Note: Here is the second chapter, with some more character development. I decided to set this story after the ending of the game so I don't fall into the trap of rewriting a game you have obviously already played. Also, it's based of ending C.

I'm trying to give the plot a kick in the butt to get it going, so bare with the action-less first few chapters.

Warnings: This story is rated M. It will contain strong language, references to drug use, adult situations, and violence. Also, Trevor Philips, who I believe should bare his own warning.

Lone Highway

Chapter Two

D's eyes fluttered open, laying on her back in a bed in a very unfamiliar room. Though, she had to admit, it was probably the most comfortable she had been in a long time...from what she could remember. Judging from her last memories, which consisted of her being mainly upright, it might have just been the relief of allowing herself to be on her back for once. There was something pressed against her side, making her glance over and notice the backpack still strapped to her shoulders and pressing against her back. She slowly rolled over, hissing at the pain in her side as she rolled onto her bad side, pushing herself up slightly so she could pull the bag off of her shoulders.

Falling back down onto her back, slightly out of breath, she clutched the bag to her chest. Just sitting up was much more taxing that it should have been, causing her to close her eyes and mutter some colourful language under her breath.

Alright, up we get.

D lifted her legs up and pushed herself fully upright, placing the back beside her on the bed as she bent over and held her injured side. She sat like that for a few moments, breathing and trying to get her barrings once again.

I was picked up last night...yes, by a young man...Franklin. Okay, so I'm obviously in his house, even if I don't really remember arriving here...

Is he home?

What's in this bag? Did I have it with me last night?

What the fuck happened? I can't remember a thing before Franklin found me...

D placed her hands over her face, making care to avoid the bruised area as she exhaled. Deciding to take it a step at a time, she looked over at the bag beside her and pulled it over into her lap. It was warn, with some stains embedded into the fabric. Gripping the zipper, she slowly pulled it open and peered inside with a look of complete caution, as if she would find a human head sitting inside.

From what she could see, there was some clothes inside the bag. She dug around, looking at some shirts, pants, undergarments...

There was something solid at the bottom, D attempting to pull it out. It was wrapped in a plastic of some sort, and on closer inspection she realized that it was a white powder.

She got a flash of a number of things in her mind at the sight of it. She felt heat, like the room was ten times smaller and much more stuffier. She saw herself standing over a counter of some sort, leaning over with a small rolled up piece of paper in her hand. She stick one end of it into her nose and inhaled sharply.

D was dropped back into the present, looking down at the item in her hands. They were shaking now, a sort of craving cropping up. She quickly tucked the powder back in the bottom of her bag, shaking her head.

Calm down...a voice in her head warned, one thing at a time. First, I should get a good inspection of myself before I do anything. My face hurts like a bitch, but it is nothing compared to my side.

I have some fresh clothes...D thought to herself, looking back into the bag, pulling out a clean pair of pants and shirt. Slowly, she pushed herself up to a stand. Well, as much as a stand she could handle, seeing as her side only allowed her to straighten out her back so far.

Carefully, she walked towards the door of the bedroom and opened it up to a thin hallway. From what she could tell from the lighting, it appeared to be light out once again. She stumbled down the hallway, glancing into open rooms for any sign of a washroom or Franklin. She gingerly opened one of the closed doors, feeling some relief at the sight of a bathroom. Closing the door behind herself, she approached the sink, placing her clothes down on the counter and glanced up into the mirror.

A small yelp escaped her at the sight of her face, covered in grime, dirt, and dried blood. There was a large bruise covering the right side of her face, spanning from above her eyebrow to just above her jawline in a circular shape. There was a cut above her left eyebrow just before where the bruise began, where most of the blood was located.

"Fuck me..." she muttered, turning her head slowly from left to right to get a better look. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, and even with the pain, she felt like she wanted to jump up and down on the spot. Anxiety was starting to get a hard grip at her mind, her hands shaking as she started to look around the bathroom.

"Alright, j-just got to clean my face off. I mean, it looks not too bad, just a fucking huge bruise..." D muttered to herself as she pulled open a cupboard and found some cloths. She grinned softly, turning on the tap and stuck it under the running water. She started to scrub at her face, ignoring the pain that the action was giving her.

After a few minutes of doing so, her skin red from the friction, she scrubbed away at the cut above her eyebrow, hissing in pain as the dried blood was replaced with fresh when she opened up the scab once again.

"Crap," she muttered, looking around herself until she grabbed a wad of toilet paper and pressed it against her bleeding cut.

There has to be a first aid kit around here somewhere...

She cursed to herself at not finding anything, so she decided to carefully pull on her clean shirt and pants and try and find a kit somewhere around the house. She looked down at the dirty wash cloth, frowning at just how dirty her face was. She'd have to apologize to Franklin, but she didn't want to have to wash her face again of blood.

