Disclaimer: In heaven maybe. So god if your up there take a hint, side order of House for one please, along side my halo and wide screen plasma TV on cloud nine, do they get sky up there?…only kidding.

Rating: M for Dark subjects and sexual situations in the later chapters.

Ok this is a new story of mine, I had to get this one started because it has been swimming round my head for ages. It is much, much darker than my last one and in reference to 'Game, Set, Match,' I am going to add the final chapters very soon once I have hopefully received a few more reviews!

This one starts of quite harsh and sad but while there will be many ups and downs there will be a happy ending I promise, I'm not one for sad endings I find they always leave you feeling empty.

Please read and review…let me know what you think and tell me whether this is any good because it is so different from my last stuff and I'm feeling kind of unsure.

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Falling Star

The Power of Words

She scrambled along the side walk, her skin peppered with bruises. A stream of blood trickling down the inside of her thigh, staining her skin bright red; the colour of anger, of pain, of fear; she was frightened. Her muscles were screaming and yet her mind felt numb to the pain. All emotion any remnant of life sucked out of her, leaving her an empty shell, lost and lonely.

Her fingers were grasped round the rags, once her shirt, so tight her knuckles had turned ice white, the cold wind whipping round her exposed skin; whispers of what had just passed felt as though they were shouted, the voices echoing round her mind. 'No!' was screaming through her ears, such a small pathetic word but usually it worked wonders, makes horrible things stop. This time it had failed her, it was ignored, shunned aside. She was left alone to fight; she lost, alone and weak without the power of words.

A large gash ran across her leg, the rock in which she'd fallen on, he'd forced her on, had cut her, his weight forcing it deeper with every push. A physical open wound reflecting the rip in her soul. Part of her wished the cut was worse, the physical pain was no where near strong enough to drown out the emotional trauma ringing in her ears.

The lights lit her up, weak and pale. She feared the shadows, the noises of the night making her jump with every step she took, every breath of wind a curse against her skin.

The night was once beautiful, the stars sparkling just out of reach tickled by her fingers tips. It was now just covering a carpet of sins, watching and winking as she cried out for help, no one to hear her screams. They watched as the sparkle died within her, his body crushing the oxygen from her lungs, nothing to say, nothing to feel. Numb, empty, the stars watched on.

The dirt of his finger tips still imprinted on her skin, the bruises round her wrists, handcuffs, locking her to the nightmare, not letting her free, a reminder, unable to escape.

She crawled up the steps with her last ounce of strength, banging her weak fist against the door, crying out his name, screaming for him to help her. Nothing, no one in, no one home, his lights were dead, along with her own. She slid down the door, pulling her knees to her chest, despair, defeat engulfing her. Her head buried in her hands as the tears started to stream, stinging the cuts as salt leaked into her wounds. Her silent anguish unknown to the world apart from the one who'd caused it, and the stars that watched it happen.

How could a day turn so fast?

Flash Back morning:

Need you!

'Yes mistress.'

He'd helped her with the injections, supporting her dream, keeping her secret. She had been high on hormones, high on happiness. Her dream in reach, his help lifting her high to reach the stars, the ones that had so cheerfully watched her downfall.

His help had meant the world to her, a branch of friendship grown in the way only he knew how. No use for words, words are weak as she now knew. She grasped it, frightened it would snap beneath her fingers but it remained strong, flexible. He dove deeper into her dream, finding her anonymous donor, showing the lies between the lines. She had been grateful.

Later when she'd confronted him, her expression reflecting astonishment was some how tainted with the smile slowly forming on her lips.

However he seemed somewhat angry, the force of the needle piercing her skin was hard and unforgiving. She had stated she was tired of looking, he was punishing her or that's how it felt.

'Pick someone you trust.'

'Someone like you?' she didn't know why she'd asked, it was a challenge she supposed, a test to see his response, nothing more, nothing less. His reply was unexpected.

'Someone you like.'

Sorrow had engulfed her at this statement, his eyes looking so lost. She liked him, sure they fought, she screamed, he shouted, a battle of wills, of intellect, but he helped her, gave her support when needed and she in return gave him the puzzles that kept him going, it was an odd relationship and reflecting on it now, somewhat beautiful.

