The tall German was tired. The rest of her group were still back at the club, the pounding bass of which she could still feel through the pavement. She had forgotten her purse and so had to walk back to the hotel where she was staying. The area of town was quiet, eerily so, but not for long. Somewhere in the distance she heard frantic yelling and begs for mercy. She quickened her pace, directing herself towards the sounds.

After a while the yelling almost entirely ceased; the woman increased her pace again towards where she last heard the sounds. Finally she could hear the assailant's voice. "Fucking bitch passed out!"

Spinning. Beca was spinning in her kitchen, dancing with her mum. "Faster, faster, faster!" young Beca shouted, twirling as her mother baked something delicious smelling. She dissolved into giggles and sat down harshly on the ground, looking up towards the brunette chef with adoration. Her mum put down the bowl and picked her up. "Beca, oh Beca, how I've missed you." She murmured.

"You have to go home, little one. You're not supposed to be here yet. People have done bad things to you. But you should be down there. You haven't finished living yet."

"Mama? Am I- dead?"

"Right now, you're dying. But you have to fight. Because my little Beca needs to complete her story."

"Mama, why did you have to go?"

"Because otherwise you wouldn't be who you are now." She gently kissed her daughter's head.

A painful jolt shot through Beca's chest and she cried. "Mama, no I don't want to go! Mama come back!" The image of her mother in the kitchen was rapidly fading to a dark and concerning blackness, seeping into her very skin. She felt herself being choked by it, it was in her ears and making everything fuzzy, the pressure massive.

"Well wake her up then." Maybe she was not wise to interrupt this, as there was clearly more than one attacker; but then she saw the girl lying on the floor. She was shaking, bloody and weak; and she seemed slightly familiar. The German set her jaw. She was not going to leave a girl in danger. If it put her in more danger that was a trivial issue.

"I got a smelling salt!" one of them exclaimed, plucking it from his pocket and cracking it below the girl's nose. She immediately opened her eyes, only for the onslaught to continue. "Please, Bumper… I paid up this month, I swear…" she murmured.

"Hey, the kid thinks she paid up!" the one called Bumper said. "Whaddya think, Benji?"

Benji shook his head. "Jesse?"

Jesse impassively shook his head. "You never should have left me, Beca. Think of what we had."

Beca. Little mouse… that's why she looked so familiar. She crept slightly out of the shadows, greeting the attackers. "Ah… It is good to see the little mouse broken."

Bumper grinned sickly. "Shit, look, the German blonde turned up! I always knew you hated her!" Jesse chimed in. She could smell the alcohol on him from ten meters away, and closer up the smell of lingering marijuana hung around like a foul shroud. "Give her a wallop. Our treat!"

She walked slowly up to Beca, teeth bared in a cruel smile. "Please don't hurt me… No… this can't be…" Beca's voice broke in fear and she felt a twinge of guilt at the farce she had to play next. Grabbing her by her shirt collar she hauled the girl flush with the wall at her head height. She quickly flashed a friendly smile, whispering in her ear. "Listen. I'm here to help. It's Kommissar. When the next one takes a slug at your face, collapse and don't react to anything. Trust me. Now look scared, and get ready for a punch to your stomach."

She punched the DJ quite softly for her strength, but the girl still whimpered. "That was for your touchy-feely performance. You call yourself a leader? How many of the judges did you fuck for that 'win'?" She dropped her with a smirk. "I prefer to watch the beatdown. Mind if I do?" She elegantly sat down in a corner, watching intently. Sure enough the boys took a punch to her face and she crumpled with a tiny whimper. They took the smelling salt packs and cracked another, holding it under her nose. She didn't respond. "Shit, dude, she's not breathing."

"Floor it mate. We are rollin out!" The three of them unceremoniously fled the back alley, leaving the girls alone. When she was sure they had gone, the Kommissar ran over to Beca, quickly picking her up. "Beca? Listen to me. I am taking you back to my hotel room, okay. I'm a trained first aider. You're going to be okay."

The walk seemed agonisingly slow for the Kommissar. Every step she had to gently shift her arms as Beca winced in pain. "We're almost there, little mouse. You have the heart of a lion for one so small. You're being so, so brave." She gently opened her hotel room, placing the girl on her bed. Switching on the light, she quickly fetched the official DSM medical kit. "Hey, what's your name, tiny mouse?" she asked, stroking the hair out of her face.

"It's… Beca. I thought you... knew that," the DJ complained.

"I'm just checking, tiny mouse. Follow the light please."

Beca's eyes obediently tracked the light as they should. The Kommissar felt herself relax slightly. There was nothing here she couldn't treat. Perhaps her broken spirit might be harder to tackle.

Beca gestured to the bag and made a squeezing motion at her throat. "Asthma?" Beca nodded. The Kommissar passed her the emergency inhaler and she took a dose, handing it back gratefully. "Better now?" the Kommissar asked with a smile. Beca nodded again, a slight smile gracing her face also.

