A/N: Hum, not much to say. More of what happens to Matt's wittle baby girl, some strange homeless man with a stick, and a kind stranger.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Three:
The Lost Kitten

Buildings flashed by her blurred line of vision as she pelted across the wet pavement, sneakers slapping obnoxiously beneath her. Stubbornly, she wouldn't let those threatening tears fall, nor would she allow any coherent thoughts form. Perhaps if she ran fast enough that image wouldn't catch up with her, if she just kept on running maybe all the problems with Mommy and Daddy would just go away. But even she knew it wasn't so.

Ignoring the burning stitch that had begun to gnaw at her sides, she ran as hard as she ever had in her life, and as she did it indeed had a calming effect. When all you had to think about was the ache in your muscles, the strain of breathing, and pushing yourself to go even further one had no time to think about anything.

And so, for the seven year old Ishida, she was able to avoid her problems. Until her sneaker got caught in a crack in the sidewalk and sent her tumbling down. Sopping wet hair dripped into those alarmingly perceptive blue eyes of hers, eyes that where swirling in a maelstrom as she tried to fight away her emotions. Thankfully it was pain again that saved her from herself.

Roughly Tyler landed upon her knees first, then braced herself with her hands. She could hear the fabric ripping as the cement ground into her skin on her knees and palms, small droplets of blood being quickly washed away by the downpour. Sniffling, she pulled herself out of the way and hid just inside the entrance of an alley, huddled up within herself and rocking. Her hands stung, her knees ached, but she defiantly refused to cry. The suspicions she held about the trouble between Mum and Dad had been brought to Technicolor life right before her eyes as her Father stood so threateningly over Mommy, but she wouldn't let the tears fall. Her mother, her hero, lay sobbing upon the floor like a broken doll tossed aside; pathetic and alone, and she couldn't let herself give in.

Father said crying was weak, and you could call her many things but she was not weak. Anything to impress Daddy . . . if only he'd notice her. Well, they'd certainly notice her now, wouldn't they? She thought bitterly as she wiped away the forming snot in her nose. They'd really regret it if something bad happened. Tyler brought comfort out of this thought, but of course there was that pesky little voice that always had to burst her bubble. Who are you tryin' ta kid, kid? They don't notice ya when yer there, why should they notice ya when yer gone?

Tyler buried her face deeper into her knees, but oh no, Tyler Taira Ishida would not cry. Not here, not now, not ever. And then one small drop dripped from the corner of her eye and made a lonely track down her cheek. But of course, it was only the rain. It was just her in her tiny little hole, and it was dark. There were no honking cars in her make believe world, there was no rain, no screaming mummys and daddys, there was just dark. That's how she liked it. The silence comforted the young girl like no lullaby ever could, the blackness of it all covered her in a blanket. Her eyes? They saw nothing in this retreat, nothing but blurry ebony.

So absorbed was she in this little world that she didn't notice when a drunk homeless man had sidled next to her and started poking her with a stick asking for money. She didn't even notice when a man came by and probably saved the poor little girl from having the clothes stolen from her very own back.

"Hey, leave the kid alone! Don't you have anything better to do?" Came the voice of a man.

It wasn't until he spoke that those bleary blue eyes peeked from behind her knees. The homeless man muttered something about twinkies and shuffled back into the recesses of the alley as the stranger knelt down beside her.

"Hello there sweetheart. What's your name? Are you lost?" His warm brown eyes filled with concern as he went to touch her clammy arm.

Tyler, fearful of strangers as had been beaten into her since she could understand, drew away from him and stayed silent, coming to regret ever leaving the house. Stupid, stupid me, I should've been . . . more smarter. She shivered once and looked warily at the man.

"It's okay honey, I'm not going to hurt you." The man persisted, he had a kid of his own and just couldn't stand the thought of what could happen to her if he left her alone!

"Don't call me honey, my name's none of your business, and I meant to come here." Tyler sniffed with as much anger and dignity as she could manage. If her father had taught her nothing else it was pride. And it certainly hadn't been intentional.

"If you gave me a name I could call you that instead. Let me take you some place to get dried up, then we can find your parents." He put on his best smile as he hoped to win her trust.

The kid was just too cute, too small and lonely to leave by herself. Some parent out there has got to be worried sick over her! Again, he reached his hand to her, and timidly, Tyler sighed and allowed her own small hand to be enveloped in his.

"Tyler." Was all the girl said as she stood painfully to her feet. The cramped position and scrapes from earlier had left her sore.
The dark skin man smiled as she gave up her name, and he held her hand firmly. What could have happened to the kid to make her so . . . sad? Angry? Hurt? He couldn't quite place that look to her, but he shrugged it off. This was the city after all, it could damn well be anything.

The man had picked up his dropped umbrella and held it over the both of them as they walked in silence towards his apartment, stealing glances down to the little blonde head bobbing along at his side. She said nothing more, did nothing extraordinary; she simply plodded along complacently. Poor kid.

It wasn't too long of a walk to his apartment; he'd been on his way home from a long day of work. Amazing how comforting a door can be. A content smile lit his face as he turned the key in his look and entered his humble abode.

"Lucy, I'm home!" He declared as he flung open the door.

The eager face of a brown haired little boy beamed as he drew himself away from the television to greet his father as a brunette woman lounged languidly upon the couch leafing through a fashion magazine. The boy stood looking curiously at the girl his father had with him, but the woman on the couch merely looked at the pair and arched a single perfectly waxed eyebrow.

"You can't just bring in every lost kitten you find in the streets Tai." She said airily as she closed the magazine.

"But she was just all alone in an alley way and she looked miserable Mimi! What if it had been my little boy out there?" Tai sputtered in his defense.

"Well, you've brought home worse I must admit." Mimi shook her head daintily as she put on her coat. "Good luck with her anyway." Tai dug in his wallet for a spare twenty. "Don't bother sweetie, you know I love watching your little devil child." Mimi blew a kiss, unfolded her pink umbrella, and sauntered off to wherever it was she went after watching his son.

Tyler merely stood silent as they talked about her like she wasn't there. She shouldn't be here, not with some man she'd just met on the streets. Strangely though, she didn't feel very threatened, and being in here was better than sitting out in the rain. Or going back home.

"Look at those scratches! Why don't we get those cleaned up!" Tai ruffled his son's hair as he dragged the young girl to the bathroom to dig out some peroxide and bandages, the inquisitive boy following all along.

Tyler rather enjoyed the attention she was receiving. Yes, it was far better than going back home.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Definatly longer than the last chapter, unfortunatly no new news (wow, that looks really wierd) on Matt, but nobody's gonna read the fic anyway so does it really matter? Lalala, yesh, me and my pet brick wall. (she pats it lovingly) We had some good times brotha.

Aaaannnywho . . . that homeless guy with a stick really came out way too funny to me, course I wrote it at like 3 am, so maybe it's just me. Dammit! This chapter's supposed to be serious! Damn homeless people with sticks! (pauses) Bad monkey! (hits random person on the head with said stick) Meh, sticks are fun. But ickle toofbrushes with permanent marker faces named Frank are even better. Him an his cutsie lil bow tie . . .

But I'm off subject. Matt will be in the next chapter fer shure! I think . . .