Hello my lovelies! Okay, so one of my readers and someone who is quickly becoming a good friend, keeperofwords, had the thought for this wonderful story pop up in her mind and asked me to work with her on it. I am very excited and honored to be apart of it, and I'm already totally and completely in love with this story line.

Because of work and school and other stories and all that jazz, we've agreed that this will mostly be worked on only on weekends, and updates between chapters may sometimes be a bit slow.

However, the first two chapters were finished last night and will be posted up front.

We really hope you like it and tell us what you think!

Without further hesitation, we present to you, Fragile Reunion.

Love always, keeperofwords and hayleynymphadora

Chapter 1:

"I'm sorry child, but the Library is closing for the night," the elderly librarian told the young girl who was sat on the floor, in front of the stacks of the section on American Theatre and Dance. The librarian knew the girl had come here every afternoon till closing for a week now. Every day, she stayed till closing. The little girl had always been alone. Her clothes were dirty and she showed up on a daily basis in the same thing. It was cold. It had started to snow and the older woman hated to send her away in the frosty weather.

"What?" the girl looked up with sad, tired brown eyes. "I'm sorry. I was just looking at this big picture book on Rogers and Hammerstein. I am going to be on Broadway one day," the young girl said confidently.

"Well that is a pretty big dream for such a little girl but if you keep that air of confidence, you no doubt will succeed," the Librarian talked to the little girl as the young brunette closed the book and put it back on the shelf.

"Do you go to the School of Performing Arts?" the librarian asked, trying to befriend the girl. The older woman had a feeling that something was not quite right. But she was hesitant to call the police. She had a feeling this little girl would run. No, the head librarian knew that she needed to handle this gently.

"Where is that? I am not sure my parents would take me some place out of town? They are real busy and all. They have been dropping me off here while they are in meetings," the young girl lied easily. It had become a necessity. She had to stay one step ahead of those that would drag her back into the Foster Care System-particularly Reverend Andrews.

"It's just two blocks down from here, dear. The owners used to be on Broadway. I am surprised you have not heard at least of the women. Both are quite the celebrities. It was big news when they moved back here from New York and converted one of the old money mansions uptown that had been abandoned since the economy tanked in Lima a few years back." the librarian talked to the young girl. The older woman looked outside, it was steadily snowing now. She wanted to get home.

"I don't watch the news, just cartoons," the child lied again. The only television she remembered seeing was in school or when she was passing a store window. The girl put on her coat. Like it or not, she guessed she needed to go. She was not sure where she would end up tonight. She had not had a night in snow before. She had snuck in the back of the Baptist Church last night during Wednesday night services. But it was Thursday and the church was locked with no cars in the parking lot.

"Honey, I need to close now. I don't want to leave you outside in the cold snow in the dark. Can I call your parents on my cell phone?" the woman tried to gather some more information about the little girl's situation without being obvious. The librarian noticed however she had not been subtle. The young girl's posture stiffened and she started to back away from the kind older woman. The girl's brown eyes held an expression of fear.

"That's alright. They told me to meet them on the corner behind the library. I've got to go now," the young girl zipped up her red coat and rushed out the front door before taking off in a run. She ignored the librarian's plea to wait. The girl was not sure she should come back here. At least for a few days.

It was cold and she did not have any gloves or boots. She pulled up the hood on her coat and stuffed her hands in her pockets. She walked first one block and then two. In the back of her mind she remembered the librarian's words of the School of Performing Arts. She found herself looking around curiously at the old mansions. Some were still houses but most were businesses. It was then that she saw it. It was a grand old white house with tall white columns in the front. It reminded the girl of something she might see in one of those fancy neighborhoods where rich people had butlers, fancy cars, and big pools in the backyard.

In the front yard there was a wooden sign with a light from the ground shining up on it like a spotlight. It said Lima School of Performing Arts.

There was a microphone on one side of the sign and ballet shoes on the other. Inside the building the lights were still on. There were cars still on the street parked in front of the building. The young girl could hear music playing, and voices singing.

Maybe a door is open and I can sneak in here for a while, the young girl thought to herself. She looked around to make sure nobody was around to notice her then stepped into the grass and walked around the side of the old home-turned-studio. In the darkness, the girl looked for a side door, or porch to take a little shelter from the elements, or even a window she could slide open.

She sneezed.

I'm tired, she thought to herself. I've got to find somewhere to sleep.

Her brown eyes were drawn to the big floor to the ceiling window beside her, behind what was probably a beautiful rose bush in the summer months.

A beautiful brunette woman sat behind a grand piano while another woman danced to the side of her with a bunch of what looked like teenagers. It was so fascinating, the girl did not want to leave the window.

Yes, this is where I want to crash tonight, then tomorrow I've got to find some food, the young girl thought.

The girl forced herself to step away from the window and moved around the side of the house and to the back. There were two cars parked behind. There was also a back porch with a light on. Tentatively, the young girl stepped on the porch and eased her hand to the door handle.

Swallowing, she took a deep breath, turned the knob, and pushed. The door gave way and the young girl found herself standing in a kitchen. She thought it must be Christmas. On the table sat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that someone had taken one bite out of, an apple and a bottle of water. She stuffed the sandwich in her mouth, pushed the apple into her coat pocket and grasped the water bottle.

Hide, I have to hide, the girl thought to herself. Creeping carefully, she tried to decide just where. Kitchen cabinet? Pantry? Closet? Where should I go?

The sounds of footsteps made that decision for her. The girl rushed up a dark, narrow set of steps. She stumbled in what she soon figured was an attic. She held her breath as she heard a voice.

"Wow, hungry much? God, Shelby, if you were so starving I would've made you your own sandwich…"

The girl held her breath as the female voice grumbled and made another sandwich. The person turned off the kitchen light then walked away. Only when the music ended did the young girl pull the apple out of her pocket and take a bite. Below her she heard two women talking; their voices were soft and soothing. She took off her coat and made it into a pillow as she listened to the lilt of their voices and sometimes laughter. Safe and warm for the night, she fell asleep.