Chapter 1
Saturday

The sun wasn't even up yet but he couldn't sleep anymore. So he did what he always did, stand at the enormous window of his fourth-floor condo in down-town Kings Harbor. He wasn't alone, like he usually was. At 29 years old, he was considered, by the public anyway, as one of the most fortunate men in the state—and the most eligible bachelor. But from that window in, only few people knew that he had known misfortune and misery in their purest forms.

At the age of fourteen, Don's mother lost her battle with a terminal illness. His dad, unable to cope with the loss, eventually took his life, leaving him with his seven year old sister. She was adopted, a sweet little girl his parents brought home from Japan when he was seven. She was taken by the state, of course, and he found himself with no money and no way to get back his sister.

Dropping out of high school and emancipating, all he did was work at Valuecricket sixty hours a week for years. He also sold his family house, using the hard earned money and the money from the house to pay for a lawyer to get his sister back. Finally, when he turned nineteen, he was given custody of his sister and they escaped to Kings Harbor, where he got his GED.

Raising Kosuke and working his butt off finishing a bachelors in business management from KHU, or Kings Harbor University (and his Master's degree in entrepreneurship too), had taken a toll on him, because he still worked full time in addition to his schedule. But his work paid off—along with some good connections he made—and landed him in the board of directors of all of Valuecricket's enterprises last year. His job was what was putting his sister through school and helping him live very comfortably now.

His sister was definitely the highlight of his life. Her chocolate brown eyes sparkled with life even though she'd spent five terrible, lonely years away from him. She was almost a whole foot shorter than him, an adorable five feet, two inches tall. She had dark, straight hair that she was always messing around with. Two weeks before, she'd dyed it in a dark blonde style that faded to her natural black roots. She met a guy her senior year here, and since he was not going away from Kings Harbor, they both decided to go to Kings Harbor University. However, last night she had shown up at his apartment in tears. “I can't believe him,” she'd growled, pacing holes in his kitchen floor as he made her hot chocolate. He set the steaming mug on the island in the kitchen and guided her onto a stool, where she promptly put her head down on her forearms and started to cry. He'd rubbed her back and done all the big brother stuff, and then she stood up and stalked to his door.

“Um... where do you think you're going?”

“To shove my foot up Andy's ass and finish my microbiology assignment,” she'd hissed.

“Uh,” he'd chuckled, crossing his arms, “I don't think so. It's three AM on a Friday, and it's March which means it's icy and cold. Finish your homework here and I’ll take you to school later.”

“But Donnie—”

“It's not safe for you to go home alone right now. Do your homework or go to bed. We have until Monday don't we?”

“But I—”

“Now,” he'd said, raising an eyebrow. She'd huffed and stomped into his room, effectively locking him out.

So, his sister spent the night muttering about stupid boys and science terms he couldn't pronounce, while he slept on the couch without even being able to shower. It was a rather depressing way for him not to end up alone.

The sky was a dull, ominous shade of gray as the light of dawn finally broke through the eerie orange street lamps. It was going to snow today—freezing rain too, maybe. Maybe he could convince Kosuke to stay in with him. He missed her, even though she was in a mood.

Kosuke slipped out of his room. “Mornin',” she yawned. “I'm going to go back to the dorm. I need my book.”

“Got money for a cab?” He moved away from the window and went to retrieve his wallet.

“I'll take the train.”

“Kosuke—”

“Look, I know you worry. But I’ve taken the train a thousand times. I know how to take care of myself on the subway.”

“It's cold, and it's not even light out—and it's the weekend which means everyone's drunk or high and the subway is deserted at this time. Do you know what could happen?”

“What could happen?” She asked, crossing her arms defiantly.

“Things I don't want to describe to you. You watch Law and Order: SVU and CSI and all that shit, I don't need to tell you... use Dick Wolf's morbid imagination!” He sighed when she rolled her eyes. “Please... pretty please, don't give your big brother a heart attack. Take a cab. You'll get there faster anyway.”

She finally sighed, taking the two twenties from his hand and kissing his cheek before turning to go.

Don trapped her in his arms, hugging her close. “I love you,” he said into her hair. “You're all I have, and I need you to be okay.”

She hugged him back. “I love you too, big brother. Will you make me pancakes tomorrow?”

He grinned. “See ya at our regular time.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Don.”

“Be safe, Sissy.”

He went back to the window to ensure she safely got into the cab. Maybe it wasn't so depressing after all.

He wondered if he'd get called by his colleagues today. Lately they'd been asking Don about various ideas or opinions on how to solve one problem or another, and three times those suggestions led to a big payday for the company—and for him. The word on the street was that some board members were getting leaned on to vote a certain way, and Don's mind, somehow, had an instinct to evade and run like hell, both figuratively and literally. He knew his friends and coworkers could use help.

Movement up the street caught his eye. Someone tripped and fell. Then she got up and took off like a bat out of hell.

In a second he was out the door and down the stairs, jumping over whole flights to make it down in time to stop her. He ran around the building's face and into the alleyway, waiting for her to run by. People were starting to crowd the sidewalk, and he saw the girl crash full force into various people before finally making her way past the alley way.

He grabbed her arm and yanked her into the alley way, clamping his hand over her mouth. “Shh!” he hissed when she tried to scream. Tears poured from her terrified eyes as he pulled her behind the first dumpster in the alleyway. “Shh,” he said again, his voice a whisper. “It's alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Outside the alley, a man stopped and searched the crowd, uttering a few choice words before he turned around. His enraged voice made her tremble. “I'm going to find you, you stupid whore!”

After a few tense moments, Don peeked around the trash can. Finding that the threat to the running girl was gone, he guided her to one of the service entrances and dialed the lobby to let him in.

Once back in the apartment, he really looked the girl over. She was beautiful and she was hideous. She was beautiful because she had the most intense moss-green eyes he'd ever seen anyone have. Her hair was flaming red, and her skin soft, silky creamy white. However, one of those amazing green eyes was swelling shut, and she had bruises all over her face. Her flaming red hair was matted and mangy, like she hadn't washed it in weeks. Her nose was bleeding, as was one of her perfect pink lips, turning blue from the cold. Her clothes were in tatters, and he could see the smattering of bruises and scars on her soft flesh.

The most horrible thing was her hands. He could tell she had at least two fingers broken. Her knuckles were bruised and split, and several of her fingernails were torn from their beds. Her wrists were bloody, metal handcuffs still embedded in the soft flesh of her skin. She was pale and trembling, and he could see that the girl hadn't slept or eaten properly in days, probably weeks. He tried asking her for basic information, such as her her name or where she came from, but she didn't so much as look him in the eye, let alone answer. Instead, she shook harder.

“Jesus,” he muttered, reaching for his cellphone. “Claire are you working?” He studied the girl as he concluded his phone call. “No, I need you at my place as soon as possible. Thanks. Oh, and bring your bag. Yes, that one. Thanks.”

The next thing he did was get her a big glass of water guiding her to the stool at the island where his sister sat crying the night before. She gulped it gratefully until the glass slipped from her trembling hands, shattering on the tile of the kitchen.

She tensed, edging away from him. “I can—clean it... please don't hurt me, I’m sorry.”

Don studied the terrified girl and frowned. “Look, lady. I don't know where you came from, but where I come from we don't hurt girls over a stupid glass of water. I’ll get you another one. Sit down.”

Confused and still scared, she obeyed, sitting stiffly and staring at her hands.

Don cleaned the shards of glass and mopped the water up. He placed another tall glass in front of her, this time with a straw. He winked at her. “See? Was that so bad?”

A tiny smile threatened to spread across her bruised lips. “No,” she whispered.

“While you're talking to me, I called my friend Claire. She's a doctor, and she's gonna help me get you cleaned up and comfortable, okay?”

She went ashen with horror. “No doctors... he'll find me. He'll kill me, please—tell her not to come.”

“She's not gonna say anything. I promise. That's why I called her. I’m not taking you anywhere, she's coming here. She's going to treat you and I’m going to feed you, and you're going to sleep.”

“But—”

“Look, whatever cruelty was forced on you before won't happen here. The only thing that's gonna be forced on you right now is treatment cause those things need to come off your wrists, and you're hurt and you're scared and the only way we can help you and keep anyone from hurting you anymore is making sure you're healthy enough to fight them off if I’m not around.”

She said nothing. Was he planning on her just staying in his house then? He was a stranger to her, after all, and the way they met wasn't exactly ideal. But there was something about him. He wasn't scary at all. He was... stern. But not dangerous. Since he'd brought her up here he'd been nothing but kind. She'd seen the concern in his eyes, once he'd looked her over. And since then there had been one thing in his eyes, one thing on his mind: her health. He was wringing his hands and pacing in front of the window.

Worry. She hadn't experienced that from someone in years. This man was worried about her. He didn't even know her, and yet he'd brought her here without a second thought and then proceeded to get all the help she would allow—she hadn't let him call the police or anyone else—and then something came over him that seemed to be his response to bad situations: logic. He was obviously shaken, but instead of freaking out, he took control. And instead of frightening her, his way of handling this made her feel surprisingly safe.

The buzzer rang, and he asked who it was before buzzing up Claire.

When she arrived at the door, she was smirking. “What'd you do now, stub your toe?”

“No,” he chuckled, inviting her into the apartment. “It's not for me. Listen... this girl is hurt bad. She's running from someone who more than likely did this to her. You'll understand then if I... ask for your discretion?” And by ask, he meant pay.

When Claire saw her, she bit back a gasp. “Don... I can't do this here, she belongs in an ER.”

“No way. She's too scared and if I try to take her anywhere without getting her cleaned up and warmed up she'll run, and you know she'll catch her death out there.”

Claire sighed. “Fine. You owe me for this.”

~-~

Two excruciating hours later, the girl, whose name, he finally learned, was Stacey, was stitched up, bandaged up, and sleeping thanks to some medication Claire had given her, to help with the pain in her hands. The girl was also hacking up a lung and running a fever, and after carefully listening to the girl's haunting gasps, Claire prescribed an antibiotic and recommended some things to help suppress the cough. Don ran out to the drug store and the grocery store, grabbing all the things Claire told him as well as rolls of gauze and disinfectant to help keep Stacey's wounds clean.

He also made two more phone calls. One was to work; he couldn't very well leave this poor thing alone all week when she was so ill. He'd be by to pick up some stuff so that he could work at home. The other call was to cancel an appointment he had made.

When he returned, he found that Stacey was sound asleep in his room still, the occasional cough making him cringe. She was obviously still in pain. But he didn't want to give her any heavy-duty cough suppressants that could mess with the pain-killers in her system. After a quick text inquiry to Claire, he decided it would be alright to wake her up and give her food and a cough suppressant so that she could rest a little bit better.

He poured all the ingredients he'd bought at the store out on the island. Whistling a little, he started putting things away he didn't need, like juice, fruit, milk and other things, leaving out the meat and vegetables he'd need for some chunky chicken soup.

When it was ready, he helped her sit up, patiently helping her eat since her damaged, trembling hands made her clumsy and she was still groggy from exhaustion and medication. He gave her the cough suppressant and helped her get comfortable again.

She was wearing his clothes, some shorts an a long-sleeved tee shirt. At some point, he'd have to get her a few things that would be comfortable.

“Who's that in the picture?” she whispered, pointing a splinted finger toward his nightstand.

“That's my sis,” he said with a smile. “That was taken at her graduation.” She was wearing some of Mom's jewelry in that picture. She looked happy and optimistic, and her contagious smile warmed his heart when he felt alone.

“She's so beautiful,” came the slurred answer, and Don whispered a thanks as the red-haired girl fell into slumber.

She shivered in her sleep, and he tucked another blanket around her. Hopefully she'd feel better in the next couple of days.

Sunday

“Morning honey,” Don said as his sister slipped into the kitchen. He stopped whisking his batter for a second to hug her and kiss her forehead.

She hugged him in kind, and when she looked up her eyes were sad.

“Aww... don't worry about him, Sissy,” he murmured into her hair. “I know you like Andy a lot. Have some patience, okay? If it's meant to work out, it will. If not, then don't close your heart to something that could be potentially better.”

“Thus has spoken my perpetually wise, yet single older brother,” she chuckled.

“Hey now,” he protested. “I have my fair share of dates.”

