." He said, shutting off the light.

John lay on the couch, drumming his fingers on his chest. It was getting close to seven and he hadn't slept. Every twenty minutes or so compulsion took over and he had to check on her. Rolling off the couch, John made his way to his room to find that she was still sleeping. True she had rolled onto her side a bit, but she was still out cold. Feeling that she would remain that way, he sighed and headed for the door. Though he hated to leave her, it was the first time in a long time that Jack wanted to meet with him. John made sure the door was locked then headed out.

She crushed her eyes closed as light broke through the window. Her muscles screamed at her, but for the first time in a long while she felt warm. Forcing her eyes open, she took a few minutes to look around. Posters of various cities adorned the walls, while two large windows were directly across from the bed. The room was white, which made it seem bigger than it was. Pulling the blanket off herself, she noticed the shirt. Not mine, she thought as she climbed off the bed. Her bandaged feet made it easy for her to move silently down the stairs. She didn't remember how she had gotten there, but she was pretty sure she was invited. Taking the time to look around the corners, she spied the kitchen to the left of her and living room to the right. She sighed when she couldn't see a main door. Turning to the left, the woman moved slowly into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Taking the pitcher of water, she began to open cupboards, looking for a glass. When she finally found them, she let out a long sigh. They were on the top shelf. Stupid place for glasses, she thought, setting the pitcher down. Searing pain shot through her as she attempted to lift her arm up. "Fuck." She panted, "Fuckity fuck- fuck. Those are broken." She took a couple of shallow breaths, but pain still coursed through her body.

Resigning to using a bowl, she took one from the rack near the sink, poured the water and put the pitcher back. She had just raised the bowl to her lips when she heard a door slam shut. The bowl crashed to the floor as she grabbed two knives off the counter. Slipping the smaller of the two up the sleeve of her left arm, she held the larger one in an attack position. Her heart pounded as she walked slowly towards the sound. Peaking around the doorway, she saw nothing in the living room. Taking a few steps into the room, her breathing quickened and her heart raced. A floor board creaked behind her. She turned quickly, pain coursing through as she raised her arm to slash the person behind her. The man grabbed her arm before she could strike.

"That's not very nice, love." He snickered, "Attacking a man with his own cutlery. How about you drop that?"

The knife made a loud clatter as it fell to the floor. She dropped the knife down from her sleeve and was about to thrust it into his side when his other hand landed on her elbow.

"Didn't we just discuss this?"

John noticed her eyes were focused on a point on the floor. She was shaking slightly as he held her. After she let go of the paring knife, John released her. She took a few steps back, but didn't look at him. Picking the knives up, John noticed she flinched as he passed her.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He called to her, "My name is John."

Returning to the living room, he found her sitting on the ground, propped against the couch. She was shaking, but she was staring at him.

"What did you say?" she asked, as he sat in the chair across from her

"My name is John."

"I'm sorry."

John rubbed his chin, covering his mouth, "its okay."

She shook her head and looked at him, "I'm sorry, what?"

He lowered his hand, "Its okay."

"Where am I?"

"My apartment, you know I should really take you in to see a doctor. A doctor really should look you over."

"Thank you but no. I don't want to see a doctor."

"What's your name?" he asked, turning away from her

"Please look at me when you talk to me."

He turned back to her, "You're deaf."

"Mostly, if you're looking at me, it helps."

"What's your name?" he noticed that she was signing as she spoke.

"Kenzie or you can call me Mac. Why am I here?"

"I found you and brought you here. I bandaged you up and left you here to rest."

"Why?"

"It was better to bring you here than to let you die."

She shifted nervously against the couch, checking for an exit. John leaned back in the chair and watched her. Kenzie fidgeted with her hands as she kept her eyes locked on him. The swelling around her left eye had gone down some making the pain in her face more evident. After a few minutes, she dropped her eyes and avoided looking at him. She began to fidget more, shifting more against the couch. John moved forward a bit on the chair. Kenzie flinched. She locked eyes with again. Worlds of hurt danced through the tears in her eyes.

"You can stay here as long as you need too." He said

"Thank you, but I'd like my clothes so I can go."

"Your …um…dress is …rags now."

"Oh."

"You can borrow some of mine."

"Thank you, I'll return them."

"I guess I'll be right back."

Kenzie kept her eyes fixed on him as he left the room. Though she was grateful to him, she didn't know how to express it. Her life was complicated enough without adding in an unknown hero. As she thought about what she was going to do when she got back to her hovel, Jack returned with a set of clothing.

"It's the smallest I have. There's a bathroom just up the stairs and round the corner."

"Thank you."

She moved slowly as she stood up. Keeping her eyes cast downward, she collected the clothes and made her way upstairs. Peeling off the shirt, Kenzie took the time to examine her own body. She did her best to not disrupt the bandaged he had placed on her while she stretched and turned to see how many dark bruises she had. Feeling that she was wearing out her welcome, Kenzie got redressed.

"How do they fit?" he asked, when she reemerged.

"Like old bits of skin, but thank you again."

"Are you sure you want to leave? You need time to recuperate."

"Thank you all the same, but I can recoup at home."

"I know you don't know me all that well…"

"I don't know you at all."

"But, if you need anything, just come back. I can help."

Kenzie gave him a half hearted, sad smile, "I'll be back to return your clothes. Where's the door?"

He pointed towards a small entryway and she nodded. John took a large step back, giving her the room she needed to head for the door. Kenzie gave him another sad smile as she left. She took a brief moment to memorize his address before heading towards her home.

John sat on the stairs, staring at the door. He hated to see her go in that condition, but he wasn't going to intimidate her into staying. Running his hand through his hair, John looked at his watch. She had only been gone for twenty minutes. John tapped his foot a couple of times before he raced to the door. He wanted to make sure she made it home safely. It was only right after all, he had saved her. John raced down the stairs knowing it would be faster than the elevator. As he crossed the lobby of the building, the doorman pointed to the right. John gave him a small nod of thanks and took off into the night desperate to find her again.