A/N: Welcome. Hope you enjoy this story, I've got it all written already, so updates should be regular, planning on twice a week, Wednesday and Sundays. You know the drill; reviews are very welcome, and make my day (week, year, life). So let me know what you think. Yeah. Enjoy!

I knew a panic attack when I saw one. I should; I'd seen enough of them at work. And it always started with the eyes. Darting around, searching desperately for somewhere safe, when there was no safety to be seen. Not in their minds anyway.

When I saw that characteristic movement, the frantic searching, I should have kept walking. He would have dealt with it. He would have survived. But for too long I'd been dragging people out of the holes they found themselves in. So I didn't think, didn't hesitate. Instead, I just took a quick sidestep to stand before him on the crowded pavement. People jostled us as they passed, scowling at the obstruction. His eyes flashed at the contact, but his body remained stiff and immobile, frozen by the terror I could see in his face.

"It's okay, just look at me, look at me. It's okay, you're safe, look at me." My tone soothing, and I stayed a foot away from him as the crowd began to part around the obstruction we were causing. I barely knew what I was saying; all I wanted to do was capture his attention, but his blue eyes continued to flit around, never settling on me for more than a second. So I continued to talk in the same low voice I would use if ever confronted with a wild animal, because with his darting eyes, that was exactly what he reminded me of.

"There's no-one there, you're safe, just look at me, you're okay, look at me, it's alright, look at me." And slowly, he did, those blue eyes slowing to fix on my steady gaze.

"That's it, look at me, just look at me, you're alright." I had to get him off the crowded street, and my eyes flickered away from his to an alley only a few steps away. I waited, still talking, as I watch the crowd for a gap, an opportunity, and when it came, mere seconds later, I took it. Still talking, I stretched out my left hand towards his right side, not touching him, but pressing gently on his space. It worked, and together we shuffled across and off the street, into the shadows. But I lost his eyes as we moved, and his breath quickened into desperate gasps as we left the sunlight.

"It's alright, it's alright. Just breathe. Look at me, just breathe. In." I took a deep breath in through my nose, exaggerating the movement with my shoulders. "Out." I blew it out through my mouth. "Come on, it's okay, breathe with me. In." I sucked in a breath and felt a thrill of triumph as his shoulders moved with mine. "And out. That's it. In... Out." He did it, his wild panting evening out into long steadier breaths, though his eyes didn't return to mine. They swept left and right, searching the space around us, but they were calmer now, more controlled.

"Alright. In. Out. Easy." I examined his face as he continued to breathe. His jaw was hidden beneath the rough beginnings of a dark beard, and the upper half of his face was cast into shadow by a dark baseball cap, yet his blue eyes still seen to shine out of the gloom. His dark hair was fairly long, and pushed back behind his ears.

"Are you okay?" I asked gently, after a few minutes. He nodded, though shakily, and the left side of his jacket twisted as if he'd clenched his fist around the fabric within the pocket.

"How did you do that?" his voice was unsteady, and slightly accented, though much subtler than my own.

"I work with veterans," I told him. "A lot of them have panic attacks." His eyes continued to scan left to right to left to right, skipping past my face. "What's your name?" The sharp blue gaze snapped to my face as he stiffened, drawing back. "Okay, okay, okay, easy. Doesn't matter. You don't have to tell me anything, alright? Just keep breathing," I reassured him, and he stopped retreating, though he didn't relax.

"I have to go," he said, looking away. I pulled back a little, and nodded.

"Okay, that's okay." He shuffled sideways before turning away. "Hey," I called after him, and he paused. "I'll be here tomorrow, same time. If you wanted to talk... or..." He held his position for a moment, then turned away, and was gone.

.

The next day, I left the VA branch at lunchtime and walked my usual route to the small cafe where I often bought lunch. It was a crisp autumn day, with the sun shining down through straggly clouds, and an occasional gust of wind.

The alley was darker than the streets, but sheltered from the wind, and I stood with my back to one of the red brick walls, leaning against it as I waited, alternating between watching the street and staring down at my feet. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Twenty. Half an hour. And still I stood there, immobile, the chill from the bricks at my back seeping through my skin. After forty-five minutes, I finally stood upright, my knees cracking, took one last sweeping look at the street, and walked away, trying to squash the little pocket of disappointment in my chest. People couldn't be helped unless they wanted to be. All I could do was hold out a hand, and hope that he would take it.

.

I sat in on Sam's talk that afternoon. Technically, it was my afternoon off, but it was well-worth sticking around for an hour to listen to him. He never said the same thing twice, yet everything that came out of his mouth was somehow right. It was a skill that I'd never had; the ability to know what to say to make something better, without lying through his teeth. Whenever I ended up doing one of the larger talk, I always felt like my words were so much weaker than his, full of clichés and avoidances. I was better one-on-one, but Sam shone before the group. He spoke words of hope and courage, without ever shying away from the difficulties or the ugliness of life.

