Author's Note: As I mentioned once before in We Run the Papes, I love it when characters stand up and walk on their own legs. It's those moments when you feel like you've really made characters who are three dimensional. That's what happened with this chapter. I originally tried to write it with Al breaking down and crying on David's shoulder from the get go. It wasn't working out, so I took a break to ponder it when I realized - the reason it's not working is because that's not Al. She doesn't react the way I'm writing her. She's got to blow up and get mad. And that is what brings us to this chapter. And I feel like the whole story's starting to do that now. The more I write, the more intricate and complicated it gets than I originally planned, because the characters are dictating the circumstances more than I am. I LOVE IT! Haha. But seriously. . .

To the many who reviewed last chapter: Thank you so much. Your responses mean the world to me & I love to hear what you're thinking as you read. :) Thank you Millie Jacobs, woundedhearts, JacobsConlonBrooklynNewsie, LucyConlon, Rachel, Ealasaid Una, destaaa246, mysterygirl, and The Broadway Newsie!

Also, to mysterygirl, who has been an awesome and detailed reviewer. You're awesome and I love how lengthy your reviews are. I can never stop smiling when I read them! Anyway, I want to respond to your questions and such, but you're never logged in when you review. So if you could log in this time (or send me a private message or something) I could definitely get back to you on the things you're asking/talking about!

Chapter 10- Comfort

Why is everything so confusing?

Maybe I'm just out of my mind

It's a damn cold night

Trying to figure out this life

Won't you take me by the hand

Take me somewhere new

~With You: Avril Lavigne~

Al let the hot, angry tears flow down her cheeks and drip off her chin as she limped quickly as she could, trying to put as much distance between herself and the Lodge as possible. She moved quickly for a gimp, ignoring the pitying glances she received from every other New Yorker she passed.

David called her name from behind her, but stopped yelling once he caught up with her. Upon seeing that she wasn't ready to stop, he simply matched her pace and limped alongside her. He was out of breath by the time she stumbled and nearly face-planted in the middle of the sidewalk. He caught her free arm just in time to keep her on her feet. It wasn't until she was upright again that she burst into tears.

He tried to edge her over to a nearby bench, but she pulled herself away. "What the hell is goin' on?" she asked loudly as tears dripped down her face. She stumbled and leaned against a wall, turning to look at him with questioning eyes. She knew he didn't have any more answers than she did, but that didn't make things any less frustrating. She slammed down her fist on the brick wall at her side. "He hit me, David! He's nevah hit me before. Nevah."

She had to take a few deep breaths before the panic rising up in her chest would subside.

"It's not that big a deal, Al," David said, trying to soothe her. "Sarah's slapped me before."

Al glared at him, "You evah slapped her afore?"

"What? No."

"See?" she responded, pushing away his arm when he tried to rest it on her shoulder. "It's different. Anyway, if it's no big deal, why'd ya hit 'im?"

"Geez, Al. I didn't say it was okay! I just mean that it happens sometimes."

"Not between me'n Jack it don't." She pushed herself off the wall in anger, but didn't seem to know what to do with herself. She wanted to get in a fight, go hit someone, but in this condition she was likely to just get herself hurt. Her hands curled into fists and her nails dug into the tender flesh of her palms. Her voice got softer until it was nearly a whimper. "He promised he'd nevah lay a hand on me. Least, not outta angah. Not aftah the way our parents treated us. He swore it. He swore it."

David moved to stand in front of her and placed a hand gently on her face. "Al, he's not perfect. Yeah, Jack screwed up and he screwed up pretty bad. But he still loves you. Nothing's changed there and it never will." His voice softened even more as he wiped tears gently from his face with both thumbs, his hands now on either side of her face. "You got every right to be pissed. Hell, I'm pissed beyond belief an' Jack's gonna have a lot of apologizin' to do when we see 'im next, but you he loves you more than anything else in the world. You know that."

Al closed her eyes and sniffed loudly, wanting for all the world to curl up inside herself and stay there. She wanted to push David away and bottle everything up inside her the way she had always done before. They may have been together for two years now, but old habits die hard, especially in hard times like these.

