Numb

Summary:RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.

Spot Conlon was the worst, I began to realize two days later. I wasn't allowed to lift a damn finger, or go anywhere, or even really hang out with the newsies. He kept me in the sick room most of the time and came in there to keep me company when he wasn't selling newspapers. I was mind numbingly bored.

There were perks, though, I thought as aloud I said, "Three meals a day, you're spoiling me, Conlon." Two days in a row of this and I had already noticed my face looked a little rounder when I looked in the mirror. Or, it could just be because I didn't often look at my reflection.

"Don't get too excited, it's just soup." He told me, coming into the room with two bags, but I could tell he was actually pleased. "Plus, ya need ta eat. Helps the healin' process and ya too thin as it is." From the first bag he pulled out two containers of soup, one for me and one for him.

I glanced over to make sure I was shrugging but made no comment. I couldn't very well tell him that I only ate when I felt I needed it. Granted, food tasted great and I did actually enjoy it but mostly I just forgot that I needed to eat more often. "What's in the second bag?" I asked, curiously eyeing it.

He actually looked a little embarrassed as he reached up to rub his neck and look at the bag, "I uh, borrowed the key to ya place and grabbed that stack of books next to ya bed…" He grabbed the bag and held it out to me.

I stared at him, I'm assuming flabbergasted because no one had ever really been this thoughtful about my needs. Ever. "You brought me my books?"

"Yeah."

Opening the brown paper bag, I pulled out my stack of books that I had just taken out of the library and hadn't had a chance to read, yet. Among them was the fairytale book I'd gotten specifically for Hoot, and I imagined how excited he would be for me to read him a new one.

Alright, maybe Spot Conlon wasn't the worst, I mentally redacted. Maybe he was beginning to grow into one of my favorite people. "Thank you." I told him, meeting his blue eyes so he could see the sincerity.

Spot looked flustered, "I didn't think it'd be that big of a deal…I thought ya'd be mad I took ya key and went in ya home."

"It's just a place," I told him, "and it's not like you would steal from me. I'd know it was you now, anyway." I felt that hum of happiness flood through me as I looked up at him.

He gave me one of his rare, full smiles as he opened his soup up and sat down in the chair next to my bed. For some reason, that smile of his always left me a tad breathless and lightheaded. I took the lid off my soup container and dip my spoon in. It was still hot, but utterly delicious.

It was silent between us as we ate for a few minutes, Spot lost in thought as I looked at the cover of my books. Glancing up at him, I wondered if he'd let me read to Hoot, "Can I go downstairs?" I asked.

It looked as though he was going to turn me down for the hundredth time, but then he sighed and nodded, "Aftah ya eat."

Feeling a tad excited at the prospect of new walls to look at, I began eating the soup in earnest. It gave me some time to get acquainted with the fact that I was going to go down and have the opportunity of socializing with the boys. That made a bit of nerves flutter in my stomach because I wasn't very great at socializing, Spot Conlon being the only exception and that was mostly because he never made me feel like anything I did or said was awkward.

The other boys might as well be a different species. I had listened to them the last few days as they talked, teased, and fought. What if they teased me? Not that I would care but that part of me that had pushed for me to talk to Spot, the one that ached for connections to the world around me, that one would care.

"Will they like me?" The words slipped out before I could stop them.

"They already like ya. A little too much." He grumbled that last part under his breath but I heard it and went back to my soup as a giddy excitement filled me. I heard all their voices, now I'd be able to put faces to them.

Alright, I heard them talk about me. With my hearing, how could I not? Whispered awe's of how I had taken a nearly fatal knife wound for Spot, about how I had withstood agonizing pain without even a grimace on my face. It had definitely done my ego well.

More than that, though, listening to their interactions and the lack of Spot's voice amid theirs, unless an argument broke out or someone stepped out of line, had given me more insight to the man in front of me, a different perspective than the one I had initially had.

Spot Conlon, in the eyes of his boys, could do no wrong. This was so apparent among them, that it made me worry a bit for him. They had built him up on a pedestal that teetered a very fine edge. It also made me nervous for him, because the almost inevitable fall from it could be damaging to the entire community of boys. I half hoped he would balance himself on it, for his sake and theirs, but I knew that keeping up with their expectations would also take a toll on him.

Despite the hero-worshipping among the crowd, there was also a deep-seated respect and fear. They gave their leader space, as if they expected him to lash out at any moment, and none of them save for perhaps Spade, his second, seemed to really consider Spot a friend. It was as if he'd alienated himself from all of them by being leader. Which I assumed was to keep that respect and fear in place, but must leave him so incredibly lonely.