And I knew that I wasn't going to give up.

.

The next day was cloudier, and I shivered in the chill wind as I waited in the alley. For a second, the crowd opened up, and I thought I saw a vaguely familiar face on the other side of the street, but as I straightened up, the crowd closed up again, and though I looked left and right, he was gone. Or maybe he was never there. But I took it as hope.

.

On the fourth day, I went into work and my heart warmed when I realised I was scheduled to spend the morning with Joey. It was with a slight smile on my face that I climbed the stairs and knocked softly on the door of his room before entering. He was sitting in his favourite chair by the window, looking out across the large garden area at the back of the building. As I poked my head round the door, he looked round and whistled softly at me.

"Hi, Joey," I said softly, as I walked across the room and knelt before him. He reach out a strong hand and I grasped it with my own. "How are you?" He fixed me with a very stern gaze and let out a long, complex whistle. I grimaced.

"I know. I haven't been to see you in a while, but I have to see the others too." He made a face and I laughed. "What do you want to do today Joe?" He whistled again, loud and tuneful as any bird. I laughed again. "Music? Why do I ask?" I stood, my knees clicking, and walked over to the iPod dock on the chest of drawers. "What do you want to listen to?" I asked over my shoulder, but he merely shrugged, so I just continued the playlist that was already loaded. The music filled the air, a soft lilting track that I thought I recognised from a movie soundtrack, though I couldn't place which one. Wandering the room, I paused at the half completed jigsaw, my fingers brushing over the edge of the table as my eyes skimmed the picture of a large field, with a horse and plough on one side, and a tractor on the other. Joey clicked his tongue from behind me, and I glanced round. He chirruped at me and waved a hand over.

"You want to do some more?" He hummed in ascent, and I picked up the table, stretching my arms out to grasp the side before shuffling it over to the window and depositing it in front of the chairs. Joey leaned forwards at once, his sharp eyes darting over the partially done puzzle as I took the box with the other pieces and put it on my lap as I sat beside him. The soft music flowed around us as we sat and fitted more pieces together. I was gazing out of the window, lost in my own thoughts, when Joey's whistling brought me back, and I tilted my head to the side, listening. He joined flawlessly with the music, hitting every note perfectly for a solid minute before falling silent. I smiled as I listened, recognising the music, and nodded as he went quiet.

"Lord of the Rings," I confirmed. "I liked those movies. Cried a bit at the end." I was examining another piece, my eyes down, when I suddenly felt a light touch on my face and started, looking up. Joey was staring at me, his face stricken as he rubbed his thumb gently under my eye. I smiled reassuringly at him. "It's okay Joey, I'm not crying now." He whistled sadly, and left his hand on my face for another moment before removing it, and resumed humming along to the music. I didn't return to the puzzle, but again lifted my eyes to the window, looking out, past the gardens, towards the city. Was he out there somewhere? A hand brushed against mine where I'd left it sitting in the box.

"Sorry," I murmured, shifting it out of the way without looking round. But the gentle touch came again, and I glanced over. Joey pointed at me, then the iPod, then whistled again. "You want me to sing?" I raised an eyebrow sceptically. "I don't think you do Joey. I'm a terrible singer." But he whined softly, his eyes pleading, and I folded. With a sigh, I cocked my head sideways, listening, and was surprised to find that I actually knew the song. Blushing slightly, I looked down, then threw myself into it, careful to keep my voice quiet so I didn't disturb anyone else as I warbled along, smiling in embarrassment as my voice cracked and wavered. I didn't look up at him as I sang, but continued with the jigsaw puzzle, the words seeping up from memory. I'd fallen silent when the door opened and Liz, another girl who worked at the VA, poked her head inside, grinning.

"Beth, why are you torturing cats in here?" she smirked. Joey glared over, and let out a very loud angry whistle. Wincing, Liz retreated hastily, but I laughed, shaking my head. Joey turned back to me, very serious, and placed a hand over his heart, bowing slightly. I smiled back at him.

"You're welcome," I murmured, "but I did warn you." Eyes twinkling, he turned back to the puzzle and took over, humming softly as he fitted another piece into the puzzle.

.

We managed to fill in most of the sky before I had to go, and I left him reluctantly, glancing back as I reached the door. He was still pouring over the puzzle, whistling softly to himself.

The alley was just as shadowed as ever that day, but the sun's warmth was unrivalled by any wind, so I was fairly comfortable as I stood, waiting, watching the people and the world go past. It was after about ten minutes that I saw him. He was standing on the other side of the street, half hidden behind a building, his face shadowed by the same dark cap. But it was him. I held his gaze for several seconds, so he would know that I'd seen him, then looked away, staring down at my feet, waiting, hoping.

I counted in my head, and after seventy five seconds, a figure stopped at the entrance to the alley, a few feet away. Cautiously, I looked up. He was hunched over, hands in his pockets, head ducked down as his gaze flicked from me to the bustling street.

