Disclaimer: Nothing that you recognize is mine and I make no money from this.

Author's Note: Hi. I haven't written fanfiction in over a decade, though I've continued to lurk and read. I was re-reading every single Happy story on this site and ran across one that abruptly inspired this random plot bunny that absolutely refused to die. I figured I'd start writing and get bored and never finish, as usual. Well, I did get bored, but I also finished it. Complete in 9 chapters, though it may not feel "complete" to many of you. It was all the idea I had, sorry.

Have to mention the story that inspired this: A Happy Kind of Love by Daisiedotts. I don't want to spoil either story, but if you've read it, you'll see where my idea came from. When reading that one, I immediately thought, "but what if..." This is written with no intention of stealing ideas, so thank you to Daisiedotts for the inspiration and I hope you don't think I stole your idea.

Anyways, here is chapter one. Enjoy!

Chapter 1.

Dear Mr. Lowman,

We didn't get a chance to actually talk, but my name is Isabel Sanchez. I wanted to thank you for what you did for me. I'm so sorry that it came at such a personal cost. I can't believe after everything that happened, you would be the one to lose everything.

I'll never be able to repay you. I hope this letter can convey at least some of my gratitude. You didn't have to intervene or put yourself at risk, but you did. I don't know what possessed you to take on such a dangerous situation by yourself, but I count my lucky stars every day that you did.

I hope it's okay that I've sent this. Your friend said you weren't much of a talker, so I don't expect you to write back. I just couldn't let another day go by without personally thanking you, as best I could in the circumstances at least. Hopefully, I'll be able to thank you face to face one day. Not sure what I could ever do to make it up to you, but if there's ever anything, please don't hesitate to ask. I can at least buy you a beer or two for your trouble.

Wishing you a quick and quiet four months.

Sincerely,

Isabel

Humming along to the 90's song playing softly over the speakers, Isabel rummaged around the storeroom for the new box of chips that had been delivered earlier in the week. Opening the fifth unlabeled box she found, she let out an exclamation of triumph as she found the snacks she was looking for and headed back out into the public area of the convenience store. This late into the night, she was expected to get the shelves stocked while the traffic was minimal. After midnight, it was mostly truck drivers and the occasional person on a beer run. It left her plenty of time to empty a few boxes of stock and then turn on Netflix to kill some time.

She barreled her way through the swinging door into the main area, halting momentarily as the loud voices of three men met her ears. She could see them by the beer cooler, likely here to get extra supplies for whatever party they had been at. Just looking at them told her they probably didn't need to consume anymore alcohol for the night.

Keeping her eyes lowered, Isabel made her way down the aisle closest to her to start unloading her new supply of chips onto the shelves. The large box hitting the floor seemed to gain the attention of the customers as they looked up at her, immediately losing interest in their pursuit of beverages.

After a brief conversation, they seemed to agree on something and began making their way towards her. Isabel realized she had become the main attraction and took a deep breath to steel herself. This wasn't the first time she'd had to deal with drunk patrons in an empty store, and it probably wouldn't be the last. It was best to treat them politely, ignore their comments, and get them out as quickly as possible.

"Evening, gentlemen. How's your night going?" she asked, a small smile plastered on her face. She really didn't make enough money to deal with the shit she experienced on the late-night shift, but the bills wouldn't pay themselves.

A young man with shaggy brown hair approached her from the front, a feral grin stretched across his face. "Well, sweetheart, I think it just got a lot better."

Isabel was acutely aware that the other two had moved to subtly cut off her escape down either end of the aisle. She raised her chin and took a breath, replying, "I think you fellas should just grab the beers you came in for and head back to your party."

"Nah, seems like we could have quite a party here ourselves. What do ya say?" His two friends nodded in agreement, the small, wiry man bouncing on the balls of his feet with uncontained energy. Isabel wondered offhandedly if he was buzzed on more than just drinks. The sweet-talker took a step forward, the alcohol on his breath heavy. "How about the four of us head back to that stockroom for some fun?"

"I'm working," she replied, trying to sound stern, but her nerves tainted the words. "I need to get back to the counter." Back to her phone and the shotgun she knew was hidden under the month-old newspaper near the register. She wouldn't really know what to do with the thing but imagined it would be enough to scare them off.

Isabel took a step towards the front of the store, towards the safety of the desk, but was stopped as the young guy completely invaded her space. "There's nobody else here, baby. You don't need to do anything except show us a good time."

"You need to leave."

The blond assailant narrowed his eyes at her tone. "You're not being very nice to your customers," he slurred, his gaze glassy. "Don't make us file a complaint."

"Look, someone is bound to come in soon and will call the cops." She tried to reason with them but knew her attempts were likely fruitless. "C'mon, you guys don't want that kind of trouble."

The man in front of her grabbed her arm, effectively pinning her in place with her back to the beverage fridge behind her. "Nobody is coming in at this hour," he replied firmly. "Time to do as you're told unless you want this to go wrong for you."

She swallowed, knowing her options were limited unless somebody came through that door.

As if the universe could feel her distress, the loud rumble of a motorcycle filtered into the store as the vehicle came to a stop at a pump.

Isabel prayed to whoever was listening that the person on the bike needed a pack of smokes.

The group of frat boys didn't seem to be coherent enough to hear the noise, or at least not to understand the implication. As they continued to antagonize her, she focused on the new arrival.

Caught between the joy of rescue and the guilt of having another person enter this dangerous situation with her, Isabel couldn't decide which outcome to hope for.

She didn't have to weigh her options long as the quiet creak of the door floated through the air followed by heavy footsteps.

All she could do was wait and hope it was him.