"I still can't believe you just went off without telling anyone..."

"Mom," Justin groaned from his position on the bed. He should have known Rachel would call his mother. Just because she was in town for a weekend getaway at one of her favorite spas meant that she had to know everything. Fucking up his mother's weekend retreat? Priceless. Sighing as she continued to fuss over him, making sure the blanket was tucked securely over him and his drink was within reach, he resisted the urge to knock her away. The last thing he wanted was to be babied. After six hours in the Emergency Room and two hours at the police station filing his report all he wanted was to be left alone.

"You could have at least left a note or sent someone a text." Lynn continued, snatching up his drink just as he reached for it, muttering that he needed ice before bustling out of the room.

"I know, Mom." He pulled the blanket up over his head, grateful that at least the pain medication had taken the ache from his lightly bruised ribs. The large pill he had swallowed had also taken the sting from his split lip, though nothing but time would take care of the spectacular black eyes he sported. His left eye was so swollen he couldn't open it at all; the right was not quite as bad. If he felt like it he could open it a crack.

However nothing could wipe the memory of the night away. Not even his mother's spoiling could take away what had happened. The disbelief that such a thing could happen to him was gone, replaced with an overwhelming sense of stupidity. The incessant, nagging voice in the back of his brain that could outdo his mother in her highest moments of lecturing constantly reminding him that he should have known better.

But for some reason, those last moments sitting on the pavement hadn't been so bad. Sighing, he reached out to idly scratch Buckley's stomach, recalling the tender touches of the woman who had stayed with him. The woman who had kept him company; who had probably prevented his being hurt far worse than he was. The woman that had made him forget everything for a few minutes.

The woman whose name he couldn't remember.

The woman whose face was but a blur.

He could remember her touch. The feel of her hand in his, warm and gentle. He could remember voice. Could remember likening it to the sighs of angels. He couldn't remember the words or the tune, just that it had been warm and comforting and had haunted his dreams when he had finally fallen asleep in the early pre-dawn hours.

Fate was cruel, he decided as Brennan crawled up to lie on the other side of him, large head resting on his shoulder in a show of sympathy. He could remember every damn thing that had happened from the moment he had gotten out of the cab until she had come to his aid. After that? Only snippets.

His mother had brushed it off when he'd told her about the woman. A figment of his imagination, brought up by low-quality marijuana smoke and too much alcohol.

Thanks, Mom.

Trace had called from New York to check up on him and his reaction had been similar. Just how much of that crappy weed had he smoked?

Asshole.

Rachel had just rolled her eyes and told him he didn't need to imagine women when there were probably some who would fight off a whole gang to save him.

Love you too, Rach.

His mother returned, shaking the large cup that was now filled with ice and fresh water. Her hand plunged beneath the blanket to brush lightly over his forehead and Justin made sure to feign unconsciousness. She had to know he was still awake - she was his mother, after all - but she murmured something about letting him get his rest and coming to check on him later.

Then, thankfully, he was alone.

Which was what he'd wanted in the first place.

***

"You're so full of shit, Calandra! Why did you leave?!"

Calandra groaned as she shifted on the bed, pulling the pillow down over her head to conceal the light of the morning. Ariella always opened the curtains to let in the sunshine. She also had a tendency to turn on the TV to her favorite program. She listened and groaned again. Deadly Women. For a creature that was supposed to spread cheer and lightness, the little fairy had a healthy appetite for the macabre.

She also had no understanding for the desire to sleep in. Calandra felt her tiny hands tugging on the pillow and briefly thought of letting go so she would fly across the room and hopefully smack into the wall but instantly regretted it when Ariella huffed. Finally tugging her head from under the pillow, she offered her companion a firm scowl, pushing her sleep-tousled locks from her face.

"What's so damn important that you're waking me up at--" she cut off to look at the clock on the nightstand and cursed. "Why'd you let me sleep until ten?"

"Considering you didn't get in until three, I thought I would be nice and let you have a little nap. Now. Tell me everything that happened last night." Ariella insisted, dropping to the pillow. Her wings fluttered excitedly, her eyes wide open with expectation.

