A Fandoms Fight the Floods Contribution, and an outtake of The Dark Muse. It's possible that other outtakes might be posted here though I am not planning any at this time.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, though any original storylines are mine.

A/N: A big Thank-You to LightStarDusting and ms-ambrosia for their Beta work on this outtake. Of course, the urge to tinker once these ladies are done is too great to resist. Any mistakes are undoubtedly mine. Thanks to the ladies at FFtF for the great effort they put in to compiling the efforts of so may authors from many fandoms in order to raise money for floods-afflicted Queensland. Cheers!

Warning: This story contains subject matter which may be offensive or upsetting for some readers. I will post a warning before each chapter if it contains those mature themes and advise you in advance. Themes explored in this story include prostitution, violence, sometimes graphic or unromantic sex, some drugs and self-harm triggers. Please PM me for more information, I'm happy to answer any questions. No rape.

Warning: This chapter features prostitution and drug triggers.

The diamond in Riley's signet ring sends glints of rainbow through Victoria's glass of water and across the pristine white tablecloth. She looks him over as he eats; he's dapper, handsome, holding his knife delicately and dissecting his steak with flair. The elegant deportment belies his filthy mouth, a most amusing contradiction.

"For fuck's sake Victoria, is there a reason you keep him around?" he asks over a mouthful. "Shaking his hand is like..." Riley pauses with his fork in the air, as if to think of the right comparison. "...touching eels. And he doesn't let go! I have to, like, shake him off to disengage. Creepy old fuck. He's like a hand collector or something. I feel like if I don't shake him off he's going to try and chop it off and take it away with him for his amputated hand collection and maybe use it as a ball scratcher."

Despite his passionate words, Riley's face looks impassive following his tirade. Victoria snorts lightly.

"You're so melodramatic! He's just good to have around, that's all. Like you."

She smiles at him, one eyebrow cocked cheekily. Aro is good to have around. His knowledge of the industry is extensive, even if he is a fossil. If not for his mentoring, Victoria's little agency might never have taken off the way it did. She's grateful for the way he took her under his wing and helped introduce her to all the right people. People with money.

"Don't be comparing me to that old cunt! I'm going to pretend you didn't say that, so I can sleep at night." Riley puts down his cutlery with a clanging flourish. "Worst fucking cut of meat. Call themselves a restaurant. Fuck."

Victoria laughs in delight at Riley's outbursts. He's quite entertaining, and knows it. This disenchanted act he puts on is really very fun, and of course, expected of any self-respecting gay diva. She dabs her napkin over the corner of her perfectly arched lip and drops it on her plate to drape over her hardly-touched food. Pointing to his ring with her pinkie, she raises her eyebrow.

"Nice to see Cai is still rolling in it."

Riley straightens up in his seat and looks at her with disdain

"He hates it when you call him that Vicky. Don't be a bitch. I've had a long day and I'm not in the mood."

Victoria shakes her head, grinning.

"You've got it bad!"

Riley's eyes grow soft and indulgent. The change in expression makes him look young. Really young. It's moments like these that she can look past their longstanding and very platonic friendship and see his appeal to both sexes. He shrugs.

"Yeah... I let him buy me things. It makes him happy. It's a nice bauble, don't you think?" He presents his hand for inspection and wiggles his fingers to show off his new bling.

Victoria nods in agreement, her grin still in place. She tucks a loose orange curl back into place in her french roll.

"So how is it working out for you now that you've moved in? You look, dare I say, happy?"

Riley leans back in his chair, slouching dramatically.

"God, there are days I could rip off his balls and feed them to him. Maybe with those fava beans I bought last week."

"You have the patience of a saint," she says wryly.

"Oh, he's rich, and gorgeous... and he could suck a golf ball through a straw, but..." Riley waves his hand to signify indifference.

Victoria almost chokes on her own spit, laughing.

"But it's all a little like playing suburban househusband, is it?"

"Well..." Riley's face scrunches up, his mouth down-turned.