“Speaking of,” Kosuke mumbled, pointing with her head toward the kitchen entrance before taking the batter and whisking it herself.

Don turned around. “Hey, you're up! How do you feel?”

“Okay,” she whispered. “I don't mean to intrude.”

“No way. By all means, take a seat. Do you want to try to eat something or do you just—”

“Actually I think I should be going...”

“No.” Don crossed his arms. “You're too sick, it's too cold, and whoever it is you were runnin' from is prolly out there looking for you. I can't let you go until you have someplace safe to stay anyway. Do you have any family you can call?”

Her lower lip trembled and she shook her head.

“Hey, don't cry,” he said, feeling sorry for upsetting her. “Sit. My sister and I are making pancakes.”

She eyed the batter bowl and sat down, giving in to the temptation. When Don pulled fruit, whipping cream, and maple syrup out of the fridge and got out a cutting board, she swallowed hard. By the time he set about plating his chopped fruit, she was practically drooling.

Don watched her carefully. That girl was hungry. She probably hadn't eaten real food in forever. “Sis, I’m gonna have you start on the eggs n stuff, okay?”

“Sure. What's up?”

“Making some extra batter. Do you want chocolate chips in the second one?”

Kosuke's answer seemed to echo Stacey's thoughts. “Oh God, yes please!”

He winked at them and set about making chocolate chip pancake batter. He also melted some chocolate chips into some heated maple syrup, a sort of makeshift chocolate syrup. Next, he set about making some fresh whipped cream.

Yep. The battered girl was drooling. He caught her wiping her mouth with her sleeve twice already. When he finally set her plate in front of her, she wanted to cry. It smelled so yummy and her stomach rumbled appreciatively... but three of her fingers were broken and out of her ten, six others had stitches or bandages. How was she supposed to eat this?!

Don frowned, anxiety immediately in his eyes and voice. “Shit I’m sorry... I didn't remember about your hands. Do you want me to cut the pancakes for you? Or I can make you something else—”

Kosuke rolled her eyes. “Cut it out, bro, you're making her feel bad. Here,” she said, quickly cutting the pancakes into bite sized pieces and pouring some syrup into a tiny cup. “You can dip the pancakes in there instead of pouring it on... that way your hands don’t get sticky.” She also poured milk into a cup and placed it in front of her with a straw.

“Thank you,” she said, digging into her food.

It was the most awkward breakfast Don ever had to sit through. His sister, bless her heart immediately started and talking and giggling with the girl, who answered and giggled in kind between the sexiest moans of delight he had ever heard.

He wished for his iPod. He could block them out with it and concentrate on eating. Why the heck was he thinking about this girl's sexy moans anyway? This girl had been through hell, obviously. He needed to focus on helping her get her life on track and stop thinking about how much she was enjoying her food.

The girl had a name, right? Stacey, she'd said. He cringed as he remembered Claire having to set three of her fingers and stitch two more. The others had torn up nailbeds and needed to be disinfected and bandaged, and the girl's cries and groans of pain stayed with him most of the night. When he'd asked her what her name was, she'd whimpered it as Claire carefully removed the handcuffs from her flesh and placed them in a plastic ziplock bag.

Back to the topic at hand. Stacey had to have a last name, and he would find that out today, so that he could start figuring out who to call for her. She was married, because they'd have to cut her wedding bands off. Now that was a clue... He'd asked her if she wanted the rings fixed, and looked up at him, her piercing green eyes brimming with tears. “Please, no,” she'd whispered.

Did her husband do that shit to her? If he did, Don would gladly find him and rid the earth of that slime.

Stacey was laughing now. He could tell the action was painful, but he was happy to see her something other than crying in pain or fitfully sleeping, traveling the circles of hell in her mind. They were moving toward the door, and Kosuke's chocolate eyes met the older girl's. “We know what it's like to be alone,” she said seriously. “You're going to get through this, but it doesn't mean you have to do it by yourself. Let my brother help you. He needs this as much as you do.” With a gentle squeeze of her arm, and a hug and kiss for her brother, she went out the door quietly.

Stacey's green eyes re-focused on him. “What did she mean by that?”

Don dropped on to the couch. “I promise I’ll tell you... just not now. Okay?”

She shrugged and nodded.

“I'm sorry for upsetting you earlier.”

“It's okay.”

Silence.

Stacey's eyes wandered around the apartment. The living room was modern and sort of sterile. Black and white seemed to be the theme. There were splashes of color though. Blue throw pillows were on the couches, a rug with a black, white and blue geometric pattern covered the dark wood floor, and various blue decorations on glass shelves adorned the living room. The dining room was decorated with another shade of blue and some green. Also geometric and modern, the room's centerpiece was the iron and glass dinner table, which had a candle stand with different blue and green candle holders on a white lace table runner.

She knew his bedroom was black and white too, except there was no color in there. His sheets were gunmetal gray, and the darkened walls were accented with white, gray, and silver decor and picture frames of his family. The carpet was pure, snow white.

It was the only room that held more than two references to his personal life. The rest of the place was immaculate and looked rather expensive and un-lived in.

She met his eyes again, realizing that he was lonely. And then she surprised the hell out of him... she sat down on the couch and curled up under his arm, her head lying on his chest above his heart.

After a moment, he let her snuggle closer, wrapping his arm around her. They sat that way in silence for a long time.

“Lunch?” He whispered, wondering if she was awake.

“Mm,” she mumbled, and he barely noticed the tiny nod. When he went to stand up, however, she shook her head, her hand latching on to his shirt. “Stay?”

He smiled. “I'll order out.”

2: Chapter 2

Chapter 2
Monday

Stacey Marie. Her maiden name was Russell. She got married four years ago, at the age of twenty-four. She thought she loved him... but he was manipulative and persuasive, and he convinced her that it was them against the world. When her family met him, they warned her. He wasn't what he seemed. He was playing her. She told them to back off, that she was happy for once in her life. They backed off... but the worry was always in their eyes.

She had pouted at him, and he comforted her by saying that they didn't understand, that she had to forget about them. For weeks, he slowly severed the trust she had in her parents. One day, they had argued, and finally the weeks of mistrust and anger that festered and grew in her like a cancer erupted. She packed her things and was married to him two weeks after telling her parents that she didn't want to even know them anymore. She realized too late that he had isolated her from the only people that could possibly save her from the private hell that ensued.

She got a job... a well-paying job in business law, which was what she earned her degree in. She was smart and brilliant, and he hated it. He stopped being comforting and started telling her all the reasons why she would fail at the job. By the years end, she believed him. Her job suffered, and as a result, she was making less money. He dealt with her failures harshly, of course, and her motto of 'I can do anything' gave way to 'I can't do anything right' and, slowly but surely, her passion for her job faded, along with her passion for life.

She started drinking. Drinking and partying. Drinking and partying... and getting high. She said there was a year that, out of three hundred and sixty-five days, if she remembered more than a hundred it would be a surprise to her. Ex and vodka were her only friends. She had tried other things... Ex and/or weed, and drinks got her through most nights, so she didn't need anything else.

Unaware that her husband obsessively followed and tracked her every move, she was taken by surprise when he stormed into a club in a rage and dragged her out by her hair because she was dancing with someone, admittedly rather lewdly. The next day she was forced to call and quit her job effective immediately, and he chained her in the basement and locked her there exactly one year and two months before she escaped.

She never saw the light of day. In the summer, the basement was cool and comfortable, but in the winter, it became unbearably cold, and more than once she wished she'd hurry up and freeze to death already. He liked seeing her tremble in the cold.

He would come downstairs after work and scream at her, beating her mercilessly. He would buy her copious amounts of drugs, only to take them away from her and watch her suffer through withdrawals. Often, he would take the opportunity to do more unspeakable things to her because she was too drained to fight back.

Sometimes he'd be kind... but only because he wanted sex. He would say sweet things to her, and look into her eyes... but when he was done with her, he would degrade her and call her a whore, leaving her feeling used, lonely, and hopeless. Sometimes he wasn't kind... but he wanted sex anyway. She was afraid to look at him or even move when he was in that mood... but alas, she had lost the will to fight a long time before. She she'd just lay there, dreaming about a time when she would have fought back, and how she'd pull off escaping this hell.

On one of those occasions, she stole his keys and attempted to escape. She had only found the key to the first of the chains on her hands when he figured out where his keys were.

He came downstairs in a rage. Grabbing her hair, she could only remember his lifeless eyes, his hands around her neck choking the breath from her lungs, and the repeated contact of her head with the wall while he screamed that he would kill her and then go to her hometown to kill her family. The next thing she knew, she was in the park, in a wooded section obviously secluded from the walkways. Her head was pounding, she was gasping for breath. She was wrapped in a dark green tarp that blended with the surroundings.

It had been three days.

She walked home, in pain, disoriented and terrified. He barely acknowledged her except to frown because he thought he'd been rid of her. Tossing her in the basement, he chained her, hand and foot, and told her she would not be eating for the next week.

The torture began then. The mind games he always played were now accompanied with purposefully breaking bones, cutting her skin to watch her bleed, and dragging her up to the kitchen so that he could burn her on the gas stove. His favorite thing to do was make her stand in scalding hot water or drown her in the toilet. All through this, he withheld her vices from her, making her suffer until she was terrifyingly too weak to survive his treatments.

The day she escaped, she'd been deprived of food and drugs so long she could barely see straight when he had cuffed her and left her in the car, leaving it running. He was going to gas her, maybe to death, and she was scared of dying, for some reason, for the first time in her life. Desperate, she'd worked her hands into a bloody mess trying to break free. When she finally did, she felt woozy and sick. Fear trickled up her spine as she broke open the rear passenger window and crawled outside, gasping lungfuls of air. He heard the noise of course, and came to find her crawling toward the garage entrance. He had a knife in his hand, and she knew that if she didn't run, she would die.

“I don't remember much... just that I threw something at him and ran, and that he was chasing me. And then I was in the alley, and I was so scared he was going to kill me... and then I was here.”

Don was simply staring at her hands in his. That man had systematically torn this woman down, breaking her will and her passion, breaking her morals, breaking her self-esteem so that he could hurt her. Everything about this marriage and the ensuing abuse was premeditated. He wanted to take a pretty, successful girl and crush her. And so he did. Stacey Marie went from 'most likely to succeed' to a broken, destitute, abused and drug abusing shell.

There were people on earth that deserved for a new circle of hell to be invented just for them.

He worried about her drug use. Would she try to sneak out and get some? What would happen if she couldn't make her way back, or if that monster found her again? He asked her about it tentatively.

She immediately shook her head. “I haven't had any in more than three months. He took them away to make me withdraw... and then he started buying it for me again... and I’d pretend to take it and I’d pretend to be high. I didn't want him to take it away from me again.” A tear clung to her chin. “I'm afraid to go back to it now. I mean... I still wanna—I wish I could so bad. But it turned out to be more painful to use it.”

Don snorted. “Gotta hand it to the guy for finding a way to literally scare the addiction out of people. What is withdrawal like, if you don't mind me asking...”

More tears. “It's scary. Beside the whole getting physically sick, I hallucinate. I get tired and depressed. I remember he yelled at me once that he was going to kill me, and I told him to just do it. So he strangled me on and off for the next week and a half, yelling at me if I still wanted to die. I didn't want to survive anymore... and everything he did to me was so terrifying and painful that surviving was worse.” She studied her bandaged hands. “He knew about the paranoia and the hallucinations and delusions. He would use them to freak me out until I couldn't sleep or eat. Even though I didn't tell him any of that... somehow he knew.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I don't wanna live like that anymore,” she whispered.

“You don't have to. I’m going to get you help, I swear it. Okay?”

She smiled at him and nodded.

“And if you start getting those problems you need to tell me. I won't hurt you ever. Okay?”

“I know.”

“Good,” he said, wrapping her in a comforting hug. After a moment, he pulled away to look into her green eyes. “Listen to me... I gotta contact your family. They need to know what happened to you.”

She shook her head, more tears pouring from her eyes. “No, they hate me,” she whispered. “They told me not to come crying to them.”

He sighed. “I still gotta tell them. Besides, where else are you gonna go? Back to that asshole so he can keep tormenting you?”

“You're right,” she sighed quietly. “But I don't wanna go yet.”

“Why not?”

