Chapter 2

A/N:Hi again! So, I should probably have updated quicker, since I'm on my mid-term break from school, but I was sick all last week so I had a mountain of work to catch up on… But I'm up to date now, so to celebrate, here's a new chapter! No Flack in this one, but I promise he'll be back with a bang next chapter!

Oh, and I've never been to Riverside Park. I'm sure it's a lovely place!

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the first chapter. For the record, that's: Storywriter, wolfeylady, 00909 and afrozenheart412. All of you have been extremely helpful, your input gives me the confidence to keep writing! Special credit to afrozenheart412 though… I would say you rock my cotton socks off, but I don't have any on… So you rock my furry Ugg boots off! Anyone who's reading and hasn't reviewed yet: there's no time like the present!

DISCLAIMER: Please don't make me say it. Just let me be in denial in peace!

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Riverside Park in Manhattan at night was not the quiet, serene place the name suggests. It was awash with hordes of sweaty, drunken New Yorkers stumbling around, laughing and yelling at the tops of their slurred, intoxicated voices. The stench of alcohol and stale vomit assaulted the nostrils. An uncomfortable feeling crept through anyone unfortunate enough to walk through the park at night sober, almost as though they shouldn't be there. As though a clear head capable of rational thought and worry was something indecent.

Not a fun place to be.

And yet, this was exactly where Dr. Sheldon Hawkes was. It was a Friday night, his only Friday night off for two months. For any other person, this would mean a date with a good bottle of wine in a nice bar or a night on the town, free of responsibilities or inhibitions. It would at least mean a lazy night in front of the TV, armed with a bowl of popcorn and the pay-per-view listings.

But for Sheldon Hawkes, a night off work meant an opportunity for some volunteer work with the Manhattan Pars Medical Unit. His co-workers in the NYPD crime lab loved to chew him out over it, teasing him when he was forced to stifle a yawn or down an extra cup of coffee to keep himself alert, but Sheldon couldn't have cared less. He could easily put up with Danny poking fun at his 'moonlighting' and Stella fussing over his health if it meant he could do this work.

He loved it. It might sound cheesy, but he didn't care. He did love this. Helping people. Saving lives. Doing work that came naturally to him, as automatic as breathing. He loved the feel of the wind against his cheeks as he pedalled along the neat cobbled pathways, the sense of achievement that coursed through his veins as he patched somebody up, even the dull fatigue at the end of the night shift that signalled to him that he'd done something good, something really worthwhile. So what if it was just stitching up a couple of drunk college kids? A patient was a patient.

As Sheldon sat perched on his bike, taking advantage of a brief lull in activity around the park, he gulped gratefully from a paper coffee cup from the all-night diner across the street. It really was good coffee, and it tasted all the better at 2:30a.m, when he was in desperate need of a kick-start. Just as he finished up, his beeper began to vibrate.

Sheldon sighed and tossed his coffee cup into the nearest trashcan: a perfect shot. He extracted his beeper from his belt, scanned the tiny strip of screen for a second, then took off. Within two minutes, he was by the side of a young male suffering from a deep contusion to his head and smelling like the contents of a sewer.

"What's your name, kid?" Sheldon asked, sweeping a strand of sweaty hair from the kid's face. His patient just grunted. "Very helpful."

Without much protest from the inebriated kid, Sheldon managed to get the wound cleaned out and quickly stitched it up. With a final flourish, he removed the thread and smirked down at his handiwork. Almost as good as new. The kid would probably wake up in the morning with a killer hangover and not even notice the tiny white line running along his hairline. His work here was done.

"Alright buddy, you're all set. You can go."

The kid rose unsteadily to his sneaker-clad feet, turned a nasty shade of green and sent a spray of vomit cascading across the frost-tinged grass. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and careered away into the night without a backwards glance.

"Classy," muttered Sheldon, wiping his own hands with a sterilised wipe from his kit. "You're welcome. No problem. Aren't you a real credit to your parents?"

