Leslie

"Damn it's cold. They call this spring?" Dawson shivers, wrapping her jacket tight around, and blowing her dark hair out of her face. It's true; although it's April, New York is still freezing this time of the year. Well, any time of the year actually.

"Just be glad we got the day off," I reply. Dawson and I worked as paramedics in the ambulance at the firehouse. It was a tough job, requiring constant attention and much dedication. This kind of work called for complete trust, and that was why we were the best of friends, and even lived together. I'll even admit to having a small crush on her, but that's probably just my lesbianism.

The wind cuts through my clothes as we make our way towards the nearest bakery. "Shay," Dawson stops suddenly, "look at that girl over there. She must be freezing." There was a tiny child sitting on the bench in the park, wearing only a t-shirt and jeans. Dawson quickly changes direction and starts over to her.

"Hey," she says softly, kneeling down next to the small, blonde girl, "I'm Gabriela, and this is Leslie. Aren't you cold?"

The girl looks up, startled. She really couldn't be more than five years old, and her huge blue eyes and pale skin made her appear even younger. "Don't call the police," she whispers, "I'll leave."

"Wait, we're not here to turn you in. Where are your parents? You really shouldn't be here alone at night," I say. There is no reply. "What's your name?"

She hesitates for a moment. "Tiger." Her voice was barely audible over the hum of the traffic on the road behind us.

"Have you eaten yet, Tiger? You look hungry."

"No, nothing today."

Dawson glances at me, and then turns towards Tiger. "We were about to go get some food. Why don't you come with us?"

"I…I really don't think I should," she looks scared, and ready to run away.

"Shh hey, it's okay," I say trying to calm her down. "Just come with us and then we'll take you home okay?"

She looks torn, but her hunger wins over whatever waits for her at home. "Okay," Tiger crawls off the bench, all the while shivering. I take her into my arms and put her into my jacket. We start back towards the bakery, and Dawson and I exchange quick, curious glances.

A wave of hot air hits me when Dawson opens the door. Inside it's warm and toasty, and smells like heaven. I set Tiger down in a booth and scoot in next to her as Dawson goes and eyes the food. Tiger stares out the window, her reflection looking back at me. She sighs and I wonder what her story is.

I turn to look at Dawson, who is still trying to decide what to get. In a way she's like a kid in a candy shop, but that's one of the reasons I like her. She's the child of our bunch; sweet and cutesy. Our gang had a fun time putting up with her, and her hot-headedness often got her in trouble with Chief Boden.

It's funny, when I first joined Firehouse 51 as a paramedic, I didn't expect to find a family here. We help each other out both professionally and personally. Although we face life or death decisions every day, we always look out for each other, no matter what happens.

Dawson comes back with enough sweets to feed the whole city of Chicago, and slips in across from us. "Help yourselves," she grins. The three of us dig in like we haven't eaten for weeks. Funny enough, that's probably true for Tiger. She inhales an entire loaf of bread by herself and keeps eating. I shake my head, what kind of parent doesn't feed their child?

Ten minutes later, everything is gone. Dawson and I look over at Tiger, who hasn't spoken a word. "Still hungry?" Dawson asks kindly. Tiger shakes her head.

"Then I guess we'll take you home now," I say.

Tiger looks up at me. "I can walk," she says.

I laugh. "I'm not going to let you walk home alone in freezing cold weather at night!"

She shrugs. "1224 West Englewood," she says.

I raise my eyebrows at Dawson. That's a pretty rough neighborhood. We'd been called several times to take care of various shootings and arsons. "Alright," I reply.

We walk out together; the only parking space was a bit of a walk. I pick Tiger up again as she starts to shiver. The drive is quiet and long, but gives me time to think. Why was Tiger alone and why was she so untrusting? Why did she live in the bad side of town? Where were her parents?

Dawson pulls up in front of small, beat-up house. "Here?" she asks. Tiger nods. "Want us to walk you in? We can explain to your parents where you were," she says.

Tiger's eyes widen. "No, no it's okay. You don't have to." She looked away at the mention of her parents.

"Well, then we'll just watch you go in, okay?" Dawson hops out of the car and I follow suit. Tiger starts walking to the door, but turns. To my surprise, she comes up to hug me, then Dawson.

"Thanks," she says quietly, "really. I mean it."

Before we can say anything, she turns back around and starts back to the house.

"Strange girl," Dawson murmurs, watching her back.

"Yeah…" I reply, as Tiger unlocks the door and slips inside.

Dawson and I open the doors of the car, ready to leave when I hear a desperate, high-pitched scream. One that could only belong to Tiger.