Shoutouts:
Hades: 7 IMs weeeeeeeee. Thanks!
Neffie: I did try to keep her from Mary Sue territory... oh well. She hurt him and he gets mad.... that's not Mary Sue, right? In a Mary Sue he'd take all the crap she gave him without reacting badly and shes far from perfect.
Lashes: It's not soon enough but it's a really long chapter... that makes up for it being forever right? Right?
Vinyl: *sigh* It's about time... Skittles went on strike until I promised he could be Frankenfurter in my RHPS thing.
Peeps: This chapter's a lot more angsty... WEEE
Moth: No need to kidnap him... Let's not talk crazy *smiles sweetly, offering a half naked Mush*
Princess: It's updated... WEEEE
Act: Hey... you didn't have ta wait too long... the other's did
Keva: WEEEEEEEEEEE ANGST *glomping tackle*
Cards: Was that an Oliver Twist reference? WEEEEEEEE Now that I've updated I expect you to, Capische? j/k
Half-Pint: WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Llinos: for almost writing the entire beginning... I tweaked it a bit though *grin*
Thumbsucker Snitch: Yeah The death and after that... her ideas. THANKS... I tweaked it a bit though, so don't get mad at me, kay?
A/N: I went a tiny bit overboard.Flame me if you must *sob* I explain it because the doctor's an idiot and they can't afford any better. Don't hate me. I got caught up! *shrug* Looking back over this chapter I realize I've got a thing for an angry Skittery... The title of the chapter is a Pat Benetar song. She ROCKED. One more thing... Dearbhail's family,. I LOVE THEM... mine. Especially Erin *grins and runs before the angry mob who wanna read the story attack her*
Stand By Me
Chapter 2: We Belong
"Tell me about when you proposed again, Papa," Moira requested, sitting at her grandfather's feet as he relaxed in his easy chair with his pipe. She stared up at him with pure glee written in her eyes.
Laughing, Skittery put his feet up "You've heard that story thousands of times. Sure you want to hear it again?" In response Moira simply nodded her head vigorously, grinning so hard Skittery was sure her face would break. He didn't speak for a few moments after that. His mind swam with memories.
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"It's about time you came to your senses, boy. She's madly in love with you." Dearbhail's mother, Mrs. Murpheysmiled warmly at the young man who had come to her about marrying her daughter. "I was beginning to think you'd never come to me about this. The only problem is going to be her father,"
He'd figured there would be a problem. He was still extremely poor. Dearbhail deserved some one who could provide for her. She shouldn't have to work so hard, not to mention the fact that Dearbhail's family was devout Roman Catholic. He and Dearbhail had been together for nearly 4 years. It was about time Skittery did something about it.
"Do you t'ink dis is a waste of time? She'd prolly be bettah off wit'out me." Skittery tried to talk himself out of what he had planned on doing that night. "I can't take care of her as well as a man with money could," The people in question would be home any minute. When Mrs. Murphey's back was turned, Skittery sampled the meager stew which was on the stove, waiting for dinner.
"Hands off dinner, Skittery. There has to be enough for nine people," she scolded teasingly. "Tell me, do you love my daughter? If so, nothing else matters. Mr. Murphey and I never had any money to speak of. And we muddled by with six kids even!" She pushed him into a chair at the kitchen table "You haven't answered my question. Do you love Dearbhail?" she persisted. Sitting across from him, Mrs. Murphey's gaze was unsettling. It felt as if she could read his mind, heart and into his very soul.
"What do you think?" He muttered examining the back of his hand to avoid her piercing eyes.
"Well I know you want to marry her." Mrs. Murphey finally looking away from him, stirring the thin stew instead. "But that is not necessarily the same thing."
"It isn't" Skittery looked up at the careworn woman now. "Seems a pretty big thing to me."
"It just means you want her," Mrs Murphey tasted the stew herself. "Love is a step further on."
"How d'yer get that?" Skittery had always considered the offer of marriage as the ultimate confession of love, the biggest commitment a guy could make.
"Would you put a roof over her head and bread on her table?"
"I could manage that." Skittery said with some pride.
"Well," Mrs. Murphey turned to face him again. "That's marriage."
"uhuh…" Skittery had no doubt about that.
"Would you walk away and leave her if you couldn't do that and someone else could? If you thought she could be happier with someone else..."
"She doesn't have someone else! Does she?" Skittery jumped up from the chair.
"…would you give her your last cent, your last crust of bread? Would you sit up all night with her if she was sick? Would you put her first, before yourself? Would you change your life for her? Would you give up everything for her? Would you die for her?
"That's a powerful lot of would you's Mrs. Murphey." Skittery's had not felt the need to consider any of these things - none were especially likely.
"If you have to think too long about any of those things…" she broke off as a commotion sounded at the door. The stew was ready, it would soon be time to eat.
"I don't and I do - I'm sure." Skittery blurted out quickly knowing the moment would soon be passed. "The last one - that's what matters ain't it? I'd die for her."
"All right." Mrs. Murphey smiled. "You pass - now all you have to do is convince her father."
"Yeah… that's gonna be…"
"But more importantly," The woman interrupted him as time was short now; "you need to tell her!"
"Dearbhail is convinced she needs to put you guys before her own happiness. She's talked it over with her friends from the factory. They're all married now," Skittery explained sadly. His voice dripped with bitterness.
"That sounds like my Dearbhail. That or she's hiding behind her family to keep from marrying you. She works in strange ways sometimes," the older woman sat down heavily. She didn't like admitting that her daughter might be lying to herself and her friends about being ready for marriage.
The rest of the hungry mob burst into the kitchen before the conversation could go on any further, leaving the nervous young man with more questions. Should he ask her and face rejection? Doesn't she love him just as much? Is she not ready? Will asking her push her away? He ended up losing the nerve to broach the topic with her father or Dearbhail. That night the nine of them had dinner. Skittery decided not to ask any life altering questions until he felt the situation called for it.
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Week's later Skittery sat around the Lodging House with one person on his mind. She'd been the one topic consuming him for as far back as he could remember. True their courtship lasted mere months but those months were his happiest. When one is so happy one should hang on to the source of the happiness for dear life. A sudden sinking feeling tugged at his insides as he continued to brood about the deplorable situation Dearbhail put him in by not being able to stand up to her father. Looking out the dirty window of the Lodging House, Skittery's gaze was met with a red headed figure collapsed and shaking on the feet of the Horace Greeley statue. without another moment's hesitation, Skittery ran outside to the lone figure.
"Baby! Baby what's da mattah?" he asked, sitting down beside her and brushing her hair from her wet face. His only answer was Dearbhail sobbing harder and showing soemthing into his hand. Thoroughly confused, Skittery stared down on their hands still holding onto the other. "What is it?" he asked, silently praying it wasn't what he felt it was going to be.
Hiccuping from all her sobs, Dearbhail choked out "I can't marry you".
Unable to remove his eyes from the small ring in his hand the only argument Skittery's mind could form was "But...".
In answer Dearbhail held up her left hand where the ring he now held had been placed. In it's place was a bigger, gawdier ring with emerald's surrounding it. "I gotta marry dis uddah guy" she apologized, her voice choking with the tears that threatened to bubble up again.
Flying into a panic, Skittery stood then sat down again and hugged her too him then stood up again, still holding her. "What?!? No! You can't" he tried to reason with her. The pair were seated on the statue once more, neither had the strength to stand.