"You know, I really hate it when you listen to my thoughts." It was something Calandra said frequently but it had never deterred Ariella from using her special talent. Calandra didn't try to understand the intricacies of the talent, finally accepting that, for whatever reason, her mystical friend could read only her thoughts. She could still remember her horror at learning that bit of information. Having her thoughts voiced back to her, especially when they were of the risqué persuasion, had not been fun. "What did you hear?"

"Oh..." One delicate hand motioned haphazardly. "Only that you stopped two guys from beating the shit out of Justin Timberlake then sat with him until the cops came. Did he really put his head in your lap?"

Calandra slid out of bed and kicked her dirty clothing towards the hamper. She had dropped them on the floor and fallen straight into bed and now the stale aroma of marijuana and alcohol clung to her. Digging clean jeans and a t-shirt from the pile on top of the dresser, she muffled a yawn against her shoulder. "Yes--"

"Why did you leave him?"

"He didn't need me hanging around. I did what I could."

"I know, but he could have gotten your number and--" Ariella took flight as soon as the bedroom door opened, following Calandra to the bathroom across the hall. "--called you to thank you later."

"And then he would have fallen madly in love with me and whisked me off to his Malibu castle and we would have lived happily ever after." Calandra sighed dramatically; grateful she had entertained those thoughts before making it home. Lovely thoughts indeed. They had kept her warm on the long walk, especially when her fantasy had gotten them to a bed large enough to fill the dance studio where she worked. Dropping her clothes on top of the closed toilet, she leaned into the tub to turn the water on. "He thanked me that was all I needed."

Ariella snorted as she took her usual place on the edge of the sink. "Did you even tell him your name?"

"I... I told him I was Cat." The dark blue curtain was yanked closed and Calandra closed her eyes as she stepped under the streaming water that was always too hot or too cold.

"They were talking about him on the news this morning. Just that he was beaten up and had been released from the hospital... And that anyone with information should call in."

"And what would I say?" Calandra snorted, reaching for her shampoo. "Oh, by the way, I witnessed the crime and hauled ass. But not before feeling up the fallen star!"

"Did you feel him up?!" Ariella nearly shrieked, though it barely registered above the splashing water. She appeared above the shower curtain, eschewing her dislike of water in order to get the scoop.

"I held his hand, stop talking like I slipped my hand down his pants," Calandra muttered. She refused to think of how her heart had fluttered when he had squeezed her hand. She forbade the memory of his warm, slightly callused palm pressing against hers. And she didn't want to linger over the sound of his voice when he had spoken. So broken, dejected. Like a child who had been told Santa didn't exist.

Clean and dressed, she pulled her damp hair into a snug bun, ignoring Ariella's constant questions as she gathered her leotard, tights and dancing shoes. She forced her mind to remain blank as she packed her bag for work, mentally going over the day's schedule. But Justin's battered face kept appearing and each time her heart ached. On the walk to work she stopped for her customary coffee and bagel and impulsively bought the morning paper when she saw a small picture of Justin in the top corner.

Once at the studio, she let Ariella open the blinds and turn on the stereo as she changed. And when she saw she had some spare moments before her toddler class, she sat in the middle of the room and read the small paragraph that accompanied Justin's picture.

Justin Timberlake was rushed to Cedar-Sinai hospital for treatment of injuries. No further details available as we went to the press. For more information, visit our website at...

Sighing, she looked to the picture, frowning slightly at the old image. As many things as he had done recently and they had plucked a picture from the Justified era? Weren't they aware of how much he had changed since then? But as she turned the page she was careful not to tear the corner, aimlessly scanning the articles and ads. She finished her coffee and bagel while reading about a woman in Idaho who had gotten so mad at her neighbor she wrote on his car with feces. Wrinkling her nose, she turned the page, preparing to close the paper and start warming up when her gaze landed on a small square in the center of the page.

She didn't know what drew her attention. It was like all the other classified ads, but after reading it twice she knew why it had called to her.

Do you have an impossible dream? Think it can't come true? Think again. Dream Weaver, Ltd. will help all your dreams come true.

Hogwash, she thought derisively, even as she quickly memorized the address. And, hearing the patter of feet coming through the front door, she pushed the newspaper into her bag and managed a few stretches before her students began to arrive. Greeting them with a grin, she went to change CDs in the stereo. "Who wants to dance to The Little Mermaid today?"