“Cause he would guess that I went home. It's the first place he's going to be watching. He doesn't know I’d be here with you.”

Don conceded that point. “We still gotta let them know you're safe,” he said, pulling his cellphone out of his pocket and holding it out to her.

“Okay,” she whispered. She dialed a number she knew by heart. Don noted the 720 area code. She was from Colorado too?

“Russell residence.”

“Momma?” she whispered, and more tears poured from her eyes.

“Stacey?” A woman's voice on the phone asked in disbelief and suspicion. “Why are you calling?”

She sobbed a little bit, and Don pulled her close to him. “It's okay,” he said into her ear. “Tell them everything. They won't hate you.”

“Stacey?”

“Mom... I’m sorry,” she cried. Don rubbed her arm soothingly.

“Oh honey,” came the pained response. “Where are you?”

“Somewhere safe,” she said stiffly.

“May I?” Don took the phone from her and she curled into a ball as she cried. “Shh, you're alright,” he said to her before putting the phone on speaker. “You're Mrs. Russell?”

“Uh... Dr. Marie Russell, I’m Stacey's mother. Who are you and where is my daughter?”

“Uh—my name is Don. You're on speaker so that Stacey can hear you. Look, I know this is going to be hard for you to hear and really frickin' awkward coming from a stranger, but I sorta rescued your daughter from her husband. She needs help... and I know you would want to know that I’m going to find her help.”

“I always knew he was a dick,” Marie muttered. “What'd he do? Wait, why do you care? You just said you are a stranger.”

“Yeah I’ve only known her for a day, but I do have a heart, you know. I won't leave her to her fate, you have my word.”

“I want to see her.”

“As soon as I know it's safe, Dr. Russell. Besides, Stacey... she was worried about your support.”

“What do you mean?”

This time Stacey spoke. “Last time we talked it didn't end so well,” she said quietly, her voice void of emotion.

“I know, baby,” Marie answered, her heartbreak in her voice. “But we miss you still. Come home okay?”

“Okay,” she said. Her voice broke over the word.

“Stacey Marie.”

She gulped.

“I love you. You're my daughter. You make my life better just by existing. It doesn't matter what you've done, or where you've been. When you come home, we'll be waiting.”

Tears and sobs of relief rushed from Stacey's body, and Don's arms circled her yet again. She coughed a lot as she cried, gasping for air until slowly but surely, her energy drained. Her eyes drooped and he soothed her to sleep. Silence reigned on the other end of the line.

“Is it okay for me to call back at this number?” Marie's own voice was rough with tears.

“Absolutely. I’ll also be getting Stacey a cell phone soon. I’ll give you that number when I have it, so that you can call her anytime.” He kept his voice low so that he wouldn't wake her.

“Thank you for helping my baby,” Marie whispered.

“Of course. Look, the rest of this week I’ll be at home, watching her—probably next week too. But I do have to go back to work at some point. It would be awesome if you called in every so often to check in on her and keep her company.”

“I will do that. Thank you.”

He hung up the phone. “See?” He whispered to the sleeping figure in his arms. “That wasn't as bad as you thought it would be.”

He dialed another number. “What is it Don?”

“She uses, Claire.”

“Uses what?”

“She told me Ex and crack and shit. I’m afraid she's still in withdrawal or whatever... and I’m scared she'll get hooked on whatever you just gave her for the pain.”

Claire sighed. “I'll give her something else. Flush those, okay? And as for the withdrawal thing, how long has she been without it?”

“She said like three months.”

He could practically see the blonde-haired doctor nodding and thinking.

“We need to get her into rehab at some point. But I can't check her in anywhere unless we tell the cops what happened and she won't let me do that. I also talked to her mom on the phone just now.”

“Yeah? How'd that go?”

“Pretty good, considering. Her family's from Colorado too.”

“Oh really? Interesting. Look, you're right about getting her into rehab. She might be asymptomatic now, but that could change. Some people take years to get off those types of drugs and she's only been off them for months. Do you understand?”

“Yeah you're right.”

“I think I know someone who can help. I’ll let her know you asked for discretion too.”

“What like a therapist?”

“Yes, specializing in drug rehabilitation. And she can also recommend somewhere in Stacey's state, closer to home, if and when she's ready to take that step.”

Don sighed. “Well I guess my checkbook is getting a work out. Glad I’m not loaded for nothin'.”

Claire chuckled. “I'm going to go over there in about three days to see how she's healing up. I’m going to send you that therapist tomorrow though. Is that okay?”

“That's perfect, thank you.”

“As doctors we swear to preserve life, you know? You're doing just that—how can I not help?”

“You've always been a sweetheart,” Don said with a smile. “You're a sucker for this, or else you wouldn't be a doctor.”

“True, true,” she laughed.

“Tell the therapist chick to call me, okay?”

“Sure. Later.” Click.

Tucking Stacey down on the couch and gently tucking a blanket over her, he went to his office. He might as well try to get some work don—

He leaped out of his chair and raced into the living room when a piercing scream echoed through the apartment. In a second he was over her, shaking her awake as gently as he could. “Hey, you're dreaming wake up!”

Her eyes snapped open, her green orbs terrified, her lungs struggling for air in between gasps and coughs. Tears poured from her eyes. “I need some,” she whispered. “Please, I’m sorry—I'll do anything you want. Just please...”

“Stacey—”

“I'm sorry,” she cried. Her hands trembled. “Please,” she begged. “You can... have me.”

Don ripped his hands back like he'd been burned. “What the fuck?! No! I’m not gonna do that—and I’m not going to get you drugs! Snap out of it, you're dreaming.”

But she was wide awake. And her hands reached for his belt buckle, and he pushed them away. “Stacey stop it! Stop, stop stop.”

She was cowering into the couch, heart-wrenching sobs tearing from her throat.

“Jesus,” he muttered, reaching for his cellphone and dialing desperately. “Claire... you wanna send me that rehab chick now?”

“What is it?”

“She had a nightmare... and she tried to—” he lowered his voice. “She told me she'd let me... you know... for a hit.”

“Oh,” Claire breathed. “Poor girl,” she said quietly. “I'm texting her now. I’ll be there with her in twenty minutes. Hang in there, okay?”

“Thanks.” He turned off the phone and went to the kitchen, digging though his cabinets.

After a few minutes, he knelt in front of where she was still curled up, crying and trembling. “I made you something,” he whispered, not daring to touch her.

She stilled.

“When I used to get hurt when I was a kid...or sad about something or other, my mom would make me a fluffernutter and strawberry milk.”

Green eyes peeked over at the table, where the sweet sandwich was sitting deliciously with a glass of pink, silky fluid so cold that the drops of sweat pooled around the bottom of the cup, before meeting his own brown ones. “I feel sick,” she whispered.

“You don't have to have it if you don't want.”

She eyed it again, and she licked her lips.

He chuckled. “I know you want it.”

She sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees. “You aren't going to get me what I want,” she said evenly.

“Well take what you can get then, don't you think?”

She clenched her jaw, and more tears slipped from her eyes. “Why won't you get it?”

“I don't even know where to get that shit,” he snapped. “You said you didn't want to live like this anymore.”

“I don't care what I said. You're just like him,” she hissed.

Don blinked. “I've done nothing but help you,” he said blankly.

“You won't let me have any,” she pouted. “You just wanna use it to control me.”

“No! Are you serious right now?!”

“Then please—just please, I need some...”

“Oh god... you know what? You want some crack or whatever shit it was you need, go. Go get it fuck knows where in some dark crusty corner of down town, where there are sleezebags waiting for pretty girls like you, hmm? No one'll ever see you again. And if your asshole husband gets wind that you're wandering around looking for drugs? What happens then? If he follows you, he waits till you're surrounded by sleazebags to humiliate you like he did the day he imprisoned you in your own house? And after he humiliates you and drags you back home, huh? What happens then?”

“I get it okay?!” she finally screamed. “Stop it!”

“Nothing's stopping you from leaving. Go on,” he growled.

“You really are like him,” she said quietly. “You want me to believe I’m only safe with you. You wanna hurt me too.”

“No, I want to help you. I’m telling you like it is. You walk out there like this, and there's no guarantee you're going to make it back. You walk out there and get high, there's no guarantee I’ll be able to find you before your soon-to-be-ex douchebag does. Wait... you are leaving him, right?”

She rolled her eyes and wiped at her face with her sleeve before glaring at him. “I wouldn't be here listening to your shit.”

“Ooh, saucy firecracker, aren'tcha? We'll look into getting you a lawyer and a restraining order here in a bit. For now, eat your fluffernutter.”

She sighed and pulled the plate toward her. “You're horrible.”

He grinned widely. “You're welcome, Firecracker.”

 

3: Chapter 3

Chapter 3

He let them have his room to talk, while he went in the kitchen to cook. Cooking helped him think. Since the Firecracker (as he'd started calling her, both in his head and out loud) had literally run full speed into his life, he found himself questioning a lot of things. Why... why would anyone bring another person so low? What could make a person so cruel?

He thought of Kosuke and Andy. Andy had broken his sister's trust in the most unforgivable of ways... right? No, he realized. He'd been pissed that Andy was cheating on his sister, and it was, in fact unforgivable. Andy had barely evaded an ass-kicking, and he only did so because Don encountered the embodiment of the most cruel, visceral—brutal, vicious, destructive, inhuman betrayal possible.

This girl was lost. She'd lost herself because of that monster. She grew up driven. Top of her class, Wild Cats Cheer Captain, beautiful, well off... went to one of the top law schools in the country. She was popular, she was hell on wheels, she was the energizer bunny. She loved to laugh, she loved charity work and was often volunteering with the local park clean ups and spent whole summers in Florida, Wyoming, and California with environmental researchers doing everything from saving manatees to exploring Yellowstone. When she got back to Clearlake—

Clearlake. He hadn't set foot there in ten years. When she asked why she didn't recognize him, he shrugged. He had liked being invisible. When his parents deaths got out, he didn't stick around high school long enough to get made fun of for being a broke orphan—or, labeled a dweeb or a loser or whatever. He had to get his sister back.

He had never seen Stacey... he would have remembered her, that was for damn sure. And he would have followed her to the ends of the earth. If he'd known her then, anyway.

He hissed in irritation and pain as the knife in his hand sliced into his finger instead of the tomato. Rinsing his hand in soap and water, he glared dully at his finger.

Claire happily cleaned it and gave him some sort of sealed bandage that would keep him from bleeding anymore. He put on gloves and went back to cooking, thanking her.

“You're welcome,” she said hoarsely.

Don studied her. He could read her well. They had been together, several years ago. Kosuke loved her. Hell, he'd loved her... right? The fact that he was unsure was a pretty good indication of why they were not still together. But he still knew her very well. He knew what every expression she'd ever worn meant. But this one... he'd never seen this expression before. He gulped. “She's really messed up, isn't she?”

Claire squeezed his hand. “She's stronger than she thinks.”

Don sighed his relief.

“She wants to move her into rehab this week.”

Don shook his head. “She just reconnected with her family. She went from begging me for drugs to flipping her shit in 0.7 seconds. She's not ready.”

Claire raised an eyebrow. “Her... or you?”

Don glared at her. “This isn't about me. She doesn't wanna talk to the cops, she wants to go home. Which means she has to fly. I can't do that for her unless I can get her ID from the asshole that destroyed her life—which means I gotta talk to the cops. You can see why I think she isn't ready?”

“Maybe so. But that doesn't change the fact that you aren't ready for her to go.”

Don glowered. “It isn't about me.”

“Donnie—”

His hand slammed down on the counter, causing the blonde to jump. “I would have given anything, Claire! Anything! For someone to say 'It isn't about me' and actually help me! I would have given my left arm for one of those damn 'crats to give a shit about something other than their stats and 'going by the book' and their damn money! Just for just a second, so that they could see my sister cry at the end of every visit, and how she'd latch on to my legs and kick and scream so she wouldn't have to go away. I will NOT put this girl through that kind of hell,” Don growled, “do you hear me? She isn't ready. Don't bring it up until she says. What I have to say about it, or you, or anyone else does not matter. Got it?”

Claire gulped and nodded. From the bedroom, green eyes watched as brown ones blazed in her defense and brimmed with tears that, for the first time in four years, weren't tears of pain.