"He says it's marry dis guy or be shipped off to an Abbey," Dearbhail explained, her voice resigned and lost, the tears still falling from her eyes, now soaking her dress. All Skittery could think to do was hold her tighter to him. While one arm held onto her, begging to be able to stay like this, the other arm snaked up her back, stroking her hair to calm her. "I came ta give you the ring back," she explained, through her sobs.
"Keep it," he insisted, closing her hand around the tiny gold object.
"I can't marry you... it's not right to keep it," Dearbhail protested stubbornly.
"Jis keep it," he whispered urgently. Something in his voice told Dearbhail to do as he wished and not argue.
Slipping it into her small change purse she smiled bravely at him and replied "I love only you".
Smiling warmly, a finger tracing Dearbhail's face the response was whispered "And I love only you... always". As he said these words, Skittery leaned forward, brushing his lips over her forehead lovingly. Hearing these words sent Dearbhail into another crying fit.
"I want to die!" she wailed loudly, a few people staring at the two as they passed. Skittery stared back at them, shooting what he hoped was a deadly glare, his hands still stroking her head and back slowly as he whispered soothing words into her hair.
"No.. no you dont. You want to live... You never know what might happen," Skittery answered cryptically. His voice had never been so soft and calming before. This dried her tears. He either was planning something or had suddenly become prophetic.
Always the dramatic type, "I'm dead without you", she stated emphatically.
Stroking her cheek lovingly with his fingertips, Skittery smiled again. "The course of true love never did run smooth ," he reassured her. Dearbhail smiled a little as he continued to stroke her face. Quoting Shakespeare? He realy had changed. "Listen, maybe we can secretly see each uddah," he suggested slowly, knowing that Dearbhail would never be satisfied with that. Truth is, neither would he.
Pulling away from his embrace, Dearbhail exploded, taking his hand to her heart "Dat ain't good enough! Dis belongs ta you". They stayed like this for what seemed like hours but was, in reality, mere minutes.
Looking at her with more love than he had ever thought possible, until Dearbhail came into his life, Skittery asked "What are we gonna do about it?".
Dearbhail's face lit up. Skittery could see the wheels in her head spinning rapidly. Watching her pace, talking to herself, he waited for her to reveal what was going on under that mop of frizzy red hair. "In Romeo and Juliet... she faked her death and they were supposed to run off together," immediately, Skittery could see where her desperate mind was headed and he didn't like it at all.
"Baby... You remember da end a dat story, dontcha?" he reminded her gently, still watching her pace back and forth before him.
"Yeah... But this time it'll woik," she answered simply, kissing the tips of his fingers as they grazed her lips.
"And if it doesn't..." he questioned, biting his lip. Dearbhail seemed to be lost in her own thoughts as usual.
"We don't have a meddling Balthazar... I'll be dead," Dearbhail came out of her planning to answer him with the obvious. "Eiddah way, I ain't marryin' dat asshole from the factory," she growled. She had developed quite a problem with cussing since she met him.
Skittery ran his free hand through his hair, setting his cap on Dearbhail's head. It flopped over her eyes, way too big for her. He took it off then set it on backwards to keep her eyes showing. "Dis is crazy, you know that?" he tried to remove the worry from his eyes. His voice betrayed him. Smiling the smile of the michievious nymph he knew Dearbhail was, she dragged him closer by his suspendars and kissed him hotly.
"So?"
"Dis bettah woik," he growled, deepening the kiss.
"It has to," she responded breathily. Pulling back, Dearbhail's voice recovered "I should go. Can't lose my job, right?" the two stood a little further apart so as to not get carried away and cause a spectacle.
Skittery nodded slowly, licking his lips, savoring the feeling of her lips on his, the taste of her still lingered in his mind. "When are we gonna woik out da details?" he asked, trying to delay her departure as long as possible.
"I'll send Erin by with instructions in two days,"
"Okay", he agreed, pulling her tightly against him again and kissing her as if it would be the last time he would ever see her again, "I love you," he whispered. It probably would, knowing how unlucky Skittery's life had been up until meeting this firey haired angel. God gave her to Skittery so it'd figure God would take her away... Skittery was starting to doubt there was really a God.
"I love you to," she answered, removing a locket around her neck and clasping it around his.
Plastering what they both knew was a pathetic excuse for a brave smile, Skittery pulled her to him one last time and whispered into her hair "Seeya later". Dearbhail was shaking slightly because she was fighting letting her sobs take over her body. "Don't worry," he soothed, kissing her eyelids.
Taking a long ragged breath, Dearbhail returned the smile and stood, straightening her back, giving an air of a queen. This was the Dearbhail Skittery loved. "We'll be fine." Dearbhail stated, trying to convince herself of it more than Skittery.
"We will," he agreed, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Neither of them believed this to be true, saying it merely for the other's sake. Dearbhail clung to him impulsively.
"I don't wanna move," she whined. This ripped Skittery's heart out. He didn't want her to either but there was nothing either of them could do. It wasn't meant to be.
"Ya have to.. if we'se gonna escape latah," he reasoned, whispering the words into her ear.
"Aiight," Dearbhail stepped back, becoming the Queen again.
Stealing one last, lingering, kiss, he told her he loved her then let her walk to the factory.
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Two days later Skittery broke down and watched for Erin, a smaller version of her sister, to show up. She didn't. He had a sick feeling in his stomach since the last day he saw Dearbhail that it would be the last... but until that moment he had clung to a small sliver of hope that everything would work out. Skittery became the personality that earned him the glum and dumb reputation when Dearbhail decided to break his heart. He had finally turned his life around with her in it... then she had to go and... well. It was more than he could stand.
Skittery watched the sun go down on the second day. He hadn't eaten or slept since she left him. In fact he hadn't moved from his perch on the window sill. He just stared listlessly out the window. As night fell, a blanket was draped over his shoulders. Kloppman had felt bad enough for the young man to let him stay in the Lodging House without paying. Each of the newsies had tried to break Skittery's silence. Even if he was yelling at them it was better than this pathetic silence that had settled in and taken hold of his being. Nothing worked.
On the evening of the third day an intervention was held. "Ehya Skitt. Cold night, ain't it?" a small voice ventured to engage Skittery into conversation- or distract him, whichever worked. Looking in the direction the voice came from, Skittery nodded and went back to staring out the window. Minutes later, Skittery was lifted off the window sill and carried into the lounge area. Skittery fought them both off as hard as he could but finally gave up, slumped down in an old chair that was losing it's stuffing. He reminded his friends of that chair. A shadow of his former self. Peering up through dissheveled hair and half closed eyes, Skittery glared at his assailants silently.
"Well, he's glarin' at me. Dat's a stawt," a overly chipper voice broke through Skittery's daze. The young man's shiney black mane bounced just as perkily as his voice sounded, irritating Skittery even more. "'Ello, Grumpy. Join us for a chat won't ya?" the voice belonged to Swifty. Laughing, he tapped Skittery on the head and stood back in case Skittery turned into the rabid dog he resembled, minus the foaming mouth. At least the angry Skittery was coming back; simmering quietly behind his eyes. This was better than the emotionless Skittery. "We'se come to a decision. We ain't lettin' you carry on like dis," he continued when it appeared Skittery was just going to sit there like a lump. Skittery's eyes took in the room as he sat. Everybody was there. Swifty. His other assailant, Pie Eater. Dutchy. Specs. Bumlets. Snoddy. Mush. Racetrack. Blink. Tumbler. Boots. Snipes. Crutchy. Even Jack decided to grace the room with his presense. The younger boys were standing near the door, looking at him hesitantly, as if waiting to see if they needed to run away from him quickly.
"Look atcha... Da Return of Glum and Dumb. No. Dis one is Dumb and Pathetic," Racetrack began. Figures he'd be the most vocal and angry about the new Skittery.
