Chapter 1

Carmelita strolled into the Interpol station, her boots clacking against the polished marble floors. She didn't slow down as she approached the security scanner, swiping her badge and nodding a greeting to the guards on the other side. "Boys."

"Inspector." They looked over her shoulder with amused grins at her small partner, who hurried after her through the scanner, stumbled to a clumsy halt, and held up his arms for the guards to wave their metal detector wand over him. Even after months by her side, Travis still acted the fresh-faced rookie.

The guard with the wand chuckled and jerked the device after Carmelita. "It's fine. Get goin'."

Travis thanked them and chased after Carmelita, just as the elevator opened. As always, he received dozens of odd looks as he went by. Not so much from the Interpol agents and staff anymore, mostly from visitors. Then again, very few had ever seen a human before.

Even Carmelita was still taken aback sometimes by his appearance. After all, she easily stood head and shoulders above him and he was devoid of any fur, making the winter months especially hard on him. "Hurry up," she called, stepping into the elevator. Travis slipped in through the closing doors as she hit the button for the fifth floor.

She checked her watch. They were late and she eyed Travis. He sheepishly shrank into himself and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Sorry," he apologized again. "I'll make sure to set the alarms tonight."

She wanted to stay mad at him, but she couldn't. He was simply too sweet with his lopsided toothy grin and those – what did he call them? Freckles, that's it. Besides, she couldn't lay all the blame at his feet. Ever since he arrived, she'd found joy in sleeping in later now and then. He made the bed warm and comfortable.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. "C'mon," she said.

The pair passed through a busy hub of desks, nodding and greeting a few co-workers here and there on the way to the chief's corner office. Agents of all sorts were filing paperwork and answering calls. One in particular was in the middle of a shouting match and yelling a string of choice words at the receiver. A few agents were taking statements from frantic and tearful civilians.

The chief was seated behind his desk, a great bulldog in size, whose chair squeaked in protest to hold his spilling girth. In one of the few chairs facing him, a rabbit in a long, white coat and thick glasses perked up at their entrance. Even without the stereotypical attire, Carmelita could've pegged her for Interpol's Research Team. The woman had the look of someone who hadn't seen the sun in weeks and squinted as though used to staring at lines upon lines of computer code.

"Inspector Fox, Agent Travis," the chief waved them to the available seats. "Nice of you to join us." He stared at them for a few moments, letting his irritation sink in. Carmelita was used to it and let it roll off while Travis squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

Seemingly satisfied with the human's display of remorse, he continued, "Got some good news for you. Doctor Hernandez from Research here was just telling me they've found a solution."

"To what?" Carmelita asked.

"To your problem," Hernandez said, opening a manilla folder and flipping through a few pages. "Or rather his." She smiled proudly at him. "Young man, we can finally send you home."

He and Carmelita exchanged looks. "As in, home-home? Like, back to my world?"

"That's right. It was actually Geoff's discovery. All these months and he finally says, 'Why don't we try taking the particles we scanned from the site, use the energy attached to them, and-' "

"Wait a minute," Carmelita held up a hand. "So you could send him back right now?"

"Ah, no, not yet." She checked another page, silently muttering to herself, then told them, "We're still testing a few things, working out a couple of bugs. But in the next couple of weeks? I believe so."

Carmelita could hardly believe it. For months, the Research Team had nonstop impediments with this issue. That the science was beyond their understanding, even with Carmelita's information she provided after her time-traveling adventure with that still-missing ringtail. That there was little hope of ever sending Travis back to his world.

Now they suddenly had a solution? It was unbelievable to her. She didn't really hear any of the rest of the conversation as Travis thanked Doctor Hernandez profusely and the chief showed her the way out. Then he waddled to his desk, plopped back into the desperately groaning chair, and leaned forward.

"Told you it was good news," he said and turned to Travis. "I have to say, I'll hate to lose you. You showed a lot of potential."

"Thanks," he said. "I'll keep it up over the next few weeks."

The chief grunted and clasped his hands together. "See that you do." His gruff tone didn't match the sadness in his eyes though. "All right, you two don't have time to sit around. Get out there and catch me some bad guys."

As they headed back to their car, Carmelita felt like she was walking through a sudden mist. Travis would be leaving. Leaving Interpol, leaving Paris. Leaving her.

While it had been several months since they started working together, it felt like less than a week now. She still remembered finding him like it happened yesterday, sprawled out in the dumpster behind the jewelry store she had been staking out as part of an operation to catch a band of thieves. Travis had suddenly appeared in a flash of light, scaring the hell out of a couple of local uniforms.

