She never expected him to stay the whole evening on that bench. At the time, it seemed like he was only doing it to spite her, just because she told him he couldn't do what he wanted. The swarm of hungry kids had come and gone and nearly every one of them told her about the guy on the bench with sweets and potatoes, and she assured them that he was ok and that they should take what he was offering if they wanted. Her siblings trailed in one by one, Joey and Adrienne got in line for soup with their friends, Doug wouldn't be home for a few more hours, but August made his way straight to her side. "Who's the buster with the potatoes?" he asked in a surly way, contrasting in every way from the sweetness with which he tucked his head down onto her shoulder like he'd done for the past six years. It didn't matter to him that people were looking funny at the fifteen year old snuggling up to the only parent he knew like a small child or that he was so much taller than her now that he had to bend in an awkward way. He was the only person alive who she let stand to her right, trusting him there in her blind spot.

She reached back and patted the downy ash blonde hair on his head, "He's fine, Auggie. So long as he stays outside." He picked his head up and gave her a skeptical glance. "I told him he could stay. He's Andy's brother."

"Oh, Skittery!" he answered amicably.

Scooping up more soup and tucking her hip closer into the table, she asked, "Did you know him?" He tucked in closer too, knowing that she served because if she let go of the counter with all of the extra people in the house she felt like an unmoored ship on a restless sea. The kids would push and pull her small frame until she didn't know which way she was facing. He planted himself by her side every evening not because he wasn't hungry or because he liked his soup lukewarm, but because she needed him there and would never ask.

His head rested on her shoulder, his chin digging into her collarbone, and shook his head. "He was gone before I started selling. He's one of the boys that went on strike." She almost felt his eyebrows lower, knowing she didn't like thinking of that time. She patted his head again before pushing him up and dishing out the last three bowls of soup. The first she placed in his hands. The other two she put a piece of biscuit in and a spoon and headed for the door. "Elvie," he moaned, "what are you doing?"

"He did a good turn for the kids," she answered resolutely, because she was nothing but brave within the walls of the basement, "I'm doing one in return."

He stood, plunking his bowl down on the table with force. "No." His arms moved, she assumed crossing over his chest in protest. "I'm not letting you do that to yourself." She didn't argue, just stood in front of the closed door and waited. He would do what she asked, even if she didn't ask it. With a frustrated huff, he stomped over to her and took the bowls from her hands and she put one on his elbow. "Eyes open the whole time, if you're going to insist on this." She agreed with a deep shaking breath, and waited for him to step, always just a half of a step ahead of her so she could feel his movement and anticipate the next one she had to make from that. "If you get...ya know...you'll tell me? And I'll bring you back?" She nodded, not naming the sheer panic that being outside of the walls where she knew every ripple in the floor and piece of furniture brought her was as close to a lie as she'd allow.

Her fingertips dug into the skin in the crook of his elbow, and the muscle twitched as he tried hard not to pull away from the pain as they stepped out the door and into the stairwell. The warmth of the late spring evening hit her suddenly and her skin hurt in the outside air. Their were so many sounds that she couldn't differentiate and identify and a swirl of movement at the top of the stairs that overwhelmed her. She stopped hard in her tracks and swallowed compulsively like she might retch and throw up. "You ok?" Auggie asked in a quiet voice.

"Am I ever?" she asked back, forcing her feet to move.

"Eyes open?"

She nodded. "Eyes open." The noise wasn't so all consuming and was settling in her ear drums, but a strange clacking noise too organic and out of sync to be from a machine or a motor car or a carriage rang out over the general din of the city streets. "What's that sound?" She kept her promise, her eyes were open, her head swiveling to see all around her, but all she could see were the sides of the stairwell. He stepped and she followed until he turned to her with a beautiful grin on his face.

"They're sword fighting, like we used to when we were kids. With broomsticks."

He took another step up and the noise got louder. "They who?"

"Andy and Skittery." He described their movements for her in detail as he slowly moved her up one step at a time, never letting her dwell on how close she was getting to the street by keeping her focused on the action in front of them with the gentle camber of his voice. A loud yell of triumph rang out that made her jump, but Auggie patted her hand. "Andy beat him."

"Ace!" Andy called, jogging into view, red faced and grinning as the soft light before sunset warmed the street. "Nice to see you outside."

His brother followed him, huffing and puffing with sweat pouring down his face. He smelled like summer sun and the city she'd hid from so long and she liked it. His dark eyes bored into her skin as she stood, still holding Auggie's arm so tightly that his skin was bulging between her fingers. "I gotta know, what's with Ace? You ain't a newsie. You ain't never been a newsie, so where'd you pick up a nickname like that?"

She sighed, "Andy?"

"Yeah Ace?"

"Smack your brother for me. My aim is terrible." He grinned and took a running tackle at his older brother without another thought. She watched the misshapen blob they were to her roll around for a few seconds with a small smile on her face.