"Yes, we know Poet ripped out ya hawt and stomped on it, leavin' you fah dead. No, we can't understand da pain you feel and we ain't pretendin' ta...," Dutchy interrupted Racetrack before Skittery attacked him. They had forgotten to tie him to the chair. There was a long silence where the one on trial and the ones pleading for the return of their friend stared at each other. It was broken by a small voice approaching from the door.
"We all miss ya, Skitt," the voice spoke softly, with a hand on Skittery's arm. Tumbler. Skittery really had been mean to him lately. Skittery sat still, staring at the younger boy. There was nothing he could say. When Skittery didn't snarl at him, Tumbler hugged him tightly. He was visibly shaken by the child's outbreak of... affection, was it? Skittery tossled his hair in response but still said nothing.
"It's jis so beautiful," Racetrack cracked, wiping a fake tear from his eye and leaning on Blink who sobbed along with him. A general chorus of fake sobs and sympathetic "Awww"s rang out.
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A full month after Skittery's intervention, there was still no word from Dearbhail or her sister, Erin. It was as if she had vanished off of the face of the Earth. Skittery had finally settled back into being his old self... before he knew *she* existed. That's when it happened.
"Mike! Skitt!" Skittery was pulled out of a deep reverie by the sound of his name being called down the street. Looking up, Skittery thought he was still in a dream state. Was that Erin? Yes it was. Standing up, he met her half way. Still out of breath, Erin held his arm to keep him from speaking and to keep her standing up right. "Dearbhail's in the hospit-" before she could continue, Skittery interupted her.
"What?!? Why?!? What happened?!? Which hospital?!?" Skittery fought to stay calm. He was losing the battle. Part of him wanted to pretend he didn't care if she had been killed. She had hurt him just too much. But he could no longer deny his love for her. No matter how much her forgetting about him hurt, he still loved her with every fiber of his being.
"Saint Mary's. But Ski-" Erin continued, only to watch him run toward the hospital. She hollered after him to get him to turn around. There was more bad news. When he was again at her side Erin continued "Daddy has her room guarded".
"What kind of accident was it?" he asked, calming down for the moment.
"Her hand slipped on one of the sewing machines. She's crippled now. The hand's useless but she's lucky she still has the arm," Erin revealed, knowing he wasn't one to just forget about his love when his love is in need. Dearbhail needed him more than she ever had before, that is if he still loved her. "That's not all, though. Aiden broke off the engagement because he is too much a bastard to take care of her. His reasoning was that the accident was a deal breaker. Mike, she still loves you. Daddy found out about the plot to get you guys together and well, I'm sorry... She's a fallen person without you" Erin went on as Skittery sat in stunned silence, absorbing all this new information.
'She still loves me? The engagement is off? What should I do now?' he thought over the the situation and possible actions he should take, deciding that neither Hell nor high water would keep her from him. "Erin, you have ta get me in ta see her," he declared, his eyes wild with promise and a plan. Erin handed him a lay out of Saint Mary's Hospital.
"What ever you decide to do... I promise you, if you hurt my sister, I'll kill you. I should get going before the bell rings to end lunch," The little 10 year old threatened, half serious, before running back to the school across town in Queens where Dearbhail's family lived.
When she had disappeared, Skittery ran inside.
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At half past ten that night, Skittery crept out onto the fire escape and out into the night. Making his way out of the alley, Skittery waited until a big truck rolled by, catching the bumper of it and hopping onto the bed, along with 40 chickens. 'Great. Now Imma smell like chicken shit to! Aiight, gotta come up with what I should say to her... why is dis difficult? 'Cuz she left you, ass' Skittery's mind was churning a million miles a minute. Before he knew it, Skittery arrived at the hospital. The trip had taken about an hour. Staring up at the four story building, Skittery's mouth went dry, as if he had swallowed sawdust. Looking at the map Erin had given him, Skittery located Dearbhail's room and a fire escape to get inside. Stepping onto the bottom rung of the ladder onto the fire escape, Skittery fell backwards, landing in the snow on his back. 'She bettah be worth it. Time fah plan B... Jis as soon as I think a it,' he growled, standing up and heading towards the emergency exit.
An orderly, who appeared to be around the same build as Skittery, stood by the exit, smoking on a cigarette with a big laundry recepticle nearby. Thinking quickly, he snuck behind the other young man. "Can I bum a smoke?" he asked, when the orderly turned, Skittery slammed his elbow into the guys face and pushed his head into the brick of the building as he fell. "Sorry man," he apologized, removing the guys uniform and replacing it with his clothes. With one last look at the pathetic figure in his clothes, passed out and bleeding from his nose, he moved inside with the laundry recepticle. 'Now what?' he asked himself, entering the building. Before he could answer that question for himself, a nun walked by.
"Orderly... what are you doing standing there as if there's nothing to be done? The Devil works through idle hands, my son. Collect the items that need to be laundered from the third floor and please do something about that smell," she requested, going about her duties at the front desk.
"Right away, sistah," he mumbled, pushing the cart up a ramp to the third floor. 'Dat was easy enough. Maybe dere is a God,' he mused, heading over to room 315 where the map read that Dearbhail had a private room. 'Half past midnight... Why can't my legs move? Come on, Pussy. Jis go in dere and demand an explaination. Hoit her as much as she hoit you. On t'ree. One... Two..' Skittery forced himself to open her door, expecting to see her lying asleep in her bed. That's not what he got.
"There are towels on the chair in the corner. Thank you," a cold lifeless voice sounded from the dark corner of the room. It was so unlike Dearbhail, Skittery figured Erin got the room number wrong. The gasp that sounded from the same dark corner, told him different. "No. God, don't torture me like this... Mike's forgotten about me, dammit. Don't make this harder than it already is. Make it stop. Poet that is NOT him," she whispered, obviously he'd have to say something now. Dammit.
"You ain't seein' t'ings, Poet. I got a score ta settle wit' you," he spat out, his eyes showing all the hurt and anger she had caused to resurface. He waited a couple minutes to see if she had a rebuttle. she didn't have one. "Two days, hmm? I don't think ya evah intended ta marry me. Playin' around wit' my hawt was your plan da whole time. I don't 'preciate bein' lied to, bitch," the words left his lips before he could censor them. "Jis ansah me one t'ing... Why? No, ya know what? I don't care. It's too bad dat machine didn't do more damage," this last jibe was too much, even for him. He winced inwardly at how cruel his voice sounded.
"Are you through?" she asked, her voice barely audible, the tears threatening to slip out.
"I'll go now," he conceded, ignoring the pang in his heart that told him to run to her and hold her, begging her to forgive him.
"No. Why stop there? You forgot 'Spineless, stupid, evil'. Did I leave anything out?" she seethed quietly, more angry with herself than him. She knew she deserved all the grief he was dishing out at her. Never one to just sit and take verbal abuse, Dearbhail straightened her back, leaning forward and continued "You didn't seem too keen on approachng my father about us, yourself! You're nothin' but a scared little boy". Why did she have to go there? Bad move.
A vein throbbed at his temple. His jaw began to twitch. An inhuman sound ripped through the air. "I'll show you scared," he threatened, lunging forward to land on top of her. He didn't even look like himself.
Not recognizing him, Dearbhail screamed as he tore open her gown.
Minutes later a couple police men showed up. As if returning to his senses, Skittery let go his grip on her shoulders, allowing one of the police men to pull him off of Dearbhail and put the shackles around his wrist, unable to meet her eyes. He could hear her sobbing uncontrollably. What did he almost do?
