Bitter woke up in a soft bed, with different covers and a different pillow and Whiskey nowhere in sight. She pushed herself up to a sitting position gently, only to have some one push her down again. She glared at the person with her green eyes and then softened as she saw it was Spot. "Hey, wheah are we?" she asked.
He smiled, "Back at home, Brooklyn," he said.
Bitter yawned tiredly and looked up at him, "You carried me heah while I was asleep?" she asked, not remembering the journey there.
Spot nodded, "Thought you'd heal bettah heah, back at home," he said.
Bitter looked at him wearily, "Yer right," she said, closing her eyes as they grew heavy with sleep that she needed. When she next woke up she found Spot still in his chair, looking at her. She smiled at him and he smiled back.
"Sleep well?" he asked.
Bitter nodded and then her stomach growled loudly. She blushed, saying, "Guess it's hungry," she said, rubbing it gently as pangs of hunger came through.
"How long have I been out?" she asked.
"Jist a day or two," he said simply, pulling out a sandwich from her, which he had gotten from a bakery, along with a half bottle of milk. He helped her sit up, making sure she was supported well with pillows, still being quite weak from the fight a few days ago.
Bitter ate slowly and sipped at the milk, looking at Spot the whole time as he watched her concerned. "How's Whiskey been?" she asked.
Spot stumbled over a few words at first. "Oh she's jist fine," he said carefully.
She nodded, "Is she gonna come an' see me? Her leg doing ok? Did she get back heah with us airight?" she asked, concerned about her friend.
Spot gulped, "Uh Bittah, she ain't heah," he said. "She couldn't make it from Manhattan so I asked Jack if she could stay there for a while," he said, watching her eyes widen.
"What do you mean?" she said, almost dropping her milk.
"I just thought she could use some time with Specs to help her get bettah, dat's all," he said simply.
Bitter's dark emerald green eyes narrowed at him. "Spot, I know dat ain't it, why ain't she heah?" she demanded.
Spot snarled at her, "Cause ya need ta stay outta trouble an' when yer together, you two are nuttin but trouble, so she ain't gonna be back heah for a week, ok?" he said with a slight growl.
Bitter snapped at that moment. "Spot, you can't tell me what to do! You have no control ovah me an' ya had no right ta make Whiskey stay in Manhattan, her place is heah an' you know it! I demand you bring her back by tomorrow!" she hollered at him, steaming with anger.
Spot shook his head, getting up from his chair. "I'm sorry Bittah, but dat jist isn't gonna happen," he said, walking backwards towards the door. He locked it and then looked back at Bitter, "Get some sleep darhlin'," he said.
She chucked the empty bottle of milk at him, hitting the door as he closed it, enjoying the shattering noise as it made impact "She bettah be back heah by tomorrow!" she screamed.
Spot did not answer, but the sound of a chair dragging came closer until it stopped at the door. Bitter growled obscenities lowly at him until she drifted back off into sleep.
~ ~ ~
Whiskey silently twirled the extremely short lock of hair near the front of her face with a slight frown. Specs had brought her lunch and gone out to finish selling, what had been happening for the past couple of days, and it had been several hours since he had departed.
"Wheah id dat no good doity bastad?" she asked no one as she flopped back on the bed, picking up the worn western dime novel Jack had lent her after she'd bitched long enough about being bored out of her mind, and cooped up in the small room "against me will!"
She flipped through it, a frown making her mouth quirk downward. With an indignant, frustrated sigh she tossed the novel at the locked door, which was reinforced by a tilted chair on the other side.
"Damn da lot of you'se!" she screamed at the closed door. She'd picked the lock earlier that morning only to discover that she was no closer to getting back to Brooklyn than when she'd begun.
"Da lot a us? Dat include me?" Specs asked as he opened the door hesitantly, sticking his head in with a roguish grin, his hair falling down in his eyes.
Whiskey smirked. As much as she wanted to hate him, that hurt puppy dog look broke down all her defenses. "Well, maybe I'se can make da exception foh you...but only you."
