A fox scurried across the street, and then ran along the edges of an alleyway, keeping close to the sides of the building. It was well past midnight, and the city was barely bustling, the sound of cars winding down. The night smelled of cheap perfume and pizza as the fox darted by a man carrying a stack of pizza boxes to a dumpster at the entrance of the alleyway, the first of many dumpsters that cluttered the narrow area.

The sounds of someone digging through a dumpster ran through the night, though the fox was used to this as it glided down the alleyway, hiding in the shadows. It paused at the mouth of a door, ears cocked and body low.

Right on cue, the door opened, letting light spill into the alleyway. The rustling stopped just as loud music rang into the quiet of the night, and then the door shut again. The man who stepped into the alleyway put a hand on the head of the fox, and then the man said something in his deep baritone of a voice.

A head poked from the dumpster, and wide eyes looked back at the man, pausing like the fox before moving quietly towards the man. The girl moved quickly on all fours and tilted her head to the man, expected him to place his hand there.

He did. Then, he bent down, allowing the fox to jump to his shoulder. The girl, who was more of a young woman, leaned into his warm arms, hiding in the cigar scented jacket he wore. To her, he was her savior, her everything. A man she did not know, but a man she trusted. A man who was as mysterious to her as she to him.

Her wide eyes, curious and believing, waited for him to move or to say something.

His face looked tired and worn down, but he smelled of cologne and business promises. His outfit was tailored for him, the expensive material stiff and wrinkle free. In the shadows of the alleyway, he appeared to be the boss of a wealthy business, lost in the underbelly of the city, far from home.

He stood with the fox on his shoulder and the girl in his arms. He spoke in a strange tongue, one the girl understood but the fox did not. The fox was used to this, and instead listened to the tone and pitch of the voice to understand the meanings. The man didn't sound like danger, nor did he sound distressed. The fox decided all was right.

The man did not enter back into the building. He kept close to the wall, just as the fox had, and his dark clothes blended into the shadows. A ghost of a man with his fox sidekick and his orphan girl heroine.

He was a mystery, Inside the club, the men there knew him as Nickels - the man who turned nothing into everything. A man who entered with a pocket full of change and exited with a wallet full of cash. He was the fresh face of an industry, the man who escaped the terrors of childhood and survived.

He skirted around the edge of the building and was met with the downtown, walking into what was usually a busy sidewalk during the day. The storefronts that lined the street were dark and the road was bustling with cabs looking for drunkards coming out of bars. The man didn't pause nor hesitate as he slid into a car. Smooth as butter, he gathered no attention from the people of the night. Not his fox or his girl were detected, and his driver paid him and his company no attention. The driver was used to this.

The girl flattened herself against him, seeking warmth. She knew the game, knew that she wouldn't be able to stay, but it didn't stop her from getting close to the man. She didn't even mind the fox, who rarely bared its teeth at her. The fox was just as much of a misfit as she was.

She was cold, and reeked of rotten food. She had some stuck to her body, due to her dumpster diving. The man didn't seem to mind as he ran a hand over her head, slipping his hand into her tangled hair. There was something about her that brought warmth to his heart.

The car flew past busy streets full of nightlife, then turned down to the small side roads that ran on the outskirts of the city. The man watched as the girl pressed herself against the window, her wide eyes taking in the lights and the view. He watched as she rolled down the window and stuck her head out, catching the wind in her tangled curls. A smiled flirted with his mouth as he watched her, amazed at her youth.

She wasn't that much younger than he, but her circumstances have twisted her life into one that was not destined for her. And no matter how much he tried to help her, she always ran away from him.

When the driver parked, the girl flew from the car, disappearing into the night. The fox followed, though the man was not worried. He knew that they would not run away, but rather run into the safe haven they considered his home.

When he unlocked the front door of the grand house, the fox and girl trotted in, both on all fours. The house was a gift from money, and while the man wasn't keen on wasting his hard earned cash, appearances were everything in this part of the city. While the outside was glamorous, the inside was that of a simplistic man. No fancy television or speaker system. Just the basics.

The fox went straight to the dish on the kitchen counter. The girl followed, patiently waiting in a chair, her body turned at odd angles, waiting for him. She didn't say anything, just watched with those wide eyes.

"Are you thirsty?" He asked, his voice soft. She cocked her head to the side, contemplating, then nodded. No sound, just jerky movements. The man filled up a cup of water and placed it in front of her, watching as she tipped it back and swallowed it in one go. He didn't refill the cup, but dug in the fridge of sandwich meat.

The fox watched at the man made two sandwiches - both for the girl. She ate the first sandwich in a starving manner, stuffing it into her face as if it would disappear at any second. And then, she eyed the second one, but pushed it towards the man.

He laughed. Pushed it back. Stepped away.

She ate the second sandwich, her eyes on him this time and not the sandwich. Then, she turned away and darted up the stairs.

The fox followed the man silently as he walked up after her, his house dark and gloomy. It was large and mostly empty, holding a hollow feeling as he walked up the stairs and towards his bedroom, where the girl was waiting in the bathtub.

The man started the tub and laughed quietly to himself. "Darling, you need to take off your dress."

He couldn't exactly consider it a dress - it was more of a slip of cloth covering her body. It was originally white, but had turned dark with time. She yanked it off her head, completely naked underneath. He had seen her plenty though, and was not shocked by her ribs poking through her body, or the bruises on her legs and arms. She was frail and small, but often refused help.

The fox lounged on the closed toilet seat, watching as the man lathered her in soap, humming quietly to himself. He didn't know why he did this. He didn't even know where he'd met the girl, or when this had really all started.

There was something about her that needed his help. So he offered it in the form of food and a bath. He'd even offered clothes, but she seemed particular about what she wore on her body.

"I have a mission for you," he said softly as he massaged her scalp with shampoo. "I need you to get me a rat."

She cocked her head to the side, eyes wide.

"Do you understand?"

She nodded, softer this time. A humming sound came from her throat as she reached for the man, running her hands across his cheeks and into his dark hair. It was wild and unruly with the help of her fingers, and she smiled at him.

"Today was a rough day, darling." He started, as he always did when he bathed her. He liked to confide with her, because he could trust her. Not only did she not talk, but she was such a pure person. Someone who wouldn't betray the people she loved.

After he bathed her, he wrapped her in a towel and got out clothes for her. A plain cotton nightgown. A pair of cotton panties. She put on both surprisingly, and then he helped her into his bed. She laid beside him, pure and platonically, and he told her stories of a girl he knew. Told her stories of a family he'd lost. Told her stories about a certain doctor who wanted to do a deal with him.

She listened and understood his words. She knew the language he spoke, and could comprehend what he had to say. She was smart, despite how she looked. She loved the man beside her and owed her life to him and the fox who slept at the end of the bed.

She loved this life. Loved his baths and his bed. But she knew when morning came, she couldn't stay. Not because he didn't let her, but because her life and his were not supposed to be real. He was handsome and rich. He was a gentleman and a businessman. He was smart and capable of so much. She was the opposite. And she would only bring him down.

* * *

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