Author's Note: I solemnly swear to never follow the crowd and instead do my own thing as long as I write for this fandom. That being said, I'm sticking with doing romance for that other droogie, Pete. Consider Chapter 21 inspiration for a different sort of love from this fan. ;)

P.S.: This story is the sixth in line of my ACO fic series, and takes place after 'Don't', 'Sweet Moloko', 'Voices of Korova' (rated M), 'Surprise Visit', and 'Nachinat'. Go take a peek to get caught up if you haven't yet, and then come give this a read. Oh, yes…and this upcoming character is NOT a Mary Sue, she is one-half of one of the very few canon pairings in the full-length novel version of this creation. Even though she doesn't show up until the very end, she still caught my attention, so… (takes deep breath) Here she is, Bog help me, I can write no other. Thank you and goodnight.

Georgina

It was a day like so many before it, and a day I would remember for the rest of my life.

"Well, well, what have we here? A night watchman caught with his back turned?"

It was a routine visit to three friends, and an unexpected encounter with someone who would one day be so much more than that.

"Maybe it is and maybe it isn't. Just how long have you been standing there, Georgina?"

Back then, I'd smiled and giggled as Matthew got his first taste of my annual Christmas shortbread, delivered to our friend Greg's house straight out of my flat's minuscule oven.

"Long enough to catch you unawares, obviously."

Little did I know that I'd end up doing a lot more than just chatting and snacking on desserts.

"It's a bit quiet down here today…where are the others? Didn't they remember I was coming?"

There was an odd look in Matthew's eyes as he finished his bit of shortbread in time to answer me.

"Maybe they would have, if we hadn't received that odd distraction last night."

"Distraction?"

"A surprise guest. Greg's upstairs tending to him, and John, too."

"Tending? Does that mean our new guest is hurt?"

The expression on his face was grave; yet he made no hurry to leave the kitchen.

"Hurt enough, but I wouldn't worry about it. It's probably just a passing thing—"

He seemed content to stay behind, but I couldn't feel the same way even if I tried. I had walked out of the room and started up the stairs long before he could finish his sentence, and by the time he caught up with me, I had pushed open the door to the white room so that I could see this unexpected 'distraction' for myself.

"Gigi!"

Whatever Greg and John had been up to before, they stopped it long enough to welcome me inside.

"Our apologies, we didn't expect you for another hour…is everything all right?"

"It's fine, I just decided to deliver your wreath a bit early, that's all," I answered the good Doctor. "I see you decided to take your work home with you…"

I peered around both men on purpose, and what I saw—or rather, who—both shocked and interested me. There on the pretend hospital bed was a thin, pale young person with golden-brown hair and eyes that were so dark grey, they seemed almost black. He also seemed as though he'd been in the fight of his life, for his lower lip was cracked and stained with dried blood, and there was a puffy, swollen spot where his right eye would normally have been. I didn't feel disgusted or afraid of him in the slightest, though, because to me he looked like how an angel might after a long battle with the forces of evil. No image ever existed of such a fight's aftermath, of course, yet I found myself imagining such things anyways, along with a few other things I wouldn't dare mention out loud.

"More like he followed us home," John joked, taking a seat beside the bed. "Oh, mummy, mummy, can we keep him? Please, please, please?"

"Keep him?" Matthew protested, finally joining us. "We can't keep a person locked up here, it wouldn't be decent. And anyways, John, I notice you haven't bothered to ask him where his parents are, or you either, Greg, for that matter! What if they're missing him this very moment, and calling the policemen as we speak? Do you really want us to get accused of kidnapping?"

"My mum couldn't call anybody even if she wanted to," a weak, scratchy voice interrupted us. "She can't hear or speak to save her life. She'd have to use a text machine to get someone's attention, and hope they got her messages in time. She was born deaf, just like my dad."

The gray-eyed angel had spoken up at last, and I felt an odd shiver travel up my spine as I listened to his words.

"I see," I began, hoping he didn't hear that shiver reach my voice. "And did she give you a text machine of your own to get in touch with her?"

His eyes met mine right then and there, and for a moment I could have sworn he knew everything I'd been thinking about just by looking at me.

