*Three Years Later*

"You have to hold thill!" Dennis said, attempting to sound stern, but he was laughing as much as Lucy was.

"So do you!" she countered, shoving him. He rolled his eyes and tugged her into his side to keep her in place. The camera let out a loud click and Lucy reached forward to retrieve the polaroid it spit out. Shaking it till it cleared, she held it up to eye level. "I think we look good."

"We're barely in focus." Dennis stood from the picnic table and stepped back a few paces. "Hold still, and turn towards the sun." he instructed. Lucy shifted and smiled at him while he aimed his shot. Dennis quite liked photography, which was why she'd snatched up the camera he was now using when she'd found it at the second-hand store.

Click!

Lucy's eyes snapped open to the banging on the door. "Wake up kid! You need to get to school, and I need to work!" a gruff voice shouted through the thin wood.

"Be right out, Mr. Dawson!" she called tiredly, pushing herself up from the pull-out couch in the home office. The Dawson household offered better conditions than some of her previous foster homes, but the sleeping arrangements were never comfortable.

Lucy had long since stopped counting how many homes she had been cycled through. She was what the system deemed 'a runner', her many attempts to return to her home in Colorado putting a virtual black mark on her record. One of several, as her escapades often lead to stealing food or breaking in somewhere for a place to sleep.

She had been trying to return to her friends since the day she'd been taken away. It seemed the more she ran, the further they shipped her out however. She sent letters to Kevin and the others nearly every day, but moved around so much she rarely got a reply. She tried her best to be alright with that; she didn't want her friends to think she'd forgotten them, and honestly they needed the reassurance more than she did.

Throwing her clothes on, Lucy grabbed her backpack and left the office just in time to avoid running into Mr. Dawson. She spared a fleeting glance to the breakfast table; the bland cereal and toast wasn't that enticing, but she still wasn't allowed to have any. The less the Dawsons spent on her, the more of the federal money they got to keep. They simply told her to eat lunch at the school.

Lucy had no intentions of going to school that day however, taking a wrong turn once she was out of sight of the old house. She skimmed the cars lining a Safeway lot until her eyes landed on a late model orange BMW. Perfect.

Something Lucy had discovered was that it was much easier to hide in bigger cities than it was in small towns no one had ever heard of. The hide in plain sight theory applied to everything from hiding from social services to stealing from convince stores.

At least…that was the idea.

"Thief! Hey! Somebody stop that guy!"

Lucy bobbed and weaved through the crowd on the sidewalk as fast as she could. Stupid corner security mirrors, she was always forgetting about those. Glancing back behind her to make sure the man chasing her was far enough away, she stopped to unlock her car and jump into the driver's seat. Taking off at what was defiantly not the speed limit, she successfully lost the guy.

Sighing, Lucy finally relaxed, pushing down the hood of her sweatshirt. She pulled the bag from under it, tossing it into the passenger seat. That should last her long enough to get over the state line, then begin her long journey across the country to get back home.

Woooo!

Well crap.

Lucy groaned and thumped her head against the wheel, but pulled to the side of the road, allowing the police car to pull up behind her. It was better to start from the beginning again than it was to end up on an APB.

"Hey, buddy you know you ran the red light back there?" a New York accent asked as the man behind it walked up to the rolled down window. "What the – hey you ain't old enough to drive!"

"And you ain't a chocolate cake, but it looks like you've put away a few." Lucy sassed.

She was really starting to hate wearing handcuffs…

Some cities, mostly the major ones like New York, had what were called Special Victim Units. They handled thing like sexual assault cases, rape, and any time a minor was the main person involved.

Lucy hadn't had the pleasure of coming across one yet, but that was where she eventually ended up. The officer who had arrested her was real mad; after taking her back to his station he'd asked for all her personal belongings before locking her up. Lucy had handed over things like her pocket knife and car keys, but had gone absolutely nuts when he'd tried to take her necklace.

He left her in the middle of the precinct with her hands cuffed behind her back, muttering curses as he left sporting a black eye. Lucy skimmed the room of officers and detectives all going about their business; once again she was invisible. She eyed an open box of donuts on the table across from her, resisting the urge to lick her lips. She hadn't eaten yet today.

"You want one?" a voice made her look up to see an old man with oval shaped glasses and hair cut short enough that it showed off his big ears. "Cops and donuts are a bit of a cliché, but we usually end up sticking to whatever's fastest." He sat down at the desk her chair was next to. "You know the uni that brought you in looked a little worse for wear. You give 'im a hard time?"

"Is this the part where you instantly don't like me cuz I hurt a cop?" Lucy raised an eyebrow. She had been around the police enough to know that they were fiercely loyal – something she envied.

"Ah, the guys a jackass." The man shrugged. "So, why orange?"

"Huh?"

"Your car. Why orange? Not exactly an incognito color."

"I dunno." She frowned. "I, like orange, I stole it. Is this really what you're supposed to be asking me?"

"Well you see, I'm just curious how a young lady like yourself ends up speeding through a red light down town when you don't even look like you can reach the pedals."

"There's cans taped to them." Lucy said dryly. "Look, can we skip all the small talk? I've had a long day. The guy that arrested me took my car, he got pushy when I wouldn't give him my necklace, and now I'm handcuffed and sitting in a police station in freakin' Queens."

"You're in Manhattan."

"I'm in Manhattan? Ugh." She slouched against the back of her chair. "That's even worse!"

The man chuckled and smirked. "What's your name kid?"

"Why is that your business?"

"Well we need to know who you are to know where to put you."

"I just wanna go home!" Lucy exclaimed, her desperation showing on her face for the first time in years.

"Okay. Where's home?"

"Pueblo Colorado."

"Colorado?" he raised an eyebrow. "You're a long way from home."

"Why do you think I'm tryin' to get back?"

"Okay." He leaned towards her, placing his elbows on his knees. "You answer some questions for me, I can try and help you get home."

"You can?"

"Sure. Here, I'll start." He walked around her and unlocked her handcuffs, then stood by her chair and held out a hand. "My name's John Munch. What's yours?"

"….Lucy Collins." Lucy said after a moment, shaking his hand.

"Nice ta meet ya Lucy."