~-~

Alta Gracia Solymar Del Rosario was tall, with kind eyes the color of brown sugar and dark, razor-cut hair. Her skin wasn't like someone who was naturally dark-skinned, but rather someone who had a dark, perpetual tan. It was common for people in her country to be that way, especially where she was from... out in the country, poor beyond imagination and working in the sun sixteen hours a day so she and her sisters could eat. She was thirteen when she got pregnant the first time. She lost her baby. So, the second and third pregnancies were also unsuccessful. Her boyfriend, an older guy who had blatantly waved his cash and her ticket to being a legal citizen of the United States in her face, she happily let herself be 'loved' by this man.

It wasn't love. It started with his neutral reactions to her failed pregnancies. She would cry, and he would tell her to man up, that America didn't need crying bitches, it needed real women. Then he started asking for these manipulating favors: “Alta Gracita, if you love me you will do this, baby.” First, deliver money or drugs, then... sex... then, sex with other guys. By age sixteen she was lost in the world of drugs and prostitution.

Her story wasn't as sweet and poignant as Stacey Marie's story was going to end. She almost went to jail for possession with intent to distribute, prostitution, and a host of other charges. When they realized that she was a minor and that she'd been tricked into coming to the states, they made her a deal that landed her in rehab. Her boyfriend went to prison for life.

Years of rehab, therapy, and hard work were what helped her resist her own vices. She decided then that girls that had only wanted to be happy and ended up miserable needed someone to tell them they could remake their lives—and to help them do it. She knew these girls would need someone to understand their pain, and their need for the poison they used to make them feel less horrible.

So, Alta Gracia Solymar Del Rosario became a certified peer counselor. She put herself through school and certification. She submitted herself to random drug tests. She spoke with women daily that lived with drug use. Some of them were like her, girls that were dragged into a dark world. Some women liked it and were compelled to speak to her and didn't want help.

But then there was Stacey Marie. She was the best and the brightest. Granted, the decision to begin drinking and using was hers, but Alta knew that she'd even held out longer than expected considering the emotional abuse she'd been experiencing.

She'd cried for a solid hour before even beginning to talk about the drugs, and the abuse she suffered as a result. When she finally told her story, both she and Claire had smudged eyeliner and red-rimmed eyes.

She'd heard Claire tell the man that she had recommended starting her treatment as soon as possible, and he all but exploded. The girl, who saw this type of angry outburst often, didn't even flinch. Instead her eyes brimmed and overflowed with relief that someone had thought of her. Huh. It seemed that Don Levin had just become an important part of this girl's recovery.

He apologized sometime later for exploding at Claire, but she said she understood. Stacey had looked on with a beautiful smile on her face. Don was right. Removing her right now could just destabilize her more. They had to wait her out.

There was something else about Don, something Claire had assessed correctly. His feelings were changing, and he was going to suffer when she left. The thing that amazed her was that he seemed sincere when he said he didn't care, that it wasn't about him. He was willing to go through another personal heartbreak. But why?

He invited them to eat dinner. Stacey Marie, understandably, had very little appetite and picked at her food. Don watched her for a moment before getting up and rummaging through the fridge. A few minutes later, he took her plate and replaced it with a cup of fruit. Her smile was brilliant, and he squeezed her shoulder, his eyes as kind and soft as she'd ever seen someone's eyes be.

Claire was checking Stacey over before they left, giving her a moment to talk to him. His jaw was stiff and she sighed. “My goal isn't to take her from you.”

“I never said it was. It's not up to me, and it's not up to you either. You know you can only help people once they accept your help.”

“Don—”

“Look, I know what I’m up against, okay? I’m handling it.”

“Are you?”

He swallowed hard. “Talking about it isn't going to help. This girl is like a tornado. She came in, turned my life upside down, and she's gonna go and leave me trying to figure out what the fuck to do with myself. I can't help it anymore than I could help a twister blowing this town to pieces. The only thing I can do is let it happen, learn to adapt, learn to move on. And you know what? The difference between her and a tornado is that tornadoes die... they go away after some time. But she's gonna move on. She's not gonna fade out like a storm, she's going to get better and live her life. And that's worth anything any of us have to go through.”

“She's lucky to have you looking out for—”

“I used to glare at people like me. These perfect families would come through my line, spending more money on decorations than I made in a month, and I used to hate them because they would smile and laugh and hand over their fancy credit cards and I used to think, 'if they spent half of this money on something other than their selfish needs, maybe people like me could have some peace.' And then I grew up. I took my sister back, and we left Clearlake. I put her in sports and therapy and anything I could possibly afford to help her heal... and she did eventually. I took every possible second to be with her—and believe me, between work and school and my other job it wasn't time enough. And I used to think, 'if anyone could see how it kills me to have to tuck my sister in and leave her with a sitter so that I can work—but they don't see. They're busy.' And my work paid off, and now I’m part of a board that runs a world-wide enterprise. And I sit in a fancy office, in a fancy conference room, and I get paid more money in a year than I made in the previous eight... and let me tell you, I understand why nobody could see. And I hate that I became one of the blind ones, one of the ones that could walk down the street typing away on my smart phone instead of trying to see the people around me. And you know, I’d tell myself I was doing it to help my sister move forward. She started college last year, you know. And I threw myself into my work... and I told myself it was so that she'd have everything she needed for the career of her dreams. But it wasn't because of that at all... it was because I like the money. I liked being able to get my sister her own credit card, and I like seeing her show off her pretty clothes and shoes to her friends. I like the way girls look at me when I drive down the street in my Mercedes SL Coupe... but it's all superficial. Guys think my sister is hot and rich. Girls like me for my money. At the end, not only did I become blind, I’ve helped others be blind too.”

“You aren't blind. If you had been, you wouldn't want to help this girl.”

He lifted a shoulder in an indifferent shrug. “I was looking out the window when I saw her. Out the window of my fancy apartment that nobody shares but me. The interior decorator tried to find designs that suit me, and the result was in an issue of one of those home decorating magazines, the object of jealousy of broke people like I was across the country. I almost wish I’d never had all this... But then she came. And I knew. The reason I’ve been successful in my life... the reason I am where I am now is because she came from where I came from, and I can help her rise up again. This time I can use my money for something that isn't superficial. This time I can change someone's life for the better.”

“Doesn't change the fact that you weren't expecting her to change your life too. And in only three days.”

“Your life can change in a second. Believe me, I know.” He moved toward the window, his hands resting on the panes as he leaned on them. “'Son, your mother... she's dying.' That sentence takes about a second and a half to leave your lips. And my life changed. I came home one day and there was an ambulance and a police car in my driveway. I look for my sister, I look for my dad... I try to get in my house—something's wrong, I can feel it. 'Son... I’m sorry, but your father is dead.' And my life changed again.”

Alta was silent.

“I was watching my sister get into her cab home. She was gone, and I was looking at the people for the first time in a long time. I always stand at this window, specially when I can't sleep. But I never actually looked. At the people, at the buildings... that day I was looking. It took a second to see her come tearing around the corner like she's being chased by the devil himself. And in that second, my life changed again. You remember that. Your life changes like this.” He snapped his fingers. “You can't stop it. You can't make it slow down. Your life changes every second. Sometimes you choose it. Sometimes it goes whether you would or no. Sometimes it's better to let your life change and make choices later. That's what I’m doing now. I can't do anything about what she went through. But she's here. Now what I can do is keep her safe and make sure she's okay where ever she ends up. The changes I’m going to make in my life will happen later. I can't make my problems her problems, she has enough of those.”

“And your feelings for her are a problem?”

“What are you talking about?!” Don asked, exasperated. His hands clenched against the window panes involuntarily.

Alta shook her head, a knowing smile on her face. “Denial only works for so long. Claire will be in next week to remove her stitches. I’ll be around to check on her in a couple days. ” And she was gone.

Tuesday

Stacey was scared. Don had been moody since then. She wondered when he'd snap—kick her out, or just plain kick her. She stayed out of his way as much as she could, noting how stiff, silent, and distant he was when making her meals and giving her medication.

“Why are you shaking?” He asked suddenly, while he was cleaning her hands on one occasion. When she didn't answer, he looked up. “Stacey?”

She refused to meet his eyes, but he ducked into her line of sight, a charming half-smile on his face. “What is it, Firecracker?”

She swallowed hard, shaking her head. “N-nothing.”

He nodded slowly, focusing on her hands again. When he was done, he stood. Taking two steps back, he turned and walked toward the window. He put his hands on the window panes again... where she could see them. “This window has a view all the way up the street,” he said quietly. “I saw you two blocks up. Sounds impossible... but it isn't when you spend a lot of time here, just... watching.”

She was frozen on the chair, and the way his shoulders sagged told her he had figured out that she was currently terrified of him. “I'm sorry,” was the only thing that could make it past the knot in her throat.

He shook his head. “You don't have to apologize to me. I've been the grumpiest host on the face of the universe. I'm sorry.”

“W-What?”

He shook his head again. “I would never hurt you. I—I promise you that no matter how mad or grumpy or whatever I get, I'm never going to... inflict...any harm on you. I swear by anything you want.”

She was silent; she didn't know what to say. But she saw herself nodding in the reflection on the glass of the enormous window, so she guessed he could see too.

“I was fourteen when they told me that my mom was dying. She'd gotten some weird disease, and there was nothing they could do to treat her. She died—like three months later. My dad... he was an actuary. Made good money, and we lived comfortably, you know? We had everything we needed. But my dad... he just—I mean, I could see him dying inside without my mom. We could barely even look at each other near the end, and it was starting to make my sister really... just, you know... I guess, uncomfortable, for lack of a better word.

“One day, I was late from school... I told my dad I would be, I was—um, late to a couple classes and had to do detention.” The sheepishness with which he admitted that he'd been late endeared her. “I was late, and my dad picked up Kosuke from school. Told her immediately to go to her room, and she did. She called me, left a voicemail on my cell, saying that daddy was mad at her and that I needed to come home. I just—bolted. I ran all the way home. When I got there, my sister was sitting on the front porch steps with a cop and some social services lady. My dad was in a body bag. He went in the basement and shot himself. Kosuke heard it, went looking for him. She saw him and called 911.”

“Oh...”

“Social services took my sister, put her in a home. They weren't bad people. But we needed each other then, and nobody seemed to care enough to just try... I would rather have been put in a group home with a dozen other kids wearing rags than in a fancy home separated from my sister. She was traumatized and confused, and she was only a kid when she saw my dad's brain all over the basement. Nobody should have to see that shit, let alone a kid. But instead of trying to help, they took her away from the only family she had left. It was brutal for her. And me... well, I tried not to focus on me, you know? I just knew I had to get my sister back.”

“I'm sorry,” she whispered again.

“Not your fault,” he said, still studying the people and architecture outside the window. “I got a job and emancipated myself within a few months. I started working day and night. Sold my parents house, took the money and started looking for lawyers to help me get custody of my sister. It took five years to do that.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“You asked me, once. I just... I thought you should know. I've had to drag myself up, too. Maybe... maybe not in the same way as you. But I know what it's like to feel alone, and I don't want you to feel that way. I told myself I wouldn't let you feel that way. But here you are, in my house, scared to death and at the end of the day, you don't even know me. I—failed you in that aspect. I want to make it right.”

She shook her head. “Don't say that. You didn't even have to take me in. You've done more than enough for me.”

He turned around. “Then please... please don't be afraid of me. I only wanna help you in the way I wish someone had helped me. You have... an unconditional, unmovable safe harbor in this house. And you have and unconditional friend in me, one that is incapable of hurting you ever. Can you just... trust me?”

She smiled a little. “I do,” she said quietly.

He walked up to her then, gently kissing her temple. “Good,” he said against her skin. “I won't let you down.” Then he walked away.

She couldn't help but notice that his sour mood was a little bit lighter.

Thursday

Two days later, Don stomped into the kitchen grumpily, only to find the Firecracker unwrapping the bandages from her fingers. On the table, a fluffernutter cut into triangles and strawberry milk. He noticed that it was a little bit sloppy, and that her bandages were sticky with fluff and peanut butter.

He sat down with a smile, and she gave him another sheepish grin. “You've been sorta quiet,” she virtually whispered. “I... don't want you to feel bad.”

“You didn't have to do that,” he said, his smile growing.

