Trevor Welsh sighed as he dropped his briefcase in the hallway floor and hung up his coat. Not for the first time he considered changing careers. Seeing so much misery every day was enough to drive anyone insane, and unfortunately not every case had a happy ending. But it were the few that did that made him get up in the morning to head for his office. And there were cases that stayed with him. Some quite literally.

He stepped into the kitchen and kissed his wife, Amanda, who was just finishing making dinner. "Welcome home, honey." She smiled at him. "How was your day?"

He smiled apologetically. "You know I can't talk about my cases. They are confidential."

"I know," Amanda nodded, "but hypothetically?"

Trevor sighed. "Hypothetically there is too much misery in this world."

"Hmmhmm," Amanda mused, "you have that look again. Is it the one case again?" She remembered that one day, a little over two years ago, when he had gotten home from work looking all defeated. She didn't know what had happened, he could not tell her, but it had aged him. And even without knowing what had happened, she could tell it was not like any other case he had ever had.

"That one case?" Trevor questioned surprised.

Amanda sighed sadly as she plated the table. "I don't know what it is, Trevor, and I know you can't tell me, but I've seen a change in you. Something happened, and you haven't been the same since."

A regretful smile passed over Trevor's face. He could guess what his wife was referring to. She was right. There had been a case that still bothered him to this day. He had gone over it again and again. Could he have done things differently? Should he have tried harder? Would it have mattered? The Scott girl had been just another case on the pile, just a number on his list, another file he had to work through. Her story wasn't even out of the ordinary, just what he faced every day. Unhealthy home life, getting involved with he wrong people, foster home after foster home. But after a while she had started to grow on him, and he truly wanted her to succeed. For a moment he had believed things were going in the right direction. Until the incident.

"Honey?"

Trevor blinked and looked at his wife. "Hm? Sorry honey, you were saying?"

Amanda smiled sadly. "You haven't touched your food yet."

Trevor sighed. "I'm sorry. I was distracted."

His wife placed a hand on his arm. "It still bothers you, doesn't it? Whatever happened that day wasn't your fault."

Trevor smiled sadly. He knew she meant well, And she was right. It wasn't his fault. Still, perhaps if he had handled things differently... but they were understaffed and overworked and there were too many cases, always too many cases to handle them properly.

He patted his wife's hand and picked up his fork to eat. "It tastes lovely," he said.

...

Allison stared at her History book with a bored look on her face. Why did they have to learn things that happened a hundred years ago? All that mattered was what happened now. Living in the past never did anyone any good. She knew that first hand.

Still, History was one of the few classes she wasn't screwing up. She might not read well, but she was good at remembering facts. And what more was history than facts?

When the bell rang for lunch, she wasted no time rushing out of the classroom. The rest of the students hurried out of her way. Some gave her wary glances, others whispered behind her back. She knew they thought she was rude. And arrogant. She didn't feel the need to change their minds.

In the cafeteria, Allison found a table in the far corner of the room. The two students that were sitting there glanced at her nervously before getting up to find another table. It was both amusing and annoying. What did they thing she was going to do to them? Beat them up? Run them over with her wheelchair? Though she had to admit, that last one started to sound appealing.
Or perhaps they believed her wheelchair was contagious.

Allison snorted and took her packed lunch, courtesy of Valerie. It was a boring lunch, but better than having to wait in line and balancing a tray of food across the cafeteria.

She looked up with a frown when a tray hit the table and a figure dropped down in the seat across from hers. Her eyes found Eric's face. "What do you want?" she asked.

He didn't seem offended by her tone. "I saw you sitting by yourself," he answered, "I thought maybe you'd like some company."

"Not particularly," she answered.

He smirked. "Using big words now?"

She gave him a flat look and he chuckled. He nodded at her lunch. "You do know they serve lunch here, right?" On his tray was a plate with a large slice of pizza. The smell made her stomach growl. It was far more appealing than her sandwich with turkey and lettuce.

Allison rolled her eyes. "You see me riding around with a tray on my lap, dodging hungry kids?"

Eric picked up his plate and held it in front of her. "I'll trade you."

Allison eyed him suspiciously. "Why?"

He sighed. "Can't someone just be nice?"

Allison kept his stare. "Let me rephrase. Why are you being so insistent being nice to me?"

Eric raised an eyebrow. "So you don't want pizza?"

Allison gritted her teeth and took the plate from his hand before he could retreat it. She ignored his light chuckle as he took her sandwich for himself.

"This reminds me of elementary school," he said.

Allison blinked. "Say what?"

"You know," he said, "swapping lunch."

Kids did that?

Instead of replying, Allison took a bite off the pizza. It tasted delicious.

"Good huh?" Eric commented, "if you want lunch you can just ask, you know. I don't mind carrying your tray for you."

Allison stared at him strangely. "Please say you don' have a crush on me."

He coughed as he almost choked on the sandwich.

With an amused grin, Allison silently pushed the soda on his tray closer towards him.

He took it and coughed some more before he managed to wheeze a reply. "That's no... not... what I meant..."

"Then tell me why you're really here." There had to be something. There was always something. People were never nice without reason. She had learned that the hard way.

Eric shook his head. "I told you. I didn't want you to have to eat lunch alone."

Allison crossed her arms. "I been happily eatin' lunch alone for the past few weeks. I din't see you come over here til now."

Any reply he might have given was interrupted by another person sitting down at the table. A boy around Eric's age sat down next to Eric, followed by another boy and girl. "What are you doing all the way over here?" the first boy asked Eric, "you weren't at our usual table. We've been looking all over."

Eric smiled. "I was keeping Allison company," he said.

"Who?" the second boy asked while the first shifted his eyes over to Allison warily. A silence fell over the table as the newcomers looked from Eric to Allison and back with wary expressions.

