A/N: Edited to fix the chapter-breaks. One careful reader pointed out that chapters 2 and 3 overlapped (that's what I get for trying to upload multiple chapters for multiple stories at the same time!).

There are protocols for arriving at the site of a severe injury, and I knew them once. But I did well enough at the Academy that I had my choice of postings. There's a very good reason that I chose Transit over Homicide, or even Robbery: I am not good with people in physical pain. In Transit, I figured, by the time I arrive on the scene, most of the people involved are either exchanging insurance information, or they are long out of their misery. And that's true, for the most part. But somewhere I miscalculated. I don't mind blood, I'm not afraid of dying, but the kind of sheer, better-off-dead agony caused by a few tons of metal traveling at 60 miles per hour…sometimes I think I should work Booking & Intake instead.

The protocols exist mostly to keep us from going to pieces at moments like this, and they came back by rote: I remembered to announce that I was an officer with the New Jersey Transit Police. The force calls this establishing authority and I have always found it a little ridiculous: step aside, grim reaper, the cavalry is here! "My badge number is 001729," I said, crossing every 't', in case the crickets or the New York lights wanted to challenge my jurisdiction. "Was anyone else in the car with you? No, no, don't move! Stay as still as you can." I crouched down next to the car and the dark eyes rolled toward me. It seemed to take a great amount of effort for the driver to summon enough breath to answer me. "001729," he repeated, sounding so strangled that I knew something was broken: his nose, some ribs. His voice was nearly lost in the frantic hum of wildlife, and what I did hear I could hardly believe. "If you remove the zeros," he wheezed, "that's the smallest number expressible as the sum of two cubes in two different ways."

I was down on my knees in the marsh, as close as possible to the kid—and he really was just a kid, didn't even look old enough to drive—so when he said no, he was alone, I was in a good position to thank every deity I could think of. Two people would have been more than I could take.

I had to get moving; had to radio for an ambulance; had to remember all the first aid I'd ever learned which suddenly seemed totally inadequate. I did manage to clamber to my feet, missed whatever it was the kid was saying.

"Sorry—what?"

"Thought you were ahhh…angel. 'cause of the light, halo…effect"

I looked stupidly at the flashlight in my hand; yeah, I guess I could see how otherwordly it would look shining through the busted up windshield. "Oh, no, no I'm…very far from an angel."

He smiled a little at that—and God, if it wasn't just a heartbreaking smile. "Just as well. I, uhm, don't believe…" He drifted out a little then, kind of lost the train of thought, which reminded that this was not social hour.

"Hey, do you have a license? A driver's license?" I repeated when he looked blankly at me. "NO! No, don't move, don't even nod, just tell me where it is."

"Was…cupholder."

I had a boyfriend who used to do that, Jason's father. He would pick me up after my classes and we'd drive out to Jones Beach and he'd shove his wallet—which was always crammed full of stuff—into the driver's side cupholder. Made it easy to find when we got to toll plazas. Sure enough, when I snaked my hand around the broken glass and reached down, I could feel the leather. Yes! My first bit of luck all evening: a wallet would have a license, an insurance card, local address, all information that would make things easier.

"I have to go call this in. Get an ambulance. I'll be back in a minute; 'til then, I need you to stay absolutely still." I had to keep reemphasizing that because first responders are trained to assume there's spinal injury unless an EMT actually tells us otherwise. "Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," he said, remembering not to nod his head. "Would you…can you leave the light?"

"Sure," I said, before I gave myself time to think about how I'd get back to the patrol car in the dark.