"Left pocket, trousers, over there on the table."

I'd glanced at the table just in time to hear a slight buzzing coming from the pocket he'd indicated. Once I'd pulled it out to take a look for myself, I noticed small captions on the screen such as, 'Where are you?', 'Are you OK?' and '5 min to answer, then I go down to the station'. Whoever this person was that owned this machine, he had been out of touch with his mother for quite a while.

"Let me see it."

I returned it without a single protest, and watched him frown slightly as he, too, read the messages that had been left behind.

"Twelve hours…she'll have worried herself to death by now. She's probably at the police station right now, asking them to help her find out where I went."

"Well, let's just text her back and set things straight," I offered, reaching down to borrow his little black square machine. "We'll just explain what happened and then—"

"—No."

Frowning, he pulled the text device out of my reach.

"No, we can't just explain what I was up to. She's never had any idea what I've been doing, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Oh, really? What have you been doing, and why can't she—"

"—I don't want to talk about it."

"Look, now, whoever you are, your mother's clearly very—"

"—I said, I don't want to talk about it!"

That beaten angel looked angry then, so very angry that I retreated a few steps with both hands raised.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry! You want your mum to worry her heart out, you go right ahead. Forget I ever spoke up!"

His anger switched over to the look of a person who'd just been slapped in the face, and with it, I could have almost sworn I'd seen a few tears leave his eyes.

"I already worried her enough," he whispered, turning his attention to the floor. "All these years, too many years…"

Confused, I looked from the stranger to Matthew, Matthew to John, and finally John to Greg, who answered me with a quiet shake of his head.

"There must have been a fight," he told me, leaving his place by the door to move closer to where I stood. "A bad one, to be sure. That was how we found him the moment he walked into this house."

"So he showed up at the doorway?"

"At a little more than twelve hours ago, yes, he did."

"And…and he had those clothes on at the time?"

"Mostly white, but with a black hat and a pair of black boots."

Greg's face remained calm, but I noticed a small twitch from Matthew and a few mumbled words from John that I couldn't make out.

"All right, so…so what happened then? Did he say anything?"

"He seemed a little preoccupied with getting a drink of water," John answered, cracking a smile. "The good Doctor was all too happy to indulge him."

"And then?"

"A little bit of first-aid, but nothing too serious," said Greg. "At least, it didn't seem that way last night. Right now, things just got a little bit complicated."

"Why? Why did it just get complicated? What's going on?"

He went silent for about a minute or so, probably taking some time to pick his words carefully so that I wouldn't feel confused over what he had to say. I'd never been one to know all the deep, technical doctor's jargon, so it made sense to me that he might have to break his explanation down into more understandable terms.

"Issues," he said at last, clasping his hands behind his back. "Our new friend might have some, ah…mental issues to work out first, and I also suspect a few physical ones on the side. We're going to need somewhere to figure these issues out, and let him rest in the meantime."

He glanced towards the door and frowned.

"It's the hospital we'll need."

"No."

I could see right away that his latest patient didn't share his viewpoint. The frightened look in his eyes told me much more than words ever could.

"No, we don't need no hospitals, the white room's just fine. It's warmer in here, and comfortable, too. Why go out into the cold when we can just stay in the white room?"

"The white room only has the basics for you," Greg countered. "We could watch your pulse and treat you for the common cold, but no more than that. Do you really want to leave yourself in that position, when the hospital could do so much more?"

He didn't want to, but he made himself nod in agreement anyways. Whatever his issues, they would have to be taken care of under the watch of strangers instead of a few new acquaintances. I could still understand his personal wishes, though, because this room looked and felt as safe to me as it must have looked to him. We would need to come back here as soon as he got released, of course, if only to sit down as friends and talk a while.

"All right, then. There's a few spare things in the closet over there. They're a bit old, but at least wearing them will keep anyone from asking a load of questions."

"All right."