She sighed as she motioned for Beca to sit up. "I know you don't know me too well," she said quietly, applying a pair of gloves, "but I need you to take off your shirt so I can see what they've done to you. Is this okay with you?"

Beca nodded soundlessly, her face contorted into a grimace. She slowly, painfully, lifted the hem of her shirt before bursting into tears, shaking her head. She made a cutting motion with her hand and the Kommissar smiled slightly. "Not fond of this shirt? Okay, we can work with that."

She took a pair of scissors and repositioned the girl to lie down on her bed. She slipped the scissors up the middle of the shirt, all the way up to her neckline. As perverse as it sounded, the Kommissar felt a certain connection to the girl now, as she trimmed down the sleeves until she could pull the whole shirt off in one go without moving Beca.

It was only now that she dared to look at Beca's chest. "You look like my first attempt at blackberry ice cream," she whispered quietly, horrified at the sheer amount of bruising. "You are, how do you say it? Mottled. Nein, ist das die Wort das ich meine? Bah." She gently looked for any cuts and scrapes, placing plasters and a small amount of an antiseptic that burned every time she applied it.

"Okay, one more, but it's quite large. Ready?" Beca nodded, then grimaced; and at last the ordeal was over. Well, partly over. She still needed to ascertain Beca's state.

"I think you might have cracked a rib. That's fine, it will hurt like infernal, but what I'm going to do is put a roll of bandage around your chest to stop you moving too much. Can you sit up for me?"

"Hurt like hell is the phrase," she groaned as she sat up. Then there was a comfortable silence as the Kommissar wrapped her lower abdomen in a stretchy elasticated bandage. "Okay, this is where it will hurt, breathe out as far as you can without it hurting. Tell me when you need to breathe."

The wrapping continued in this manner until the Kommissar got to Beca's bra. "I'm afraid this has to go," the Kommissar said, flushing scarlet at what she had just asked for. Beca was clearly not too concerned as she took the scissors and snipped off the straps and bra and tossed them aside. "Keep going," she said through gritted teeth.

The Kommissar nodded, trying not to notice the proximity her hands were in to the younger girl's chest. She did the rest of her chest in double quick time, cracking an ice pack for her to hold over the affected area.

"Hey, uh, Kommissar…"

"Ja?" She was focused on bandaging Beca's sprained ankle.

"What's your real name? It can't be Kommissar, right?"

"You are correct, Mäuschen. Is this too tight? No? Good. My real name is Mina."

"Mina? It seems so… unlike your stage persona. It's homely. I like it."

"I am glad, feisty maus. I was given the name for a reason. You're staying here tonight. You can't sing now with a broken rib. As DSM lost, I have no gigs to run to. I'll look after you, Mäuschen."

"Mina, thanks." The girl smiled unexpectedly. "If you hadn't been there, I'd be back in hospital, struggling to stay alive like-," she forced herself to continue, "Like last time."

The Kommissar narrowed her gaze. "There was a last time…" She shook her head sorrowfully. "Kleine Maus, I will make sure there is no next time." She gently embraced the DJ and within seconds she was cradling her as her body shook with suppressed sobbing.

"Feisty mouse, let it out. Let it all out, cry until you can't cry any more…" Mina murmured. She cried and buried her face into Mina's shoulder. It was a long time before Beca's breathing evened out and she started to relax. The Kommissar stood up, rummaging in her suitcase for something. She tossed a black shirt to Beca, who gingerly put it on. "Your legs are okay, Beca?"

"Yeah. Usually my arms get the worst of them but I think I'll be okay."

"Okay Mäuschen. Sleep it off." She turned to leave the room but was stopped by a soft, "wait…"

She turned around. Beca fiddled sheepishly with the bedding. "It's just… I don't feel safe tonight."

"What would you like me to do?" Mina asked, walking back towards Beca kindly. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

"Yes, that would be nice." Beca felt her cheeks flush red as she asked the Kommissar to help her into bed.

"Do not worry, Mäuschen. I'm not embarrassed, and neither should you be." She gently placed the girl into bed, removing her curve-hugging shirt with a practised ease, slipping into a similar shirt to the DJ. She simply took off her trousers and slid into the bed in the t-shirt and her underwear. It was only then that she became painfully aware of how cold the brunette was. Without thinking, she pulled her closer to her body, warming her back. Beca tensed for a second, then relaxed, enjoying the embrace.

It didn't take long for Beca to fall asleep, the warm spooning of Mina helping to relax her more than she had ever thought possible. The Kommissar smiled, kissing Beca's cheek gently. She couldn't help the rush of emotion that she felt at the sight of her, lying peacefully in her bed.

"Sleep well, Mäuschen."

A.N. This was intended to be an oneshot but now it's done I feel I could run it in many directions… Let me know if you want to see more :)

~ Becommissar