Nobody was sure what to do with him at the hospital. He was quarantined for a few days and once he was determined safe and free of diseases, he was moved to the ICU. Talk floated around of eventually putting him in a shelter. Others who had studied his physiology argued a new creature like this, brimming with energy that wasn't of this planet, shouldn't be anywhere near the general population of homeless people and that such an idea was foolhardy. In the end, Carmelita volunteered to take him on as her charge and keep him at her apartment.

Not that she relished the new responsibility. She had mountains of paperwork to go through, not to mention the headache of losing the thieves thanks to Travis. However, when she looked down at the boy in the hospital bed, his mop of straw-colored hair draped over his peaceful face, her chest ached for him. Here alone and obviously cut off from all he knew. Someone needed to watch out for him.

"Are there any issues?" she asked the doctor. "Health, injuries, mental problems?" The initial report from the Interpol's Research Team and the hospital hadn't scared her, as she had enough experience with time and space that she was ready for anything unusual. She didn't want him dying in her living room though.

"Not that we know of," the doctor said. "As far as we can tell, he's a typical young adult male. On the short side, but seems in good shape. No lasting effects of his appearance that we can tell."

She made sure to visit the hospital room and was there beside him when he finally woke a couple of days later. The doctor and nurse stood at the foot of his bed, giving him ample space. "Young man, can you hear me?" he asked in French.

Travis' eyes peered at him, then the nurse, then Carmelita. Then he blinked hard and went through each face again, unsure what to say.

The doctor repeated his question and when he received no response, he tried English instead. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Travis," he said quietly, pushing himself gingerly up in the bed. "Where-Where am I?"

"In the hospital," the doctor said. "You're in Paris."

"Paris?" he looked at Carmelita, then the doctor. "Are you sure?"

"Very sure," Carmelita said. "What's the last thing you remember?"

The boy looked down at the sheets, balling them in his hands. "I was at a store. There was a TV there. It suddenly went to static and then, I saw a bunch of lights go off." He shook his head and his face contorted in pain. "I was with my parents. Are there here? Are they in the hospital too?"

"Easy now," the doctor said, trying to soothe him. The nurse moved to one of the IV bags, adjusting the flow of painkillers. "That's enough for the time being. Try to get some rest."

Beyond that first meeting, Travis had no further clues to offer on how he got there. When asked, he could only say that he came from the United States on Earth. Carmelita had been to the States though and she had never seen anyone like him.

Interpol's Research had an answer in a couple of days. "According to them, you're from another world," Carmelita told Travis.

"That makes sense," he said.

She raised an eyebrow. "You're taking an awful lot of this in stride,"

"I know. I should be freaking out. Guess reality hasn't set in yet," he said and eyed the IV drip. "That or these are some great painkillers."

She grinned and checked the bag. She was starting to like this kid. He had the same fearlessness she admired in her peers.

Within a week, the hospital discharged him into Carmelita's care. They diagnosed him with a mild concussion, some bruising, but nothing major that rest and over-the-counter medicine wouldn't help.

The first night was rough for both of them. Carmelita was no cook and grabbed an assortment of take-out for dinner. Travis hardly touched anything, leaving her with ample leftovers for the week. She offered to let him watch television in the living room, but he wasn't up for that either. "I'd like to just go to bed, if you don't mind," he said quietly.

Carmelita let Travis have the bed while she took the sofa. She wasn't used to having a roommate or guests, so she never bought the sofa with a pull-out bed in mind. Or comfort, she grumbled as the hard cushions dug into her ribs. She was rarely at home after all and most of her furniture was purchased and placed for completeness' sake rather than actual use.

Through long hours into the night, she flopped one way, then the other, furiously punching down the lumps in the sofa cushions. Soon, she gave up getting any actual sleep and pulled out her casework from the office, spreading it out on the coffee table in front of her and reading through the files.

It was while she was trying to find a link between some of the recent jewelry thefts that she heard a noise in the hall. Her ears perked up and she listened. It was light and airy, but it wasn't the air conditioning. What is that? she wondered, moving around the sofa.

When she reached the hall, she heard it clearly. Soft sniffling coming from her bedroom. Travis was still awake at this hour?

Of course he would be. The kid was ripped from everything he knew and plopped into her world, where nothing was familiar to him. Different city, different planet, different species.

She gently pushed open the bedroom door and light spilled onto the bed, hitting Travis' body. He was turned away from her and shuddered under the blankets.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Carmelita reached out for him, then drew her hand back. What was she supposed to say? Sorry that you're stuck here? Why did she give into her emotions back at the hospital? This wasn't her forte after all. She was best at catching criminals, come hell or high water. Trauma and grief counseling like this was best left to someone with more tact.