“You defended me,” she said, her voice still low. “And then you told me your life story. And since then you've been brooding.” She looked down. “I—I don't want you to feel bad because of me.”

He reached for her, his hands resting lightly on her upper arms. He noticed the fading bruises that fit the shape, but not the size of his hands, and he frowned, letting his hands roam her skin for a moment before settling on an uninjured area of her upper arms. Then he stared straight into her eyes, his face as serious as ever. “I'm glad you are here. I can promise you you don't make me feel bad. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

“Always. Let me help you clean up okay?”

She bit her lip, her cheeks flaming. Her eyes widened a little bit even as they lowered. “I'd really like it if you ate your sandwich first,” she said shyly.

Her husband is officially a heartless asshole if he could have ever resisted that face, he thought bitterly as he dug into his sandwich. It was the best fluffernutter he'd ever eaten.

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting across from each other and he was gently cleaning her fingers. He could already see her nails starting to grow back. Her stitches were starting to loosen a little bit. Sure enough, they'd be ready to come out in a few days.

He turned to her wrists and she winced. “You alright?” he murmured, glancing up at her.

“I'm okay,” she said. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

He smiled a little bit, not looking up. “It's been a while since I had to take care of anyone but me.”

“Only a year,” she said.

He shook his head with a rueful smile. “Kosuke is sharp as a tack. I got custody of her when she was twelve. But by the time she was in high school, she was off. She was into all her volleyball and kung fu classes and extra-currics... and I had to let her fly you know? She grew up while I was gone. And then all she needed was her big brother to kick her ex-boyfriends' asses. Oh, speaking of which,” he growled.

“Uh oh,” she chuckled.

He sighed. “It's nothing.”

“Not to her it isn't.”

He shrugged, half in agreement and halfway because he didn't know how to answer. He decided to explain instead. “She's been with him since her junior year. She's never been so broken up about a guy before. She came here to sulk the day before I met you, you know.”

She smiled that shy, beautiful smile again. “Did you make her a fluffernutter?”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” he said with a laugh.

“When was the last time someone made you a fluffernutter?”

He finished wrapping her other wrist and stood. “Today,” he said with a smile. “Have a good night,” he said into her ear as he walked past her.

She shivered, and for the first time, it wasn't from fear.

~-~

She was awake all night thinking. He'd dodged her question. She was a lawyer for goodness sake, she knew when people were playing her. The look in his eyes when he'd answered her... she'd been blown away. He had done his best to hide the wave of... something... but it was there, and it was burning in him. But he'd smothered that and replaced it with a grateful, tender smile.

Was he really that lonely? Maybe it wasn't that at all. Maybe he felt worthless. She knew that feeling well, after all. He was grateful that someone had taken the time to care for him—like he didn't deserve it.

She scoffed. Okay, he spent his entire life alone working his ass off to take care of his sister. She on the other hand, wasted her life and her career on drugs and an abusive asshole. Who deserved what again? But there he was, stuffing his face with his sandwich and enjoying it like it was the last thing he would ever eat. Or maybe... like it was the first one he'd ever felt like he didn’t deserve.

Whatever the reason, she felt like the level of his gratitude was preposterous. When she fell asleep, she dreamed of Don finding her on the street, and how his brown eyes had been determined to keep her safe. It was the first time she slept without any nightmares in years.

When she awoke from the dream, she was unsettled. What did this mean? She didn’t even know this guy. She turned restlessly to her side. The alarm clock in his guest room read 3:37 am. She'd been sleeping in his room, but she was getting better and she could tell that he'd been missing his bed, so last night she'd slipped into the guest room, leaving him to stay in his bed. Tonight he'd gone to his room and stayed there, and she was glad. He needed the rest.

He needed the rest? She couldn't remember ever having cared this much about someone's sleeping habits. But then, he saved her life. She should care at least a little bit, right?

Banging made her freeze in terror. Someone was pounding... on the door. Oh fuck, he was here. He was here, he found her he was going to kill her... oh...

She heard Don's door open and close, followed by the front door opening. Don's voice was rough from sleep, and she could tell he was pissed. “What the fuck do you want?”

She put on a hoodie Don had loaned her and stepped out into the hallway, trembling. If he came for her, she might as well go. There was no use in getting this man killed too... he'd only tried to help.

There was more tense muttering from the front door. Don wasn't letting him in?

She listened harder, and a voice growled. “Seriously this isn't any of your business!”

“She is my business. I don't give a shit about what you think or your feelings right now. She's not here and I don't know where she is. Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you, asshole.”

A bang made her jump. “TELL ME WHERE SHE IS! Dammit, I know you're keeping her from me! Tell me where she is!”

“I'm not saying shit to you, now get out before I call the cops!” Don yelled back.

Tears slipped from her eyes. “Don...? I'm sorry... I’ll go.”

He whirled around, eyes wide. “Stacey? Dammit... I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to wake up. Hey... don't cry. Are you okay? Come here,” he said, and his voice was that firm but tender tone that he'd used when he first took her into his home.

She shook her head, involuntarily taking a step back. When she realized that she'd refused him, she shook even harder. “I'm sorry... please, I’ll do whatever you want.”

Don frowned in confusion, then understanding lit his eyes. He turned slowly back to the door. “Andy." He said the name clearly so she'd know the rude awakening had nothing to do with her. “I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but if you think you can come here, wake up my house guests and my neighbors by cause you screwed my sister over, you are very mistaken. You have about ten seconds before I call the police on your ass. And if I find out you got within a hundred feet of my sister with this attitude, I swear to God I will make your life hell, and don't think I can't. Got it?”

“Fuck you dude.”

Don glared at him. “No, thanks. But get near my sister again and I’ll be so far up your ass you'll still be tasting me in ten years... so actually, fuck you.” And then he slammed the door in Andy's face. He turned back to Stacey. “I'm... sorry you had to hear that. That was the guy I was telling you about... the one that cheated on my sister?”

“Oh,” she breathed, slightly relieved.

“I didn't mean for him to scare you. I'm sorry.”

“'sokay,” she mumbled, drying her face with the back of her hand.

“Come here,” he said softly. When she was standing in front of him, he wrapped her in a hug.

She felt herself relaxing. She remembered why she slept so well in his room. There was something about him that was so calming. Even her nightmares weren't so terrifying. Whatever it was, she could stay like this contentedly the rest of the night.

Don felt the Firecracker relax into his embrace and he sighed in relief. Seeing her cry was worse than seeing his sister cry, and he didn't know anything could be worse than Kosuke’s sad faces. Her eyes had been resigned, even though she was afraid. It was horrifying. Did she actually... did she think he'd willingly just hand her over to anyone who wanted to hurt her? Jesus, this girl was screwed up.

He wanted to let her have his room again, but she shook her head. “It's okay.”

“I really don't mind. I have to call my sister anyway... and I won't sleep anymore. Please, if you feel safer in there, I want you to stay there.”

“Okay,” she said in a tiny voice.

He smiled and squeezed her for a second. “Night, Firecracker.”

She waved at him and slipped into his room, and he picked up his landline. “Kosuke I don't know where you are but you better call me the second you get this message,” he growled into the receiver after the monotonous lady recited her automated response. He hung up and called again.

“What?!” Kosuke snapped.

“Where the hell are you?”

“Why do you care?!” she sassed.

“Um... maybe cause your boyfriend came over here, raising hell and waking up everyone with his banging and generally assoholic behavior... which scared the heck out of my guest.”

“Tell him he can get fucked,” she hissed. “That skank was doing a fantastic job of it, he can keep screwing her if he wants. I don't want to see him ever again!”

“You need to chill out, number one. Number two, you need to tell me where you are right now.”

“What do you care?! You aren't my father, you don't need to know shit.”

Don swallowed hard. “Okay then,” he said, his voice rough.

“Donnie, I'm—I'm sorry, I didn't mean it...”

“It's fine,” he said blankly, his voice empty. “You just... take care of yourself.” He hung up and moved to the window, where he stayed until daylight broke.

4: Chapter 4

Chapter 4
Friday

She didn't wake up the next day until the early afternoon. He'd peeked in on her, knowing that Andy's little show had shaken her. But alas, she was sound asleep, and it looked like she hadn't even moved all night. Leaving her sleeping like the dead, he went about his day. Today, he needed to run some errands and go to work briefly.

When she tiptoed into the kitchen, she found a note that read, Made some grilled chicken and salad, put them in the fridge. Went to pick up some stuff for work and run some errands. I’ll be back in an hour or two.-Don.

She carefully opened the refrigerator and found the chopped salad. The grilled chicken was in a container. She was just about to figure out how she was going to open the container with her damaged hands when she heard the front door open and close. “Hey, you're back from the dead,” Don said quietly. She could hear the smirk in his voice before she'd even turned around.

He reached around her and opened the container. “Here, I'll heat that for you.”

“You don't have to...”

“Sit,” he said, raising both of his eyebrows.

She obeyed.

He set out a pan for the chicken and checked the salad before tossing it lightly in olive oil and a splash of lime. In a few minutes, it was all ready and he set the food before her, leaving her to eat so he wouldn't have to suffer through her enjoyment. Really, his day was getting long enough without him ending up questioning his mental state because he was getting excited by a homeless, abused girl eating food. Besides, he had work to do, and the longer he could keep himself distracted, the longer he could avoid thinking about Kosuke.

He was up to his ears in forms and numbers when a soft knock brought him out of his mass of paperwork. He looked up at the office door. “Hey there. Everything okay?”

She nodded. “Actually... you have a phone call. I hope you don't mind me answering for you, but it didn't seem like you heard it and I was sort of... I mean—I should have asked first, I'm sorry. It just seemed important.” By the end of her explanation, she was tense and nervous.

“It's okay,” he reassured her. “Thank you for coming to get me.” He smiled at her as he took the phone from her hand. “Levin.”

“Don?”

He frowned, but didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say.

“Donnie... are you there? Don't... hang up on me, I’m sorry.”

“I didn't hang up, I'm here. I'm just... I sorta don't know what to say. You said all that needed to be said.”

“I didn't mean it,” his sister whispered. He could tell she was holding back tears.

“You... you did mean it. But I get that you were angry.”

“I shouldn't have taken it out on you.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Have you talked to him?”

“You know what? I don't want to talk about him.”

“What do you want to talk about then?”

“I want to finish apologizing for what I said.”

“I'm over it,” he said dully.

“You aren't,” she whispered. “I hurt you, and I'm sorry. You've done more than anyone would have expected. You're... I shouldn't have said that, I’m sorry.”

He sighed. “You're a grown person. I shouldn’t be so protective. It's fine, alright? Forget it, it's forgotten.”

“Stop doing that! Stop blowing off your feelings. I know you're mad at me, okay? I’m sorry I hurt you. What I said was cruel. Now just accept my apology and be mad or whatever so that you can really get over it.” She ended in a huff.

He chuckled. “I love you, sissy. I'm sorry, honey.”

“I'm sorry too, Donnie. I love you.”

“Will you please at least tell me where you stayed?”

“I'm staying with Mary... she's my buddy from the community college, and he doesn't know her.”

“Oh... okay. How long are you staying there?”

“Dunno. Till he figures out I don't want to talk to him.”

He sighed. “I'm sorry. Come over for pancakes tomorrow?”

“Okay. Can I bring Mary?”

“Bring whoever you want, honey,” he said softly, a smile forming on his face. Then he frowned again. “And if Andy comes at you like he did last night—”

“I'll kick his ass, no worries. Okay?”

“Okay, Sissy.”

“I love you, Donnie.”

“I love you, Kosuke.” He hung up feeling much lighter.

Sunday

In the evening, Stacey seemed a little bit down. Listless and restless, she paced thoughtfully for what seemed like hours. Don watched her from his office until he finally got up and leaned on the doorway. “What is it, Firecracker?”

“Huh?” She said absently, stopping in her tracks and looking up at him like a deer in the headlights.

“I was asking, what's the matter?”

She shrugged, resuming her pacing.

“Stacey.”

She looked up again.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing... I just... it's nothing.”

When she started pacing again, Don stood in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. “Are you okay?”

“Stop asking,” she mumbled.

“Should I call Alta again?”

Stacey lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “She was here yesterday.”

“Well do you need her today?”

She shrugged again. “She must be busy.”

“Well it's her job to help people. You need help.”