With a smile, he crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, smoothing away the hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. A lock of hair, just a little too stubborn to stay behind her ear, resting instead at her chin, while the rest graced her shoulders, defeated his nimble fingers.
"I know, it's freakish lookin', but you'se just gonna hafta get used ta it," she stated with amusement, pulling a surprised Specs down to her level by his vest and planting a feathery kiss against his temple, slowly making her way down to his mouth.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa now...ya don't wanna be da one explainin' ta Doc about how I'se received dese bruises do ya?" Whiskey asked, one eyebrow quirked, removing Specs' talented mouth from her neck. "Now," she stated with a smile, "Get out, I'se still pissed off atcha. Oh, an' send Haz in, I'se been wantin' ta talk to her."
Specs retreated from the room, flushed and running a hand through his brown hair. He closed the door, but neglected to lock it as he went down the hall to get Hazard. Unfortunately, Hazard was nowhere to be found, just as Whiskey had worked out earlier that morning, and she heard Specs walk down the stairs and out the lh, presumably on his way to Tibby's to fetch Haz.
Whiskey let out the breath she had been holding and quickly limped over to the door. It was a little after mid day, and most of the newsies would still be out to lunch, so she quickly limped down the hall and into the bunkroom, through the open window, down the fire escape, and into the alley. With a triumphant smirk she spat at the lodging house and headed in the direction of Brooklyn.
~ ~ ~
Bitter had quit talking to Spot by the second day she was conscious and would not utter a word to him, not even when he begged her too. She was very stubborn and concentrated on a plan to get out of the small room. Spot had known her too well with putting her in a room with no window, claiming it was for 'the best.' She had just snarled at him and turned on her back, promising never to talk to him again.
It was around lunchtime when someone knocked on the door and she found one of the girls at her door, a tray of food in her hands, along with some bandages. "Winter! Thank Gawd, I'se been dying foh real company!" she exclaimed, getting up and greeting her with a hug.
Winter smiled and placed the tray on the bed, closing the door behind her so they could have some privacy. "How's it been goin' around heah?" Bitter asked between bites of food.
Winter rolled her eyes, "Well, Spot's been his controllin' self again, makin' us goils stay inside at night and making us be chaperoned by a guy when sellin'. Says he don't want us getting inta no more trouble," she muttered, cursing afterwards.
Bitter smiled, "Any news 'bout Whiskey?" she asked.
Winter smiled and bent closer to her, whispering, "I hoid she's on her way heah," she said. "Spot don't know tho, otherwise all hell would be breaking loose heah," she added with a smile. She tossed her long black hair with sharp metal pieces braided into it over her shoulder and pulled something from her pocket, laying it down before Bitter.
Bitter gasped as she recognized her dagger and she grabbed it, twirling it in her hand. "How de hell did ya get dis from Spot?" she asked, admiring her beautifully handmade dagger.
Winter smiled, "Well I got Pyro to distract Spot an' den I lifted it, I mean dose few tricks ya taught me about stealin' do come in use at times," she said with a laugh.
Bitter laughed full heartedly and attached the dagger to her thigh, thanking Winter over and over as the lunch proceeded. "Well, ya bettah get goin' on sellin' dose papes, oh, an' Wintah, lemme know when Whiskey's heah, knock three times on the door an' if you see her tell her to knock four times, k?" Bitter asked as she got up, carrying the tray out the door with her.
"I will, an' take it easy, wrap dose injuries up airight, I'se got a feelin' something eventful will happen tonight," Winter said, winking at her before closing the door shut.
A moment later Spot's voice was heard outside, "I told you to lock it!," he hollered at the glaring girl. He opened the door and was met by Bitter looking coldly at him and then turning her back to him. He sighed and shut the door, "Come on Bittah, ya can't still be mad at me," he said, whining slightly.