"Elvie?" Annabel came into view slowly, her red hair easy for Elvie to follow. "You're outside."

"Am I?" she asked, looking around. "I thought it seemed a little breezy."

Annabel's coppery eyebrows knitted into one. "You're funny outside." A small ripple of laughter rolled out of Elvie and, while it didn't quell the fear, it released the grip in had on her for a few seconds, allowing Auggie a few seconds of relief from the vice grip she had on his arm. The sounds of the scuffle faded and Andy stood up grinning and sauntered back closer only to stop and stare with his mouth open. Annabel blushed deeply, the features of her face nearly disappearing in the red of her cheeks and hair. Skittery ambled back over, grumbling and brushing his clothes off and took in the scene with a smirk on his handsome face. Realizing how many times she'd thought about how handsome he was, Elvie joined Annabel in blushing while the two brothers took them in.

Skittery couldn't let the moment last though. He smacked Andy up the back side of his head and shoved him forward. "Jesus H. Christ, Tumbler, wipe the drool off yah chin and take the girl for a walk. Didn't I teach you nothing?"

Auggie sniggered and leaned in to murmur, "Andy flipped him the bird."

She smiled, "Go on, Annabel. We'll start in a little while." She waited for the young couple to walk away before searching out Skittery's tall frame in the dimming light. "Bays?" She said tentatively.

"I didn't do it!" he barked, making her jump back. "I done what you told me, I swear!"

"Guilty conscience?" Auggie muttered under his breath for only her to hear and she chuckled.

"I know, and I appreciate it. I brought you some supper." He was quiet as he moved forwards so that she could see more than just the silhouette of him. The summer sun began to sink below the buildings, finally going to rest after a long day.

His eyes darted across every feature in her face, every scar, every freckle, every stray hair, not staring or nervously skipping over the ones that made her uncomfortable like her blind eye that didn't move in unison with it's mate or the long scar that trailed all the way from behind her hairline down her face and ended near her mouth. "Did you eat?" he asked stiffly.

"Not yet," she answered.

He narrowed his eyes, "Is there more or did you give yours to me?" She pursed her mouth and looked away. "Thought so." He turned to Auggie. "What about you? You eaten?"

Auggie nodded. "Mine's inside."

He nodded at the second bowl in Auggie's hands. "Who is that for then?"

"Andy," she answered.

He smiled at her, beamed happily that she would look out for his kid brother, and her stomach tittered and galloped inside of her. Trouble. This man was so much trouble. She was eyeballs deep in trouble. He looked back to Auggie and took one of the bowls from him. "G'head and take the other back inside, eat it if you want. Tumbler's got other appetites he's filling right now." The grin the two males shared was naughty and a bit predatory, but she just rolled her eyes. She knew Annabel had nothing to worry about in Andy. "Eat it if you want, I can get Andy something later. We's always done all right."

Auggie looked down at her and tilted his head to the side. "You proved your point, now can I take you back in?" her brother asked.

"No," she answered with a break in her voice as she forced her hand off of his arm. He moved away slowly and her heart picked up to a rapid staccato beat. "Go eat. I'll be all right." Auggie, didn't move. He just stared down at her until she gave him a push and then sulked back to the house.

Skittery cleared his throat, "Ima go sit on my bench." He started moving and she quickly lost him into the blur. He was gone and she was alone in the street.

"Bays?" she yelped, reaching her arm out into the space in front of her. She was adrift. She didn't know if the stone stairs down to the apartment were a few steps behind her or a few dozen, she wasn't paying attention when Auggie led her up because she was focused on not panicking.

A big hand caught hers, soft and dry, and she remembered the way his hand felt when she shook it earlier. He stepped closer, and she exhaled. It was him. His brow was furrowed, his dark eyes looking out of his face anxiously. "You's shaking," he murmured, looking at her hand.

"Uh-huh," she whimpered, clinging tightly to that hand. "I don't come out here much so I don't know my way." She swallowed loudly. "Don't leave me, Bays." The order came out gruff and gritty as she pushed past the wad of fear choking her.

She looked up, expecting the dreaded look of pity, but it wasn't there, just a smile. "You making Bays a thing?"

She smiled shakily, "I just can't seem to make my mouth call you Albert. Your own brother doesn't call you your name."

He grinned and moved her hand up to his elbow like Auggie did, but left his hand sitting on top of hers as he tugged her gently towards the bench. "No one does except customers at work and that's only because I got a badge saying it on my shirt there." When she could see the bench, she reached out for it and sat down gratefully. "My buddies and Tumbler...Andy, they all calls me Skittery. Here." He put the bowl of soup in her hands. "I can feel the bones in your fingers, you need that more than me." She frowned and he chuckled. "Don't worry, I'm eating too." He held one of the dry but jewel like pastries up, it's red jam center shining in the light of the street lamps. "Sarah always puts an extra raspberry one in the batch for Sunday brunch in for me."