She was about to leave when he suddenly rolled around and wrapped his arms around her waist. She flinched and tried to stand, but his arms gripped her tighter. Those wiry limbs of his were stronger than they looked.

Carmelita could've pried him off easily and probably should've to maintain a professional distance from the situation. Use what little she remembered from that public relationships seminar she attended ages ago to talk him down until she could get him in to see one of Interpol's counselors.

Instead, she lifted her legs into the bed, leaned against the headboard, and pulled him close to here. "There, there," she said, fingering his hair. "It'll be okay."

She took off a few days to help Travis become situated to the apartment and ensure that he wasn't going to do anything drastic. Not that he seemed rash or suicidal, but she worried for him. He slept better the subsequent night, although he still needed her beside him to fall asleep. She didn't mind sharing the bed, as it felt nice to have a warm body beside her.

When she had to return to the office, he begged to come along. "Please, take me with you."

"No, you need to stay here. The best thing for you is rest." She pocketed her badge and holstered her stun gun. Where are my keys?

"I won't get in the way. I promise," he said.

"Travis," she said testily, snatching her keys off the kitchen counter. When she turned to him, his eyes were large and wet.

"I just want to see what it's like," he said, seeming smaller before her.

She sighed, already regretting her pending decision. She argued with herself that he did better in her presence and that it might be the best for his overall well-being. It didn't make her any happier as she growled out, "Fine. Grab your coat. It's cold outside."

The drive to Interpol was short, but the walk to the office felt miles long. Everyone gave strange looks at her little tag-along. Travis didn't help matters, gawking at the large interior like an excited out-of-town tourist. When they reached her desk in the office, she pointed him at a chair beside her desk. "Sit," she commanded and he dutifully plopped down.

An unpleasant stack of paperwork loomed on her desk and when she turned on her computer, her email blew up with dozens upon dozens of messages. She already saw the long, late night ahead of her and she cursed every sender in her inbox.

"Need any help?" Travis asked. "Can I get you anything?"

"Vicodin," she muttered, pulling the first set of stapled papers off the stack.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. How about you go," she flung her hand in the direction of the breakroom, "get me some coffee? And no, I don't care what kind."

That gave her a few minutes of peace and quiet. She read the papers, her eyes glazing over the countless lines of teeny-tiny font. It was a rejection of some information she requested from another branch and directions that the stapled papers be filled out and signed by her boss before they could release the information.

Damn red tape. They didn't even have this last month. And since when do they need the whole case file filled out again instead of a summary?

A rich aroma filled her nostrils and a styrofoam cup appeared before her. "Here you go," Travis said.

Carmelita took the coffee, sipping it as she read the instructions for the request. It tasted good. Really good. "What did you put in this?" she asked.

"Two sugars, a little milk, and a dash of cinnamon. It's how my mom usually takes it."

The woman has good taste. The caffeine worked its magic, waking her up while Travis sat beside her. She hated herself for treating him like a burden. It wasn't his fault that he wound up here or that she took him on.

"Need anything else?" he asked.

"Ever filled out paperwork?"

"Yeah, my mom had me help her with that at the office. Also had me forge some signatures people forgot."

"Probably shouldn't mention that around here," she said with an amused grin. She handed half the stack to him and pointed out the important areas to fill in, what they needed, and left him to it. They silently worked for hours. Surprisingly, Travis finished faster than her and took another small section of her load.

At some point, the chief passed by and gave the pair an odd look. Carmelita shrugged, which he returned and headed to his office.

They broke around lunch, leaving the office for some fresh air. Carmelita was about to ask him where he wanted to eat when they heard someone yelling down the street. They were both shoved aside a person ran by in baggy clothes, carrying two bulging duffel bags beside him. Down the street, a store owner shouted, "Thief! Thief!"

"Stay here!" Carmelita said, but Travis was already running after the criminal. Dammit! She chased after them, racing down the sidewalk and into the alley nearby.

The thief lobbed one bag, then the other over a fence. He jumped onto a closed dumpster, kicked off a wall, and leapt over the fence.

Ahead of her, Travis jumped onto a discarded wooden box, hurdled himself to the top of the fence, and caught it by his fingertips. He scrambled up and over, falling headfirst onto the other side with a loud crash! A pair of voices cried in pain and Carmelita feared the worst. No, no, no! Don't let him be hurt.

She drew her shock pistol, ready for action. She spotted a weak section of the fence and stomped it with the heel of her boot. The wooden plank snapped in half and she wiggled her way through. "Freeze!" she ordered.