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'I hope dey t'row da book at me. How could I do dat ta her? I love her... She hates me now anyways. I hate myself... Here we go... 'Micheal Behr, you are charged with breaking & entering and assault. How do you plead?'... 'On my knees Your Majesty'... 'Don't be flippant'... 'What's dat mean,?'... 'Guilty or Not Guilty?'... 'Guilty'... 'Very well, two months in The Refuge or one hundred dollars. Move along now...'
So here I sit. One month inta my sentence. I haven't eaten da slop dey feed us. Don't need ta. Don't mattah if I live or die. Da guard is making his rounds again. If I actually cared I'd bust outta here, but I don't. What's he stoppin' in fron'a da cell for? Oh. Okay He let me out... Wondah who paid da fine... Nobody I know could affoahd it.... He ain't gonna tell me eiddah. Great!
I don't see anybody I know waiting for me. Who da Hell paid da fine? Wait, is dat...?
A cloud of red faced him, looking out the window. "Here he is, Miss. You're free to go now," the guard broke through Skittery's thoughts, walking back to his desk.
"What are you doin' here? Why'd you get me out?" he fired off questions at her as they left the courthouse. She didn't speak. "Dearbhail... please say somethin'. I dasoive ta rot in Hell fah-" he continued to try to get her to speak to him, only to be cut off when her finger pressed against his lips.
"Sssh. That wasn't you, love," she smiled softly, her thumb outlining his lips. Her arm was still in the cast. "The factory fired me. Papa doesn't know I'm here," she tried to answer all of his questions.
"What bank did you rob ta get da money and what did you do dat for??" he asked, still thoroughly confused. He stepped back a few paces from her.
"No bank... I sold an old ring from my dad's side of the family that was coming to me when he passed away. Are you gonna keep askin' questions or kiss me?" she responded, twirling a lock of hair that had fallen out of the bun. This was far too easy. Dearbhail leaned in, pressing her lips to his.
"Poet. Stop," Skittery stepped back a few paces, holding his arms out defensively to keep her at bay. He wasnt going to let her off the hook as if she hadn't hurt him. "So, what ya git me outta Da Refuge and I'm sposed ta drop down on my knees and beg ya take me back?" he asked, a hand running over his hair.
Dearbahil's jaw fell open. "I jis sold a family heirloom to get you outta jail, ass. Where's the gratitude?" she asked, growing more angry by the minute.
"Next time don't," he spat back, turned and walked away.
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Everything was back to normal... well almost everything. He was the same ornary but decent guy on the outside and to people who didn't know him too well everything seemed peachy. Only his close friends knew that Skittery wasn't himself anymore. He had developed a few vices, namely drinking and whoring. He barely had enough money to stay in the the LH, let alone eat consistent meals. It seemed he threw himself into those worlds to forget about *her*. A train out of control and about to jump rail. That was a good picture of him. That morning, he sold his papers like normal little did he know what news awaited him. After selling he headed back to the whore- house, running into Spot. "Ehya, Spot," he greeted the leader of the Brooklyn newsies as they fell into step drawing closer to the brothel. The smell of alcohol and disease already permeating the air.
"'Ey, Skitts. What're ya hangin' around heah fah? Don't you got a goil.. You look like shit, man," was the return. It was true. Skittery didn't care much about his appearance anymore. It was a miracle he could still sell. The two stood outside the brothel, smoking a cigarette.
"Dat's ovah," he dismissively waved his hand, walking inside. The minute he walked into the seedy establishment, Skittery was flanked by two scantily clad women with entirely too much make up, his regular whores. They both had red hair and green eyes. Yet, Skitt was over Dearbhail, wasn't he?
The next morning, around four, Skittery found his way back to the LH. His head swimming. Unfortunately for the entire LH, he was singing really loudly when he arrived inside. Still holding his last beer as he climbed the stairs, he avoided Kloppman and stomped upstairs, his words slurring into incoherent babble. "I'll kill him... You drunk fool! I oughta kick ya ass," a bleary eyed, cigar chomping Italian hollered before being held back by a half asleep Mush and Bumlets. "Newsflash, stinky. Dearbhail's dead," Race continued.
/The mug of beer Skittery had been holding slipped from his hand crashing to the floor, forgotten./ Skittery launched himself at Racetrack, his fists flying at his victims face, only to be pulled off of Race by the same two who had been holding Race back from Skittery. "It's true, man. Her obit was in the paper yesterday," Specs shoved an old paper in Skittery's face.
Dearbhail Murphey. 17. Died in the hospital early this morning when a carriage hit her yesterday. She is survived by her parents, Aiden and Moira Murphey and 5 sisters. Funeral services are tomorrow at St. Micheal's Cathedral at 9AM. She will be laid out for the wake at her parent's home until that time.
As if he had been struck by lightning, Skittery was on his feet, heading into the wash room. A few of the others followed him, astonished by his total 180 degrees of change. Sober completely by now, Skittery walked out of the wash room with a towel around his waist and his hair wet. "What you'se starin' at?" he rolled his eyes, removing his suit jacket from a closet and attempting to get the wrinkles out. Looking at each other, the rest of the boys went about getting ready for work. They all had a single thought in their minds 'Skitts done jumped off da deep end.
Hopping the back of a delivery truck, Skittery arrived in Queens at quarter after seven in the morning. Staring at the door to the Murphey's tenement, Skittery talked himself into and out of then back into knocking on the door. After knocking he stood nervously shifting his weight and waited for some one to open the door. "Whatdya want?" Erin spat out as the door opened. She was soon joined by the rest of Dearbhail's family at the door. Seven pairs of green eyes so much like Dearbhail's glared daggers at the distraught young man on the other side of the door.
Scratching the back of his neck nervously, Skittery cleared his throat before answering "I'se come ta pay my respects," he finally answered. The door closed softly then opened again with only Erin standing there.
"You killed her ya know?" Erin growled, backing away from the open door to let Skittery inside. He closed it behind him. "She was so upset when you cast her aside like trash dat she nevah saw da carriage come around da cornah," she continued, ignoring the fact that Skittery had begun to cry a little.
"My baby's gone! Why would God do dis ta me?" Moira Murphey wailed loudly, hugging the corpse which was spread out in the main room. Aidan Murphey pulled his wife off of their daughter and stepped back, rocking her in his arms. "What's he doin' here?" Moira nearly shouted when her eyes fell on Skittery. The entire family and few guests who were still in the room waited for his answer.
"Can I at least say goodbye?" he asked, tears springing to his eyes. The emotion must have shocked them because they left him with the body, escaping into the kitchen. "Ehya, Spitfire. Look, I'se sorry, aiight? You hurt my pride and things got way further outta hand dan dey was sposed ta. I'll always love you," he whispered, taking her hand in his and slipping on the ring he had worked to buy. He continued to whisper words of love into her ear, praying to whatever God existed that she'd somehow hear these words and move a little. "Ya gotta wake up, baby... I'm sorry. Don't abandon me. You'se all da family I got," Skittery sobbed quietly, not noticing when her hand moved a little bit.
"I-I want m-my neck-" he heard a hoarse whisper above him. These words were followed by a cough. The loud hacking brought the spectators into the room and Skittery's attention away from his own grief long enough to notice the eyes of the corpse flutter open and then closed again.
"Mary, Mother a God," some one in the crowd exclaimed as they all pressed forward to see if Dearbhail was really awake. Skittery was pushed to the back of the crowd crushing in on both sides. Erin ran to get the doctor who had pronounced her dead. Father O'Leary, the family's priest, was already leading a prayer over Dearbhail. Skittery was still unsure of what was really going on.
