DISLAIMER: I do NOT own Wizard's Of Waverly Place or its characters. Those rights belong to Disney and associates. I am NOT making any monetary profit from this.

A/N: This is my very first fanfic, so please be gentle. Or at least pretend to be gentle. I am still new in the ways of this site, so bare with me because I'm still learning. Now, I'm not used to complete strangers reading what I write, or reviewing what I write. So, if you have something bad to say, go for it! I can take it! But I hope everyone likes this fanfic because I will be working really hard to make it good. Well, here goes! (Title is temporary, by the way...)

Someone To Save Me

Elm Treigh

1.

She could barely see the two chestnut caskets laying six feet under before her, through the blur of the rain and the tears that were streaming down her cheeks to her chin; dripping all the way down to the soggy, muddy ground, joining the rain that seemed to taunt her.

It fit how she was feeling. The intense, downpour of the rain crashing onto the umbrella's of those there, slamming onto the caskets, and smashing the roses. It was angry. The rain was falling in huge spurts of anger. Yes. It fit how she felt perfectly. Despair. Anger. Destructive. As if Mother Nature felt what she was feeling. As if the universe empathized with her agony and decided to showcase her pain the only way it knew how, by creating a small storm to torture the bystanders. Have them feel, see, how she was feeling.

She wiped the tears from her eyes furiously, trying her best to compose herself. She disliked crying, so much. It always made her eyes red and puffy, followed by a headache that was difficult to get rid of. But it was her only release. Its not like she could scream to the high heavens, and accuse them of her pain. She just couldn't believe they left her. She was alone. No one to watch her. No one to shelter her, to love her, or to comfort her pain. No one to tell her that what she was feeling was normal. That it would go away one day. That time would heal everything. No. She was alone. They left her.

How could they? She thought angrily. How could they leave her? Go somewhere where she couldn't follow? How could they be so irresponsible? How could they allow themselves to die? To get killed? Didn't they know that she still needed them? That she wasn't ready to live the rest of her life without them? That she's lost without them? Who was going to protect her? Who was she going to go to when she was in trouble? Who was going to sing her to sleep when she had a nightmare? Who was going to sneak snacks into her room when she was upset? Who was she going to go to for advice? For insight? Who was going to help her get ready for a date? Who was going to be there to intimidate that date? She still had a lot to learn. How could they leave her?!

If only they hadn't walked through that park so late. If only they had just gone straight home after their special night, rather than taking a moonlit stroll through the park. Sure, it was a romantic gesture; a moonlit walk through the park and enjoying one another's company. But had they gone straight home, then maybe they wouldn't have been mugged and her dad wouldn't have had to defend his wife against the mugger and the mugger wouldn't have had a reason to panic and shoot them. Then they wouldn't have bled to death that night, while the mugger escaped with their belongings because no one was within ear shot to hear the blast of the gun. Their bodies were found the next day. Pale, still, with a pool of dry blood surrounding their cold bodies.

If only.

Those two, seemingly small, words would haunt her for the rest of her life. As will the pictures the police showed her, so that she could identify the bodies of her parents. She will have nightmares of the images forever. Nightmares of her parents, just to wake up and remember they were not there. They will never be there again. It would be a life without her mom to sing her back to sleep from the nightmare. A life without her dad to sneak snacks into her room to comfort her. A life with out her parents. She was beginning to lose her strength, her self control, when she remembered that unfortunate fact.

Crying silently at her parents burial service was shameful enough. She felt she was showing weakness. She wasn't about to show how deep her pain was by breaking down. She wasn't about to show vulnerability to these strangers. Strangers to her. Friends to her parents. She briefly looked around at the strangers. They were such an eclectic group. All of different shapes and sizes; all of different backgrounds and personalities. They were huddled together, keeping one another warm, and comforting each other for losing a dear friend. Clearly, she didn't know her parents as well as she had thought. And now she'll never have that chance.

Her parents were dead. They left her. That was a fact. The only family she had in California were her parents. That was another fact. What was she going to do now? That was the question.

She felt a hand place itself on her shoulder. She stared at the hand, blindly. It was a large, manicured hand. She wasn't in the mood to be consoled by one of her parent's friends. They seemed afraid to approach her before. She didn't want their sympathy, anyway. She wanted the warmth of a family. She wanted to see her father's reassuring smile. She wanted the warmth of her mother's arms. She wanted her parents back!

