A/N: Hooray double upload! Sorry I cut the weekend down to the wire, I had some father's to celebrate as well as taking the holy terror who is the inspiration for tiny Spot swimming in the lake today. He was trying to impress me by learning to dive. It was a loooooong hot day. I own Marta/Kisser and Scat. Disney still owns Spot and Spot still doesn't like it.
XxXxXxX
The first day, no one thought anything of Spot's absence; he was a solitary creature prone to taking little constitutionals around the city at random. Everyone brushed it off as Spot off doing Spot things that no one dared to question. Marta watched for him each night as she stood behind the desk signing the boys into her register and collecting their nickels and pennies for their bed and supper. Each line that was filled, each name scrawled made the dread in her heart a little more palpable. Trout watched her, her face full of worry and felt awful. She seemed comforted by him hanging around her, but it didn't ease the lines around her eyes and mouth or take away the crinkle in her brow. When he didn't return to the lodging house the second night, the hushed whispers began to roll through the bunk room. They all wondered where he was, what happened and, most importantly, where the key was. Some of the younger boys even took to loitering around his bunk, daring each other to touch Conlon's cane. This game was very short lived though, as Trout was nearby, his bunk being the one right above Spot's. He growled at the little boys like a grizzly bear whenever they got near and made some very menacing gestures at them. Nips chuckled at the display and shook Trout's hand across the space between their bunks.
As they got ready for the day in the washroom on the third morning, both of them were starting to think that Spot either was some sort of future reading, mystical sooth sayer, mythical creature in disguise or just absolutely bat shit crazy, but neither one was brave or stupid enough to decide on one or the other. Any way they looked at it, this plan seemed ridiculous without him present. It was easy to doubt him when he wasn't there drilling into them with his cold, calculating eyes. When he was there it was easy to remember all of the times that his plans worked, that he had a track record that was second to none. In his absence though, it was easy to over think and question everything. It was especially easy to worry about involving Marta. They both knew that Kiss and Scat were the best leaders Brooklyn had seen until Spot stepped up, that was undisputed fact, but Marta wasn't Kisser anymore. She was a lady, and while Nips had charmed his share of girls, neither one of them knew what they were doing when it came to talking to a woman. Needless to say, they were both scared shitless. "You're up first, Pal. You ready?" Nips asked. Trout vehemently shook his head no. His face was pale and beads of sweat prickled his brow even though the bunk room was cold in the early fall morning. "All you have to to is hang around her for today, figure out how she's doing and see if she seems…there." The incredulous look Trout answered with perfectly conveyed his thoughts of How the hell am I supposed to know that? Nips just shrugged off the silent question and said, "You have to give her the letter this morning so I can tell her his plan tonight. He said she'd need time. We have to have her ready whenever he comes back. Good luck." Trout slammed the side of his fist against the side of the trough sink and grunted in frustration before rushing out of the Lodging House.
He only bought half his normal amount of papes and set up his normal spot outside of one of the canneries along the river. He pulled out his harmonica and began to play with one hand, holding up the headlines in the other. His task, though, weighed heavily on his mind and also apparently on his face, since only his regular customers seemed to be buying. The rest of the workers scurried by, greeting him with worried glances. It was a cold, blustery day but he wasn't looking forward to going inside where Marta was. He passed by Nips on his way back who cocked a sandy eyebrow at him and he gave a single curt nod in answer. He shoved his hands in his pockets and tightly gripped his harmonica case as he slunk back to the lodging house.