She suddenly felt so disappointed; he had a girl who put pastries just for him in the hotel's order. "You must be pretty special to her for her to do that for you."

"Nah," he answered, crumbling some of the dry pastry. "Her husband owns a bakery a few blocks from here, Harkins Bake Shop, and she's known me since the Children's strike. She knows I like the raspberry ones and she's my boss's big sister so if she says the Danish is mine, he can't say nothing because he might be rich, but she'll still kick his ass." She chuckled and he dipped his head, letting his shaggy hair fall in his face. "My mother loved raspberries. She used to say that they grew wild around her family's house and she and her sisters would pick them. For her birthday, me and my sisters would pool our pennies and get her a jar of raspberry jam, just for her, but she'd always use it to make a pie for everyone." She wasn't sure because he was hiding his face, but he sounded sad.

Her stomach growled as the smell of the soup hit her nose. After all the years of serving the neighborhood kids, she'd managed to ignore it while she scooped out the hot broth and gave it away, but now that they were all fed and dispersing to the various places they slept at night, she realized how hungry she was. It was cold, but flavorful, and on such a warm night, the lack of heat to the soup didn't bother her. "Where are they now?" she asked once she swallowed a few more bites.

"Hell if I know. I left home when I was eleven, started living at the Newsboys Lodging house because there were too many of us to feed. Then one day I showed back up and new people lived there." The pregnant silence between them told her there was more to it than that, but that he wasn't willing to say more. He sniffed, and shook his hair back out of his face with a wobbling, one-sided smile. "What about you? How did you end up feeding every street kid on the Lower East Side?"

"There's five of us kids, and we've been basically on our own since just after my twelfth birthday when my mother died." When she was tortured to death because Pop made a bad debt and tried to weasel his way out of it! her brain screamed in protest. "We were just scraping by, but my brothers, Doug and Auggie, they'd always be bringing some kid home who was hungry, and I couldn't turn them away. So I said we could add another cup of water for tonight, but tomorrow they had to bring something by if they wanted to share. I didn't care what so long as it could be cooked into supper. By the end of the week I had a crate full of vegetables by my door and ten or fifteen extra kids showing up. We had to eat in shifts because we didn't have enough dishes, but we made do, we always do."

He was quiet again, and the light was so dim that she couldn't make out much of his face except the dark pools of his eyes shining back at her from his pale face. "Just like that huh, you took on the whole neighborhood?"

She smiled into her bowl as she drained the last of the broth, "Just like that, you show up at a stranger's doorstep with ten pounds of potatoes?" He chuckled and sat back. "Funny that your mother liked raspberries so much."

"Oh, yeah?" he asked taking the bowl from her hands and setting it on the ground before slouching down and throwing his arm over the back of the bench. She could feel the heat from his hand next to her arm and found herself shuffling towards it until they gently collided and the sides of his fingers were resting against the fabric of her white blouse. The dark shadows of his eyes turned to look at the connection and then her face "Why's that."

She reached into the cuff of her sleeve and pulled out her hanky. The lace trimming the edge was unassuming and simple, and the embroidery in the corner equally so. She handed it to him, "Look in the lace, just below the M."

"Raspberries," he said with a bit of wonder in his voice.

She chuckled. "Everything has them. Every piece my mother or I ever made. It's our signature. Her's was five berries. Mine is four."

"She made this." His voice was reverent, something she didn't think he was capable of when she met him a few hours before. "Why raspberries?"

The soft linen was back in her hand and she smoothed it before tucking it back into her cuff. "I never asked. Five for the five of us, but I never knew why the berries. I don't even like raspberries, but its my...offering to her. She gave me the skills that keep us eating and sleeping indoors. So I keep it up."

His voice was just a soft, silky vibration running through the air. The streets were starting to quiet, as much as Manhattan streets would, and the butter soft tones sent a shiver down her spine. "Why four for you?"

"Doug, August, Adrienne and Joey," she answered matter-of-factly.

"What about you?"

She shrugged, "Everything I do is for them."

The smile in his voice made her heart pound, she was sure it was every bit as gorgeous as it sounded, "So sitting on a bench on the street, talking to some bum who messed up your system...that's for them?"

She scoffed, "You're infuriating." The roguish smile that curved his mouth did her in. He was going to be the ruin of her world, she'd known it from the moment she knew she wanted to bring supper out to him. He'd already changed her, drawing her out of her safe house and into the streets of Manhattan, and he would keep changing her and pushing her. Somewhere deep inside she knew she needed it, but she was still afraid. The last boy who made her feel this way was a lie. If this was all some clever construct, she wasn't sure she could survive a second ride.

A/N: When I'm stressed out, I write...be prepared for A LOT of writing in the next few weeks.