"Necklace," Dearbhail croaked out again, her voice still almost unrecognizable. Skittery nearly laughed outloud at the dumbfounded expressions from everyone in the room. Taking off the necklace Dearbhail had given him what seemed like years ago, he forced his way forward and clasped it back around Dearbhail's neck, where it belonged. "See? You kept it. We belong together," Dearbhail's emerald eyes sparkled with the familiar superior air they usually held when she was proven right about something, although she still hadn't moved anything but her hand.
Erin returned with the doctor who was, to say the least, scared out of his mind. The miraculous recovery didn't make sense. He could lose his liscense over this. In fact he did eventually. Examining her vitals again he found her pulse was much stronger than it had been and she was consious by then. "Excuse me.... everyone out now. I need peace and quiet to make sure everything's alright. Take this damned Catholic prayer service somewhere else. Now. That includes the family. Out," the doctor did something he would live to regret, insult a room full of people who were already mad at him for messing up. Instead of admitting fault, he tried to cover up and fast talk his way out of responsibility, after showing his bigotry towards the bulk of the room's religion. Most of the room posessed the stereotypical Irish Temper. Bad move. What followed was a deafening silence.
Erin rushed forward, attempting to rip the doctor's head off. "You stupid, filthy article. I'll kill you!" the pint sized ball of anger screeched, launching herself at him. The doctor was saved by her wrath when Skittery stepped forward and picked her up over his shoulder, setting her back down beside her mother.
Just as relief registered on the doctor's face, Skittery stepped forward again, accompanied by Aiden and every man in the room. "Mister Murphey deserves da honahs. Any objections?" Skittery's voice was almost gleeful at the prospect of ripping the now shaking and red faced old quack apart with his bare hands.
The one thing that could calm down the angry mob was a plea from Moira Murphey to "Take the bloodshed outside, gentlemen. There are ladies and a priest present! Erin, you aint leavin' my sight".
"The Lord teaches us to turn the other cheek. You're absolutely correct, Moira.... Yet, I believe He can over look our outburst this once. Have at him, Aiden. Do take it away from the women folk, though," Father O'Leary replied, an almost devilish smile curving his lips. Without one more moment of reflection, fifteen angry men, headed by Aiden Murphey and Dearbhail's would be fiancee, forcebly carried the snivelling doctor outside, leaving the women and children to crowd around Dearbhail.
Aiden broke a 2x4 piece of wood off an abandoned apartment building's front stoop. As he swung it into the air, Aiden was overcome with sobbing. "I refuse to turn into the beast you believe me ta be. You aren't worth it. You'll be hearing from my lawyer. I'll have your liscense for this. Take him away," the visibly shaken and haggard man dropped the block of wood and headed back inside, followed by most of the men. Smiling secretively, Father O'Leary's arm held Aiden, helping him inside. The priest looked as if he knew Aiden would come to his senses. Skittery stayed behind.
Before closing the door, Father O'Leary smiled and nodded at Skittery, as if giving him permission. Skittery felt as if a boulder had been lifted from his shoulders. Everything was going to be alright. "I wish I could be satisfied with that," Skittery seethed, punching him hard across the jaw, hearing it crack as the doctor spun and fell into a bank of snow. He waited for a second in case the doctor wasn't knocked out. There was no movement. Sneering one last time and kicking him as he walked by, Skittery went back inside. The sight inside was enough to make Skittery want to run back to the Lodging House and hide. He couldn't move anywhere.
The crowd seemed to multiply. This was due solely to what most in the room considered a sheer miracle. Typical of people of that religion, miracles were very plausible and happened all the time if one looked for them. Dearbhail, who had previously been thought dead, was now breathing and speaking, albeit slowly and groggily. She hadn't been allowed to try to move at all. Moira was hovering to closely for that. Aiden had been taken to the other corner of the room by the men to calm him down and get him sloshed with a few celebritory 5ths.
Joining a very confused newsie in the back of the room to watch the scene unfold, Father O'Leary leaned over and grinned again "Yes, my son, miracles can happen. Go up there. Dearbhail is waiting. Everything's going to be just fine now. She has you back," the holy man answered all the questions Skittery didn't even know he had.
"Micheal. Come here, please," Moira's voice sounded over the dull roar of the room. It held a ring of amusement that wasn't there before. Arriving at her side, Skittery wondered what was going on. "My daughter seems to have gained a piece of jewelry I have never seen before. Care to explain it's existance?" she asked, her eyes identical to Dearbhail's dancing green embers.
Aiden muscled his way to his daughter's side. His face a fire spitting volcano of fury. Jesus. Skittery still wasn't good enough for this man's daughter. "I won't have deceit under this roof, Moira," Aiden hollered. The crowd dispersed a few feet back from the shocked family and the young man who had unintentionally caused the trouble.
"Da. Stop it. Just stop, please," Dearbhail's voice rose over her father's followed by a coughing fit until Erin brought her water. When she was able, Dearbhail continued, taking on the air of the stubborn and indignant queen Skittery had grown familiar with and loved. "Nobody has decieved you. He hasn't asked me anything yet. Either you let Mike and I get married or I will be forced to leave and never come back... as soon as I can get up, that is," the tone of her voice told the whole room she was deadly serious. Dearbhail slipped off the ring, handing it back to Skittery. Aiden wasn't moved. "I'm jis as stubborn as you," she finished, her voice growing more and more muddled. Like a stand off at the OK Coral, Dearbhail and her father stared into the other's eyes to try to break the other's resistance. Neither would be breaking anytime soon.
Moira stood between them, taking their hands in hers. Making her husband of almost eighteen years look her in the eyes Moira smiled gently. "Aiden, they're jis as in love as we were and are. We lucked out with our arranged marriage but it's wrong of us to force our will on her if she's so dead set against it. She was right about Stephen. He was slime. Dearbhail is serious about this. You know her like you know yourself," she soothed, her voice taking on a mystical quality. It had always been the one thing that could calm Aiden's horrible temper.
"Dearbhail... just remember I am your father... and you can't just erase me, or your mother, from your life. Running away would not be the answer," he explained, almost pleading with his daughter to back down from this.
Father O'Leary stepped in, saving the day for the second time. "He's a good man, Aiden. Catholic or not, I see it in his eyes. He would lay down his life for her. You owe it to her and yourself to let her be taken care of after you're with our Heavenly Father," The priest stood his ground, standing before Skittery who was clutching Dearbhail's good hand, perched on the couch where she lay. Aiden sat in silence, looking like a man who had lost his whole world. The room was now only host to Dearbhail, Aiden, Moira, Skittery and the priest.
"Dammit, sorry Father," Moira crossed herself the minute the swear left her mouth. "Aiden you're going to let them marry, you hear me?" she continued, speaking up against him for the first time ever.
Finally defeated, Aiden met the eyes of each person left in the room. Settling on his eldest daughter, Aiden ran a hand through what remained of his carrot colored hair and sighed "You must really love him," he gave in quietly.
"I do, da. You wont lose me... you'll get more money to take care of everybody here. I promise," Dearbhail grinned, feeling more like herself. They had won.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Aiden sighed deeply "If you really love him... and want to be with him for the rest of your life.. then marry him".
Dearbhail threw her good arm around her father and pulled him to her, the smile on her face contagious "Thank you, Da. He hasn't asked me yet, though," Dearbhail shot Skittery a look that told him now was a good time. She had always wanted her family involved.
Moira could be heard sobbing quietly, watching the event unfold "My baby's gettin' married," were the only disearnable words.