She had been taught by the world around her that when things got tough, you had to defend yourself, shield yourself from everyone else. And here David was, trying to keep her from drawing away from him. In fact, he seemed to think she needed to be vulnerable. It made everything inside of her flip-flop uncomfortably. It just didn't make sense to her.

She knew he was waiting for a response, any kind of response, but the battle inside her was waging on. She needed to be alone, but she needed David's strength. She needed peace and quiet, but she needed to hear his voice reassuring her.

Still fighting herself, she opened her eyes and side-stepped out of his grip before reaching into her skirt pocket for her back of cigarettes. She lit it and breathed in the soothing harshness of the tobacco, taking comfort in its cold familiarity before gesturing in a way that asked David if he would like a drag. He shook his head slightly and continued to watch her as if trying to figure her out.

Good luck with that, Davy-boy, she thought bitterly. You manage that and you'll be accomplishing something I never could.

They stood in silence for a while, David watching Al as her cigarette burned it's way down to her fingertips. It wasn't until it was in danger of burning her skin that she dropped it on the ground. It seemed to be the action David needed to break him out of his reverie.

"Come on, why don't we go see one o' Medda's shows. That'll take your mind offa things."

Al was certain she had never heard a better offer in her life.

Medda was more than willing to set them up in one of the balcony boxes overhanging the stage after fussing over them long enough to almost miss the start of her own production. It was a great performance. Al leaned her head on David's shoulder and allowed herself to get lost in the music and the comedy of it all. Whoever came up with vaudeville was definitely a winner in her book and Medda glowed as the star of her own show.

When it ended, they were ushered into her sitting room where she was changing out her costume behind a large screen.

"Toby, get 'em some coffee and something to munch on, will you?" she called from behind it. Toby ducked out of the room, still fully in costume, presumably obeying his boss's orders. David and Al took their usual seats there - Al in a high-backed, dark pink chair with paisley patterns all over it; David in a square-like red chair situated diagonally from her. Medda came back out in a less showy green gown that somehow managed to look both comfortable and incredibly glamorous.

She seated herself in the rounded, high-backed, lime green chair that seemed to be her favorite. The combination of greens made her hair look as if it were on fire and her pale skin as if it were shining. It was a nearly blinding combination.

"Oh you two," she cooed, looking dangerously close to being distraught. "I just can't get over how bad you look. Just terrible."

Al sipped at her coffee, glad at least that Medda didn't go into her usual rant about not having seen them in a month or two. It's not like they were avoiding her. Life was just busy and she lived a good ways away from the Lodge.

"I'd heard rumors that you were attacked, of course, but I assumed- Oh, never mind. Does it hurt badly? Are you feeling alright? Need more coffee?"

It took another ten minutes to convince her that they were perfectly fine.

"So how is school going, David? Are you enjoying it?" she asked.

He shrugged. "It's alright, I guess. 'Course, I'd rather be sellin', but if I want to be a reporter, I probably need the schooling."

"A reporter!" Medda exclaimed as if she hadn't heard his ambition a thousand times by now. "This is your last year of school, right? Any jobs lined up?"

"As a matter of fact," David said with a toothy grin that scrunched the freckles on his nose so that they looked like one massive freckle. He turned to look at Al as he spoke as if she had been the one to ask. "Denton's promised me a job at the Sun this summer."

"What?" Al asked, the pleasantly surprised exclamation flying from her lips immediately.

"That's wonderful, David! Congratulations." Medda beamed as if her only son had received top marks on his exams.

"When did this 'appen?" Al questioned.

"The night we got jumped. I was gonna tell you on the way home, but we kinda got interrupted." He turned back to Medda. "Now, it's not anything big, but it's a start."

Al nodded, but the smile didn't slide from her face as they continued to chat with the woman who would always drop everything to help them. Thirty minutes later, they were ushered out the theatre's side door and told to hurry home. As the doors clanged closed behind them, Al grinned up at David. She put her good hand on the back of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. They lingered in it for as long as they could manage, holding on to that happy moment on a day that had gone from bad to worse and all before sundown. When he pulled back, he was grinning back at her that nearly reached each ear.

