Her face was streaming when I found her. Streaming with tears or just the rain, I wasn’t entirely sure.

Then the look, the look she gave me — those large, dark, blue eyes of hers so distant. It was as if she’d never known me, and I’d just intruded on her in this vast, empty park.

As my dear friend, I wanted to put my arms around her, take her home.

But that look. I didn’t dare touch her. She had that look of a cornered, feral creature. I’d trespassed on something. I’m not sure what, but I wasn’t welcome in this moment of solitude she’d carved out for herself.

So, I stood there in the rain. I could wait her out. No words. Just silent company. I figured it was the least I could do.

* * *

Since we found each other some time ago, Ellette has been ever-present in my life. Yet, we know only the barest basics about one another. The day-to-day, the habits, likes and dislikes, we know intimately. You can’t live in a tiny apartment together for the better part of a year without gaining that comfortable knowledge of one another. Our pasts, though, our lives before the here and now, we don’t talk about.

I figure hers is as pained as mine. I don’t ask, don’t pry. It’s none of my business. She’s a quiet girl, and I’ll let her keep it that way if she chooses to be.

It does, though, make it difficult, considering some of the experiences we’ve shared. We’ve grown very close over the winter, or at least... I think we have. I’d like to take things further, I’d like to... well, you know. Be more than friends.

Nothing changes, though. She jokes, teases, has her moody moments, but at any hint of intimacy, it just stops. She’s quite skilled at changing the conversation, finding an excuse, avoiding.

I don’t push. I don’t dare. I care about her too much... but I want to know what it is... what the source of this hesitance is. More importantly, I want to know more about her, to feel free to ask. I just... can’t.

Then, out of the blue... she was gone.

* * *

I felt her gaze find me after some time. I was hesitant to look down where she sat, to meet those eyes. She said nothing.

My hands were aching from the cold. I couldn’t imagine how she could stand it. She was thin and wore just her basic tee shirt and jeans. Nothing to protect against this chill and wet.

I turned ever so slightly, lowering my gaze to hers. I nearly jumped when she spoke.

“It always rains...” she started, then her voice trailed off, and I wondered what I’d missed. Her eyes had shifted from me to look out over the rolling green of the park.

I almost opened my mouth, almost asked, when she spoke again.

“Rain. She said it cleanses the world. Washes it all way,” she shook her head, sadly. “I wish I felt that way...” she sighed softly, shifting in her position on the grass. “Before she got sick, we lived together. I’d never had so much fun... never felt so... complete, so whole.” A small smile graced her lips now, and she looked up at me. My heart caught under that look. “I feel like that with you...”

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“Ellette...” my response was a breathy utterance. I put my hand out to her, to help her up. I wanted to get her home, to get out of this cold. It was seeping into my bones, my hands would be stiff for days. Ellette, though, she wasn’t nearly as cold tolerant as I was. I could see the tinge of blue to her lips, the bright red flush to those pale cheeks. She would be sick after this, I had no doubt.

She shook her head. She wasn’t done yet.

“No. I need to stay, until the rain is over. Wash it away...”

* * *

One day, she just didn’t come home. At first, I just assumed she’d gotten distracted, forgotten to call. It wasn’t any big deal. I was actually pretty happy for her. She fits in well enough, and was happy to be with people... but she wasn’t outgoing. She didn’t do anything unless she just happened to be invited along. It’s not that she’s not confident... she’s not afraid of... well, anything. She just doesn’t look to socialize unless there’s some other purpose or motivation to do so.

Most nights, I’d drag her out to one of my gigs or to some underground show just so she wouldn’t be at home writing in that journal of hers. Not that there is anything wrong with that... I’m happy she has a hobby. It just seems like such a solitary one. Besides, I figure we found each other for a reason. Dragging her out to live life a little more can’t hurt.

So, one night out without calling was a little odd, but I didn’t think much of it. We’re both adults, just roommates, only friends.

When I came home from work the next day, though, and still no sign, that’s when I began to worry. Ellette has this...talent. Or curse. I’m not sure. When she dreams, her dreams are more than just realistic. They are real. She steps into the lives of other people, most of the time as a sort of aide or guide to them. Though she can’t die, can’t really be hurt in one of these dreams... that doesn’t mean someone from her dreams can’t come to find her in the waking world.

After all, that’s how I found her.

Roxie thought I was crazy. Not that that was anything new. She’d written me off as crazy a long time before that. I was determined, though, to find this girl who’d saved me and disappeared. Eventually, I did. We’ve been fairly inseparable ever since, Ellette and I.

Then she disappeared again, and I began to wonder, to worry, who else might have found her. Though Ellette is, in many ways an angel, be it something of a fallen angel, to those she finds in her dreamwalks, not everyone she encounters is grateful. She’s made enemies and has told me how thankful she is that she never fails to wake up safe in her bed.

The little apartment seemed vastly empty without her, and my mind when to those who would do her harm. I called a few friends and came up with nothing. The park was a favorite place of hers, and I knew she was no stranger to the streets.

So I walked those dark, lonely paths through Leeson Park until I was exhausted. I stumbled home well past midnight and collapsed on the couch that was normally pulled out into a bed for her. It smelled of her, and that was some small comfort.

* * *

I stared at her, this pale thin girl drenched and turning blue in the rain. How could she see herself as tarnished, I wondered. If only she could see herself through my eyes. Perhaps it’s only hormones, infatuation, all of that speaking, but to me, she is perfect. I know, sappy, romantic nonsense.

Okay, she’s not perfect. She’s boney and boyish. She keeps her hair too short for my taste. She’s secretive, passive, and moody. Living with her can be like living with that emo teenager, but without all the drama. Just the constant silent treatment with the occasional hostile outburst. Those are usually mild.

The rest of the time, though, she’s a delight. Really, she is. She’s just a good kid. Well, I say kid, but she’s older than she looks, though she doesn’t always act it. There is something broken in her... and I can’t quite place it. I often wonder how much of a childhood she had.

“Whenever it would rain, she’d run out and stand with her face upturned, her arms outstretched,” Ellette continued. Who she was referring to, I had no clue.

“She’d come back in beaming. Mother nature’s baptism, she’d say. You can be reborn in the rain...” her voice cracked, and she looked up to me then. I knew those were tears now. “Rand,” she whispered, and I knew it was my chance to step in, to put an end to this, “I can’t feel it. No matter how many times I do this... It never washes away...”

I had no answer. Nothing but my companionship to offer. I knelt, gathering her to me. She let go, leaning into me, ever silent, ever stoic. Eventually, I coaxed her to her feet, and she allowed me to guide her home.