Letting go of her father, only to be hugging her mother in the same one armed fashion. "I love you, mama," Dearbhail croaked out as the tears started pouring down her face. This continued for another few minutes before Dearbhail felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around to face the person, Dearbhail's eyes found nothing until her gaze travelled lower.
Skittery knelt in front of her, taking her hand right hand and kissing the knuckles. "Would you make me the happiest man alive and do me the honor of being my wife?" he asked, his voice filled with every ounze of love and admiration he felt for this young woman whom he wanted to grow old with.
Dearbhail sat speechless. Only when prodded by her mother did she break out of her teary eyed stupor and answer him "Yes. YES YES YES!" while pulling him into a hug and kissing his lips gently. This was how she had always imagined it. This was perfect.
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After telling the requested story to his granddaughter, leaving out quite a few details, Skittery was left alone with his memories as Moira had retired to get her "Beauty Rest". Skittery stood, walking over to the mantel where the bulk of the family photos were kept. his eyes falling on a picture of the wedding party with all their friends and Dearbhai;'s family standing on the steps of St. Patrick's Cathedral.
Hades: 7 IMs weeeeeeeee. Thanks!
Neffie: I did try to keep her from Mary Sue territory... oh well. She hurt him and he gets mad.... that's not Mary Sue, right? In a Mary Sue he'd take all the crap she gave him without reacting badly and shes far from perfect.
Lashes: It's not soon enough but it's a really long chapter... that makes up for it being forever right? Right?
Vinyl: *sigh* It's about time... Skittles went on strike until I promised he could be Frankenfurter in my RHPS thing.
Peeps: This chapter's a lot more angsty... WEEE
Moth: No need to kidnap him... Let's not talk crazy *smiles sweetly, offering a half naked Mush*
Princess: It's updated... WEEEE
Act: Hey... you didn't have ta wait too long... the other's did
Keva: WEEEEEEEEEEE ANGST *glomping tackle*
Cards: Was that an Oliver Twist reference? WEEEEEEEE Now that I've updated I expect you to, Capische? j/k
Half-Pint: WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Llinos: for almost writing the entire beginning... I tweaked it a bit though *grin*
Thumbsucker Snitch: Yeah The death and after that... her ideas. THANKS... I tweaked it a bit though, so don't get mad at me, kay?
A/N: I went a tiny bit overboard.Flame me if you must *sob* I explain it because the doctor's an idiot and they can't afford any better. Don't hate me. I got caught up! *shrug* Looking back over this chapter I realize I've got a thing for an angry Skittery... The title of the chapter is a Pat Benetar song. She ROCKED. One more thing... Dearbhail's family,. I LOVE THEM... mine. Especially Erin *grins and runs before the angry mob who wanna read the story attack her*
Stand By Me
Chapter 2: We Belong
"Tell me about when you proposed again, Papa," Moira requested, sitting at her grandfather's feet as he relaxed in his easy chair with his pipe. She stared up at him with pure glee written in her eyes.
Laughing, Skittery put his feet up "You've heard that story thousands of times. Sure you want to hear it again?" In response Moira simply nodded her head vigorously, grinning so hard Skittery was sure her face would break. He didn't speak for a few moments after that. His mind swam with memories.
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"It's about time you came to your senses, boy. She's madly in love with you." Dearbhail's mother, Mrs. Murpheysmiled warmly at the young man who had come to her about marrying her daughter. "I was beginning to think you'd never come to me about this. The only problem is going to be her father,"
He'd figured there would be a problem. He was still extremely poor. Dearbhail deserved some one who could provide for her. She shouldn't have to work so hard, not to mention the fact that Dearbhail's family was devout Roman Catholic. He and Dearbhail had been together for nearly 4 years. It was about time Skittery did something about it.
"Do you t'ink dis is a waste of time? She'd prolly be bettah off wit'out me." Skittery tried to talk himself out of what he had planned on doing that night. "I can't take care of her as well as a man with money could," The people in question would be home any minute. When Mrs. Murphey's back was turned, Skittery sampled the meager stew which was on the stove, waiting for dinner.
"Hands off dinner, Skittery. There has to be enough for nine people," she scolded teasingly. "Tell me, do you love my daughter? If so, nothing else matters. Mr. Murphey and I never had any money to speak of. And we muddled by with six kids even!" She pushed him into a chair at the kitchen table "You haven't answered my question. Do you love Dearbhail?" she persisted. Sitting across from him, Mrs. Murphey's gaze was unsettling. It felt as if she could read his mind, heart and into his very soul.
"What do you think?" He muttered examining the back of his hand to avoid her piercing eyes.
"Well I know you want to marry her." Mrs. Murphey finally looking away from him, stirring the thin stew instead. "But that is not necessarily the same thing."
"It isn't" Skittery looked up at the careworn woman now. "Seems a pretty big thing to me."
"It just means you want her," Mrs Murphey tasted the stew herself. "Love is a step further on."
"How d'yer get that?" Skittery had always considered the offer of marriage as the ultimate confession of love, the biggest commitment a guy could make.
"Would you put a roof over her head and bread on her table?"
"I could manage that." Skittery said with some pride.
"Well," Mrs. Murphey turned to face him again. "That's marriage."
"uhuh…" Skittery had no doubt about that.
"Would you walk away and leave her if you couldn't do that and someone else could? If you thought she could be happier with someone else..."
"She doesn't have someone else! Does she?" Skittery jumped up from the chair.
"…would you give her your last cent, your last crust of bread? Would you sit up all night with her if she was sick? Would you put her first, before yourself? Would you change your life for her? Would you give up everything for her? Would you die for her?
"That's a powerful lot of would you's Mrs. Murphey." Skittery's had not felt the need to consider any of these things - none were especially likely.
"If you have to think too long about any of those things…" she broke off as a commotion sounded at the door. The stew was ready, it would soon be time to eat.
"I don't and I do - I'm sure." Skittery blurted out quickly knowing the moment would soon be passed. "The last one - that's what matters ain't it? I'd die for her."
"All right." Mrs. Murphey smiled. "You pass - now all you have to do is convince her father."
"Yeah… that's gonna be…"
"But more importantly," The woman interrupted him as time was short now; "you need to tell her!"
"Dearbhail is convinced she needs to put you guys before her own happiness. She's talked it over with her friends from the factory. They're all married now," Skittery explained sadly. His voice dripped with bitterness.
"That sounds like my Dearbhail. That or she's hiding behind her family to keep from marrying you. She works in strange ways sometimes," the older woman sat down heavily. She didn't like admitting that her daughter might be lying to herself and her friends about being ready for marriage.
The rest of the hungry mob burst into the kitchen before the conversation could go on any further, leaving the nervous young man with more questions. Should he ask her and face rejection? Doesn't she love him just as much? Is she not ready? Will asking her push her away? He ended up losing the nerve to broach the topic with her father or Dearbhail. That night the nine of them had dinner. Skittery decided not to ask any life altering questions until he felt the situation called for it.
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Week's later Skittery sat around the Lodging House with one person on his mind. She'd been the one topic consuming him for as far back as he could remember. True their courtship lasted mere months but those months were his happiest. When one is so happy one should hang on to the source of the happiness for dear life. A sudden sinking feeling tugged at his insides as he continued to brood about the deplorable situation Dearbhail put him in by not being able to stand up to her father. Looking out the dirty window of the Lodging House, Skittery's gaze was met with a red headed figure collapsed and shaking on the feet of the Horace Greeley statue. without another moment's hesitation, Skittery ran outside to the lone figure.