"Carmen Maria Santiago?" the hands owner asked. Carmen nodded. "I'm Ms. Libowics. I'm a Social Worker. I was assigned to your case." She said.

Carmen shrugged off the woman's hand and turned to face her. She was a case now, was she? She stared at the woman, Ms. Libowics, awaiting more information.

Ms. Libowics shifted in her stance, uncomfortably. "Er... Why don't we get out of this rain? Go somewhere where we can discuss where you'll be staying?" She offered.

Where she'll be staying? Huh. She should find a new home, shouldn't she? She supposed it would be a foster home she was to be sent to. She waved her hand in front of her, indicating an 'after-you' gesture to Ms. Libowics. Ms. Libowics nodded once and began walking toward a black car, pulling up the collar of her coat. The wind had begun to pick up, while the rain still poured. Another reason to believe the universe was showing what Carmen was feeling. She wanted the Social Worker to feel uncomfortable because that was how she knew she was going to feel when they were alone, discussing what the next step was going to be.

Carmen sighed a tired sigh, glanced sadly back at her parent's coffins, whispered a choked good-bye, and turned her back on them. It hurt her to do so, but the pain was getting stronger and she feared she wouldn't be able to sustain her tears much longer. It would be easier for her to turn her back on that life, for she knew she wouldn't be living it anymore. A quick good-bye, a clean break. That was what she needed. And with a heavy heart, she walked away from her parents, and followed Ms. Libowics to the car.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Are you hungry?" Ms. Libowics asked as she opened the menu.

They were at a diner a few miles down from the cemetery. The drive was somewhat short, awkward, and silent. Neither person had much to say. Ms. Libowics was on edge and was constantly glancing anxiously at Carmen. Afraid that Carmen would burst into hysterics over her parents death any minute. She had noticed Carmen's face was streaked with dry tears, but she had yet to see her mourn her parents in what would be normal sobs. But Carmen had no intentions to go into any tear fest, until she was alone, preferably in the dark, curled up in a ball in a bath tub. She always felt most at ease in a bath tub.

Carmen shook her head as a response to Ms. Libowics' question, causing Ms. Libowics to frown. "You should eat something," she informed Carmen. But Carmen just shrugged. "Food could be a comfort, you know." She insisted.

"I'm not hungry, thank you," Carmen answered in a polite, minute voice.

"What can I getcha?" asked the waitress that— thankfully― approached their table.

"I'll have the special and some coffee. Black," replied Ms. Libowics as she handed the menu back to the waitress.

"What about you, sweetheart?" the waitress asked Carmen.

"I'm fine, thank you," Carmen answered.

The waitress nodded, wrote down the orders, picked up Carmen's menu, and walked away, leaving an awkward lull among Ms. Libowics and Carmen. Carmen sat still in her seat, coming in and out of a daze. Reliving memories, only to have them brutally swirled into angry sadness with the vision of her parent's coffins that managed to creep its way in every time. As if to bring her back into reality in the harshest way. As if to remind her that those days, those happy, good days, are gone and will never come back. She sniffled, pathetically.

"Uh... I guess we should... begin?" Ms. Libowics said nervously, opening her black brief case and taking out a light blue file.

She didn't want to have to deal with a crying, teenage girl. She wouldn't know what to do if the sixteen-year-old girl broke down in front of her. Her job was to find suitable locations for orphaned or abandoned children, not to soothe their heartache. She wasn't trained for that. Or rather, she didn't pay much attention to that particular detail. Not that she couldn't sympathize. She wasn't a cruel, cold-hearted person. It's just that sad cases, like the death of one's parents, were depressing. She could only handle so much. If she took every sad, horrible, heart wrenching case to heart, she would fall into a depression. She couldn't have that. The world is full of cruel and unfortunate circumstances, and she can't save everyone. She learned that the hard way. She was not about to repeat that mistake.

She laid the folder in front of her, on the table. Carmen stared at the folder, warily. It was a thin folder. Was that good? She wondered. Ms. Libowics knew she had Carmen's attention. She smiled sadly to the folder, making sure Carmen didn't notice her smile. Poor girl. She thought. She opened the file, and began to skim through it.

"Hmm.. Well," Ms. Libowics began. "Good news is, you may not have to stay at an orphanage― I mean, a foster home." She tried to smile reassuringly at Carmen, but Carmen just stared at her blankly, and then returned her gaze toward the file. Ms. Libowics followed suit, but with a frown on her face.