Dumping the wipe, he hopped back onto his bike and continued his rounds of the park. He hunched over the handlebars scrunching down in his jacket. It was getting chilly. Shivering slightly, he skirted around an icy patch and continued to cycle, counting the seconds until he'd be free to enjoy another cup of coffee, a warm shower and a well-deserved date with his bed. Honestly, he loved volunteering, but days like today just made him wonder why he bothered. Drunk adolescents were not exactly the most appreciative of patients.

"H-hey!" a voice called, shaky but determined. "Hey, could you help me? Please?"

Sheldon skidded to a stop, turning in the direction of the voice. For a moment, he saw nothing. And then there was her.

Beneath an elm tree, knees drawn up to her chest, sat a young woman. She had copper-coloured hair, tied in a low ponytail, was of slim build and quite short, five foot three at the most. She was pale, her porcelain skin taking on an almost translucent tone in the light from the streetlamp flickering overhead. Her heart shaped face was dominated by two globelike olive eyes flecked with gold. Her bee-stung pout of a mouth was pulled up into a pained grimace, and a smattering of brown freckles were painted across her slightly upturned nose. Something about her features was intriguing, captivating even. But the thing that really made Sheldon take notice was her laboured breathing, coming in short, sharp gasps.

That and the dark red stain spreading slowly across her abdomen, trembling fingers pressed tight against the blossoming wound.

Sheldon jumped off the bike and hurried over, crouching beside the girl.

"What happened, Miss? Can I see?"

She nodded wordlessly, gingerly picking at her oversized sweater. Sheldon examined her injury carefully, attempting to avoid further discomfort. Every so often during his examination a hiss of pain slipped between the girl's teeth, but she didn't yell once or let a single tear fall. It was a pleasant change from the usual abuse he was subjected to.

"It's just a flesh wound, you don't even need stitches. But Miss, I've got to ask, how did this happen?"

The girl closed her eyes, biting down on her lip as she shifted around. She shivered unconsciously, her shoulders shaking violently.

"Here, here!" Sheldon exclaimed, shrugging out of his jacket. "Put this under you, you'll catch your death! It's freezing!" He helped her to slide the material under her crouched form, holding her hand. She gripped his tight, whitening even further with the effort of exertion. "Miss, I know it hurts, but I need you to tell me what happened."

She bobbed her head, waves of auburn hair bouncing, and took a deep breath as Sheldon moved in to clean the wound. "There- uh, there were three or four of them," she started. Her voice was faint but surprisingly calm, ringing out along the deserted walkway. "Guys. College students I think, but I can't be sure. They were pretty damn drunk, I was surprised they could still stand. A-anyway, one of them started trying it on, showing off in front of his buddies. I-I let him know I wasn't interested, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. He kept pushing himself on me, and I could smell his foul breath, and I told him to back off and- well, I didn't realise he was still holding a beer bottle until I felt it between my ribs. He dropped it when they ran off, it's still over there." She pointed with a trembling finger at a broken piece of glass winking up at them from the frosty ground, the jagged edge dredged with her own blood. Sheldon couldn't blame her for looking away.

"I see. Did you happen to get a look at your attacker?"

"Oh, I don't want to press charges!" she exclaimed. Sheldon stared at her, perplexed.

"But Miss, he attacked you. Don't you want him to be punished?"

"He was drunk, he didn't realise what he did. I doubt he even knew the bottle was in his hand. Besides, I'm alright, aren't I? No point clogging up the system with a report that'll never amount to anything remotely resembling a conviction since I didn't get a proper look at the jerk," she said fairly, shrugging her shoulders until a sharp gasp cut her off.

"Still hurting?"

"It's fine," the girl said bravely, though she was clearly in pain.

"Sure, and I'm Brad Pitt," Sheldon teased.

"Ha- ow. You know what? Don't make me laugh," she winced, smiling through the pain.

"No problem. Here, let me see if I've got something for that ache," offered Sheldon, rooting in his kit. He pulled out a small white pill and a half-finished bottle fo water, offering them to her apologetically. "Sorry I don't have anything else."

"No, no, this is perfect thanks. I'm really not in a position to be all that fussy, am I?" the girl smiled, popping the tablet in her mouth and taking a healthy gulp of water, eyes closed as she drank. Her feathery lashes brushed her cheeks. She shivered self-consciously, curling up in her sweater. "It's cold," she observed.