"Don't blow this one Biers, nobody does Sugar Daddy like that guy. If you quit him, you might have to find a real job, and I'm not sure the world's ready for that!" She's only half joking.

"Oh, lighten up!" he shout-whispers, his eyes huge, amused. "Well, I could always come work for you."

"And do what?" Victoria looks for a server and waves him over to take away what's left of their overpriced meals.

"Oh, I don't know..." he trails off, looking into the distance, "Bits and pieces. You know, stuff. Odd jobs."

He looks at her sideways to see if she's listening. Victoria's face is a picture of incredulity, her mouth a tight line to stifle her laughter.

"Odd jobs," she repeats.

"Sure, why not?"

"Maybe I could call you Random Task," she deadpans, cocking an eyebrow.*

"You're an grade-A bitch."

"Randy, for short."

"Fuck you. Excuse me while I go reacquaint myself with my only real friend." Riley stands and adjusts his crotch, giving it a little squeeze and thrust. She snorts under her breath.

Victoria watches Riley's retreating back as he makes his way across the crowded restaurant and to the restroom. She can't help but assess his body as he walks away. He's still hot, even though he's on the wrong side of thirty now, just like herself. The Botox helps, as does the carefully styled designer wardrobe and the easy lifestyle. Caius has been good for him and she's happy for her friend. Regardless of what he says to the contrary, Riley won't leave him. Their feelings are genuine. They love each other.

Turning back to the windows, Victoria stares absently through her own reflection at the bustle in the street. In the distance, heavy rumbling rolls through the evening sky with the nearing storm. The usual traffic weaves outside the windows, neon yellow and red lights streaking past her unfocused eyes.

Not far from a busy corner, a movement catches her eye through the drops that have begun spattering the street. When she looks for it, there is nothing there but the yawning maw of a narrow, dark alley between two buildings. The sidewalks are suddenly alive as people scatter, attempting to get out of the downpour. Abruptly, it's unrelenting Seattle rain again; fat, heavy drops that thwack against the bonnets of cars parked along the busy street.

Victoria turns to scan for Riley's reappearance, but he's still in the restroom. She returns her attention to the view from her window, and once again, her eyes are snagged on some movement in that alley. She doesn't turn away this time, watching for whatever it is that has attracted her attention. A few moments later she is rewarded with the answer. She spies someone in the darkness, the lone figure shifting uncertainly from one foot to the other, as though waiting, watching.

Victoria's mouth lifts in a one-sided grin. She knows a working girl when she sees one.

On second look though, something is not quite right with the picture. This particular area isn't one frequented by streetwalkers; it's too uptown. This hooker is on her own, too, and that's bad practice. Normally they stick together in small groups, looking out for each other. She's also not dressed the part, looking more like a vagrant than even the most conservative whore. Victoria stares, trying to unravel the contradiction.

The more she looks, the younger the woman appears, until she looks like a girl. There is not a shred of doubt in Victoria's mind that she's hooking, even though she's not having much success. She's in the wrong place for a start; cars won't slow down here, it's far too conspicuous. Even downtown, with the recent explosion of child prostitution in Seattle and the subsequent vice squad crackdowns, johns are more circumspect than to pick up a kid like her in the street. She's either dumb or new. Maybe both, with a dose of runaway thrown in, too. Pretty, tragic little girl.

One of many to be found on the streets.

Victoria's mouth lifts in a sad smile.

"Earth to ginger. What the fuck?"

Riley's fingers snap annoyingly close to her face and she recoils slightly, blinking at him, broken out of her reverie.

"Jesus, bitch, do you mind? Can't you just sit quietly without attracting attention?"

She looks around the restaurant, but thankfully, nobody has so much as batted an eyelid at Riley's boorishness. When her sharpened eyes eventually return to the mouth of the alley, the girl is gone.

Perhaps the pretty little loner wasn't completely unsuccessful then, she thinks, but as she's about to turn away, a slight movement has her glued to the dark brick mouth again. Without moving, she touches Riley's wrist, the pads of her fingers resting lightly on the cuff of his expensive shirt while she scans the murky alley.

"Are you done?"