"Baby! Baby what's da mattah?" he asked, sitting down beside her and brushing her hair from her wet face. His only answer was Dearbhail sobbing harder and showing soemthing into his hand. Thoroughly confused, Skittery stared down on their hands still holding onto the other. "What is it?" he asked, silently praying it wasn't what he felt it was going to be.
Hiccuping from all her sobs, Dearbhail choked out "I can't marry you".
Unable to remove his eyes from the small ring in his hand the only argument Skittery's mind could form was "But...".
In answer Dearbhail held up her left hand where the ring he now held had been placed. In it's place was a bigger, gawdier ring with emerald's surrounding it. "I gotta marry dis uddah guy" she apologized, her voice choking with the tears that threatened to bubble up again.
Flying into a panic, Skittery stood then sat down again and hugged her too him then stood up again, still holding her. "What?!? No! You can't" he tried to reason with her. The pair were seated on the statue once more, neither had the strength to stand.
"He says it's marry dis guy or be shipped off to an Abbey," Dearbhail explained, her voice resigned and lost, the tears still falling from her eyes, now soaking her dress. All Skittery could think to do was hold her tighter to him. While one arm held onto her, begging to be able to stay like this, the other arm snaked up her back, stroking her hair to calm her. "I came ta give you the ring back," she explained, through her sobs.
"Keep it," he insisted, closing her hand around the tiny gold object.
"I can't marry you... it's not right to keep it," Dearbhail protested stubbornly.
"Jis keep it," he whispered urgently. Something in his voice told Dearbhail to do as he wished and not argue.
Slipping it into her small change purse she smiled bravely at him and replied "I love only you".
Smiling warmly, a finger tracing Dearbhail's face the response was whispered "And I love only you... always". As he said these words, Skittery leaned forward, brushing his lips over her forehead lovingly. Hearing these words sent Dearbhail into another crying fit.
"I want to die!" she wailed loudly, a few people staring at the two as they passed. Skittery stared back at them, shooting what he hoped was a deadly glare, his hands still stroking her head and back slowly as he whispered soothing words into her hair.
"No.. no you dont. You want to live... You never know what might happen," Skittery answered cryptically. His voice had never been so soft and calming before. This dried her tears. He either was planning something or had suddenly become prophetic.
Always the dramatic type, "I'm dead without you", she stated emphatically.
Stroking her cheek lovingly with his fingertips, Skittery smiled again. "The course of true love never did run smooth ," he reassured her. Dearbhail smiled a little as he continued to stroke her face. Quoting Shakespeare? He realy had changed. "Listen, maybe we can secretly see each uddah," he suggested slowly, knowing that Dearbhail would never be satisfied with that. Truth is, neither would he.
Pulling away from his embrace, Dearbhail exploded, taking his hand to her heart "Dat ain't good enough! Dis belongs ta you". They stayed like this for what seemed like hours but was, in reality, mere minutes.
Looking at her with more love than he had ever thought possible, until Dearbhail came into his life, Skittery asked "What are we gonna do about it?".
Dearbhail's face lit up. Skittery could see the wheels in her head spinning rapidly. Watching her pace, talking to herself, he waited for her to reveal what was going on under that mop of frizzy red hair. "In Romeo and Juliet... she faked her death and they were supposed to run off together," immediately, Skittery could see where her desperate mind was headed and he didn't like it at all.
"Baby... You remember da end a dat story, dontcha?" he reminded her gently, still watching her pace back and forth before him.
"Yeah... But this time it'll woik," she answered simply, kissing the tips of his fingers as they grazed her lips.
"And if it doesn't..." he questioned, biting his lip. Dearbhail seemed to be lost in her own thoughts as usual.
"We don't have a meddling Balthazar... I'll be dead," Dearbhail came out of her planning to answer him with the obvious. "Eiddah way, I ain't marryin' dat asshole from the factory," she growled. She had developed quite a problem with cussing since she met him.
Skittery ran his free hand through his hair, setting his cap on Dearbhail's head. It flopped over her eyes, way too big for her. He took it off then set it on backwards to keep her eyes showing. "Dis is crazy, you know that?" he tried to remove the worry from his eyes. His voice betrayed him. Smiling the smile of the michievious nymph he knew Dearbhail was, she dragged him closer by his suspendars and kissed him hotly.
"So?"
"Dis bettah woik," he growled, deepening the kiss.
"It has to," she responded breathily. Pulling back, Dearbhail's voice recovered "I should go. Can't lose my job, right?" the two stood a little further apart so as to not get carried away and cause a spectacle.
Skittery nodded slowly, licking his lips, savoring the feeling of her lips on his, the taste of her still lingered in his mind. "When are we gonna woik out da details?" he asked, trying to delay her departure as long as possible.
"I'll send Erin by with instructions in two days,"
"Okay", he agreed, pulling her tightly against him again and kissing her as if it would be the last time he would ever see her again, "I love you," he whispered. It probably would, knowing how unlucky Skittery's life had been up until meeting this firey haired angel. God gave her to Skittery so it'd figure God would take her away... Skittery was starting to doubt there was really a God.
"I love you to," she answered, removing a locket around her neck and clasping it around his.
Plastering what they both knew was a pathetic excuse for a brave smile, Skittery pulled her to him one last time and whispered into her hair "Seeya later". Dearbhail was shaking slightly because she was fighting letting her sobs take over her body. "Don't worry," he soothed, kissing her eyelids.
Taking a long ragged breath, Dearbhail returned the smile and stood, straightening her back, giving an air of a queen. This was the Dearbhail Skittery loved. "We'll be fine." Dearbhail stated, trying to convince herself of it more than Skittery.
"We will," he agreed, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Neither of them believed this to be true, saying it merely for the other's sake. Dearbhail clung to him impulsively.
"I don't wanna move," she whined. This ripped Skittery's heart out. He didn't want her to either but there was nothing either of them could do. It wasn't meant to be.
"Ya have to.. if we'se gonna escape latah," he reasoned, whispering the words into her ear.
"Aiight," Dearbhail stepped back, becoming the Queen again.
Stealing one last, lingering, kiss, he told her he loved her then let her walk to the factory.
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Two days later Skittery broke down and watched for Erin, a smaller version of her sister, to show up. She didn't. He had a sick feeling in his stomach since the last day he saw Dearbhail that it would be the last... but until that moment he had clung to a small sliver of hope that everything would work out. Skittery became the personality that earned him the glum and dumb reputation when Dearbhail decided to break his heart. He had finally turned his life around with her in it... then she had to go and... well. It was more than he could stand.
Skittery watched the sun go down on the second day. He hadn't eaten or slept since she left him. In fact he hadn't moved from his perch on the window sill. He just stared listlessly out the window. As night fell, a blanket was draped over his shoulders. Kloppman had felt bad enough for the young man to let him stay in the Lodging House without paying. Each of the newsies had tried to break Skittery's silence. Even if he was yelling at them it was better than this pathetic silence that had settled in and taken hold of his being. Nothing worked.
On the evening of the third day an intervention was held. "Ehya Skitt. Cold night, ain't it?" a small voice ventured to engage Skittery into conversation- or distract him, whichever worked. Looking in the direction the voice came from, Skittery nodded and went back to staring out the window. Minutes later, Skittery was lifted off the window sill and carried into the lounge area. Skittery fought them both off as hard as he could but finally gave up, slumped down in an old chair that was losing it's stuffing. He reminded his friends of that chair. A shadow of his former self. Peering up through dissheveled hair and half closed eyes, Skittery glared at his assailants silently.