Spot's voice the night he asked Trout to take on the responsibility of helping him rang through his head as he stalked back to the distribution center to sell back his unsold papers. "She needs someone she can trust, and you've been around as long as me. You've always come through. She likes you." He had paused, shining the gilded top of his cane on his pant leg. "Don't think of her as a girl, she don't think like a girl. Treat her like you'd treat me. Respect, overlooking it when she acts like an ass and a little give and take, thats the way to get somewhere with Kisser." Trout had stared at his friend, knowing what Spot was getting at and shook his head. "You want her to open up, youse gonna have to give something in return, and youse the best I got for stuff like that. Your secret is the kind that will melt her like butter. She's going to be pissed at me, and I need to know what she hasn't told me. I need to know what she knows about the Dockside Gang and everything that happened when they went for Scatter. She's protecting me but I don't know from what, but she might tell you. I can't let those bastards keep feeding on us, this ends now." He hadn't said that he had to save himself or that he couldn't watch Kisser go through the hell she went through with Scatter over and over again, but Trout knew he meant it.
She was on her hands and knees in the washroom with a scrub brush and bucket, grumbling to herself about what dirty slobs this batch of boys was. She'd already cleaned all of the stalls and fixtures and was left with just the floors. Without a word or even a sideways glance her way, he tucked his cap into his pocket, dipped a second brush into her bucket and got down on the floor next to her and began to scour the floor boards. She sat back on her heels to watch the dark, hostile looking boy with a look of wonder on her face. Never in ten years of cleaning up the lodging house had anyone, beside Spot in his younger days, helped her clean anything. She smiled softly and proudly, and bumped his shoulder with hers as she went back to work. "You doing ok?" she asked. He shrugged and shot her a nervous smile out from under his thick black eyelashes. "Looks like you got something on your mind." He nodded and dropped his eyes back to the floor before waving his hand outward from his face. "Later? Ok, we can talk about it later." They went back to scrubbing in companionable silence until they were at the washroom doorway.
She took his brush away and took her bucket down to the kitchen to rinse it out, raising an eyebrow when he followed her. He'd been around for almost as long as she and Spot, blending into the background at first, since he didn't talk, but eventually proving himself worthy in a fight, but they never spent time together. "Is it later now?" she asked. He took a deep breath and nodded. Spot said to get her out, get her walking. He crossed Brooklyn on a daily basis, but he couldn't think of a single place to walk her to until he remembered what Spot said about give and take and the conclusion he came to made him blow the breath out through his lips with a frustrated noise. She chuckled. "Must be some deep shit Trout, you got some paper ready?" He shook his head and pointed to the door and then made his fingers walk across the countertop. She smiled, nodded silently and went to get herself a coat.
They walked and he chewed on his cheek as he silently led her through Brooklyn. "Where are we going?" she finally asked, but he didn't answer. When they reached the start of the bridge, she paused to watch him. She could see the hesitation, whatever he was doing, he didn't want to do it. He was dreading it with every ounce of him. She followed, a few steps behind, waiting for him to notice her absence at his side. The cold wind whipped around them as they crossed the bridge, pinking their cheeks and noses and biting their exposed fingers, but it didn't seem to bother him as he stopped around midway and stared upstream. She came up next to him, the wind loosing her hair from its knot on her head, and stared into the distance. "What are we looking at?"
He sucked in and let out a few deep breaths, preparing himself. "I-i-i-island," he muttered. It was soft, stuttered and not entirely clear, but there was no denying that he spoke or what he said. He let the remainder of the air he took in out and a small, proud smile toyed with his mouth for a moment.
She tried not to show her shock as she peered at the little slip of land far in the distance. "You mean The Refuge? On Randall's Island? Its a bad place, for sure, but what about it?"
"No," he said, shaking his head. "'Sylum."
"Yeah, there's an Asylum there, some hospitals too…"
He dug a scrap of paper out of his pocket and a pencil and scrawled I ran. They were going to put me there.
"Your parents? But you're so smart!" she exclaimed. He quirked an eyebrow at her. "You are! You were the easiest kid to teach to read and write and you sell seventy papes a day without saying a word. Honestly, if you could squeeze a few words out a day, you'd be Spot's second instead of Nips. He trusts you more, likes you more, he just knows you're too timid.
He shook his head again. "D-d-d-don't w-want it."