"Sure. Why?"

Victoria's focus doesn't leave the alley as she stands and reaches for her purse.

"Lets go."

Opportunities present themselves in unlikely places sometimes. She's determined to meet this gift horse, look in its mouth and make sure it has white, straight teeth.

-Ø-Ø-Ø-

Dusk hangs in the air like a suspended curtain, waiting to roll final credits on the light of day.

A grey car slows. Inside there's a guy with dark hair, craning his neck to get a look at her.

Heartbeat racing.

Will this ever get easier?

The grey car picks up speed again and drives on. Bella has been out here for over three hours and is starting to realize that this isn't going to work.

She thought it was just a case of standing still long enough before somebody stopped and picked her up. She'd chosen a nice area, hoping that it would attract nice men. Men who wouldn't hurt her, and maybe even be nice to her.

Instead, she's getting colder by the minute, and she's had no bites at all this entire time, except for a couple of rubbernecks and a stray mosquito. To top it all off, it's starting to rain. Bella looks up into the darkening evening sky, feeling the smallest she has felt for a long time. Nature remains unmoved by her plight, and as the rain begins to pelt down heavily over her head and shoulders, she retreats further into the alley behind her, defeated.

The back of her hand itches and aches where the IV needle used to be, perched out of her hand like an obscene steel splinter. She'd ripped it out in such a hurry that the resulting bruise is still there, still blue, days later. She bruises easily, always has. It's typical that superficial bruises are so easy to see, while the festering wounds inside remain invisible.

What she really hadn't expected was her mom's power to hurt her still, even after all these absent years. She's just going to have to make damn sure she never allows it to happen again.

She's not sure how the hospital people had found Renee. Bella herself thought that she had died years ago. She was shocked stupid when she'd overheard that Renee had been contacted about her presence at the hospital and about the OD. She didn't need to be told what happened next because soon afterward, she'd overheard them talking about foster homes again. It was obvious that Renee hadn't wanted anything to do with her and being a minor, she'd soon be back in the system.

Over my dead body.

Stamping her feet against the cold, Bella leans her back into the hard brick wall of the alley and despairs. She has nowhere to go, nowhere to stay tonight. The last couple of nights she has slept on the train, if keeping one eye open all night could be called sleeping. The night before that, she managed to spend a few hours in a church, dozing through several masses before being discovered. Tonight is as uncertain as any night, but worse for the fact that she's already cold and wet, and running out of money, fast.

The rain has become a steady drizzle, a lulling hum all around her. Bella slides down the rough bricks, making herself small. Pulling the wet hood of her jacket over her head as far as it will go, she clutches the sodden fabric with white-knuckled hands, and wonders if she might be able to sleep right here, invisible in the black mouth of the alley, even if just for a little while. Tomorrow, she's going to try and clean herself up a little bit, maybe in the McDonalds bathroom, and try this again somewhere else, until it works. She knows she's not ugly. Maybe it's the shit weather tonight, maybe she should have waited until later, until night had truly fallen. Tired, she dozes huddled into the wall, legs drawn up tight against her body.

-Ø-Ø-Ø-

Footsteps.

Bella opens an eye and looks sideways to the street, where a silhouette has appeared at the entrance to the alley, preceded by the clicking of high heels. For a moment, she imagines that Renee has come to find her after all.

The notion quickly passes.

It occurs to her that she doesn't know her mother's last name. Is she still a Swan or did she remarry? Actually, did her parents divorce before Charlie died? She doesn't know that either. It should be embarrassing to know so little about her own beginnings, but Bella doesn't feel anything at all.

The rain has slowed to a drizzle, and tiny droplets sit atop the woman's hair like a shower of silver sparkles. A diffused light from a fire escape above is making her hair glow bright orange. She doesn't seem bothered by the rain at all.

She's wearing heels and a nice dress, and she definitely doesn't belong in this dingy alley. A man appears behind her and stands at the periphery, waiting. Bella rights herself slowly, warily, sliding back up the wall. Adrenalin is starting to burn through her nerves, as the dread of being trapped in this alley dawns on her. This could get ugly.