Bitter did not answer and he tried to say some other words, but she did not respond at all, so he left reluctantly, locking the door behind him. Bitter sighed heavily and laid down on the bed, relaxing a bit while she wrapped her few wounds up tightly. Falling gently into a sleep as she wished for Whiskey to come quickly.
~ ~ ~
"Gawd! Dis id takin' forevah!" Whiskey stated with a scowl as she finished her cigarette and stood up and moved away from the grimy alley wall she had been leaning on for support.
"Fuckin' bastads," she muttered as she saw two more Brooklyn newsies pass by the narrow mouth of the alley adjacent to the lodging house. When the coast was clear she scurried up the fire escape, her limping gait forcing her to take it slower than she would have liked. Since when did dis fiah escape get so damn steep!?, she cursed inwardly, stooping down underneath the window of the bunkroom.
"Been expectin' ya," a rough voice stated from above her.
"Holy SHIT!" Whiskey stated jumping back away from the window, one hand pressed against her chest. "And just what the fuck were you tryin' ta do!? Give me a god damn heart attack!?" she asked, swinging herself in through the window and greeting Winter's smirk with one of her own.
"Wheah da hell is Bittah held up? I'se come ta set her free!" Whiskey stated swinging her arms about grandiosely and bowing deeply.
"Shaddup an' folla me, knock four times den pick da lock," Winter said, showing her the door, then whisking herself away, leaving Whiskey to her own.
Bitter awoke as she heard the four knocks and pulled on some decent clothes, rushing towards the door, hearing Whiskey's careful picking of the lock. She jumped back as she the door opened and gasped at Whiskey's pale and tired appearance. "Jesus Whiskey ya look like hell," she said.
Whiskey just rolled her eyes and shut the door, "Shit, no window!" she muttered.
Bitter just smirked, "Spot knows me too well," she said quietly, as if the walls were listening to them.
Which was not too far from the truth as they reopened the door, only to see an angry looking Spot staring back at them, his arms crossed. "Oh shit," both Whiskey and Bitter said.
"Pyro, some help!" Bitter called to the small girl who was making her way down the hall. Pyro smiled and pulled out her matches, lighting the bottom of Spot's shirt on fire. While he started to yell and try to put it out, the girls slipped by and out of the bunkroom window. They had shut it and made it down the fire escape when they heard Spot hollering that they would be in big trouble.
Bitter just looked at Whiskey and they both cracked up, obviously enjoying Spot's anger tantrums. "So, what you wanna do now?" Bittah asked.
"Whatta I wanna do? We can start with getting the hell outta here! A charred Spot ain't ezactly the type of 'welcome back' I expected...but damn, it's good ta se ya again!" Whiskey stated, talking a mile a minute as they hurried through the alleys as fast as they could comfortably go. "Specs was pretty nice, and Haz visited every once in a while, but other den dat it was boring as hell in Manhattan! Locked in some lil' room against me will!" she stated, shaking her fist in the sky as if cursing the heavens themselves.
"Whoa, calm down, yer doin' the talkin'-too-fast-foh-me-ta-folla-ya thing again!" Bitter stated as they began to slow, a grin still plastered across her face.
"Sorry 'bout....fuck." Whiskey stated throwing herself back into the shadows of the mouth of the alley they had just exited, dragging a confused Bitter with her and pinning both of them to the wall.
"What the fuck is your problem? Just 'cause I'se on the mend don't give ya the right ta try an' put me back in dat damn infirmary!" Bitter whispered harshly, before seeing Whiskey's wide light green eyes and the snarl on her face that clearly meant 'don't give me your shit.'
Whiskey cocked an eyebrow at Bitter and whispered back, "Our favorite punchin' bag id right outside dis alley, an' I suah as hell don't wanna be in that sick room any more!
Bitter nodded her head and slowly eased herself out from under the arm Whiskey had used to pin her to the wall, moving stealthily to the edge to catch a glimpse of Trick. Whiskey was right, he was so close she was practically breathing down his neck. She listened to the enraged muttering as Trick took a drag off of his cigarette. Pain had etched itself into his features, making him appear even more dangerous than before as he ranted quietly to himself like a madman.