"Hi," I said, very softly. His eyes narrowed slightly as they snapped to mine, then scanned around him again as he rocked his weight between his feet. He didn't seem to like being still, and looked ready to run at any moment. "Do you want to go for a walk?" I asked. He hesitated, those blue eyes flicking to mine again, then he nodded slowly. I didn't comment, but pushed away from the wall and walked carefully over to meet him, then stepped out onto the street.

For the most part, I led him along, taking corners on instinct or habit, with no destination in mind, though occasionally he would veer off-course, taking a sharp turn for no apparent reason. I followed him without question whenever he did this, and after a while, realised that I could once again recognise the streets. I stopped, opening the gate into a small park which I sometimes walked around with the veterans. He followed me in, eyes darting around the green space, and we walked along one of the paths. For several minutes I didn't speak, letting my gaze drift over the trees and the lake.

"I like coming here in summer," I said eventually, keeping my voice low and quiet. "The grass grows out under the trees, and it's full of flowers. Or weeds, depending on which way you look at it. But they cut it back at the start of autumn." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him glance across at the trees.

"It's colourful," he murmured, and I looked across at the splashes of red and gold.

"Yeah. It is." Our path had turned and begun to circle the lake before he spoke again.

"You came back." It wasn't exactly a question, but I answered anyway.

"Yes. I said I would."

"More than once," He clarified. I shrugged and made a non-committal noise I'd picked up from Joey in the back of my throat. "Why?" I hesitated, looking away across the water as I considered my answer.

"I don't know," I said eventually. "Maybe because I thought you looked like you wanted to talk. Maybe I'm just used to trying to help people."

"Maybe I don't need help." I didn't look round at him.

"Maybe you don't," I agreed. "But you're here." He was silent for a second.

"Your accent. You're from England?" I sighed internally, but accepted the change of topic.

"Yes. I moved here about a year and a half ago," I told him, but bit down the question I wanted to ask in return. I had a feeling that it would just send him running. So we walked in silence for another few minutes.

"You work with veterans?" I glanced over at him, surprised that he had remembered.

"Yes, that's right."

"What's it like?" he asked. I paused, unsure of how to begin.

"It's challenging," I said slowly, "but also very rewarding. It's a little patchy; some days are amazing, others are really tough. But I enjoy it. It makes me feel like I'm doing something good, that I'm actually helping people."

"What do you do?"

"Well, it varies," I began, "but basically I do anything that needs to be done. I work in the recovery centre, so I spend a lot of time with our permanent residents. I read them the newspaper, or sit and talk with them, though some prefer just to listen. Sometimes I give group talks, for anyone who wants to come, but I'm not as good as some of the others, so I don't do that very often. I help cook if we're doing a big meal. I clean if it needs to be done." I shrugged. "Every day is different."

"What did you do this morning?" he asked, and I couldn't help smiling a little as I remembered.

"I spent the morning with Joey," I told him. "Joey is one of our more permanent residents."

"But he could leave if he wanted to?" he cut across me.

"Yes," I said, very seriously. This meant something to him, I could tell from the sudden stillness of his eyes, and tensing of his shoulders. "Anyone who stays with us is there because they want to be. They can leave at any time. And Joey has, once or twice. Just walked out the front door, sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for a few days. But he comes back," I paused, but he didn't say anything, so I continued with the original point.

"Joey is..." I sighed, unsure of how to phrase it. "He doesn't talk. There's nothing wrong with him; he can make noises. He'll whistle and make any sound imaginable, and he can do everything for himself, but he just doesn't talk. If we get one word out of him, it's a good month. But he's amazing, and really sweet, and a great guy." I sighed. "So I sat with him this morning, and we listened to music, and did some of a jigsaw puzzle. He made me sing." I shook my head at the memory. "One of the others girls thought we were torturing cats. I don't blame her really, it's quite an accurate analogy. But Joey wanted me to, so..." I shrugged. I glanced sideways at him, then threw caution to the winds. "What did you do this morning?" I asked. He froze for a second, his stride faltering. I half-expected him to bolt, but he didn't, and instead kept walking. I waited.

"I walked around a bit," he said shiftily, and I had to look away to hide my smile of triumph. I opened my mouth again, but reconsidered, and swallowed the question back, raising my eyes to the gate that was fast approaching.

"You should stop by the VA sometime," I said. He made a non-committal noise to rival mine, and said nothing. I'd stepped through the gate and taken two steps alone the pavement before realising that he wasn't beside me. Stopping, I looked back, watching as his eyes scanned round us.

"I have to go," he said, not meeting my gaze as he took a step backwards. I nodded, watching him retreat.

"I'll be there again. Same time," I said. He hesitated, then took a few more steps back, and give a small nod. But I gave one last push before he could leave. "What's your name?" I called out, but he just shook his head again, and turned, walking away quickly. I watched him go.