"O... kay," the first boy said confused.

"Allison, these are my friends from the Debate Club," Eric said like nothing had happened, "this is Mark, and Daniel and Elise. Guys, Allison Ray."

The three blinked.

"Hey," Mark greeted awkwardly.

Allison raised an eyebrow and bit off another piece of pizza, ignoring the trio and Eric after that. Though she did notice Elise rolling her eyes and heard Daniel snort.

"So..." Mark continued to Eric, "ready for today's debate? You're up against Zeke. He's pretty good for a sophomore."

Eric snorted. "I can take him."

Allison swallowed her last bit of pizza and rolled herself away from the table and out of the cafeteria. Behind her, she heard Eric's startled voice.

"Allison, wait up! Where are you going? Once sec guys, Hey Allison!"

She didn't stop, but wasn't surprised when he caught up with her halfway down the hall.

"Why'd you leave like that?" he asked.

Allison rolled her eyes. "I don' need your permission to go anywhere."

He sighed heavily. "You know what? You're right. Go then. I'll see you tomorrow in class." He put his hands in his pocket and walked back to the cafeteria.

Allison sighed and shook her head. She wondered why he even bothered in the first place. It wasn't like she had given him a reason to like her. She thought she had made it pretty obvious that she wanted to be left alone. There was no point anyway. Friendship was an illusion, something people thought they had. The moment you were out of their daily lives, they forgot about you. Or stuck a knife in your back. Everybody always left, one way or the other. It was better not to bother at all and save yourself the trouble.

...

"She weird, I'm telling you," Elise scrunched her nose. They had gathered in the room where they held heir Debate Club and were waiting for the others to arrive.

Eric looked at her confused. "Weird how? Because she's in a wheelchair? That doesn't make her weird, Elise."

"That's not what I mean. I'm not shallow like that," Elise said insulted, "she's just... weird. How long has she been here for now? She's not talking to anyone. She's not trying to make friends. She's not a very bright student either. Not to be insulting, but she doesn't seem to understand most of what we're covering in class. And she's older than us. She should have graduated by now and be in college or something. Come on, Eric, she's in most of your classes. I've seen you in the library together. Don't you wonder why she's still in high school?"

Of course he had wondered, but it wasn't any of his business and Allison wasn't exactly sharing. She had her guard up constantly and questioned other people's motives with everything they did.

"It doesn't matter," Eric said, "whatever the case, it's a private matter. Don't stick your nose in it."

Mark snorted. "Elise just wants something to gossip about."

"I do not!" Elise slapped his chest.

"Ow! Violence!" Mark held up his hands as a shield to fend her off.

Slowly the other members of the Debate Club filed into the room. The four of them cut off their discussion to greet the others. For the present their new classmate was forgotten. There were other topics to talk about.

...

Trevor sighed as he knocked on the door of the rundown apartment. This was the part of his job he disliked the most. Separating children from their parents was a horrible act that shouldn't be necessary.

There were noises inside and he could hear a radio playing.

He knocked again. "Ma'am, CPS, please open up." He really hoped this wouldn't turn into an out-of-house placement. He glanced over his shoulder at the police car that was parked against the curb. Just in case.

The woman that lived here had received several warnings already and was ordered to get her act together. It wasn't her fault. She was a single mother that struggled to provide for her five year old son. Her job as a waitress didn't bring in enough money and a few bad decisions had led to a second career that had gotten her into a lot of trouble. The environment it had created wasn't healthy for the child, but she had no one to fall back on.

Just when Trevor debated on knocking again, the door opened. A ruffled young woman stared at him nervously. Her hair was messily pinned back. She was skinny with bags under her eyes and lines in her face that should not have been there for another thirty years. "Hello Trisha," Trevor greeted her, "I'm here to check up on you and your son. Could you let me in? I need to have a look around and see Rodney."

Trisha nodded and nervously pushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. "H-he 's just playing in his room. S-sorry about the mess. I just came home from work. I... I didn't have time to clean up."

Trevor nodded. "It's alright, Trisha. Take a deep breath, okay?"

She nodded again and stepped aside so he could enter.

He took a good look around. The house was indeed messy, but cleaner than it had been last time he visited. Trisha's attire proved the truth of her statement, she was still wearing her waitress outfit. He walked around the apartment, checking for any signs of alcohol or drugs, but only found a half empty package of regular cigarettes.

Trevor turned to Trisha. "You said you just came home from work? Who watched Rodney while you were away?"

Trisha bit her lip. "They neighbor's kid. She's sixteen, but very responsible."

"And when she's in school? Who watches him then?" When he didn't receive a reply, he studied her carefully. "Trisha? Who watches him?"

"Look, I can afford no daycare," she answered, "I don't have a choice. I make sure he has juice and food. And he knows to go to the neighbors when he needs help."

Trevor sighed. "Trisha, we've been over this before. You were warned. You were told to sort things out. And you can't leave him here alone. He's five. "

"I am! I'm working on it! Really! Just a little longer. I'm almost there. Please don't take my baby! He is all I have! Don't take my child! I just need a little more time!"

"Momma? Why are you crying?" A little boy had appeared in the doorway and stared at Trisha with a trembling lip. The boy's clothes were worn and old, but as clean as might be expected from a five year old.

Trevor sighed. For all Trisha's struggles, the boy was clothed and fed, and very much loved.

"It's nothing, sweety," Trisha forced out a smile, "mommy is just tired. Go play, okay? I'll call you when dinner is ready. "

The boy, not easily fooled, looked from his mother to Trevor and back before giving a careful nod and walking back into his room.

Trisha took a deep breath and looked at Trevor pleadingly. "Please. I just need more time."

Trevor sighed again and ran a hand through his hair.

Sometimes he really hated his job.