CHAPTER FOURTEEN

And I'll swim the ocean for you
The ocean for you
Whoa, oh Kelsey
And you never ever let me in
You never, ever let me in.

~ "Kelsey" by Metro Station

Spot didn't get any sleep the night he spent in the jail cell. He paced constantly, back and forth, too worried to sleep. He worried about Angel, and Silver. He worried about his boys and wondered how many of them had been caught in the crossfire. None of them had been arrested, which was good. And Silver hadn't been arrested, either, so Brooklyn would at least have him to keep them in line.

But Spot was terrified. He didn't want to get out of jail and find out that Angel was dead, or half dead, or anything like that. He wanted her to be just fine. But he'd seen the way Morris kicked her ribs and the way she slumped so easily. Sure, she'd taken a shitload of beatings from her father, but Spot had never been there to protect her. Now was his chance to protect her, and he let her get hurt. He wondered if she'd ever be able to trust him with her life.

He wondered if he would ever be able to trust himself with her life.

The next morning, he tried making light of his own feelings by joking around with Race in court, but it hardly helped. He was anxious to get out, and glad when Denton came to pay the fines. He shuffle out of the courthouse and frowned when he found a very sober-faced Silver waiting for him.

"Spot, you gotta come with me," Silver said, and Spot didn't question it. He followed his friend back to the Manhattan Lodging House.

Inside, there was the pretty Scot girl with dark ringlets and violet eyes. Spot knew Nightshade in passing, since Silver brought her around Brooklyn sometimes and talked about her a lot. But she, too, looked grim-faced and sober.

"Spot, A hate tae be the one tae show ye this," Night said quietly. "Brace yeself. It's no' good."

Spot steeled himself for the worst and Night showed him the bunk where his angel was laying. Her body looked… broken. But her face was calm, serene. There was a nasty bruise on her cheek and just about an inch up from her ear was caked blood over a wound. Night came over, and pulled the blanket down a little, showing Spot the horrible fingerprint bruises on her arms, like someone had shaken her violently…

"Lissa," he murmured, dropping to his knees beside her bed. He almost sobbed. Almost. "She ain't movin'. What's wrong with her, Night?"

Nightshade frowned. "She's in a coma 'a sorts. Self-induced, A 'spect."

"What does that mean?" His voice was weak, choked with grief.

"Means somethin' bad 'appened tae her las' night at the rally. Somethin' real bad. Enough to send 'er skittering away inside herself."

"I don't understand."

Nightshade's frown deepened, thinking of how to explain this oddity to the King himself. "It means that Angel's in there somewhere. Hidin', because she does no' feel safe. A'm sure she jus' passed out last night, but her mind was trying to preserve itself so it forced her tae pull back inside and no' wake up. Her brain's 'fraid that if she wakes up, she'll get hurt again. That's why she's no' awake right now."

"Somethin' bad happened last night, so her brain put her in a coma to… what? Why did this happen?" Spot was getting frustrated. Too many emotions were hitting him at the same time.

"A have only seen it meself twice now. When things 'appen like this, it is because of some other traumatic event that's 'appened before tae her. Her body was tryin' tae protect itself, tae protect her from more pain. Woulda hurt much more, had she been awake tae endure this," Night explained quietly. "A 'spect she's been beat before this, though, much worse than this. Am A right, Spot?"

Spot nodded quietly. "Yeah, you're right," he mumbled, voice broken. "Night, would you tell me the truth?"

"Aye, Spot. Anythin'," Nightshade said.

"Did anyone… violate her las' night?"

Spot didn't want to know the answer. He really didn't. It would kill him. It was one thing to have Angel beaten like this and he couldn't protect her, but to have her be put through what her father put her through… Spot knew he wouldn't forgive himself if she'd been abused in that way again.

"No. A checked meself." Nightshade watched Spot's shoulders fall as he started breathing again. She knew this was very hard for him, and felt sorry there wasn't much left she could do to help the girl. "Here, Spot," she said after a moment, handing him the wet rag she'd been holding in her hand. "Why don' ye stay here wit' Angel?"

Spot's fingers grasped the rag in Night's hand and he pressed it against the wound in Angel's head. She didn't move at all, and that's what killed him the most. She couldn't feel pain. She couldn't feel anything.

"Night," Spot looked up at Night again, before she and Silver left the room so he could be alone. "What can we do now?"

Her mouth pressed into a prim line. "Pray."

She was sitting quietly in her home, right in the middle of the living room. So many ghosts lingered in the walls. So many angry voices, so many cries of pain. Her cries of pain. So many whimpers in the darkness of her room. So many. Too many.

"Lissie! Lissie, come play with me!" Sean called from outside, and Lissa looked over to the window, seeing him beckoning her outside, a big grin on his face. But she was confused. He was dressed like a newsie. She frowned at him, confused. They were in Ireland again. Why was he dressed that way?

"Come on, Lissie!" Sean pleaded with her, but she didn't move. She didn't want to move. Her body stayed firmly rooted in the ground, like it was part of the ground.

Lissa blinked and looked down at her body, seeing her feet and hands covered in dirt, like it was trying to swallow her up. It looked like tree roots were slithering around her forearms, barely touching her elbows. It worried her, but there was nothing she could do. So she just sat, and acted as if the ground would let her go.

But it never did.

"Why are you just sitting in here, Alyssa?" a voice asked her and Lissa turned to see who it was that was speaking. It was a little girl with long blonde hair with a faint shade of red mixed in and apple green eyes.

"I can't leave," Lissa told the girl. "I'm stuck."

"Are you? Or do you only think you are stuck?" the girl asked, her head tilting curiously.

"I am stuck," Lissa told her, frustrated. "I would leave if I could."

