Note: I went over this chapter (Yes, its short. Sorry.)and I think I corrected all of the mistakes and such. Anyway, this was supposed to be a one-shot but a lot of people wanted me to continue this fanfiction so here it is. I'm trying...

I do not own the Strain.

Winter sighed with relief when she stepped into her apartment. She loved the tons of money she made at the library but sometimes it was overly annoying dealing with the people that came in.

The walk home wasn't to terribly bad but lately, with the crazy reports on the news along with Quinlan's tales, she never left home without some kind of weapon.

Once inside, the door was hastily locked behind her and her things were placed on the counter that separated the kitchen and living room.

In her room she reached into the closet and put on a black long sleeved shirt, her hair was taken down and brushed while she planned on traveling up to the roof of the apartment building as usual.

"Winter!" A voice called out.

"Yes?" She answered.

It was her roommate trying to talk to her from across the apartment, "You have a visitor in the window, again!"

Or maybe she wouldn't have to go anywhere. Maybe he'd come to her. It'd been almost a week since she had last seen him.

She smiled and walked into the living room where she saw a familiar hooded form crouched in the window, on his back was his rifle. Winter couldn't see his eyes for the shadow of his hood but she could feel his eyes on her, watching her.

"Were you aware of the two creatures making several attempts to follow you home?"

"...No." She answered with a slight narrow of her eyes, "You've been following me?"

Winter received no answer but decided not to question having someone who wanted to protect her.

He stepped down so he was standing on the floor a few feet in front of her.

"You can use the door sometime, it might be easier. Why aren't you with your group, anyway?"

Again, no answer. Quinlan approached her and put a gloved hand under her chin, moving her head up to reveal her neck. His fingers pulled the collar of her shirt over each shoulder, examining her for any kind of wounds.

"I'm fine." She smiled, "Nothing touched me on the way here."

"She won't even let ME touch her, you've got nuttin' to worry about, Mr. Quinlan." Her room mate came up behind her and attempted to nuzzle her hair, "She's a bad ass kick boxer, remember?"

"...There are things he doesn't know about me yet, Bridget."

"He doesn't know about the cage fights you used to go to? About how you'd win against WWE wannabe looking men?"

"No, I hadn't told him about that yet."

"Oh... My bad."

Quinlan wasn't always comfortable around the blonde room mate, considering she was very confident about herself and would always try to flirt with him and/or his masked partners while wearing inappropriate clothing. Bridget also had a bad habit of talking... A lot.

She worked at the nearest strip club, a job that was the exact opposite of Winter's. But together, the two made enough money to live comfortably on. Though opposites, the two were best friends.

There were so many things he did not know about the woman. Her past was a complete mystery. But Winter was smart and had wonderful taste in literature and art as well as music. He respected that and loved the conversations he had with her.

This kick boxing thing he did not know about yet. This woman was so skinny and small, she looked as if she'd break if he were to simply take her into his arms and hold her.

Now that he had some kind of personal information on her, perhaps he didn't have to watch over her and protect her...

Bridget pranced off to the bathroom so she could shower and left the two alone, finally.

"Really, you don't have to worry about me when I walk home at night. You have more important things to concentrate on."

"I could always use another fighter."

"I'll think about it."

Quinlan leaned down and put his forehead against hers before he turned around and left the way he came.