"I'm sorry ya got overlooked in all the crazy stuff that's been 'appenin'," she told him sincerely, her hand slipped down to his as they started to make the trek home. "I'm real excited for you, Davy."

He beamed down at her, clearly overjoyed at her approval. Al's stomach flipped pleasantly. Sometimes she thought she would shoulder the world if it meant seeing him happy like this.

"Who knows," she laughed, beaming back up at him and winking. "Ya might even get to do an interview with the President to kick things off."

David reddened, "Oh, I don't know. I don't think-"

"Relax, Questions. I was just messin' with you."

Al was glad of the distraction of David's announcement. Once he kissed her goodnight and left her at the Lodge, she felt the weight of it all come crashing down on her head again. Suddenly, she felt weary. More weary than she cared to admit. After making sure Dutchy and Specs were walking David home, Al collapsed onto the couch that backed up to the stairs. Careful not to fall asleep this time, she leaned back and tried not to drown in her emotions.

"Heya, Cap!" A voice called out, followed moments later by the feeling that the seat next to her had sunk down a bit. Al cracked her eyes open and gave Runner a fond smile.

"How ya doin', Runner?"

His black eye almost looked comical above the lopsided grin he offered her. "Real good. Race gave me a nickel to buy some chocolate with. You want a piece?" He started to dig in his pocket for the aforementioned sweet.

"Naw, that's alright," she answered. "You do anythin' else today?"

"Snipeshooter said I look like a scrappah with my black eye," he announced proudly. Then, after a moment's hesitation, added, "What's a scrappah?"

Al grinned down at him and ruffled his hair with her left hand. "Mean's you's a fightah."

His grin broadened. Al laughed in response, but it was cut off by a deep yawn. She was more exhausted than she had realized.

"You tired, Al?" he asked.

"It's been a long day, hon, which means you'd bettah get to bed."

After tucking him in and telling him some half-baked story that had Specs snickering from its absurdity behind the day's paper he was reading a few bunks away, she headed upstairs. David's mom was always saying that sleep fixes everything and now, more than ever, she wanted that to be true. She wanted to lay down, cocoon herself under her blanket, and sink into the pleasant bliss that is unconsciousness and not wake up until she absolutely had to.

That was what she had intended to do. Al was rudely woken up, though, in the middle of the night by someone crashing about in the other room. Immediately, on the alert, she shot up in bed, wondering why on earth Jack would make so much noise. She knew the answer without having to ask the question. Jack didn't crash about before bed. If he were home, he would have immediately dropped onto the sofa and into a dreamless sleep.

In fact, she very much doubted that he would come home that night. She had been informed after putting Runner to sleep that Jack had gone to Brooklyn with Racetrack and Skittery to see Spot not long after the incident on the roof. It was common knowledge that walking home from Brooklyn after dark was the epitome of stupidity. He would have stayed the night with the boys.

This realization brought forth the imminent possibility that Al was in mortal peril. Or, at least some level of peril that may be slightly less than mortal.

After a muttered curse that told her the intruder was getting closer to her bedroom, she slipped off the side of her small bed and reached for the wooden baseball bat that she kept hidden under her bed. It was really old and the handle was covered in bite marks where someone's dog had mutilated it. Mush had found it in the attic when they were clearing the space that gave the newsies access to their apartment and Al had decided to keep it in case she ever had issue with burglars. It looked like the weathered bat was about to prove itself useful.

Keeping her breathing as quiet as humanly possible, she sidled up against the wall, holding the bat high above her head with her left hand, trying not to let it shake. If these were those bastards from the alleyway coming to get another shot at her, they sure as hell had another thing coming if they thought she was going to go down without a fight. She was going to beat them to a pulp, even if she only had a baseball bat and one good leg. They were gonna wish they had been more thorough with the beating they had given her by the time she was finished with them.

The shuffling footsteps drew close to the door. Al scoffed inwardly. They couldn't even do their job right. How hard was it to sneak around an apartment without giving it's one inhabitant a heads-up to the fact that they weren't alone? Al knew she wasn't exactly a heavy sleeper, but she figured it couldn't be that hard to walk on your toes and avoid ramming into things.

