The girl was young, maybe sixteen, she had thick black hair and blue eyes, her lips were the color of crimson paint. She was too thin, her waist was like a pencil. Her teeth chattered and her lips were tinged with blue from the cold. She looked down at the ocean below her with trepidation. Santana looked at Woody with wide eyes, he looked at her and sucked in a deep lungful of ocean air and moved forward. He had been trained for this, it was simple, talk her out of her suicidal feelings… but somehow, he couldn't move. She looked like Jordan, the shape of her face, her hair was a little darker and her eyes were blue, but her skin was the same olive rich color and her body was the same Popsicle stick shape. He found himself wishing Jordan was there with him now, she always new how to handle these things.

He reluctantly moved forward, Santana stayed firmly in place, watching her partner intently. He rubbed his forehead and walked up to the railing only feet away from the girl, with her body leaning forward over the black water, her white fingers entwined on the cold metal. "Hi…" he whispered, she looked at him startled "My Name is Woody." He said with a disarming smile. She looked bewildered then infuriated.

"Get back, I swear I'll jump!" she screamed, her voice hoarse and full of malice. Her face contorted with rage. Woody took a step back and looked at her cagily, his mind racing with all these thoughts, he didn't leave though, he stayed with her loyally. He looked into her eyes for a moment and saw some flicker of passion, some fervor that was sparkling just under the sadness that traced her eyes. He wanted to just hug her for a moment, hold her and tell her it was alright, she was so young, it shouldn't be this hard for her.

It was a split second decision, he could back out before he got involved, he could just walk away now, looking back with enough regret to fill the grand canyon. He didn't move, just stayed glued to the place where he was. "What's your name?" he asked with a shaky tone to his voice.

"What's it matter?" she said bitterly, swallowing some hidden fury that sloshed around inside of her, deep inside, she peeked down at the water and gave a bitter chuckle and snorted.

"It matters to me… I'd like to know…" she looked at him closely, then down at the ocean, her voice seemed small and tired when she finally answered.

"Emma… Emma Grace Collins…"

"Hi Emma Grace Collins, is it okay if I call yah Emma." He said taking in a deep breath and a step towards her in the same instant. She smiled for a moment.

"Sure…"

Something passed between them at that moment, some flicker of electricity; he knew at that moment that he understood her, everything about her, down to her soul.

"Listen Emma, Why don't you talk to me? I can help…" she looked at him for a long time, then up at the stars that glittered down like little diamonds painted up in the black sky.

"No one can help me…." Woody swallowed hard, he remembered his sixteenth birthday, three weeks later his father was shot to death in cold blood, he couldn't help but think he thought the very same thing that no one could help him, no one cared. She gingerly sat down on the cement railing and kicked her feet out as she stared down at the black ocean, same color as the stars.

"I can… just tell me." She shook her head persistently and looked down at the water.

"It's a bitch huh?" she whispered her voice as quiet as the wind, he looked at her curiously for a moment then whispered.

"What's a bitch?"

She looked up at the stars once more, then back down at him, her cold blue eyes cutting through his sharply. "Life."