The woman stops several feet away and just stands there, waiting. Bella looks back at her defiantly, but inside, she's scared as hell. What do they want? She feels the woman's appraising eyes all over her.

And that's when it occurs to her that they might be looking for someone like her. She continues to stare back, waiting, full of apprehension in case they're undercover police. The red-headed woman steps toward her slowly, her face bathed in the stygian shadows of the alley.

"How much?" she asks quietly, raising a hand and twirling her finger.

Obediently, Bella turns a full circle. "For both of you?" False bravado makes her voice quiver.

The redhead smiles, sparse light falling in crescents on the apples of her cheeks.

"Good answer." She pauses, as if considering. To Bella, the response just confirms that the guy at the mouth of the alley is with her.

"Are you legal?"

"Yeah." An inconsequential lie. This time next year it will be true.

"Do you use?"

Bella snorts under her breath. "What do you care?"

"I really don't." The redhead replies matter-of-factly, but continues to wait for the answer among the misting rain.

"No."

The answer is unequivocal, the sentiment absolute. Bella has seen the last of any kind of drug.

It's a bleak and ghoulish image that will stay with her forever, punctuated by the taste of vomit and the smell of her very own and very recent Lazarus trick. She rubs the back of her hand again, unknowingly.

Slyly as though sharing a dirty secret, almost silently, the redhead leans in slightly and whispers, "Whatever you're charging, I can get you more."

It's not the comment she was expecting and Bella is at a loss for how to answer. She's not sure she understands what the redhead is saying. Give me the answer that will have me sleeping in a a dry bed tonight and buy me a goddamn hamburger!

"Come and work for me," the redhead elaborates, and finally, Bella can see what's being offered to her. Very simply put, it's safety. A relationship of sorts. A reciprocal arrangement that will see her much safer than she could ever be on her own, on the street. Her sense of relief is almost palpable, like the texture of a warm coat slipping over her shoulders. The redhead can see the answer in her eyes before she speaks, almost certainly before she knows it herself.

"What's your name?"

Bella doesn't think, she just answers with the first thing that pops into her head.

"Marie."

If she can become someone else tonight, it's as good as a new start.

-Ø-Ø-Ø-

Victoria appraises the girl in the alley with the detachment of a trained eye. She doesn't look like a junkie. Her skin is nice and clear so she's not into meth and she's not scratching herself absently like the smackers do, nor is she jittery from speed, which are all good signs. Her eyes are beautiful, dark and hard but underneath that, they're haunted. Victoria knows better than to ask. This slight, tough girl would never answer, at least not with the truth. The fact that she's standing out here in the alley, in this rain, tells Victoria everything she needs to know.

The fact is, she's exceptionally pretty, and with care, she could be beautiful. Tall and slim, she's a little on the skinny side, but some people like that, so her dance-card could be easily filled, as long as it's not a sign that she's a crackhead. They could work on the speciality angle together, and as she watches the dark shadows of the alley slide across the girl's pale face, she imagines a disguise of some sort; perhaps an exotic veil, or a mask.

She's lying about her age, but can't be far off eighteen. Victoria isn't about to ask for her social security number so it's a moot point. She wants to get a better look at her to see if there's some potential there. She might be interesting here among the filth, but turn out to be nothing special in the light.

Riley stands guard at the mouth of the alley where she left him, but will recede into the distance as they near him, so as not to be threatening. He was a little incredulous at first when Victoria explained that she wanted to get a closer look at this girl, but soon shrugged his shoulders and allowed curiosity win, following her out of the restaurant and across the road into this alley.

"Buy you dinner?" she asks, correctly guessing at something that will get Marie to go with her for a chat.

Marie's dark eyes give nothing away as she walks out into the rain and onto the street, following Victoria's lead. Her old skin rests on the alley floor with her name, amongst the other blown-in debris.

Marie doesn't turn back.

-Ø-Ø-Ø-

A/N: *'Random Task' is a nod to Austin Powers, of course. Thanks for reading.