The knob twisted and a head peeked through. It was too dark to see anything but the man's silhouette, but that was all she needed.

With all the effort she could throw into it, she swung her left arm and made direct contact with the top of the man's head. A howl answered and the door slammed closed just as she heard a thud on the other side of the door.

"Gah! My head!" came the voice from the other room.

Al clenched her teeth in frustration. She had hoped that one hit would have done enough damage to knock the intruder unconscious. Her heart hammered a tattoo against the inside of her chest. She had trouble hearing over it. She wondered if he was the only intruder or if there were more with him. Should she move to a more defensible location or hold her ground?

"Dammit, Al! What the hell was that for?"

It was only then that Al recognized the voice. Setting the bat against the wall, close enough that she could grab it again if she was mistaken, she inched the door open a crack.

"Blink?"

"Who else would it be?"

She opened it all the way and stepped over her fallen friend to reach the light switch. The bulb hanging over the sofa flooded the room with yellowed light. Blink was pushing himself off the floor with one hand, holding his aching head with the other, and glaring at her with his one good eye.

"Why the hell would you hit me ovah the head with whatevah the hell that was?"

"What were you sneakin' around in my apartment in the middle o' the night for?" she responded defensively, both irritated by the fact that she had been woken up in the middle of the night and at the fact that he was looking at her like it was her fault she had been terrified half out of her mind.

Kid Blink grumbled something under his breath before answering. "I was checkin' to make sure you'd got back alright. Mush said he'd seen you'n Jack storm outta here and nobody who was awake knew if you'd come back yet." He dropped onto the couch, sitting on the blanket crumpled up at the end where Jack's feet usually went.

"Well I'm back," she huffed, motioning to herself with her good arm. "An' I was asleep until you started bangin' around and scarin' the life outta me."

Blink looked up at her and his browed furrowed as he saw the anger on her face. She was close to tears and didn't know why. She just knew that she was mad and Blink seemed to be the only reason for it. The tow-headed teen in front of her let out a sigh and patted the seat cushion beside him on the sofa.

Al grit her teeth, intent at first to deny his offer, but she was tired and the obstinacy crumbled faster than she could have anticipated. She huffed and dropped down next to him, laying her head on his shoulder and doing her best not to cry. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she curled up next to him, sliding her toes underneath Jack's abandoned pillow.

"I'm guessin' you found out?" he finally asked, after a long silence.

"Dammit, Blink," Al huffed, not moving her head from his shoulder. She looked straight forward, not really seeing the wood in front of her, but looking through it. "Foist Shifty an' Keeps gotta show up, then that goil that's been hangin' all ovah Davy kicked my bad leg, then I find out it's prolly Quick Fists who planned the attack on me'n Davy, and Jack hits me. I don't think I've 'ad a longah day."

If Blink registered any surprise at the last fact, he didn't show it. He just let out a heavy sigh.

"Things ain't evah gonna be easy, Al," he told her, sounding almost regretful that the fact was true. He squeezed her gently with the arm wrapped around her. "But you're tough, ya always 'ave been. We'll all get through this. I promise."

For some reason it was enough to calm her down. Kid Blink had always had this strange ability to know exactly what to say to calm her down. She knew it was probably because, like Race and Jack were always saying, they were the most alike out of all the newsies. Somehow their brains just seemed to be eerily similar when it came to most things. They had the same temperament. They probably couldn't look any more different, but it was hard to think of a way that they could be any more similar when it came to the way they thought.

"Why don't ya get some sleep?" he suggested, nudging her a little. "Everything always looks bettah aftah some shut-eye." He reached across her to grab the pillow Jack normally used and set it in his lap. She didn't need to be told twice. She laid her head on the pillow and let Blink stroke her hair as tears slid from the corners of her eyes. She didn't know how long it took her to fall asleep, but when she finally did, it was a blissfully dreamless one. And when she woke in the morning, she was alone, her head still on Jack's pillow, his blanket keeping her warm in the early morning chill.