He would never have noticed her, her slim frame silhouetted against the woods, if it weren't for her eyes. Wide, dark, and frightened, they reflected the headlights, catching his attention, driving him to pull over and step into the road. As he rounded the car, his eyes travelled down her body, taking in the way her thin, tattered clothes hung off her, the way the bruises and cuts decorating her skin were accentuated by the shadows of the trees. She stared at him like a deer in headlights, frozen in terror.

"Are you okay?" His voice was slightly raspy, but comforting all the same. He held out his hand slowly, gently, as though approaching a wounded animal, stopping when she began to back away.

With the closer proximity, he could see that she was trembling. Whether it was from fear or the cold, he was unsure, but either way, he was determined to get the girl into the car. If he called Jack, odds were she'd bolt, and he didn't want to take that chance. "My name is Will. Will Graham." She nodded slowly, silently. "You can't talk?" She shook her head. He misinterpreted the action as a confirmation of her inability to speak, and she let him. In reality, she could talk perfectly well - she just didn't want to.

She hadn't made a run for it yet, a reassuring sign. He took a tentative step forward, and then another when she didn't move, his hand still extended. After what felt like an eternity, she stepped forward and placed her hand in his, still shaking, and he let out a sigh of relief. "I, uh, hope you're not afraid of dogs," he said sheepishly, opening the door to the passenger seat and helping her in. She shook her head again, her lips curling up slightly as she caught a glimpse of the mutt in the backseat. She reached back, and, after sniffing her hand uncertainly, the dog rubbed his head against her affectionately. Will smiled at the exchange. "He likes you."

As they drove, she analyzed his appearance, from the unruly curls to the thick, black framed glasses. Ultimately, his eyes were what had led her to trust him. In them, she saw that he understood her pain, the sleepless nights and dull, fear-filled days. He knew it all, and that was, in a strange way, comforting to her.

She was surprised, but relieved, when they pulled up in front of a house instead of a hospital. It was small and safe-looking, the brightly lit porch as promising as a lighthouse to a sailor on a stormy night. When they entered, they were greeted by a cacophony of barks and yaps as the dogs swarmed around them. Will guided her through the canine crowd to the bathroom, and left her there, providing her with a couple of towels and some oversized clothes, before heading back to the truck to take care of the new stray.