A/N: Sorry for the wait! I hope you guys like it!

R&R because it's the super cool thing to do :))))))

Thanks!

* J *

I could see it was dark through the shades as I woke up on the couch, quickly realizing that I was still in the house. All the lights were off, and the back door was closed, but it was night time already and as I sat up, completely untied and the electronics still in place, I figured the person who attacked me had taken whatever he was looking for in Ryan's room and left.

I rubbed the side of my head where it was slammed into the door, and in the dim light over the stove in the kitchen, I could see blood on my fingers as I pulled my fingers back. I stood carefully, making sure I wouldn't pass out or anything, and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a paper towel from the roll by the sink and wetting the corner under the faucet before I held it to the side of my head, hissing a little in pain when it touched it, and I mumbled a sarcastic, "Ouch."

I leaned against the counter and sighed, noticing that my Ipod wasn't on the Ihome anymore, before I saw something, or someone rather, move out of the corner of my eye.

I jumped, my eyes shooting over to the person sitting at the tiny dining room table hidden in the shadows the small light above the stove was making darker.

I could see his eyes, dark blue and intense as they stared holes into mine, and I could feel the tears stinging my eyes as I asked through a choked cry, "So are you going to kill me?" I saw him shake his head "No", and I sniffled my emotions back as I held in a sob the best I could and asked, "You're not going to…" looking down at myself nervously in my tiny red shorts and black tank top, before looking back up at him.

He obviously understood what I meant, and was shaking his head "No" furiously, and I sighed a little. I still wasn't taking any chances as I continued the staring match, but I couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved that this guy wasn't here for rape and murder, or at least wasn't going to tell me he was, and I wiped my eyes as I said, "Why are you here? Do you need help or something?" but I really didn't expect him to answer.

His deep blue eyes were searching mine, as if he was judging whether to trust me or not, and I could feel curiosity getting the better of me as he slowly nodded in agreement. I was trying to stay rational in this situation, but my attitude got the better of me as I tossed the bloody paper towel in the trashcan and opened the fridge, grabbing a cold can and holding it to my head as I said, "You can talk right, because that might be a deal breaker."

I sat on the counter, the can against my temple with my head down, and again, I wasn't expecting an answer from him, so I added, "Ill help you, but you're gonna have to say something."

He was quiet for a moment, letting the tension hang in the air for a minute, before I finally heard him, his voice low and smooth as he murmured, "I'm sorry I did that to you."

I was more than surprised, and as I turned my head to where he sat at the table, I could see him standing as I mumbled just loud enough, "It's alright, I guess."

He started to walk out of the shadows, coming into the dim light as he stopped in front of me on the kitchen counter, one of my brother's spare hoodies fitting his muscular arm tightly as he held it out to me, my Ipod in his right hand. "Th-Thank You," I managed to stammer as I slipped off of the counter to my feet, staring up at his dark blue eyes, being only 5'3" in my socks.

He was tall, probably just around six foot, his messy dark brown hair falling just to his shoulders, and if he wasn't the guy who just broke into my brother's house and stole his hoodie, (before knocking me out with...wait do I remember a metal hand or something?) I would say he was probably the best looking guy I'd seen in a looooong time, so with my free (shaking) hand, I took my Ipod from his hand, letting my skin brush against his. I smiled as I inspected my Ipod, seeing it exactly how I left it, and I looked back up to his eyes as I asked, "You need a place to hide, I'm guessing?" His dark blue orbs were nervously searching my face as I smiled up at him, laughing a little as I said, "I guess that's a Yes. I'm won't ask, trust me, I get it. I can order a pizza if you're hungry, because I only have sodas and snacks."

He stayed silent, and I shrugged a little as I took a step back from him, not realizing how close we'd been until now, and pulled my purse to me to dig around for my phone. Once I found it, I leaned over the counter on my elbows as I googled the closest pizza place, and as I scrolled through the menu, I brushed my hair over my shoulder to look over at him as I said, "Since I'm letting you stay, you should tell me your name. Mine's Caroline."

He stared blankly at me, and I sighed a little in defeat as I gave up, but a minute later, he mumbled, "James..."

I smirked, standing up straight as I turned to him with my phone ready to call in the pizza order and asked with a smile, "Well James, what kind of pizza do you like?" He shrugged a little, his eyes going to the floor, and I laughed a little as I dialed the number and held it to my ear as I said, "I'll just get cheese and pepperoni."

He stared at me the entire time I was on the phone, and I tried to ignore it as I hung up, picking up my Ipod and scrolling through the playlists before I stuck it back on the Ihome.

I kept the volume low as Billie Holliday's Crazy He Calls Me started to play through softly the speakers, and when I turned to face James and ask him if he wanted a soda or something, I noticed the look in his eyes, and written all over his face.

It was like he was lost in his head, and I raised an eyebrow up at him as I tried to piece together why the guy (who broke into my house, stole a hoodie, gave me a slight concussion and then accepted my help like I wasn't his hostage) was staring straight ahead blankly.

But my curiosity was short lived, for now, because a second later, he dropped to his knees on the cold tile floor of the kitchen, gripping his head in pain.

I practically ripped my Ipod out of the Ihome to stop the music, and dropped to the floor to help him. I put a hand on his shoulder, feeling his entire body tremble as he grit his teeth and yelled in pain. My instincts kicked in, and I touched him lightly to make sure he wasn't physically hurt, forgetting for a moment that he could probably kill me with that metal thing. My arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a hug, his head burying itself in the hair covering my neck on its own as I said super softly, "You're okay. You're gonna be okay, James. We're in this together, right?"

My hand brushed his tangled hair back a few times, and I could feel him relax a tiny bit in my grasp and I sighed heavily, hoping he might do the same.

I realized quickly that he was passing out, so before I was left with an unconscious ( and incredibly muscular and surprisingly heavy ) man in my lap, I said quietly, "Come on baby, you gotta stand up for me, so I can get you to the couch. You're too heavy for me to carry."

Unexpectedly, he worked with me, leaning into even more as I managed to get him to his feet. As I held him up, putting his big arms over my shoulders so he wouldn't fall over, his stomach rumbled loudly and I laughed a little as I asked, "When was the last time you ate something?"

Somehow, I got him to the couch on wobbly knees and shaky legs, and I raised an eyebrow at his strange combat boots and kevlar-like pants as I laid him out and put a pillow under his head. I knelt beside him, and with one hand, pushed the long brown hair out of his eyes.

"What happened to you, James?" I thought aloud, and as he started to murmur in some strange language, I shushed him, putting a hand on his arm to get him to calm down.

It worked, and in a few seconds, he was out like a light.

I leaned my back up against the couch, being careful I didn't wake him as I let my head roll back and rest against his arm behind me, and drew circles in the carpet beneath me as I waited for the pizza guy.

I didn't want to turn the TV on, just in case. I couldn't say for sure, but I was almost certain that the music was what caused James's mini meltdown.

I hadn't seen someone react to music like that since my first job, when I was fifteen and I started working at the nursing home with my seventh foster mom, Shireen.
She put on a record from the thirties one time, and this old man must've recognised the song as it started to play. He had one of the worst seizures I'd even seen.
Why would James react like that? And to a song from the forties?

I was thrown back into reality a few minutes later by the ring of the doorbell.

Pizza. Finally.