A small flurry of activity, and then that gray-eyed angel had been sent to a corner so that he could put on a red flannel shirt and a faded pair of denims. I respectfully lowered my eyes until he'd dressed himself, but not before seeing the same bruises on his face copied onto his neck, arms, and legs also. They were large, purple spots against his pale skin, and the sight of them made me feel sick to my stomach. Who on earth would be cruel enough to leave someone like him battered, bruised, and in need of a hospital? What did they think he could have done to deserve such horrible treatment? Had they been content to let him go the way he was, or would they come back to put him through some more pain later?

On the other hand…why would he set himself up to be hurt as badly as he had been? What sort of person would go out every night dressed like that, especially in the snow? What was it about this stranger that made Matthew so nervous, John so secretive, and himself so unwilling to answer my questions? What did my friends know about him that they could not share openly with me?

"Time to go, I think."

The others had put on their coats in the meantime, and John found a spare woolen jacket and an old pair of shoes to help our new friend bundle up as well. I would have to do the same if I wanted to follow them, which of course I did. The problem was, I wanted to stay here and get all my questions answered just as much.

"We should tell his mum just where it is we're off to," I insisted. "She'll have his face all over Missing Persons if we don't."

"It's taken care of," our patient rasped. "I don't know if she'll get the message in time, but at least I sent it."

"That's…that's good, then. Really good. I hope she feels better knowing you're all right."

I attempted a smile for his sake, and felt a little less nervous when I noticed him try to smile back. When I reached down to touch his hand, however, he jerked it away as though I'd tried to burn him.

"Don't," he snapped, suddenly defensive. "I don't want to start any trouble in front of your boyfriend."

My face stung as though I'd just been slapped, and I felt my jaw clench. I had spent barely five minutes with this new boy, and already he wanted to write me off as someone else's property. As if that could be my only reason for showing up at Greg's house! As if that could be my only purpose in speaking to Greg, never mind the people he hung out with!

I wouldn't go down that easily, though, especially not in front of him. He had a lot to learn about me, and today was the best time to start.

"That's very thoughtful, but he's not my boyfriend," I said firmly, matching his glare with one of my own.

"Do you have anything against being comforted, or would you rather get such treatment from a man instead of a woman?"

He had no more choice words for me after that, for all he could do at that point was blush and turn away, shaking his head. I took that as a sign that he wasn't entirely repulsed by my presence, and so tried touching his hand again. This time, he didn't flinch or pull away, but rather squeezed my fingers in silent apology. With his bruises and sadness fresh in my mind, I didn't hesitate to squeeze back.

"Well, there we are, then," Greg chuckled, glancing knowingly between us. "I trust you'll have no problems sitting in the back seat?"

"Not at all," I answered, feeling myself blush for once. It was odd how I'd gone from telling this stranger off to letting him hold my hand, and yet some part of me had no second thoughts or remorse over what I was doing. There had been no threatening looks from him when I'd first entered that white room, and neither had he made any move to hurt me, not even now when we walked side by side to Greg's car. I considered that a good sign for someone I'd barely just met. Perhaps if I remained as patient as I felt now, we could continue to bond in this manner, and so return to that white room as I'd imagined us to do.

"I'll keep an eye on them just to be safe," John joked, opening the door and then stepping aside to let us slide in first. "Two eyes, even. You can't be too careful with young people these days, can you?"

At the same time, I knew that I wasn't being careful where this stranger was concerned. I had ran upstairs to see him as soon as I knew he was there, I had refused to listen to Matthew's veiled warning, and to top it off, I'd been so bold as to touch his hand without hearing his name, let alone his story of just how he'd come to Greg's house in the first place. I could have easily gotten myself hurt at this stranger's hands if I had been alone, or for that matter, without any wreaths or shortbread to distract him first.

For all I knew, first and foremost, I could have just held hands with someone on the top of the Most Wanted list. I knew also that I should have been scared to death of this person, and so kept my distance until my friends and I truly knew him better. I knew that I should have felt lucky that my three friends had been there to help keep our situation under control, and so make sure that no harm would come to me, let alone to themselves. And last but not least, I knew that whatever he had been up to before that had earned him those bruises, he could have easily done just that to someone else, especially me.

Yes, I knew all those things and more, but I felt none of them in my heart. Instead, I could only feel that hospital or no hospital, I wanted to do whatever I could to make those bruises go away.