OK, I changed some of the true details from the last show of the third season, but that's because this fits with my ideas better. I don't own anybody except Alexa, Zorah, and that fiendishly awesome art teacher. No suing or you get my lunch money and a swift kick in the balls. Proceed and enjoy =^).

Sullen and Haunted

I: Broken Looking Glass

"Great work, Alexa."

"You've done it again, Alexa."

Can I get out of here now?

I wanted to leave this gallery full of student paintings and sculptures and perform at the local bar with my guitar in one hand and a free beer in the other.

Why did I think this would be a good idea?

Half of me wanted to be anonymous. Taking an art class is anonymous enough...except when art shows and galleries thirst for "young talent" and your art professor highlights your names as one of the hopefuls.

The other half of me wanted to be soaked in the attention of admirers and fans of expressionism through music and writing.

Could I be less complicated?

I shook the hands of various professors from the local college in Los Angeles and felt many palms squeeze my shoulder from pride and pat my back with congratulations.

Why all the fuss? Someone bought "Through the Broken Looking Glass."

Someone bought my painting.

I should feel thrilled. I should be excited. I should feel inspired to paint and paint 'til my hand falls off. I just want to curl up in my bed with candles ablaze reading an Anne Rice novel until my eyes cannot stay open.

I volunteered to stay behind and help close the gallery up. My art professor was full of praise for all the students who had their works bought. I looked at my better half, Zorah.

"You'd think we won some kind of Oscar for visual arts." She whispered. I couldn't help but muffle a giggle in response.

"Zorah, darling," Mr. Snyder spoke loudly to gain not only her attention, but also everyone else's. "I quite remember a certain squeal and rabid jumping on your part when 'Cascade' was generously paid for even with that hideous price you placed on it."

"It was well worth it, Mr. Snyder." She smirked. "I put a lot of work into that piece."

"As it has shown. All of you have worked hard, so this night is yours. Ladies and gentlemen, I bid thee congratulations, and a hearty farewell. See you Monday."

I said goodnight to my colleagues and ventured into the night for my apartment. Zorah insisted on driving me home, but there's nothing like a nightly walk on the streets of LA...especially when you have to fend for yourself from bad guys and drunken creeps. I walked home alone because I wanted solitude as soon as it could come. I'll worry about those bad guys later.

I walked the last steps to my apartment door in one piece, untouched by drunken madness, and put the key in the lock. The door eased open as the key touched the knob, having yet to be turned. I could feel needles pricking my spine as my eyes grew larger by the second.

Please tell me the landlady just forgot to close the door...

But I gave her the rent check two days ago.

I pulled out my modest but effective pocket knife and the can of mace. I was far from prepared but I wasn't helpless. I eased into the living room. Nothing had been disturbed. There was an empty carton of orange juice lying open faced on the counter, some of the remaining juice dripping into a nickel-sized puddle. I crept to the closest open door, the bathroom. Nudging the door open, nothing was disturbed here either.

I looked at the linen closet, ruling that out as a place for someone to hide. There's hardly enough room for the towels. I went to the last real room...mine.

The door was closed completely. I would have to turn the knob but both of my hands were occupied.

Ditch the mace.

I put it in my pocket and gripped the knob. I turned it slowly before throwing the door open and screaming, knife in an uplifted hand.

That's when I saw him.

He was curled up on the floor, clutching a stuffed animal to his chest. His face was tear streaked. I crept closer to him. He was asleep, but his face was trouble and his body was tense. He smelled of dirt and of sea water. I reached for his tousled chestnut hair above his brow to smooth is away. In a quick movement he clasped onto my wrist. His eyes flashed open and looked at me with afraid and cold eyes.

"Who are you?" I whispered, fear rising to a new peak.

He released me and went for the door. I reached for his arm.

"Don't leave!"

He turned to face me with a chilled expression. I stepped closer to him and his steel blue eyes met my frosted ones. I touched his face with my fingertips. "I'm Alexa."

"I'm St...Connor."

He turned for the door again.

"Do you need a place to stay?"

Alexa, what in the hell are you doing?! This man broke into your home. But he looks so troubled and in need...