"Would you, Alyssa? Would you leave?" the girl asked. "Or would you just leave this house and look back at it all the time?"

Lissa shook her head. "Please, I just want to get out of here. I don't want to be reminded of the sadness here."

The girl smiled. "Then believe you can get out. Believe, Lissa."

Lissa looked down at herself, seeing her body uncovered by the dirt. She was just sitting there. She stood up slowly, weakly, as if she hadn't walked in years. The little girl was gone. The door opened and Sean stood there, smiling at her, still dressed like a newsie. Lissa stumbled towards the door, holding herself up by the door.

"I've been waiting for you, Lissie," Sean told her, smiling. He held out his hand to her, waiting for her to take it. "I've been waiting a long time. Are you ready to leave now?"

Lissa placed her hand, nervously, in his and smiled when he bent to kiss her knuckles. "Yes. I'm ready."

"Let's go on an adventure, Lissie. Like before. Would you like that?" he beamed up at her, suddenly the little boy again. She looked at herself and found she was younger as well.

"Yes. Shall we play in the woods then?" Lissa asked and stepped out into the bright, unforgiving, lovely light with Sean.

:Whip pan to Angel's POV!:

Have you ever felt the feeling of falling inside your body? Yeah, that's exactly how I felt. I blinked a few times, lifting my heavy arms to rub at my eyes. My arms hurt right below my shoulders. I groaned, irritated at how disoriented I felt.

I looked over, slowly since my head was spinning, and saw Spot Conlon, sitting next to my bed, arms folded on the edge of my bed, sleeping quietly. I smiled slightly, running my hand against his cheek. When he slept, he looked so much like a boy. Oh, he was just so lovely. He didn't wake up, though, just settled into more sleep like I'd not even done a thing.

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling tired still, but not as tired as I thought I'd feel. I looked up when I heard footsteps and saw Nightshade come in, her arms filled with things I was sure she'd gotten from her father, the doctor. She nearly dropped them when she saw me staring at her quietly from my bed.

"Holy—!" Night almost swore. "Boys! She's awake! Get wha' I asked for! Now!"

I blinked, my vision swimming as boys buzzed around me. Spot awoke beside me, his palm pressing against my forehead. I blinked a few times, trying to focus on what I could not focus on at all.

"Lass, can ye tell me yer name?" Nightshade asked. I looked up at her, confused.

"What sort of question is that?" I asked, my voice muffled a little.

I saw Spot let out a breathy little laugh and Nightshade smiled slightly. "A think we've got Angel back, boys. Now get me things!"

I rubbed my head again and Night sat down beside me, directing a young boy I didn't know to set a basin of water on the stand next to my cot. Another boy brought something like a trash bin over. I frowned and then grabbed the bin, retching hard into it.

"Someone get the lass some water!" Night ordered as she helped me sit up and a boy brought me a glass of water. I drank greedily and then sat back, groaning in annoyance and pain.

"What the hell happened? I feel like I got trampled by horses," I muttered, handing the glass back to Nightshade.

"We was hopin' ya could answer that for us, Angel," Spot said quietly beside me.

"Do ye remember anything that could help me understand? Do ye know wha' happened las' night?" Night asked.

All I could remember was flashes of things, and the pain that went along with those flashes.

"I remember being slapped hard. Here," I said, pointing to my jaw. "It made me fall, and I think I hit my head, because I felt the blood in my hair. And I could smell it."

Spot's mouth tightened but he said nothing. Night glanced at him and then at me. "Do ye know who it was that hurt ye?"

I blinked a few times. Yes, I knew who it was. I remembered them from my first night in Brooklyn. How could I forget? I'd never been so terrified in my life. But I knew if I told, Spot would go off the deep end and run around the city half-cocked looking for the guy. Oh, no. I couldn't do that. I couldn't tell. Not when we had a strike to win.

"No. I…" I hesitated. "I couldn't see his face. I'm sorry."

"Do no' worry aboot it, lass," Night patted my hand. "Ye just rest up and we'll see how ye feel in the mornin'."

I smiled as much as I could. "Thanks, Night."

I watched her leave and then sighed, looking over at Spot, who was staring at me. I would've given anything to know what that boy was thinking. I folded my hands over my stomach and then sighed.

"Go ahead. Tell me how irresponsible I was," I told him, sighing again. "Yell. Scream. Get it over with."

"I ain't gonna yell at ya, Liss," he said quietly, still watching me. "So how do ya feel?"

I shrugged slightly and looked away. "What kinda question is that?"

"A normal one. Ya had me worried sick!" he exclaimed. Ah, there was what I was expecting.

"Ain't my fault, Sean. Don't yell," I said quietly.

"No, I am gonna yell!" Spot stood up and started pacing. I watched him quietly. "I can't believe I let ya get away from me. I was supposed to be watchin' over ya, Liss. But I let that Delanacy get the best'a me and now you'se hurt because of me."

I sat up slowly, watching him come towards me in pacing. He didn't even notice, racked with self-loathing. He pulled his hat off and threw it at his feet, muttering hatefully to himself. I grabbed his collar and pulled him down towards me. To say he looked shocked would have been an understatement.

"Now you listen to me, ya bum," I hissed. "Just 'cause I'm hurt, don't mean I ain't useful. Now then, quit actin' like such an ass and just be glad I ain't dead! Ya think ya can do that, Your Highness?"

I let him go and lay back down against my pillow, frowning at him. He righted his clothing, glancing away for a moment before he looked back at me.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, tipping his hat to me before taking his place beside my cot again. He grasped my hand and kissed my knuckles gently and I smiled, my mind drifting off to the smell of green isles and the sight of blue eyes.