She smiled, "No, you wouldn't. You're too sweet. They'd rip you to pieces inside of a day. It takes a certain kind of a person to lead or even second Brooklyn. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't choose you." They both mulled over that for a few moments before she looked at him again, leaning her elbows on the rail. "So, why'd you bring me here? You've known me for years. What about today made you think, 'I'm going to take Marta to the bridge and tell her that I can talk and why I'm on my own?"
The winds picked up and stole his slip of paper, leaving him to either speak or shrug. He wouldn't meet her eyes, just hoisted himself up onto the rail and pulled something from his pocket. He handed her a piece of paper and pulled his harmonica out and began to play. She stared at him. "What's this, Trout?" He ducked his head lower and pushed his hands forward as if to say Go on, but she was in no mood to take orders from a boy. "Trout, what IS this?"
He lowered the harmonica and took a deep breath and, with a great deal of concentration, stuttered out, "S-s-s-s-spot."
Her eyes flew wide and she looked at the paper in her hand. "He wanted you to give me this? Did he tell you to speak to me?" Trout nodded, his face pale. "So the stakes are high and he wanted you to give me something, something you wouldn't do for anyone else to help garner my trust?" His head shot up and his bright blue eyes met with her hazel ones. She searched his face. "And you went along with it?" He nodded and dropped his gaze to his boots, leaving him no way to defend himself from the left jab that hit his jaw moments late. He was still reeling when she stalked off towards the Lodging House again, griping the letter in her pocket. He ran after her, heading her off on the front steps.
"What does he want?" she demanded. Trout stuttered, he tried to tell her, but couldn't make his mouth cooperate. He could always make noise, but something got jumbled between his brain and his mouth when he tried to talk. It was just easier to make his hand signs or write out what he needed. Finally, he got frustrated and went inside to the desk to find a scrap of paper and a pen.
Dockside Boys. Scatter, he wrote. Information.
She narrowed her eyes at him and he drew back a bit readying himself for anther hit. "He doesn't need to know that, it wont help him," she spat, her face blushing crimson. "You don't need me." She looked down at the paper in her hand. "Did you read this?" He shook his head, watching her carefully. She turned and walked briskly to her room and shut the door quietly.
Marta,
You know where I am and you're pissed and pacing in your room, growling at anyone who comes near you. Stop. You're scaring the little guys. They need you. Let Nips and Trout in. If they're doing what I told them to, they're camped out in front of your door waiting for you to quit being a nightmare. They know the plan and will help you. When I get home, I'll need you. I'll need Kisser ready for action. Brooklyn needs you and the boys need you so get over Scatter- he's a dick, get over yourself- you're kind of an asshole too. Find someone who deserves a punch in the face- beside me, because I know you want to since I just called you an asshole- and be ready to help me when I get back. I know you're mad that I went with them at all, but I'm not staying with them. I'm coming home one way or another.
You and me, we don't do mushy stuff. We are Brooklyn. But if I don't- you know- use my money I have saved up to do something nice for the boys. Nips is ready to step forward as leader if he has to with Trout as second. Don't let that asshole touch my cane! Lock it in your room or something. Give Pickle my slingshot and make sure he learns how to use it right.
I meant what I said the other night in your room when I didn't want you to go, when you said I wasn't your mother.
-Kieran
"Damnit," she growled, crumbling the paper in her hand. And then she got all the angrier because he knew that was what she would do. Her voice got louder, "Damnit all to hell, I don't pace! You pace, you asshole!" It was true. She was still, as if her anger seeped out of the soles of her boots and rooted her to the floor. It released her long enough to let her turn and punch her fist into the plaster while a guttural roar escaped from her body, "GOD DAMNIT SON OF A BITCH! WHY DIDN'T YOU TALK TO ME?" But as quickly as the bubble of rage had formed, it popped and she was left standing alone in her room panting and feeling drained. She reread his narrow, pointed chicken scratch and took a deep breath. He knew her too well. Her hand hurt from the two hits, one to Trout's face and one to the wall, her knuckles were swollen and bleeding. She swore under her breath and went to the washroom to clean herself up, knowing that she couldn't avoid the boys forever, but a few more minutes couldn't hurt.