He walked towards me, silently. He touched my face just as I had touched his. "I need a lot of things."

I smiled warmly. "Let's clean you up. Are you hungry?"

"No, but thank you."

I nodded and rummaged through drawers to find my flannel pants...something that a man could wear. I grabbed one of my concert shirts from my teen years and handed them to him.

"I'm sorry I don't have anything else, but we'll get you some new clothes tomorrow. Is that all right?"

"That's fine. Thank you." He took the clothes and I showed him to the bathroom.

He looked around the small room and then at me. He had a hint of question in his eyes.

Doesn't he know how to take a shower?

It wasn't a thought that he was stupid, but untaught. Was he taught how to take care of himself?

"Do you know how to take a shower, Connor?"

"No, Alexa." He said softly. He wasn't ashamed he didn't know. He was soft when he said my name.

"Do...do you want me to help you?"

Please say no...please say no...

"Yes, please."

Oh shit...

He seemed so innocent. I couldn't think about how beautiful his eyes were...how sexy his hair was as it fell in front of his face...how strong yet thin he looked...

"Take off your clothes, Connor." I tried not to make it sound like an order, more of an instruction. I'm teaching him how to bathe.

Remember that, you're his teacher.

He peeled the dingy long-sleeved shirt off. His skin was so creamy and paled. It looked like it would feel like velvet to the touch.

As he continued undressing I placed my attention to the shower. I turned to turn on the water.

"Let me know if this is too hot." I said, my back facing him.

The water isn't the only thing burning... My face felt red.

He came from behind me and felt the falling water from the shower head. "It feels fine, Alexa. Do I step underneath it?"

"Yes, Connor."

He did. I grabbed a wash cloth and the body wash that was on the shelf in the shower.

"You take a clean cloth like so," I held it up. "And you get it wet." I held it under the shower. "Then you squirt some soap onto it and rub the cloth together until it gets all foamy."

He watched my every move.

"Then, you start rubbing the cloth against your skin, washing every inch of it. Be careful, you don't want this stuff in your eyes. It burns like fire." I handed him the cloth. He rubbed the cloth against his skin, but he still held some confusion.

"You're doing great."

I pulled the curtain to give him his privacy and went for the door.

"How do I wash my back?"

I grimaced.

This is all I need to not feel attracted to this guy...

I turned at his head was sticking out from the curtain. He was so adorable...

"I'll help you, Connor." I pasted a smile and acted as if I wasn't tense to be near him.

I took the cloth from his outstretched hand and slightly pulled the curtain back. His back was scarred but very muscular. I gently scrubbed, watching the muscles tense and relax. I could imagine him carrying me...holding me with such strength and comfort.

I had finished. "There you go, hun."

He looked at me and smiled, "Thank you, Alexa."

"Do you know how to wash your hair?"

He grabbed the herbal shampoo bottle. "Some of this on your hair?"

"You got it," I smiled. "I'll just be outside in the living room if you need anything. I'll go get you a towel and set it on the toilet."

"A towel? Something to dry me off?"

"Yes."

He smiled and I closed the door behind me.

Thank God that's over...I don't think I could've lasted another moment...

I flopped onto the couch and turned on the TV. There was something on the news about an old man found dead in an alley not far from my apartment.

Poor old soul...

On another channel, there was a bulletin about people who saw a strange light coming from the lake nearly five miles from where I was sitting.

Weirdo's....

I heard the bathroom door open. I turned to see him in the pants and the shirt. "What do I do with these?" He held up his dirty clothes.

"I'll wash them tomorrow after we go shopping." I smiled. "You hungry yet?"

He looked at the TV. It was showing the dead body. His expression saddened.

"It's sad, isn't it? That poor old man stabbed to death..." I could even feel my eyes tear up.

He looked as if he were about to cry.

"Connor? Are you all right?"

I approached him and put my palm on his shoulder. A tear fell.

"Come here, sweetheart."

I held him in my arms and he wept. I led him to my bed so we could be comfortable. He rested his head on my lap and cried endlessly. I didn't move until he stopped. He was nearly asleep again when he was finished. I helped him straighten up on the bed and covered him up. I laid beside him and comforted him until he was truly asleep.

What troubles you so?