“I'm okay.” She waved him off, but her hand trembled.

“Mmkay. I'll have her come in tonight.”

“What? But—”

“If you need anything else please come get me,” he said, kissing her temple and walking back to the office.

He was two steps from the door when her voice stopped him. “Can you stay with me?” She whispered. When he turned, her cheeks were bright pink, her bright green eyes were wide and innocent, and her lip was drawn into a slight pout.

Don actually broke a sweat. How did she do that?! And more importantly, how did she not get away with everything with that asshole ex of hers? He was now officially convinced that this guy was downright soulless... or maybe blind. Or both.

“Uh.. urm, let me—save my stuff,” he stammered, feeling totally out of control.

She gave a shy smile that was just as endearing as the pout she sported moments before, partially covered by her hand.

Don wiped his palms and turned to the office. Wait, he wiped his palms? When was the last time anyone did that to him? He shook his head. This was insane. He needed this to be over already so that he could go back to being numb. Right? Right. Good. So the first thing he needed to do was—

“Don?”

He looked up.

“Do you mind if I pick a movie?”

“Whatever you want,” he breathed.

“Okay.”

“Hey.”

“Yeah?” She turned back to him.

He swallowed. “You don't have to ask... anything anytime, okay?”

She nodded her thanks, her shy smile still on her face, and then she was gone.

Monday

“Morning honey,” Don said with a soft smile as his sister slipped through the front door.

“Have you started yet?” She hugged him tightly, smiling when he kissed her hair.

He nodded. “You have class don't you?”

“Yeah. Donnie, this is Mary, she's in my forensic pathology class.”

“What's up?” he greeted, turning back to his batter.

“Oh hi,” Kosuke suddenly said, bouncing over to the other side of the kitchen and wrapping Stacey in a hug.

“Hi,” Stacey squeaked. She'd never been greeted like that before, even in high school when she was popular.

Kosuke giggled. “What? You live here now, don't you? You might as well get used to it. Besides, my brother will never admit it, but being surrounded by girls makes him—”

“Hey now,” Don warned, hiding a smirk.

“Anyway,” Kosuke laughed again, “This is Mary.”

Stacey sent a shy smile to the blonde girl, who waved at her.

“Okay ladies, breakfast is ready.” Don happily placed platters full of pancakes, eggs, fruits, and bacon on the kitchen island where everyone was seated. “Let’s eat!”

Kosuke immediately helped Stacey with her plate again, winking at her when she set her plate in front of her. Stacey blinked back tears at the kindness, but the younger girl waved her off. “No worries. My brother would just make it awkward. Speaking of which, when are you getting your stitches out?”

“Maybe next week,” Don answered. “Claire's been checking on her.”

“Mary here is a nursing major, you know. If you guys need anything and Claire can't help, maybe Mary can.”

Stacey shook her head. “That's okay, but thank you.”

Don just laughed. “I think you should quit volunteering other people's help, baby sister.”

“Oh shove it,” Kosuke grinned back.

“I wouldn't mind,” Mary said. “I just finished my internships actually.”

“That's great,” Don nodded. “You going to go straight for a job or are you going to go back to school?”

Mary swallowed her bite. “I want to continue on with my master's degree. I'm going to work in Intensive Care.”

“Wow really? Those jobs get really hard, sometimes.”

“Nobody's job is easy,” Mary said with a shrug. “But someone has to do those jobs, it might as well be people who think that job is worth it, right?”

Don smiled and nodded. “That's right,” he said softly.

Stacey stared at her hands. “I went to school, double majored in business and pre-law. Got my law degree, started working... but I’ve never looked at what I do the way you look at your career options. That's... very impressive. Congratulations.”

“Wait so you're a lawyer?”

Stacey smirked a little bit in response, and it was the first bit of sass Don had seen in her since the beginning.

“So you've been in court before! That's so awesome, what's it like?”

“Long and long-winded. Business law is my specialty. I’ve done everything from review contracts to battle lawsuits. It's always a challenge, you know? I like my mind being constantly put to work.”

Don watched her speak, and he was sure he looked slightly dazzled—and a whole lot star struck. He'd seen this girl. She was one of the hottest lawyers in the state. Valuecricket Enterprises had had eyes on her for years, but then she went underground. No one ever saw or heard from her again. Could it be...?

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “No way!”

Three pairs of eyes looked at him in confusion.

“You're the Stacey Hough! You were getting looked at by my company, you know. To represent us.”

Stacey raised both eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn't know,” she said sadly, lowering her eyes.

“Hey,” he said, scooting closer to her and taking her hand gently. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.”

“It's okay. It's just... so many wasted opportunities...”

“Hey, we're gonna get you out of this mess and hopefully get you working again. You'll be back at the top before you know it, okay?”

She smiled and nodded. “Okay.”

~-~

He arrived at the office and grinned. “Hey man, how are ya?”

The person in question looked up from his paperwork and grinned, pushing himself away from his desk. “Holy shit! I didn't think I’d ever see you—like, ever again!”

“I couldn't believe I saw you in the Pages here. How have you been, man?”

“Been better—but been worse too, so I can't complain. I'd stand for ya, but...” He motioned to himself, and Don realized with sadness and mild horror that his friend couldn't stand.

His eyes widened. “What the deuce...?”

“Pedestrian accident. Drunk dude in a pick up. Again, I could be dead, so I can't really complain,” Danny shrugged. “It was years ago,” He said with a smile.

“Jesus,” Don muttered, swallowing hard. “I'm really... really glad you're okay,” He said, his voice hoarse. He shook his friend's hand and leaned down to hug him hard. Danny Parker had been his best friend growing up. When his mom died, he'd leaned on the younger man more than anyone else in his life. However, he'd lost contact with Danny after he moved to Kings Harbor with Kosuke. Seeing him was a happy surprise... and knowing that he'd gone into family law was a big bonus. Maybe he could help.

“So, what's up?”

“I need your help,” Don said.

Danny raised an eyebrow. “You're married?”

“Not me. Her,” he said, pointing to his phone. Danny flipped though the pictures, the bruises and bloody wounds making his face pale in horror.

“Who is she?”

“Um... her name is Stacey. She apparently married an asshole, as you can see. On Sunday morning, I saw her bookin' it down the block, and I yanked her off the street and she's been hiding out in my place since then. I don't know what to do. She's—in a bad way. She... I mean, and he also got her, you know, using, and she's afraid to try and even go to the police because she's afraid of what will happen if he finds her.”

Danny nodded. “Okay. Well I need her ID, her basic information and stuff at the very least. Stay in touch, let me know how she's doing. When she's ready to come forward, let me know—I think we ought to get working on a restraining order and stuff.”

“Cool man. Thank you for your help. Really. You understand if I ask you to... you know, keep it under wraps.”

“'Course dude. She's my client now, anything she says to me is privileged. Mum's the word. I gotta talk to her directly though, do you think you can bring her in?”

Don shook his head. “She's afraid to leave. I...” he cut himself off, but Danny smirked.

“No such thing as altruism,” he grinned. “You don't want her to go, do you?”

“'s not up to me,” Don muttered. “She needs help is all.”

“I'm on it dude. Here's my card—and here's my cell. Call me, let's go out for drinks. Something tells me you've got it bad for this girl.”

Don glared. “Drop it.”

Danny raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. We'll shoot some hoops at the Y then?”

Don raised an eyebrow as he scribbled his personal landline and both his and Stacey's cell numbers on the back of his business card. “You're so on,” he said with a smirk.

~-~

When he got home that night, he looked happy. “Hiya,” he said brightly.

Stacey blinked in confusion, but smiled at his enthusiasm.

He whistled a tune as he went to the kitchen. “Hungry?”

She nodded, following him. Watching him cook, especially in a mood like his current mood, was a treat for her.

He set about chopping some vegetables. “So how was your day? Alta called me and said she was coming in, did she come?”

Stacey nodded. “Yeah. I'm okay,” she said quietly.

He gave her a soft smile. “I'm glad to hear that.”

“Claire came too,” she volunteered. She didn't want to keep it from him and then have him be angry.

He nodded. “Yeah? How'd you check out with her?”

“Great, she said I'm still okay to take the stitches out of my fingers next week. She said Wednesday.”

He frowned. “Wednesday I have meetings all day.”

“I'll be okay alone,” she whispered. “I don't want to keep you from your work more than necessary.”

“Don't worry about it. I'll call Claire and set it up if that's what you want.”

She gave him one of those shy, pretty little smiles. “Thank you.”

“Always,” he said, returning the smile. He felt his chest do something funny, and he turned back to his vegetables to hide his frown. He did not want this.

“Also... someone called the cellphone you gave me. He said his name was Danny.”

“Oh, cool,” Don said, his face lighting with recognition. “I'm glad he called you right away. Do you like him? Do you trust him?”

“He said he's an old friend of yours, and that he wants to help me with my—you know, stuff.” Stacey shrugged. “I liked him.”

“Awesome. He wants you to go in and see him, but if you aren't comfortable with that, I can make other arrangements.”

“He told me that. He understands,” she whispered.

“Aww, don't get all choked up, Firecracker. You know you didn't do anything to deserve this hell. No matter what bullshit he fed you, everyone is gonna know that you didn't deserve this, and they're going to want to help you.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. “He said I was a whore and that nobody could ever love me. He said I was worthless and stupid.”

“It was all lies, Firecracker, you know it was all lies.”

“He said if I said anything, he would tell the Bar that I was a crack whore so that I’d lose my license. He said it was all my fault cause I was such a slut.”

“I'm sorry, honey,” he said, wrapping her in a hug. “They were all lies. He manipulated you. It's over now, okay? His bullshit won't get anywhere anymore. He said all that shit just to scare you into not trying to escape or say anything to the cops, but that ends now, do you understand?”

She nodded into his chest.

“He hated you because you're beautiful and smart, and you had it all. He wanted to bring you down. But he can't bring you down anymore okay? I won't let him, and Danny won't let him, and neither will Alta and Claire. When you're up to it, my sister knows like four thousand methods of self-defense, and she can show you some stuff too. She's asked me if you want to learn. That way if he comes back for you, you can take care of yourself. Okay?”

She nodded again, her tiny, mangled fists clutching his shirt.

“No more tears, Firecracker,” he said softly. “He doesn't deserve them. He's an ass. gonna make you a snack, okay?”

She nodded, wiping her face with her sleeves.

Five minutes later, a fluffernutter and an ice cold strawberry milkshake were placed in front of her.

Don smiled sheepishly. “Claire says you're still under-weight. I made you a shake instead of just the milk, with like some of that protein stuff in it. I hope it doesn't taste too terrible.”

Stacey smiled up at him in thanks. In minutes, she'd devoured the shake and the sweet, sticky sandwich. “I won't be for very long if you keep feeding me like this.”

“Good,” Don said with a satisfied smile. “You'll be back to your old self in no time at all.”

Tuesday

“Huh? What..?” Don sat up dazed, wondering what woke him. He reached blindly for the lamp on his night stand, knocking over his alarm in the process.

“I'm sorry.”

“Oh,” he mumbled, clearing the sleep from his throat and blinking at the brightness of the lamp. “What's wrong, Firecracker? Bad dream? Are you in pain?”

She stood in the door way, her face shining with tears in the faint light from the moon and street lamps that made it past the blinds of the window, seeming too afraid to come it.

He slipped out of bed and she shook her head, raising her hands in front of her. “No... don't get out of bed. I shouldn't have come, I'm sorry.”

He sighed. “Well I’m up, so the sooner you tell me what's bothering you the sooner we'll both sleep. Come on, now, Firecracker. You know I won't hurt you.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“Then tell me what's wrong.”

“Bad dream,” she finally whispered. “I thought it was real. I was sleeping and then I woke up and he was there... standing there, watching me. He looked like a demon.”

“Scary,” Don said with a shudder. “In retrospect, he prolly is. No offense, but the guy you married is soulless if he's unaffected by some of the looks you give me.”

That earned him a teeny smile. “Daddy used to hate that.”

“You're adorable,” he chuckled, moving closer to her and gently wrapping her in a hug. “That your husband didn't see that... really is his loss, you know. But he can't hurt you now, I won't let him. Okay?” He pulled away. “I'm gonna check you over okay? Sometimes bad dreams are scary enough to make people hurt themselves.”

