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.
The drug runners of Queens, those involved with Quentin's operation, held their main quarters to the northeast of the borough, in an old, grey warehouse that sat near the docks that reached out on Flushing Bay. The neighborhood was referred to as College Point, but it felt as though we were a million miles away from anybody else. The evening air had been chilly when Spot stood beside me, but now I was blissfully numb to the cold, lingering hands of the last vestiges of winter. A part of me wished to jump ahead to spring, to skip the events that would happen once Jack and I stepped foot into the building in front of us.
"Ya sure about this?" Jack's words were whispered, his hands buried deep in his pockets, his face shadowed from the street lamp by the rim of his ridiculous cowboy hat. While he slouched to look relaxed, I noticed the tenseness of his shoulders, the way he shifted nervously from foot to foot.
It was Spot's one request, since I wouldn't budge on the fact that it needed to be me who went in there and Spot certainly couldn't accompany me in there. If my father resorted to violence, I couldn't have Spot there making me vulnerable. Making me feel. He had been frustrated and angry with me for stonewalling his presence, but it wasn't something I felt good agreeing to.
The thought of him getting hurt because of me…I realized he had felt that, when I had taken that knife meant for him. How sick and awful it must have been, knowing that pain was meant for you and watching someone you love take it (not that I was sure what he felt for me was love). However, I couldn't even bare to imagine it. It gave me a new respect for Spot Conlon, as if my feelings for him weren't strong enough.
I glanced over to Jack, glad I had relented to the suggestion, glad he'd agreed to come. Because, honestly, it felt right. It felt as though it had to be the both of us, the kids of Elizabeth Sullivan and Quentin Barclay. I paused as I mulled that over, "Why do we have ma's last name?" I asked Jack out of the blue, instead of answering his question.
I didn't see it, but I could feel him roll his eyes at me, "Why don't ya ask ouah fathah when we see him?"
We stood there a moment in silence as I mulled his answer over. I already had so many questions for my father; what was one more? But, what if he was not inclined to discuss the past? Silently, I fretted. The plan we were going in with was loose, at best, and would be a disaster at worst. I did wish that Spot was here. His cold calmness in the face of danger was more welcome to me than Jack's irritation and nervousness.
"I can't believe we're doin' this." Jack muttered, readjusting his hat and fidgeting to the point where he was actually annoying me. "Aftah I heard his name, paired with the stories told…No one changed their name faster than me." He told me briskly, chestnut colored eyes trained on the grey building.
Thus, the explanation for Jack's name change. It irritated me that he was only a year older, yet seemed to remember more than me. Our father's name and my mother's effect on me…what else did Jack remember that he didn't believe I was interested in knowing? Or that he thought I already knew? We were going to have to have a long chat about our past when all of this was through.
A flutter of nerves turned over in my stomach and I sighed, "At least you knew what he was up to. I didn't even know he was out of jail or alive."
Jack didn't meet my eyes, "Sorry. We just started bein' a family, ya know? I didn't know how ta bring it up."
A whistle pierced the air, breaking off our conversation and Jack finally stilled as we listened to the sharp, noise. Two long whistles and one short signaled that all of Spot's birds were in place, that we could head in. Once we were through those doors, there was no turning back. I glanced up to the building to my right, knowing Spot was up there on the roof, watching silently. It gave me peace of mind, but only for a moment. Once we crossed that threshold, we were on our own. It was Jack and I going in blind. Although Sam told us about the inner workings of the gang, there wasn't much he could tell us about Q.
"Alright, let's get this ovah with." Jack grumbled.
We crossed the street, bee-lining straight for the front door. We weren't going to sneak around, if Quentin was interested in us I had pressed to Jack that we weren't going to be sneaky about it-like he had been. We were going to meet him head-on. I had no patience for lies and deceit. Not after things with Spot and Slips. Give me the cold, hard truth over sugar-coated lies any day.
I let Jack pound on the front door. He did so three times and then stepped back to wait and fidget with his hat and the bandanna around his throat. "Calm down." I whispered to him, "Be cool."
"Be cool." He scoffed as the door opened and we both straightened and stilled.
The man who opened the door glared out into the dying light of day and growled, "Whatya street rats want?" He was big and imposing, but dirty and foul smelling, with stringy hair that I couldn't quite determine the color of.
Jack answered, as we had discussed. I wanted the opportunity to be overlooked, to watch and to decide what to do. Jack was a charming distraction, I'd decide what action needed to be taken to get us out alive-if there was a chance we might not. "We're here ta see Quentin Barclay."
"Does he want ta see you?" The man sneered the question, making it sound as though we were little more than bugs beneath his feet.
I watched as my elbow jutted out to nudge Jack in the ribs and he gritted his teeth and bit out, "Tell him his son and daughtah are here ta pay a visit." Jack's voice was just as sneering, and I felt a wave of satisfaction as the dirty man's eyes widened and he closed the door in our faces.
However, we could hear him yelling to someone and there seemed to be a flurry of activity behind the door. After a few minutes, things calmed down but we were left to wait outside. "This is just rude." Jack told me, folding his arms across his chest and slouching against the side of the building. It amused me that Jack was worried about this apparent rudeness, but I patiently waited. They may not have been expecting us and perhaps Quentin was preparing his torture chamber.
The thought caught me off guard, made me wonder why I was thinking the worst of him. Was it because he'd gone to jail and abandoned his family? Was it because of all the things Sam, Spot, and Jack had told me of Q, the most wanted man in New York?