"Yeah," Sheldon agreed. "But then, it is almost 3:30 in the morning… in the middle of November. Speaking of which, do you mind me asking what on earth you're doing in the park at this hour? Cos you seem far less… drunk and disgusting than every other patient I've tended to tonight. Which begs the question- why are you here in the freezing cold, alone, when you should be out partying the night away, or at least sleeping safely in your bed where you couldn't get hit on by bottle-wielding drunks?"

She smirked, a deep flush creeping across her pale cheeks. "Guess I deserved that," she cringed. She gestured to her clothes by means of explanation. "Jogging."

"Jogging?" Sheldon couldn't disguise the note of incredulous humour in his voice.

"Yes, jogging," the girl said defensively, tightening her ponytail. She rolled her eyes as he continued to smirk at her. "Look, I've just moved to New York. I'm starting my new job tomorrow, so I couldn't sleep. Too excited. I mean, it's been my dream job since I was a little girl, right up there with being an astronaut and Supergirl. So I figured it would be a good idea to go for a jog, help tire me out so I could get some sleep… Wait- I will still be able to start work tomorrow, won't I? I mean, I-I won't need to go to the hospital or anything, right? Cos I need this job, it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportun-"

"Breathe," Sheldon reminded her, waving a hand in front of her face. "Don't worry, you can still start work tomorrow. You don't need to go to the hospital, just keep the dressing clean and change it every couple of days until the scar heals up. And next time you're thinking of going jogging this late ona Friday night, please don't."

"Trust me, I won't be making that mistake again," she said sheepishly.

Sheldon smiled as he finished taping up the long, angry-looking cut, then got to his feet and stuck out a hand to help her up.

"Thanks," she grinned brightly, picking his jacket up off the ground. "Oh… sorry about this. It's kinda wet."

"Don't worry about it," Sheldon shrugged nonchalantly, tossing the jacket over his shoulder.

"Thank you again, Doctor…" she trailed off, glancing at him expectantly with those vivid green eyes.

"Hawkes."

"Well, thank you, Dr. Hawkes," she dimpled, reaching out with a manicured hand and pumping his energetically.

"No problem, that's what I'm here for," smiled Sheldon warmly. "Now, could I get your personal details? For the forms, I mean. It's procedure… when our patients are sober and coherent…"

She beamed and took the forms and a chewed-up black ballpoint pen, a slight crease puckering her brow as she filled in her details quickly and efficiently. With a final flourish on her last initial, she screwed the lid back on the pen and handed it, along with the clipboard, to Sheldon, a grateful smile playing on her lips. Sheldon scanned her particulars to ensure everything was all in order.

"Well, that's all in order Ms… uh, Ms Fitzgerald."

"Ella," she corrected automatically. "Ms. Fitzgerald is my great-aunt. And before you ask, yes, I am named after the famous jazz singer. My parents are real swing enthusiasts."

"Alright then Ella," Sheldon laughed. "You're free to go."

"You make it sound like I've been arrested," Ella joked, stifling a yawn.

"Looks like your jogging trip did it's job," teased Sheldon.

"I guess so," she admitted weakly. "I'm going to get a cup of coffee and then hail a cab back to my apartment. You know any good places around here?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Rossi's, right across the street. Best coffee you'll get at this hour, and the staff are really friendly. Tell Mama Rossi Sheldon sent you and she'll probably throw in a muffin free of charge."

"Great, I'll try that then," Ella beamed, turning on her heel and striding towards the park exit in her tight-fitting running leggings, trainers and huge grey sweater. For a moment Sheldon hesitated, then-

"Hey, Ella?" She swivelled around at the mention of her name. "Good luck with the new job. It must be really great if you rank it alongside Supergirl, though I have to say I'm more of an Incredible Hulk man myself."

Her glowing smile and silvery laugh remained in his mind long after she left him alone in the park…

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

A/N:OK, so admittedly not my best work. But I had to get Hawkes in there somewhere, he'll become more important later in the story. For all you Flack-lovers out there, he'll be back next chapter to meet his new partner…

Like it? Hate it? Indifferent? Have a comment/idea/anything to note? You know what to do: REVIEW!

Love,

Ciara

x x x