A/N- so there's a long authors note at the end, because I have a story to tell! If you guys don't want to, you don't have to read it, but I hope you do!

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Isa and I were at our usual corner, holding hands, waiting for clients, like usual. We stood in the shadows, faces covered with masks.

We watched a few cars pass, a few drunk people stagger home. Not many people out tonight. And then Isa let go of my hand and turn around. A little boy was standing behind us, tugging on Isa's jacket. Even over his dark skin, in the dark of the alley, I could see the outlines of a bruise on his cheek. He couldn't of been more than 8. Isa took off her mask and bent down to his height.

"Hey, little guy. Are you lost?" She asked kindly, a look of concern on her face. I took off my mask and crouched down too, so I didn't look as intimidating.

The boy shook his head. "I uh..." he trailed off. "I need your help," he said in a small voice.

"With what?" I ask softly.

"My parents... they hurt me. They're not my real parents... I'm adopted, and they hurt me. I've heard about you two. I don't have much money but can you please help me?" The boy sounded close to tears, his voice quivering and his lip was trembling. Isa and I glanced at each other quickly before looking back at this boy.

"Of course we'll help you. What's your name?" Isa says.

"I'm Peter," he whispers.

"Well Peter, we don't want you to get hurt anymore. Would you like to come stay with us?" I ask tentatively.

He lights up. "Yeah! Thank you Misses!"

Isa smiles warmly at Peter. "You're welcome. Come on, we'll take you home, and help you out tomorrow night, okay? And you can call me-" she points to herself-"Isa. And that-" she says, pointing to me. "Is my wife, Tala."

"Okay!" He says. Isa grabs his hand, and we lead him home. I convert the couch to a bed, and set it up for him, while Isa gets Peter some hot chocolate.

"We're right down the hall," Isa says as she tucks him him. "Come get one of us if you need anything."

Isa and I walk to our room, get changed, and climb in bed. "I hope he's okay," Isa whispers to me.

"He's not. Not yet. Emotional scars will take a long time to heal," I reply. "But we did the right thing. He'll be much happier here, and if he's not, we'll help him find someone who he likes to take care of him."

"Okay," Isa says as we snuggle together, quickly falling asleep.