"Whassat he's sayin'?" Whiskey whispered, joining Bitter at the mouth of the alley, still hidden by the shadows.
"Sumthin' about a fire...fucker's talkin' like you after nursin' a bottle!" Bitter growled a bit frustrated, pushing Whiskey into her place.
"Fekin' madman's what yer dealin' wit! He ain't makin' any sense, switching from one thought to another...all I'se can make out from me arse of a Scottsman is that he's plannin' ta hold some meetin' at dere lodgin' house...ooo, very creative curse dere...I'll have ta remember dat one...now he's ramblin' on about how if he evah lays eyes on ya again he'll feckin' malkie ya witout a second thought, and dat," Whiskey ceased translating as she threw herself and Bitter back against the wall of the alley as Trick flicked a cigarette into the gutter and walked past them.
"Damn, dat was close," Whiskey stated, letting out the breath she had been holding. "Sorry 'bout the whole attempt at givin' ya a concussion thing...twice...but I really don' wanna see ya malkied!"
"Feelin's mutual," Bitter stated brushing herself off and righting her cap over her only slightly ruffled blond hair.
"So dat means we'se gonna go spy on de meetin' dere havin'?" Bitter asked with a smirk planted firmly on her lips as she forced herself to ignore the pain coming from her head.
Whiskey half-smirked, limping out of the shadows, "Yeah, but how do you propose we don't get caught?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she looked over Bitter's ragged appearance and then looking down at her hurt leg.
Bitter smirked, "Well, my plan involves another goil or two if yer willing ta go back to the LH for a few minutes," she said, crossing her arms and looking around the corner to see if the coast was clear.
Whiskey sighed, "Well, I guess we got no choice right?" she said, not sure that it was the best plan in the world.
"Well, it's either that or watch me get malkied!" she said, imitating Whiskey's accent.
"Hey, you pickin' dat up pretty easily, wheah'd ya loin dat?" Whiskey asked, looking straight into Bitter's eyes as Bitter avoided looking at her.
Bitter coughed slightly, looking around before composing herself and smirked up at Whiskey, looking her straight in the eye, "I lived on de streets for most a' me life right? Well, how de hell do you think I kept meself alive? I didn't know how ta fight when I was young, so I used all sorts of accents ta keep me alive, took to it, saved me from mobsters and all sorts of drunks," she said, brushing Whiskey off as she started to apologize and walked quickly out of the alley.
"Jist don't bring it up again anytime soon," Bitter muttered quietly, but loud enough for Whiskey to hear.
The rest of the walk back they did not talk at all, both girls lost in their own thoughts and memories. They got to the back entrance of the Brooklyn Lodging House in no time and found themselves halting to a stop as they saw the building. There was a start of a fire at the back end and the two girls looked at each other and then ran towards the building, screaming "fire" over and over again.
Bitter attempted to stomp out as much of the fire as possible, but alone it was of no use. Soon the newsies came running, buckets of water in their hands, others with big blankets to pat the fire out with. Within time the fire was out and no one seemed to be hurt, with minimal damage done to the building. Bitter slipped into the shadows as she caught sight of Spot, his face black with soot and a fierce look showing through.
Bitter crept through the shadows, looking for Whiskey, who was missing at the moment. Someone grabbed her arm and she turned to see Whiskey, two girls in tow. "Fade, Rook," Bitter said, nodding as she acknowledged the girls.
"First two I found, they already know wheah we're goin' an' all, so let's scram before Spot realizes we were heah an' stole two of his goils ta come wit us," Whiskey said, tugging at Bitter's sleeve.
Bitter nodded, looking back at the lh before turning and following Whiskey.
"So, what de hell are we doin'?" Rook asked as the four girls marched quickly in the direction of Harlem.