“I'm fine... I already looked. No torn stitches or anything.”

“Good,” he nodded. “Fluffernutter?”

“Now?”

He shrugged. “Why not? They say an empty stomach gives nightmares.”

“I don't think that's true,” she said with a giggle.

“Come on. It'll make you feel better.”

He turned on the light in the kitchen and went to the counter immediately, setting four slices of bread in the toaster oven. He moved got the milk and a few fresh strawberries from the fridge, and got the strawberry mix from the cabinet.

Within a few minutes, he had two ice cold glasses of strawberry milk and warm, sticky, peanut butter and fluff sandwiches, both garnished with fresh, sliced strawberries.

“Have you ever thought about cooking... you know, like professionally?”

Don smiled. “Thanks, but no. Cooking is relaxing to me. Doing it for a living would take that away, and the passion would be gone. Besides, you'd have to pay for this if I were a chef,” he said with a wink.

Stacey's lips drew into a pout, and her eyes widened. “You really would make me pay?”

“W-what? No! I mean...” Don stammered and sputtered as the pretty Firecracker brought out the big guns. Jesus, this girl could make him jump off a bridge with that look. He wasn't sure how he felt about it.

She was laughing now. She knew she got him flustered, and it was sort of funny.

“Have you ever used those looks in court? Your Jedi pouting would get any jury on your side.”

She grinned. “Oh, I know.”

He smirked as he finished his sandwich. “Yeah, I know you do. Come on, let's get to bed. I'll clean this up tomorrow.”

Her face got serious, and she looked down.

“What is it?” he asked softly.

“I don't want to be alone,” she mumbled.

Holy crap, she didn't even have to look at him to make him sweat. What was he supposed to do? “I-I don't know,” he stuttered. “I... I can s-stay with you, until you fall asleep. I'll... sit there with you, and you can tell me what's on your mind. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Wednesday

Don woke up late. He also woke up not in his bed. There was warm pressure on his arm, and the pillow smelled like flowery shampoo. He was on his side, and she was curled up against him. Holy shit... did he fall asleep spooning her? What the hell had he gotten himself into?

She sighed a little bit in her sleep, a contented smile on her face. He told himself to man up, that it was worth whatever just happened if she felt safe. She had a family to return to, and they were counting on him to make sure she was okay. If it were Kosuke, he would want someone to do this for her.

He slipped out of the bed and went to his room so that he could shower. The alarm on the floor read 7:33 am. He had to get to work today, early, for some meeting. He told them he was off this week... but no. Deals had to be made, money had to be generated. Companies, unlike normal people, don't take breaks.

He got dressed as quickly as he could and ran for the door, slamming into a tiny red-haired figure in the process. She bounced off him and landed on the ground painfully.

“Crap... are you okay? Dammit, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” she mumbled, grunting as she climbed to her feet.

“I oughtta put a bell on ya,” he muttered.

Stacey just shrugged. “He didn't like it when I was loud.”

“He didn't like you,” Don said with a frown. “I gotta get going, I'm late—shit, what are you going to eat for breakfast?”

“I can get cereal, it's okay.”

“No, no. I gotta feed ya, you're still under-weight.”

“I'm fine,” she said impatiently. “Go.”

“If you insist then... okay. I um... let me just, just in case.” He scrambled into the kitchen, setting out the cereal already in a bowl—the box wasn't even open yet, and he figured it would hurt her to try and open it. He poured milk into a cup and set it next to it, and then he turned back to the door. “Okay... I'll be home in time for lunch and... if you need anything just leave me a message and I'll—”

“Okay, okay. Go on, you're late,” she shooed him out of the apartment.

When he was gone, he realized that this was what his life had been like when Claire stayed over night. He argued with himself immediately, telling himself that the Firecracker was not his girlfriend.

But she got him to sleep in the same bed, and she just did something his old girlfriend would do on a regular basis. And he cooked for her and made her a midnight snack and... his whole life could be like that, and he would be the happiest man in the world.

How terrifying.

5: Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It wasn't until evening that Claire came to the house. She gently unwrapped Stacey's hands and studied the stitching carefully. “This is good,” she murmured, “You're doing so well, Stacey. Looks I can take out those four today.” She pointed out the four fingers that were less injured and had evidently healed faster than the others. “Those will be ready looks like in the next couple days. I'm going to take a look at your wrists, okay?” She carefully checked the stitching on the deep cuts on Stacey's wrists. “I'll be around to check these next week. In the mean time, lets focus on the good stuff, yeah?”

She reached for her suture kit and carefully snipped and pulled the stitches away before putting them in the little dish. She was happy with the battered girl's progress. Hopefully soon she'd start using her hands a little bit more, working that scarred skin back into normality.

“There you go,” she said brightly. She pulled her stethoscope from around her neck. “How has the coughing been?”

“It got worse before it got better. I still cough.”

“Well that could go on at least a couple more weeks. Deep breath?”

Stacey drew a slow breath, releasing it.

Claire smiled a little, her hand gently squeezing Stacey's shoulder. “Relax,” she chuckled.

“Sorry,” Stacey whispered.

“It's okay, sweetheart. There is no pain here, okay? Give me a couple more deep breaths.” When she'd finished listening to Stacey's lungs, she pulled the device out of her ears. “Excellent, you sound much better. I'm going to check your eye now, okay?” Her eye had been bruised badly and almost swollen shut, but slowly the swelling had gone down. With a pen light, Claire had Stacey carefully follow the motion with her eyes. Then she shined the pen light into each eye, checking the pupil reactions. “Looks really good,” She said with a smile. “You were lucky that wasn't worse, you know. A lot of people that get hit like that tend to have damage. But you look great, you should be back to normal in no time. Don has been photographing these, hasn't he?”

They both nodded.

“Good. Those will serve as evidence should you want to press charges.”

Stacey gulped. “I can't,” She whispered.

Claire gently squeezed her hand, her blue eyes filled with kindness and sympathy. “Honey I know you're scared. I know that you don't think you can beat him... but those days are over for you now. You did the right thing when you fought for your life and got away. You aren't alone anymore. Okay?”

Stacey sniffed a little bit.

“I think a comedy is in order. Some pop corn, MMs and soda, and some good laughs. And maybe tonight we can call your mom, tell her how much better you're doing?”

The redhead brightened and nodded, and Claire took her cue and gathered her things with a soft smile. “You two have fun. If you need anything, please call me.”

“Thanks, Claire,” Don said, kissing her cheek as he walked her to the door.

“Let me know if she needs anything.”

“Of course,” Don nodded. “Thanks again, Claire, text me when you get home, okay?”

She chuckled. “Yes, dad.”

He rolled his eyes as he closed the door.

Stacey was looking at his wall of DVDs. “Duke of Fury? You have all six of them?”

“Hey, Duke of Fury was made of awesome.”

“I gave up on them after Duke of Fury: The Musical.”

“I admit that one was lame. But the rest rocked.” Don grinned at the series of action movies from years and years before that he liked so much. “I heard they're doing a reboot.”

“Ugh, really?”

“Yeah. It's been twelve years I think... they're due. I'm so there,” he grinned, pumping his fist in the air.

She rolled her eyes at his glee. “I think you're obsessed.”

“I think we should watch Duke of Fury: The Musical if for nothing else than to just laugh at how much it sucks.”

She giggled. “Okay. I think I’ll like making fun of you more than the movie.”

He smirked. “Bring it on, Firecracker. Bring it on.”

Thursday

She could hold her drinks now, although her grip wasn't very strong. She was getting better, and he was realizing that his time with her was ending. He could feel himself turning cold and distant with Stacey, even though he was consciously trying to remain warm and helpful.

By evening she was like a frightened kitten, skittish and terrified, even. She could barely accept her food from his hands.

He leaned on the counter and hung his head. “I'm sorry,” he said.

“W-what—what for?” She whispered.

“Scaring you,” he chuckled humorlessly.

She shook her head a little. “No... it's n-nothing. I'm s-sorry if I did something wrong.”

“You didn't do anything wrong,” he snapped. “I'm sorry,” he relented in the next breath. “It's just... I really like having you here, okay? And I’m just trying to... find a way to be okay with you... moving on.”

She saddened. “I don't have to go. I... I'll do anything you want.” He barely heard the “I'm sorry, please don't hurt me.”

“I want you to get well,” he said with a heavy sigh, ignoring the second part. “All I want is for you to be able to move on with your life.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “More than I want you to stay.”

“Doesn't seem like it,” she said quietly. “Good night.” Her silent footsteps weren't indication that she had gone—only the shut door of her room.

~-~

She was confused. She hadn't known that he was so conflicted about her being in his home. He said he liked it... and the 'more than I should' had been implied, but she'd done her best to ignore it.

What was so bad about liking her and wanting her to stay. Had... had Jack been right about nobody wanting to like her ever again?

Unwittingly, her mind went back to her husband. It was dark that night, ominously so. Or maybe, she just didn't remember the last time she'd seen light.

“You stupid whore, just what do you think you're doing?!”

“It was a long day, I just wanted a dri—” She cut off with a yelp as he slapped her, hard. She felt her head spin and her vision went dark even as bright white flashed in front of her eyes. The contradiction just served to make her lose her balance and stumble dizzily.

“Yeah, did that guy buy you a drink, huh? Did he buy a nice fuck, too?” He chuckled derisively, grabbing her wrist and throwing her to the floor. His boot smashed into her chest so hard she coughed. “Of course he'd pay. You're a whore and you have to get desperate assholes to buy sex cause no one would want to fuck you.”

Some part of her mind noted that his logic was actually rather faulty. That part of her mind was silenced by his boot in her face.

He was hauling her up by her hair again... she was too stunned that he was actually beating her to fight back. She slammed into the wall so hard her breath left her lungs in a whoosh. In a second, he was in her face. “You wanna get fucked? Why do ya have to go so far, baby? I'm the only one that'll ever do you that favor.” He tore her blouse open, and she heard the metal buttons roll on the ground, a little bit more dull than the sound of coins.

Her instincts finally kicked in, and she tried to push him away. “What are you doing—”

“Shut the fuck up,” he yelled, and her head rung as he hit her again. Grabbing her hair, he dragged her into the dining room and forced her to lean over the table, banging her face so hard she felt her nose crack and blood pour onto the table.

She felt her skirt tear.

She jolted herself out of the memory, and she realized that she was sobbing, sitting on the floor by the door. “I didn't deserve this,” she whispered into the empty room. “I didn't deserve this,” she cried, curling into herself as the dam in her soul finally broke, releasing the years of pain from her marriage.

She heard the door open, and there were arms around her. She pushed at them blindly. “No! Please...”

“Shh,” his voice said in her ear. “I won't hurt you,” he whispered, rocking her gently.

“Why did he do that to me?” she begged, tears pouring down her cheeks, which were raw from her tears.

“I don't know, sweetheart,” he said, and there was pain in his voice. Was he crying, too? He was a stranger... she'd only known him for a week—and maybe a half, but still! If he, a virtual stranger, was crying for her... surely that meant that Jack was wrong?

“I didn't deserve it,” she said again, and he squeezed her.

“You didn't,” he affirmed. “Nobody deserves that,” he said into her hair. “You don't have to live that way anymore. He has to pay, sweetheart, for hurting you like this.”

She finally turned and buried her face in his chest, sobbing harder. “I'm scared,” she whimpered after some time.

“I know. That's why we're gonna get you some place safe so that you can recover,” he said, his voice soothing. “They're gonna give you therapy and they're going to help you with the drugs... and no one has to know where you went. I promise, as soon as that's over you can go home.”

Home. The word was so foreign to her now. The last time she'd seen her parents, her father's face was laden with derision and disappointment. Her mother was just angry—she'd called her an ungrateful bitch, to which Stacey responded that she was grateful Jack had shown her just how untrustworthy her parents really were, and that she was never going back.

The following week he told her that she'd been written out of her parent's living will. And shortly after that, to spite them, she married Jack Hough, the most charming, handsome man she'd ever met.

He betrayed her. She... she'd loved him, and he'd stabbed her in the back. The realization made it impossible to breathe as she felt her chest crack even more. She loved him and trusted him... and all she got in return was hate and, eventually, violence.