Through his bumbling leap, Travis had landed right on top of the thief, who had been gathering up the bags. The boy was doing his best to hold the criminal down, but the other man was larger and stronger. Carmelita pointed the pistol right in the criminal's face, her finger ready to squeeze. "I said, 'Freeze'."

The thief looked down his nose at the barrel, followed it up to her and the badge on her hip, then stopped struggling. He muttered and swore while Carmelita cuffed him. Travis climbed off the man's back and opened the duffel bags, revealing a hoard of stolen cash.

"Let me guess, you were making a deposit?" she asked. The thief stayed silent. "That's what I thought. Let's go."

Most of their lunch hour was spent relaying the details to the local police, who took over processing the thief. The victim, a department store owner, was very grateful and offered Carmelita a discount coupon on any item available.

When they were finally free to grab a quick bite to eat, Carmelita pulled Travis aside. "Why did you run after him?"

"It seemed like the right thing to do," he said simply. "He was stealing after all."

Spoken like a rookie fresh out of the police academy. "That's not what I meant. I told you to stay put. What if you had been hurt?"

"I only wanted to help."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. This was all a bad idea. She couldn't leave the kid at home because he needed support. But she couldn't bring him with her like this. Interpol agents put their lives on the line every day and there was a very real chance he could be killed with one more stunt like that. He needed a new caretaker.

Yet when she looked in his eyes, he seemed to know what she was thinking and his plea was obvious. Don't send me away. If she asked the chief to take him off her hands, he'd go straight to the shelter without a second thought.

Carmelita couldn't do that to him. Against her better judgment, she groaned. "Fine. I'll show you how to defend yourself. But if I'm going to have to be your guardian, then you're going to listen to every word I say. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'm."

"You'll do what I say, when I say, how I say. Got it?"

He snapped an honest salute. "Got it."

"Good," she said, turning away and heading into a nearby restaurant. Then added as a joke, "Welcome to Interpol, Agent Travis."

Despite the joke, Travis learned fast and proved himself capable of keeping up with her over the next few months. He wasn't quite the skilled fighter or marksman that she was, but he was no longer defenseless. He joined her in the office or when out on cases everyday and soon, he was considered an honorary agent of Interpol, like the branch's own little mascot.

Carmelita didn't mind and actually enjoyed his company. He was helpful with the menial office tasks, leaving her to work on the real meat of the cases, and in the field, whether taking down notes or criminals. Work aside, he was also nice to be around. Quieter than her colleagues, but kind and sweet in a way that made her adore him. All in all, he became so ingrained in her life that when the chief announced they could soon send him home, everything seemed to shatter before her eyes.

Of course, there was always the possibility this day would come. However remote. But as they drove to check a crime scene, Carmelita tried and failed to imagine Travis no longer sitting beside her or being there when she woke up or went to sleep.

"So," she said slowly, tapping the steering wheel, "that's some good news, huh? Getting to go home soon."

"Yeah," he said, watching the scenery pass.

"You're not excited to see your family again?"

"No, I am. It's just a little weird. I was kind of getting used to this world, you know?"

She nodded, knowing exactly how he felt. "You know, it'll be a shame. You could've become a cop once you became eighteen. Worked your way up to Interpol."

"Well, we got a while yet. Maybe I could fast track my way there since I am eighteen now."

She glanced at him in surprise. "Since when?"

"Since a few days ago. Red light!"

She slammed on the brakes, nearly running into the middle of the intersection. While the cars on either side of them drove on, she turned to Travis. "Your birthday was a few days ago? Why didn't you tell me?"

"It didn't seem that important," he said, then nodded ahead. "It's green."

As they continued onto the crime scene, Carmelita digested that new piece of information. All their time together and it never once occurred to her to ask when his birthday was. Although she never really celebrated hers either. She was often too wrapped up in her work to notice and the only time she cared was if she happened to close a case the week of her birthday. Then she might celebrate with a little wine at home, some mindless movie, and a good night's sleep. More for the arrest than her special day.

She should do something for him. Perhaps a present of some kind. But what would he enjoy? Probably the same thing all boys his age would enjoy, she thought.

That gave her an idea and she asked, "How about we make up for it then? Since you're going back soon, it can be a little farewell party too."

"What did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking the beach. You haven't seen any beaches in France, have you?" He shook his head. "Then let's go this weekend. I have some vacation days saved up, so we can make it a long weekend."

"Yeah, sounds good."

Carmelita smiled, but something still nagged at her. She wasn't happy to see him go of course, yet there was more to it than that.

Whatever. I'll think about it later, she told herself as they approached the night club where another robbery had occurred. Time to work.