Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. They don't belong to me. They don't belong to me. They don't belong to me. They don't belong to me. They don't belong to me. They don't belong to me. They don't belong to me…………………….

OK, OK I will never again say that they belong to me, so can you please stop making me write lines, because it retards the beginning of chapter five. I swear to be good. OK?

added on 8.8.2007 A/N: Finally revised - thanks, Rachel!

Chapter five: Getting up again

He was safe…!

It seemed to take an eternity for him to become aware that someone was shaking him softly.

"Hey kid, wake up!" Chris remained still and hoped whoever was shaking him would leave him alone. He was safe!

With full weight the reality suddenly crashed in.

He was in the past.

He was without his friends of the Resistance, and he was in a park - at night – alone.

Maybe not as alone as he wanted to be right now.

//Great idea Chris, sleeping in a park! You should write a book "Christopher Halliwell: 50 ways to kill yourself while you are sleeping. Chapter one: Sleeping on top of a bridge. Chapter two: Sleeping in a lonesome park……" You should be really lucky that you are still alive// he told to himself.

"He doesn't react Max, first he trembles madly and now…" Chris was shaken again, "…nothing! Do you think we should call for an ambulance?" Chris heard the voice of a young woman talking to someone.

"Just give him some time" he heard the 'Max' voice grumble, "and get a step behind me, maybe he's drunk, or worse."

"I don't believe that. I mean look at him, he's almost a boy, and he's definitely not looking as if he belongs here."

"Your word in God's ear, Carry! This wouldn't be the first time you get yourself into trouble."

Chris lay there, half asleep with his eyes closed, and was thankful for the defending words the 'Carry' voice had spoken. He was unwilling to cause the woman any trouble, so he opened his eyes slowly. The boy was blinded by the garish beams of a flashlight, which shone right into his eyes. Chris shielded his eyes with his left hand.

"OK, OK I'm awake, could you please take away the light, or we will need the ambulance in the end because of my sore eyes," he said with an insecure glare at the two shapes loming above him in the dark.

"Hey welcome back, kid!" the women said, her tones friendly.

"What the hell are you doing here outside in the cold?" she asked kneeling down besides him. The woman was straight, Chris thought.

"What's your name?" she pressed, when he didn't respond. "I'm Carry, and the big grouch up-there is Max."

"I'm Chris", he decided to reveal,albeit a little reluctantly.

"Trouble at home?" Max asked.

"Don't wanna talk about it," was Chris´ plain answer.

"But you can't stay here for the night, kid! If the police come around you'll find yourself in a cell faster than blinking!"

"OK, I'll be on my way in a second." Chris hastened to assure whilst jumping up.

Chris felt uncomfortable at the thought of getting caught by the police. He had no identity card or anything. Hell, he din't even have an identity in this time!

"Wait, we can help you!" Carry said, holding him by his shoulders. "Max and me, we are street-workers. Our organization runs a community night shelter nearby this park. If you want to, you can have a bed there for the night."

"Not so fast, Carry", Max said. He came face to face near Chris´, and shone once more into his eyes.

"OK", he said after a while, no smell of alcohol and he seems not to be drugged, but be aware, that I'll be watching you!"

"Great Max, our job is to help kids, not to treat them like criminals or scare them to death!

So, Chris, what would you think about a sandwich, some warm tea and a bed for the night?" Carry asked whilst laying a comforting hand on his arm.

Chris was torn between the wish to confide in the two strangers, and the wish to simply run away. Could that be true? Someone being nice to him without any debts, even without any questions? He was suspicious.

The questions would come, he knew they would! But anyway, he'd have at least the choice to go if he would not like it, or their questions became to much.

"Ok", Chris said in reliance of his instincts once more.

He stood up once again to follow the pair.

"Don't you have a bag or something?" Carry asked wondering. "...anything?"

"Nothing" Chris shrugged.

"Oh kid, I really think you don't belong here!" Max mumbled, smiling for the first time.

Walking through the streets, Chris eyed the street-workers intensely. They both wore visible identifying tags of the community social systems, so he hoped he would not end up in a base-court or something, beaten and robbed. But then again, what exactly could they steal? He really owned nothing now.

Max was a tall Afro-American around forty. Chris sensed that his powerfully build stature and grumpy manner only covered a warm and soft-hearted inner self.

Carry, he guesstimated at twenty-something. She was a small, energetic person, with a lot of enthusiasm, as Chris knew by now. Her dark blond hair was tamed in a ponytail, and her sparkling eyes looked at Chris cheerfully. While Carry paid attention to Chris, Max took care of their security. He eyed the surroundings carefully without leaving Chris out of his regard…

TBC…