It was becoming clear to me now why he had befriended me. He felt a loyalty to them all, but also above them. Unconnected to any of them in the sense of friendship. If they were his friends, how could he lead them? I was an outsider, though. He could befriend me and would not have to worry about me treating him as they did. It did make me wonder if he kept me separated with them so I didn't change the way I treated him.

"Whatya thinkin' about, Sullivan?" He asked, catching me watching him over the rim of my soup bowl.

I wanted to shrug, but I didn't want to turn my head and make sure I had done it, so I only stared steadily at him in silence as I remembered a conversation between two of the boys that I had heard just that morning. Spot having already headed out to the distribution center, which was unusual given that he almost always waited until the last boy left. My ego liked to think he wanted to get his selling done faster to come back and check on me, but I shoved that away as I had listened to two boys as they finished up in the washroom.

"Ya notice Spot's not so…Spot, lately?" The first voice asked, a deep rumbling voice as though he were much older than he was.

The second voice, however, was just a bit higher pitched, the underlying southern accent making me wonder how far this one had gone to run away from home, "I reckon it's the girl." That comment had me giving them my full attention.

Voice number one made a throat noise of affirmation before adding, "He always paced around here all restless-like."

"Reminded me of energy from a storm. Like lightning." Southern boy added, "But, now he's more…"

"Grounded." They seemed to find the word at the same time.

They were quiet for a long moment, so long in fact that I thought they probably decided to drop the subject. I listened as their footsteps left the washroom, paused in the bunkroom, before heading down the hall to leave. Just as they were on the stairs, the first voice added, "Maybe she's like one of them…whatya call its? On top of all the tall buildings?"

"Lightnin' rod?" The southern one guessed, and they both laughed as they exited the building. I heard one comment on the day before tuning them out and pondering on that conversation.

I opened my mouth to answer him, or maybe to ask him something, when a scuffle in the bunkroom caught Spot's attention and he waved me to keep eating as he got up, "I'll be right back."

I quirked my head as he left, listening as Spot went in to break it up. One boy, Dice, had been picking on a younger kid, Tomato. Spot listened to both sides of their story, cleverly picking out the truth in between, and gave Dice chores for bullying. It was interesting to hear how it all went down, but I yearned to see their face. The expressions and body language that I could see and understand, but never mimic or feel myself, gave me a lot more insight to people and situations.

Spot came back in, his face blank and controlled like it had been the first evening I met him. "Everything alright?" I asked.

He looked as if he wanted to say something, but switched the words at the last second, "Yeah, just boys bein' boys." He looked tired, though, as he sat heavily down on the chair.

I set my soup aside and got off the bed to move around. I couldn't feel my muscles getting stiff, but I was mentally sick of not moving. I was so often wandering the streets or keeping busy on the boat that it was tough for me to stay in this one room so long.

"You shouldn't be movin' around so much." He told me, but he was watching me almost too intently.

I ignored that, "I need to leave here by Friday." I told him, looking out the window.

"Why's that?"

The streets were slowly emptying as dusk settled on the city. From my vantage point, I could see people walking past in all shapes and sizes. The only one who caught my attention was a young girl around my age, standing across the street and watching everything. This included the lodging house. For a second, her eyes looked up and caught mine before she started moving down the street. It was probably a coincidence, but I took note of it. "I'd like to be at my own apartment for a bit before seeing Jack." I wanted to center myself, get comfortable and remind myself who I was.

Spot Conlon was getting under my skin, so to speak, and I wanted time alone. Away from him and whatever that flash of…something was. I'd kept a distance between us since then and I did not feel like I wanted to test anything out, yet.

I turned my head back to him and was surprised to see that he'd soundlessly moved across the room to be right next to me. His blue eyes staring into mine with an unwavering intensity, "I feel responsible foah ya."

"I understand why." I told him, "I do. But, I've been on my own for so long. I can't stay here."

He looked at me coolly, "Didja still want to go downstairs?"

"Yes." I told him, a little breathless from his nearness.

Spot held out his elbow for me to take, "Then let's go."

I hesitated just a moment before slipping my arm through, making sure his shirt kept us from skin to skin contact. I pulled him up short right by the bed to grab the book of fairytales, "So I can read to Hoot." I told him, causing a smirk to pull up the corner of his mouth.

A/N: I feel like Spot, I don't want to share her with anyone but Spot! I like writing their scenes, even though I totally meant to skip ahead to her meeting with Jack. (I think Spot's trying to keep me from it!) Haha. Sorry this took a little longer than all the Desperate Measure chapters! Please tell me what you think in a review!

Truly,

Joker is Poker with a J~

*insert disclaimer to please disclaimer gods!*