No foster home? Carmen thought. She supposed that would be good news, but where was she going to stay? She didn't have any other family in the United States. All her relatives resided in Mexico or Spain. She couldn't live in Mexico. There weren't as many opportunities in Mexico as there were in the U.S. And though living in Spain would be nice, she didn't want to live there either. Besides, she barely knew her family living in Spain. She knew they knew of her because she was introduced to them when she was an infant, and she knew they would welcome her with open arms, but they wouldn't know what to do with her. They would more likely than not walk on egg shells around her. She would be a burden to them. She didn't want to be a burden. She supposed living in a foster home would have been the easiest. She could have been whoever she wanted to be, and wouldn't have been obligated to do much. Maybe keep up good grades in school, which was a given for her, do a few chores she was sure she would have been assigned, and most importantly, keep out of anyone's way. Something she would have been more than happy to comply. Solitude would soon be her best friend, and she was willing to embrace that.

"Are you aware that you have an older brother, Carmen?" Ms. Libowics asked, unsure.

Carmen's head snapped up, coming out of her thoughts harshly, as she stared at Ms. Libowics with blank, lifeless eyes, at the mention of her brother. Ms. Libowics, feeling perturbed at such a gaze and reaction, returned quickly to the file. Using it to hide from Carmen's zombie-like stare.

Her brother...? Carmen had forgotten all about her brother. He wasn't at the funeral, she realized. She suddenly felt sad and angry again, and a new set of tears began to swell in her eyes, blurring her vision for the second time that day. She let out a small squeak, to release some of the emotion caught in her throat. She knelt her head forward, allowing her long chocolate brown hair to hide her face, while she dabbed the tears away with her napkin.

"Yes, I'm aware I have an older brother," she responded hoarsely. She was trying very hard not to get emotional with the new fact. Especially, not in front of the Social Worker who would determine where she would stay or of what it is that's to be done with her.

"Well, if he qualifies, he we will be taking care of you. He is, after all, your legal guardian. That is, your parents left him in charge of you should anything happen..." She trailed off. Not even bothering to finish that sentence. Goodness was she being tactless! What was it about this girl that had her so nervous and anxious and behaving in such an unprofessional manner?

"I haven't seen my brother since he left us," Carmen informed Ms. Libowics, sadly.

"When exactly was that?" Ms. Libowics asked, curious. She wasn't expecting Carmen not being in contact with her brother. It would make the situation difficult to manage, if only marginally.

"He was eighteen then, I was eleven... I would say... five years ago," Carmen answered.

"That would mean he is twenty-three now?" Ms. Libowics said to herself. Carmen nodded to confirm. "Well, it says here he lives in New York," she continued.

"Really? Where in New York?" Carmen asked as nonchalantly as possible.

She missed her brother, Jesse, terribly. When he walked out that one night, not even bothering himself to say good-bye to her, or even look at her as he was leaving, she felt that a part of her left with him in the most devastating way. It was her first heartache. But now that a second chance was presenting itself, she began to feel hope. Living with him could be good. It could be good for the both of them. She could gain back that piece of her she lost, and finally make amends; maybe even heal that wound, while the other could numb. That an New York would be a great place to live. So many possibilities and opportunities lie in New York. Maybe she could get an internship at a law firm.

"It says he lives in Waverly Place, New York, New York City. He lives in a two bedroom flat and owns a highly credited auto shop. Actually, it says he owns a string of automotive ventures all over Manhattan with a notable clientèle." Ms. Libowics said.

Ms. Libowics was quite impressed. Twenty-three-years-old and he owns a prestigious auto shop? Not only that, but a chain of automotive related businesses to wealthy clients. Not bad. He seems to be a perfect fit for Carmen. And it looks like he lives a few blocks away from Tribeca Prep, which was a respected school. This could work out perfectly, if he was willing to put aside whatever differences he had with his parents.

"When will I be leaving?" Carmen asked. She knew her brother Jesse was the best candidate. The best option for her.

"It will be a week. We need to make sure he is suitable and qualified to be responsible for you. Just because he is your older brother and your legal guardian, by your parent's request, does not mean he is fully justified to care for you. There are certain procedures we take to ensure what is best for you, as the underage child― I mean, teenager... er... young adult. We consider all possibilities to make sure you will be not only safe, but happy. In the mean time, you'll be staying at a temporary home, while I assess his eligibility for your welfare." Ms. Libowics replied.

One week. In one week she could be living with her brother, Jesse, and leave this heartache in California. In one week, she'll leave the past where it belongs. Behind her.