Out in the hall, Nips trudged up to where Trout stood with his ear pressed up to Marta's door. "You give it to her?" Trout nodded, wincing. He hated this, she was already hurting and Spot was asking them to hurt her more and push her farther. "How did it go?" Trout's bushy black eyebrows slammed downwards towards his eyes and he let out an exasperated huff. "That good, huh?" Nips fidgeted, picking at a hangnail and darting his eyes upward to Trout's swollen lip. "What happened to you, anyway?" Trout rolled his eyes and jerked his thumb towards the door. "No way! You got sucker punched by a girl?" Trout flipped him the bird before pantomiming a punch to his face, kissing the fist as it hit his mouth. "Ooooooooh," Nips drawled as the realization hit him. At that moment there was a thunk and Marta's voice yelled out a long stream of curses. Then it was silent again for what felt like ages to the two nervous boys, before the door swung open and banged against its hinges.
She stepped out and glared at the two boys who stood in the hallway, frozen in place with eyes as big as dinner plates. Her arms crossed over her chest and one hip popped out as she stared them down. They quaked in their boots. Nips looked like he might pee his pants at any given moment while Trout seemed to be attempting to find a safe route in which to flee her presence, his eyes darting around the main floor madly. "I'm not ready to deal with you two or Spot's asinine plan plans. I have half a mind to go down to The Fox's Lair where those lowlives hang out, kidnap your idiot leader from them and dump him in the river myself!" Their eyes went wide and they looked at each other. As the realization hit that she said more than she intended, she stamped her foot like a child and hissed, "Shit! Little bastards!" She took a deep breath, closing her hazel eyes, digging the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. "You two are lucky you still have a bed here after agreeing to this. You're damn lucky I haven't tied you upside down to the dock pilings!" She turned and rested her hot forehead on the door jam, taking another deep breath, and starting to feel less like killing the three of them for sport. When she spoke again her voice was low, even and calm. The tremor of rage was gone. "Trout, go upstairs and get Conlon's stupid stick and put it away in my room. I'm going out. I need air and a walk and...just...out. Out of here and away from you punks so I can think without punching one of you. You two will stay here, in this house, until I get back. Do I make myself clear?"
Instead of the expected "Yes, Marta," Nips answered with a reverent, but still mumbled, "Yes, Kisser." Trout nodded emphatically before running up the stairs to the bunk room to do as she asked.
She continued to stare Nips down, boring her eyes that had turned a terrifying gold into his until he turned his brown ones to the floor. "You will look after this house, after these boys and after Trout while I'm gone. I will be back in a few hours. After supper, you two will have your asses parked in my room ready to tell me everything. Everything he he has told you, everything he is planning, and everything Stack and the other birds have reported to you since he left." She looked up at him, his six foot five towering over her five foot eight inches, jabbing her finger into his ribs and leaning her body deep into his personal space. He leaned back, away from her, but it just made her advance further. "If I find out that either of you two, or anyone else for that matter, has been snooping around The Fox's Lair you might as well stay there and sign on with Dockside, because you will not be welcome here anymore.
"Understood, Kisser," he murmured as Trout nearly tumbled down the stairs with the cane in hand. He deposited it gently in her room and scurried back to stand next to Nips. She placed her hand on his and looked up into his eyes. "Easy, Kid. Nips will fill you in on the rules for now. Sit tight and get ready to spill your guts when I get back. And put a washcloth on that lip."
He nodded, "S-s-s-sorry."
She nodded curtly and back swept out the door. Nips let out a long low whistle and looked at Trout. "Well, thats the most scared I've been in a damn long time." Trout nodded and clapped Nips on the shoulder. Nips rubbed his face, "Fuckin' Conlon."