"Well, we'se gonna hurry our asses ovah ta Harlem ta pay Trick an' Switch a lil visit," Whiskey stated casually, as if running into the same people that had hospitalized she and Bitter a while back was nothing more than a stroll through Central Park.
Fade stared at Whiskey incredulously. "You'se kiddin', right?"
"Hell no she ain't!" Bitter declared, snagging the cigarette from Fade's hand and taking a long hit off of it before passing it back to her.
"Well Whisk heah told us dat we was needed for some 'portant business, but she didn't mention dat business havin' anything to do wit dose slime," Rook spat out viciously.
"Calm yerself, it ain't like we'se gonna be seen by da fuckers or anythin'! We'se just gonna spy on de bastards from de fire escape or de rafters of dat nasty ol warehouse dey call a lodgin' house." Whiskey tried to place a hand on Rook's shoulder, but it was quickly shrugged off. Damn, if we'se pissed off Rook enough ta get a reaction outta her, den dis must really scare de shit outta her...
"Listen, you'se can be our watchgoil if ya like, tell us if de bastards are comin' or not..." Whiskey trailed off, placing her hand once again on the shoulder of Rook, who had become quite stoic since her little outburst, and this time, it was not shaken away.
Rook grunted what sounded affirmative as the girls continued their walk to the lh.
The girls reached the crummy looking building in no time at all, even with Whiskey's obvious limp. They crept over to the rusted fire escape as soon as they saw it and found they had a problem.
"Uh Whiskey?" Bitter asked, raising an eyebrow as she showed Whiskey the ancient looking lock that was quite enormous.
She gazed at it for a second and then looked back at Bitter. "Can ya pick it?" she asked.
Bitter sighed, "Yeah, I'se more likely ta get it unlocked den anyone else heah," she said, pulling out her little tool case. Each second felt like an hour as Bitter prodded at the old lock. She smiled as she heard a slight click and turned to the girls, lock in hand.
She was so excited that she did not see that the fire escape would come down once she had removed the lock and it barely missed her body as it clattered down, making a terrible noise. Bitter's eyes widened and she grabbed Whiskey and the two girls, jumping for the nearest alley. No one came by as they waited patiently for a few minutes and so they snuck back out carefully, climbing up the fire escape one at a time, Whiskey insisting on going last as she was the slowest with her injury.
Bitter shoved Fade in front of her and then waved down to Rook who stood with her arms crossed, watching them ascend up to the roof.
"Alright now, stick ta da plan," Bitter stated as they crouched down below the window to the bunkroom, a nearly perfect position considering they could pick up bits and pieces of the conversation from below.
"Plan? And ta think, all dis time I just thought we'se was hangin' round heah foh da fun a it," Whiskey whispered harshly, then shut up after Fade shot her a dirty look.
Bitter brought her finger up to her lips in the universal sign for "Shhh!" and the three girls strained their ears in an attempt to pick up the scattered conversation from a floor below.
After several minutes of jumbled conversation Bitter threw her hands up frustrated. "Dis id fuckin' useless!" Bitter stated as she removed her cap, ran a hand through her hair and replaced the cap with a huff.
"Naw it ain't, we'se just gotta get in a little closer," Whiskey stated with a devilish look as she turned around quickly and surveyed the bunkroom. "Empty."
Fade visibly paled at the borderline maniacal gleam to Whiskey's eyes. "No way. You'se two can go an' get ya selves killed, but me? I prefer all me limbs in one position."
Bitter was hesitant to agree with the sound of Whiskey's plan at first, it sounded a bit too reckless, even for them. But after a couple minutes of tense silence she nodded her head affirmatively. "Okay den, Fade, I want ya to go tell Rook dat if she's seein' anybody leave da common room down deah dat she should whistle ta get yer attention, and from there you whistle ta get ours. Got it?"
Fade nodded her head and hurried back down the fire escape as quiet as she could. After revealing the new plan to Rook, Fade waved Whiskey and Bitter along, giving them the okay to continue as she shimmied back up the fire escape.