D made her way upstairs to the main part of the house, pausing at the sight of the city skyline for a few moments before she shook her head and wondered towards where she heard Franklin talking. He was standing by the kitchen area, phone pressed to his ear. D stopped a few feet behind him, catching the end of his conversation.

"I know we supposed to be layin' low, dog, but she threw herself in front of my car last night. She won't let me take her to a hospital, and I was thinking that you are older than her, maybe you could pull some fatherly thing and get her to go."

He paused, listening to the reply at the other end. D hung back a little bit, feeling awkward that she had just walked into a conversation about herself that Franklin was having with somebody else.

"Alright. Thanks, Mike."

Franklin hung up his phone, turning around and D gave him a quick smile.

"Hey, s-sorry for eavesdropping," she said, "I was looking for a bandage or something, I reopened my cut when I was washing my face."

"Should have said something," Franklin said, "there's a first aid kit in the kitchen. How are you feeling?"

"Groggy, confused..." D muttered, opening up the small green case Franklin passed over to her, "in a hell of a lot of pain, but I'm alright. Say, did I happen to have a backpack with me last night?"

"Yeah, you find something in there that helped you remember something?"

D shook her head stiffly, pulling out a bandage, "just some clothes."

She stuck the bandage over her cut, sealing it on her forehead as she glanced at Franklin as he leaned against the counter slightly.

"Look, I have a friend heading over here to look at you. It's a good sign that you are able to walk around and all, but whatever you ran into messed you up pretty bad," Franklin said, "you should get yourself checked out."

"I don't need a hospital, man," D said, closing up the first aid kit, "my face is obviously bruised up, and my cut isn't deep, and my side...it's bruised, but I don't think there isn't anything else aside from a cracked rib or something."

"Yeah, or something," Franklin mocked her, crossing his arms, "just let Mike get a look at you."

"Fine," D said, "I have no familiar people in my life, aside from you, which is only because we met last night, so I figure one more stranger couldn't hurt."

"I know things must be pretty fucked up on your end, but you need to calm yourself," Franklin said, "I ain't kicking you out until you are ready to go. I'm not going to force you to go to the hospital while you are still able to tell me that you don't want to go."

"Thanks," D said, looking at him gratefully, "once I am able to sit up without getting winded, I'll leave."

D was chewing on her nail, bouncing her leg up and down quickly. There was something eating away at her, and she was sure that it was something to do with what she found in her bag that morning. She didn't bother to go back downstairs, she was that worked up about it. There was a part of her that wanted to take it, sure, but the reason it was giving her such grief was that she had a feeling that she shouldn't have it. D wanted nothing more than to toss it into Franklin's pool, or bury it out somewhere far away.

"Yo, D," Franklin's voice startled the young woman, who turned to look at him with wide eyes. "You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," D said quickly, rubbing the back of her neck, "I just...I'm going to go take a shower, you know, before your friend shows up."

"Yeah, go ahead, there should be some fresh towels down there."

"Thanks."

D stood, placing a hand on her forehead. She was sweating, wanting to snap at the man letting her stay in his home. It didn't help that her body felt like punishing her with every little movement she took. She wondered back downstairs, not bothering to even look into the room she was staying in. Franklin watched her go for a few moments, a frown on his face.

What is my name? D thought to herself as she entered the washroom, My name is...D. No, it's...D.

Ah, fuck it.

She turned on the shower, stripping down and stepped into the hot water. She winced slightly, not liking being upright as she stuck her head under the water and closed her eyes.

My name is...D. D...Da...

Dane? No. Danielle?...No.

Dak...Dakota?

A smile crossed her face, nodding her head. Yes, that sounded good. Familiar. Dakota.

Dakota what? Who needed last names these days...

She opened her eyes, pulling her head out of the spray. A frown crossed her face as she turned around, looking down at her side. An ugly bruise covered most of her right side, purple in colour with touches of yellow around the edges. The bruise on her face was the same colour, though she was more willing to put up with it. She had to, there was no covering that up.

What did I do to get these? Fall off a cliff?

"This is frustrating..." she muttered to herself, turning off the shower and stepped out. There was still the anxious feeling at the back of her mind, making her a little jumpy and snippy. Dakota wrapped a towel around herself, looking herself over in the mirror. Her brown hair was a little unruly, coming down to just below her chin, her eyes a little lighter shade of brown. Though, she was more focused on the bruises again.

She shook her head.

"I don't need a damn hospital," she muttered to herself, "if he wants me to leave, he should just kick me out."

Pulling on some fresh clothing, she left the bathroom and headed upstairs to meet with Franklin's friend.