Before I could ascertain the reason for it, the door once more swung open and Jack straightened and stepped half in front of me as the stringy-haired man sort of nodded his head at us and waved us in.
Jack passed a glance to me and then stepped in first as I followed close behind him. The door shutting at our backs gave me the feeling of the final nail in the coffin. It was chilling, but I tried to push away the feeling, brace myself for the coming confrontation. I was about to meet the man I shared genetics with. It felt slightly momentous.
We were led through a maze of hallways, doors, and rooms until finally, we came out of a back door, outside once more. Jack looked surprised, his gaze trailing to the west where the last bit of light was falling behind the horizon. I looked ahead, to the dock we were headed towards and the boat at the end.
It bobbed in the water, almost an exact replica of Sue's boat, but where the name Daybreak was on Sue's, Quentin's boat was named The Telltale Heart. I felt a shiver of anticipation and fear creep up my spine. Quentin was clever. Cleverer than I had estimated and I felt a stab of annoyance that I hadn't gone to see Sue. I should have asked him about my father so I knew what to expect going in.
And then, almost too suddenly, we were boarding the boat and the man leading us showed us to a small cabin where a lone oil lamp sat on a table with four chairs, lit and flickering merrily. "Take a seat." The man said, then left. We didn't, we stood and listened as the anchor was pulled up and the boat lurched away from the docks. Jack and I cast each other looks of dismay, both of us not expecting the sudden turn of events.
"How-" Jack started, just as the door opened and a tall figure stood in the shadows for a moment, gazing quietly at us.
"Children." The man's voice came out of the shadows and Jack and I both watched as he stepped into the light from the oil lamp on the table. He wasn't quite what I was expecting, his green eyes glittered in the light like jewels and his bald head shined. Everything about him seemed to cast kaleidoscopic colors-as a warning.
Like when the brightest, most colorful animals were also filled with poison.
His gaze was intent upon me, ignoring Jack completely. It made me think, briefly, of Spot, who had always watched me with such interest. Instead of warming me as Spot's tended to do, it ran my blood cold.
A smile twitched the corner of his mouth at our continued silence, but I imagined it would look more like a self-satisfied sneer than a true smile. "What do you think of my boat?" He asked, his eyes were similar to mine, but colder. They held shards of grey steel in them as they perused us and calculated.
Jack shrugged as I spoke, "Nice enough. I'm not a fan of Poe, but it'd be a good fishing boat otherwise."
The flame of the oil lamp flickered as the boat gently rocked on the waves and a smile slowly pulled across the man's face, "Not a Poe fan?" His head cocked to the right as he came closer to us, eyes hungrily soaking in the sight of me. I felt nervous and uncomfortable, and wished for Spot to be there more than anything.
I continued to meet his gaze unwaveringly as I chose my words, "I believe it was Bliss Perry who wrote that it's criminal to criticize Longfellow. Poe accused Longfellow of plagiarizing."
Quentin Barclay's gaze sharpened at my words, the obvious interest intensifying as he absorbed my words. He straightened, surprised, and then…
He laughed.
Spot watched with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as Eden and Jack stepped into the old, grey warehouse. Not a minute later, a bird climbed up the fire escape. Spot turned to meet Card's soft, watery blue eyes. "Whatya got for me?" He asked the bird.
Card's eyes were more watery than usual, and he shifted, "They found Slips."
Lou, who had been standing next to Sam beside Spot, gasped, "Where? Is she alright?" He rushed to the bird and grabbed him by the shoulders.
The bird, older than Hoot, but not as old as Jay, didn't look surprised at the manhandling but Spot stepped over to put a hand on Louisiana's shoulder, "Take it easy. Give Card a second." Spot murmured in his ear, aware they both were worried about their girls.
Lou dropped his hands and Card gazed bleakly at Spot, who gave an encouraging nod, before telling them the truth, "She's fine, now. Safe at the Lodging House. But, when they found her she was wandering around Rosedale…sort of drugged." It was obvious Card didn't like delivering this awful news, and he winced and backed away like they would take it out on him. Spot placed a hand on his shoulder as Sam's gasp brought reality crashing down. Lou moved into action, pushing passed Card and Spot to take the fire escape back down.
Rosedale was on the other side of Queens, it would take entirely too long to get there and Spot wasn't about to abandon Eden alone to this crazed, demented man who would drug a sixteen year old girl.
"Spot." Sam's whisper brought him back to where they were on the roof, and he turned to see what Sam was looking at. Horror filling him as he realized what was going on below.
At the back side of the warehouse were four docks, probably where the goods were brought in before this warehouse became a den for drugs, and they could just make out the form of Eden and Jack as they followed a man down the middle dock. At the end of it was a fishing trawler, not unlike the one Eden worked on, and they watched in horror as Jack and Eden got on the boat.
After a few minutes, the boat pulled away from the docks and out onto the bay.
Spot was moving before it pulled up anchor. He hadn't told Eden about his backup plan, hadn't warned her, because he hadn't known Q would lead her out onto his own boat. But silently, he thanked his lucky stars he had contacted Sue before they left Brooklyn.
A/N: Whew, sorry it took so long for this but everything has to be perfect for you all. Thank you to Kit Auralee, my guest reviewer and Pixielou! You guys rock for reviewing all the time! And thank you for those reading! Drop me a review!
Truly,
Joker is Poker with a J~