Don didn't know what to do, but he knew this moment for what it was... he was witnessing someone's heart break. Not just a heartbreak from a poor relationship, but the heartbreak that happens when a person realizes everything they've lost, and everything that spun so wildly out of control. He was glad that he could hold her while she fell apart, no matter what it did to him later; he would have killed to have safe arms where his inner injured, lost teenage boy could release all the pain and anger from his parents' deaths.

But there was something else. He wanted to be there for her because for the first time in years, he felt something in his heart when he looked at her. As she clung to him and cried, he felt something deeper and stronger than pity. He was afraid to put a name to it... he didn't want this to be worse when she left. But it was there... and he was done fighting it.

Her broken, desolate sobs quieted to an occasional whimper or sniffle. Her body slumped closer to his, and he realized that she was falling asleep, even as shuddering sobs still tore through her body.

“Don't fall asleep yet,” he whispered. “Change your shirt okay? It's all wet, you'll be uncomfortable.”

She nodded numbly and he helped her out of the shirt, averting his face to give her privacy. When she was re-dressed in a new oversized tee-shirt, he pulled his own shirt over his head and used it to gently dry her tears. “Come on,” he said, guiding her gently by the elbow.

“Huh?” she sniffed, confused.

He smiled a little. “To bed,” he clarified, gently tugging her into his room and shutting the door. He pulled back the sheets, the cool gray linens pulling at her. Weak and tired, she wasn't able to resist the soft, safe comfort of this room.

Don was pretty sure she was asleep before she'd hit the pillow. With a soft smile, he turned off the lights and slipped into bed beside her.

Her soft sigh of deep relief as she unconsciously pressed herself closer would stay with him for a long time.

Friday

He was awake before her, like he always was. His alarm had blared at 6:30 am, and he'd slapped at it with a grunt, muttering for it to shut up, that it would wake her. He showered and changed almost silently, and then he slipped out of his bedroom for breakfast. He noted that he was better rested than he'd been in a very long time.

He wondered if the Firecracker had anything to do with that. That girl was messing with his style... he wasn't sure he liked it, but at least he accepted it. It would be easier to deal with later. For now, he was going to just accept that it had happened—something about reality checks.

She stumbled into the kitchen, scrubbing her eyes with the back of her hands. Her fiery hair was a mess, and her shirt was slipping off one shoulder. It was adorable.

“Morning,” he chuckled, pouring her a cup of coffee.

“Hi,” she squeaked before clearing her throat and trying again. “I mean, hi,” she said as her cheeks burned bright red.

“You're so cute,” he grinned, setting her coffee in front of her.

“You have coffee,” she squeaked again. This time she covered her mouth in embarrassment.

He just grinned and placed the sugar and creamer in front of her. Then he grew serious. “Your voice would be all squeaky and hoarse after last night," he said somberly. "Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head and looked down.

He reached over and gently took her mangled hand in both of his. “I don't know if anyone's ever gonna say this to you... but I know what it's like to have nothing and have to rebuild everything. But you know... the first step to that part is just surviving. And I’m... I’m proud of you for being strong enough to survive and get out.”

“Really?”

“Really. And I'm even more proud that you admitted to yourself that this wasn't your fault.”

Her lip trembled. “I didn't deserve it,” she said emphatically.

“You didn't. And I’m glad you know that now. You know what's next, don't you?”

She shook her head. “I'm not ready,” she whispered, her eyes widening in fear.

“Okay,” he said. “When you are, you tell me and I’ll personally make sure you can turn the lock on his jail cell yourself. Turn about is fair play after all.”

She gave him that adorable little half smile. “Thank you.”

“Always. Now finish up, I gotta work and Alta's coming today. Oh, and Danny wanted to meet you. I told him not to come unless one of us is here... you don't mind, do you?”

She shook her head, gratefulness shining in her eyes.

“You don't have to be afraid of him. He's wheelchair bound. A bad accident during college.” He saddened briefly.

She tentatively squeezed his hand. “Don't be sad.” Her voice cracked sharply.

He sighed. “You've been coughing for more than a week, you've been crying all night. Take a nap, okay? I’ll tell Alta not to bother you before lunch.”

“But—”

“Sleep okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Good. I'll have meetings and stuff today, I won't be back until four or five. If you need me before then, you have my cell... just holler. Okay?”

She nodded again.

“My bed really looks better with you in it,” he said with a smirk and a wink, then he dropped a kiss in her hair and left the apartment.

She stared at the door.

Saturday

“So how did stuff with Danny go?”

Stacey grinned. “It was... interesting...”

“Yeah? How so?”

“Alta met Danny.”

“Oh? Oooohhhh. Interesting indeed,” Don said with a grin of his own.

Stacey giggled. “It was sort of cute. Danny was really distracted. He felt bad after and he kept apologizing. And then Alta walked him out later.”

“Good for them,” Don said with a smile. “Kosuke's coming over later... I was thinking we could play a game, if you'd like.”

“Strategories... and I want the race car!”

He grinned. “Dibs on the race car already, jeez. Alright, you're on.”

“Before she comes... I really want to talk to my mom.”

He nodded. “I'm gonna prep some snacks then.”

She shook her head. “No... stay. She keeps asking me about you.” She failed to hide her blush.

He smiled and sat back down on the couch, holding out his phone.

A few moments after she dialed, Marie's voice carried over the line. “Russell Residence.”

“Hi mom.”

“Oh hi, honey,” Marie's voice brightened. “How are you?”

“Doing okay,” she sighed.

“You sound tired, honey.”

“Been a long week. I got some stitches out on Wednesday. The rest I’ll get out next week.”

“Good. And your cough? You really should go to the hospital, get yourself checked for pneumonia.”

“It's okay. Claire said I sound good. She's a good doctor.”

“Okay, baby.”

“Don is here today.”

“Is he? Oh how is he?”

“Doing good, Dr. Russell,” he replied. He waved... but then he remembered that she couldn't actually see him.

Stacey laughed at his awkward face. “He's waving at you,” she giggled.

He grinned. “So how good is this girl in Strategories?”

Marie laughed long and hard. “The last time anyone beat her was the summer she started high school.”

“Oh boy. You've met your match, Miss Russell.”

“Oh please,” she grinned.

He raised his hands. “Oh, not me. Kosuke. Nobody's beat her in years either.”

“Ooh this will be interesting,” said Marie.

“Mom?”

“Yeah sweety.”

“I... talked to someone yesterday. A divorce lawyer.”

“That's... really good,” she breathed. “How'd it go?”

“He said he was gonna help me get away from him.” She studied her hands. “He said that as soon as I’m ready, he'll help me with the other stuff too... like a restraining order and... you know... pressing charges.”

“Stacey, what he did to you is unacceptable—”

“I know.”

“—and he shou—wait, what?”

Don smiled, gently wrapping his arm around her. “Stacey had a bit of a break through recently... she's realized that she didn't deserve what he did to her,” he said quietly.

“Stacey?”

“I don't wanna live like that anymore,” she whispered, tears clogging her throat. “I didn't do anything wrong.”

“Even if you'd done something wrong, Firecracker, it wasn't enough to warrant something like that.”

“Firecracker?” Marie chuckled.

“It's this little 'tude she cops—”

“Oh I know,” Marie said, and Stacey could practically hear the knowing smirk on her mother's face, and she flushed bright red in response.

“Are you done talking about me like I’m not here?” She snapped.

“Amp down, Firecracker, we're just teasing you.”

She pouted.

“W-why are you lookin' at me like that?” Don gulped.

“You're mean,” she said, and her lower lip jutted out a little more.

“W-what... no, I’m.. we're just kidding, I—shit, I'm sorry.”

She smiled brightly and then began laughing. Hard. “Gotcha,” she chuckled.

“W-wha—are you serious?”

“You asked me if I ever used that looked to play the court.”

“It works,” Don muttered.

On the phone, Marie was dying of laughter.

“Don't be mad,” She pouted again.

“I'm not mad... I'm just confused...”

She giggled. “Momma you should see his face.”

“If it's anything like how her father looks when she make that face I think I can relate, Don.”

“Yeah yeah. I'm gonna have to come up with a new nickname for you, Firecracker.”

“Bring,” she challenged, raising an eyebrow.

“It's brung,” he said.

She giggled. “That's not a real word.”

“It is now,” he challenged.

“I'm going to let you two go,” Marie laughed. “I'm... so happy to hear you doing so well. I love you, Stacey.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

“Thanks for your time Dr. Russell. We'll check in some time next week.”

“Okay. Bye, guys.”

“Bye,” they both said, and then Don gave her an evil smirk. Without warning, his fingers dug gently into her sides, and she squealed and laughed as he relentlessly tickled her.

~-~

The laughter didn't stop until long into the night. Kosuke arrived with sodas and more snacks which were plated and set in the living room, and then Don got out his Strategy board and pieces. Kosuke and Stacey immediately started their good-natured jibes and Don laughed.

“Ten bucks says I’ll strategize you out of science and history, and entertainment.”

“Oh Please, I’ve aced the science category since I could read. History you know I'll win.”

“We're on, then?”

“So, on,” Stacey said, and they reached their hands across the board in a handshake.

Don was doubled over in laughter. “Ten bucks say the two of you are gonna bicker like sisters when this is over,” he wheezed. The girls both just looked at him, and he shook his head. “Alright, I'm ready to get my ass kicked. Let's do this.”

Four hours, three games, and a thousand laughs later, Stacey and Kosuke were both one turn away from winning. Don held his own, but he'd needed to strategize several times, and nothing was available! See, the game was something like Trivial Pursuit in that they had to fill in the spaces and get race to the middle. However, the discard pile for the cards was different; each person kept the cards they answered wrong. When answering a question, a person could strategically answer a question from someone else's pile. If the question was answered correctly, the person would have to hand over their wedge and take the player's rejected card. The problem was, Stacey had like two entertainment cards in her discard pile. Kosuke had no cards in her pile whatsoever. And the category Don always got stuck on was History. Stacey had successfully answered the only question Kosuke got wrong, therefore stealing her science wedge and making her take the card with the question about some marine biology thing.

Also, his discard pile had become a regular trading post for the girls to discard questions they knew they could get right later. Yes, he was having his ass handed to him... but he was having fun.

“No way! That's cheating!”

Stacey sat back, a satisfied smirk on her face. “It was a pleasure crushing you all again, but I think I’m hungry and tired.”

“Oh dear,” Don muttered.

“You totally cheated! You can't strategize in the last turn to win!”

“Where in the rules does it say that? I beat you fair and square, now cough up my ten bucks.”

“This sucks,” Kosuke muttered, reaching into her purse and handing back the ten dollars she'd won the previous game.

Stacey sniffed it dramatically. “Smells like victory.”

“You suck,” Kosuke giggled.

“Stay over tonight, sis,” Don said with a smile. “We can make breakfast tomorrow. I think there's a 'losers cook' rule in this place anyway.”

She smiled and nodded, motioning to her bag. Of course, she'd planned to stay.

Don smiled as she skipped off to shower, then he headed into the kitchen for something to eat.

“Donnie?”

“Hmm?”

“Uh... where am I... I mean, your sister will obviously have the guest room so...”

“No worries. My sister will probably take my room. You can have the guest room.”

“What about you?”

“I'll be on the couch.”

She shook her head. “I don't want you to be on the couch.”

He chuckled. “It's cool, Firecracker. I promise. I want you to rest up. Okay?”

“I want you to rest up too,” she whispered.

Don wisely kept his focus on the sandwich he was making her. He set it in front of her and kissed her temple. “Enjoy your sandwich.”

~-~

When Don came back, She'd polished off her food and maybe even the plate. He smiled at that; she had enjoyed her food, and that was really all he wanted.

“Why do you always leave when I eat?”

He froze, his eyes widening. “Uh... what are you talking about?”

“It looks like you know what I'm talking about,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh—n-no, heh, you just c-caught me off guard. What do you mean?”

She chuckled. “You leave when I eat. Always. It really can't be clarified more than that.”

“I dunno,” he said nervously. “I hadn't thought of—it makes you upset?”

She shook her head. “Just curious.”

“Oh. Well look, my sister says she wants the guest room, so...” he smiled shyly. “If you're not adverse to last night's sleeping arrangements... I don't have to sleep on the couch.”

She returned his shy, happy smile. He took her hand tugging her out of the kitchen and shutting off the lights behind him.