It was deep down unspoken, she had gone to tell him the silent truth that evening, that she did like him; that he was her friend, but the words had failed her. They managed to do that in so many ways. Her words contrasted with her expression and she'd fled before he could read anymore into it.

Flash back evening:

She had only needed one drink, something to still her nerves, get the words flowing once more, she could do the rest she just needed a push. She got one much later. She had only meant to be in the park for a few seconds, it was faster that way than going round, she'd intended to visit his home and try and rope back the final strings of their friendship which had been severed by the surgeon's knife. Her own strings holding onto her happiness, attaching her to life were cut however when a rock smashed into her head and a warm gush spilled from the wound as she tumbled to the ground.

She was silent, shock stealing her way with words, her breaths coming in short sharp gasps, paralysed with fear. His scent engulfing, stinging her senses as he held her there, an animal, claws tearing at her clothes scratching her skin as he exposed her body, revealing her soul to the night.

He went in for the kill. Her a lamb to the slaughter. She'd tried to wriggle, escape but he was heavy, too heavy, her screams filling the night sky until a hard fist knocked her silent once more.

No tears escaped, refusing to let them fall, her vision was blurry, a comatose haze settling over her; the impact of his strike. She watched the blood, her blood, staining the rags around her before she gave up, allowing the mist to claim her, hiding the nightmare behind closed eyes, blocking out the noises, ignoring the pain, shutting out the stars.

She woke up, dazed, lost and aching. She had no idea how long she'd been out where she was or why. The memories flooded back, each one stinging a little bit more than the last.

She fled into the night, her life crashing around her ears as she could feel the light die within her. Grasping the remaining rags of material around her quivering frame to retain some modesty, some pride in which he had so easily ripped from her, the nameless man of her nightmare.

She stumbled over rocks and roots, adding to the mass of cuts and bruises already staining her skin. She had no where else to go, she needed him to help her once more use the newly grown branch to pull her out the darkness which was drowning her. She hoped he had truly forgiven her, why should he lift her to her feet, if he still felt she'd knocked his own out from under him?

And now here she was and he wasn't. Abandoned on his doorstep.

There was a rumble in the distance. She curled into a tighter ball, as though trying to hide. The once powerful women had been reduced to nothing in a matter of hours. Her position was foetal, child like, but there was no one to protect her. The wind blew her hair round her face, soaking up the tears that still trickled over her cheeks, dropping to her feet splashing to the ground as they broke contact with her flesh. It was a though she was melting, washing away in her sorrow.

The headlights approaching her made her eyes scream. She squeezed them together, as the light invaded her darkness, lighting up her shadow, making her seem like a ball of rags.

The engine died and the darkness consumed her once more. Her eyes flickered open the lingering tears blurring her vision. She saw a tall figure, swinging from the bike, ripping his helmet from view allowing it to crash to the ground noise echoing into the night as he grabbed his cane limping towards her as fast as he could.

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'Cuddy?'

He stooped down worry written across his features as he took in his boss, his friend. Her torn attire, the bruise bracelets, cuts slashed into her soul her life and fire leaking from her wounds.

'I…he…' she couldn't get the words out, he was watching her struggle. Her voice sounded alien and empty, a weak whisper into the night. A sob burst from her lips as the tears started to stream once more.

'You're frozen,' he reached out to her but she flinched beneath his touch, seeing this he recoiled, keeping his distance. She was afraid.

'Can you stand?' he wanted to help but he was unable to without contact so he busied himself with his cane eyes not leaving her face, the rags her fingers refused to release barely covered her weak frame.

She nodded, no need for words. Using the door frame to pull herself upright, he could see her last ounce of strength draining. He opened his door, allowing her in first, his hands out to support her but un-touching frightened she would crumble beneath his fingers tips. She was falling before his eyes; the sparkle had finally died, filled with a dark void as though clouds of sorrow had engulfed her soul.

He closed the door behind them, a loud snap ringing out in the silence as they vanished inside. His helmet abandoned on the sidewalk. The carpet of darkness stilled once more, silent and calm as the anguish of the evening was hidden from the night.

The stars watched on.