"Well, he's glarin' at me. Dat's a stawt," a overly chipper voice broke through Skittery's daze. The young man's shiney black mane bounced just as perkily as his voice sounded, irritating Skittery even more. "'Ello, Grumpy. Join us for a chat won't ya?" the voice belonged to Swifty. Laughing, he tapped Skittery on the head and stood back in case Skittery turned into the rabid dog he resembled, minus the foaming mouth. At least the angry Skittery was coming back; simmering quietly behind his eyes. This was better than the emotionless Skittery. "We'se come to a decision. We ain't lettin' you carry on like dis," he continued when it appeared Skittery was just going to sit there like a lump. Skittery's eyes took in the room as he sat. Everybody was there. Swifty. His other assailant, Pie Eater. Dutchy. Specs. Bumlets. Snoddy. Mush. Racetrack. Blink. Tumbler. Boots. Snipes. Crutchy. Even Jack decided to grace the room with his presense. The younger boys were standing near the door, looking at him hesitantly, as if waiting to see if they needed to run away from him quickly.
"Look atcha... Da Return of Glum and Dumb. No. Dis one is Dumb and Pathetic," Racetrack began. Figures he'd be the most vocal and angry about the new Skittery.
"Yes, we know Poet ripped out ya hawt and stomped on it, leavin' you fah dead. No, we can't understand da pain you feel and we ain't pretendin' ta...," Dutchy interrupted Racetrack before Skittery attacked him. They had forgotten to tie him to the chair. There was a long silence where the one on trial and the ones pleading for the return of their friend stared at each other. It was broken by a small voice approaching from the door.
"We all miss ya, Skitt," the voice spoke softly, with a hand on Skittery's arm. Tumbler. Skittery really had been mean to him lately. Skittery sat still, staring at the younger boy. There was nothing he could say. When Skittery didn't snarl at him, Tumbler hugged him tightly. He was visibly shaken by the child's outbreak of... affection, was it? Skittery tossled his hair in response but still said nothing.
"It's jis so beautiful," Racetrack cracked, wiping a fake tear from his eye and leaning on Blink who sobbed along with him. A general chorus of fake sobs and sympathetic "Awww"s rang out.
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A full month after Skittery's intervention, there was still no word from Dearbhail or her sister, Erin. It was as if she had vanished off of the face of the Earth. Skittery had finally settled back into being his old self... before he knew *she* existed. That's when it happened.
"Mike! Skitt!" Skittery was pulled out of a deep reverie by the sound of his name being called down the street. Looking up, Skittery thought he was still in a dream state. Was that Erin? Yes it was. Standing up, he met her half way. Still out of breath, Erin held his arm to keep him from speaking and to keep her standing up right. "Dearbhail's in the hospit-" before she could continue, Skittery interupted her.
"What?!? Why?!? What happened?!? Which hospital?!?" Skittery fought to stay calm. He was losing the battle. Part of him wanted to pretend he didn't care if she had been killed. She had hurt him just too much. But he could no longer deny his love for her. No matter how much her forgetting about him hurt, he still loved her with every fiber of his being.
"Saint Mary's. But Ski-" Erin continued, only to watch him run toward the hospital. She hollered after him to get him to turn around. There was more bad news. When he was again at her side Erin continued "Daddy has her room guarded".
"What kind of accident was it?" he asked, calming down for the moment.
"Her hand slipped on one of the sewing machines. She's crippled now. The hand's useless but she's lucky she still has the arm," Erin revealed, knowing he wasn't one to just forget about his love when his love is in need. Dearbhail needed him more than she ever had before, that is if he still loved her. "That's not all, though. Aiden broke off the engagement because he is too much a bastard to take care of her. His reasoning was that the accident was a deal breaker. Mike, she still loves you. Daddy found out about the plot to get you guys together and well, I'm sorry... She's a fallen person without you" Erin went on as Skittery sat in stunned silence, absorbing all this new information.
'She still loves me? The engagement is off? What should I do now?' he thought over the the situation and possible actions he should take, deciding that neither Hell nor high water would keep her from him. "Erin, you have ta get me in ta see her," he declared, his eyes wild with promise and a plan. Erin handed him a lay out of Saint Mary's Hospital.
"What ever you decide to do... I promise you, if you hurt my sister, I'll kill you. I should get going before the bell rings to end lunch," The little 10 year old threatened, half serious, before running back to the school across town in Queens where Dearbhail's family lived.
When she had disappeared, Skittery ran inside.
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At half past ten that night, Skittery crept out onto the fire escape and out into the night. Making his way out of the alley, Skittery waited until a big truck rolled by, catching the bumper of it and hopping onto the bed, along with 40 chickens. 'Great. Now Imma smell like chicken shit to! Aiight, gotta come up with what I should say to her... why is dis difficult? 'Cuz she left you, ass' Skittery's mind was churning a million miles a minute. Before he knew it, Skittery arrived at the hospital. The trip had taken about an hour. Staring up at the four story building, Skittery's mouth went dry, as if he had swallowed sawdust. Looking at the map Erin had given him, Skittery located Dearbhail's room and a fire escape to get inside. Stepping onto the bottom rung of the ladder onto the fire escape, Skittery fell backwards, landing in the snow on his back. 'She bettah be worth it. Time fah plan B... Jis as soon as I think a it,' he growled, standing up and heading towards the emergency exit.
An orderly, who appeared to be around the same build as Skittery, stood by the exit, smoking on a cigarette with a big laundry recepticle nearby. Thinking quickly, he snuck behind the other young man. "Can I bum a smoke?" he asked, when the orderly turned, Skittery slammed his elbow into the guys face and pushed his head into the brick of the building as he fell. "Sorry man," he apologized, removing the guys uniform and replacing it with his clothes. With one last look at the pathetic figure in his clothes, passed out and bleeding from his nose, he moved inside with the laundry recepticle. 'Now what?' he asked himself, entering the building. Before he could answer that question for himself, a nun walked by.
"Orderly... what are you doing standing there as if there's nothing to be done? The Devil works through idle hands, my son. Collect the items that need to be laundered from the third floor and please do something about that smell," she requested, going about her duties at the front desk.
"Right away, sistah," he mumbled, pushing the cart up a ramp to the third floor. 'Dat was easy enough. Maybe dere is a God,' he mused, heading over to room 315 where the map read that Dearbhail had a private room. 'Half past midnight... Why can't my legs move? Come on, Pussy. Jis go in dere and demand an explaination. Hoit her as much as she hoit you. On t'ree. One... Two..' Skittery forced himself to open her door, expecting to see her lying asleep in her bed. That's not what he got.
"There are towels on the chair in the corner. Thank you," a cold lifeless voice sounded from the dark corner of the room. It was so unlike Dearbhail, Skittery figured Erin got the room number wrong. The gasp that sounded from the same dark corner, told him different. "No. God, don't torture me like this... Mike's forgotten about me, dammit. Don't make this harder than it already is. Make it stop. Poet that is NOT him," she whispered, obviously he'd have to say something now. Dammit.
"You ain't seein' t'ings, Poet. I got a score ta settle wit' you," he spat out, his eyes showing all the hurt and anger she had caused to resurface. He waited a couple minutes to see if she had a rebuttle. she didn't have one. "Two days, hmm? I don't think ya evah intended ta marry me. Playin' around wit' my hawt was your plan da whole time. I don't 'preciate bein' lied to, bitch," the words left his lips before he could censor them. "Jis ansah me one t'ing... Why? No, ya know what? I don't care. It's too bad dat machine didn't do more damage," this last jibe was too much, even for him. He winced inwardly at how cruel his voice sounded.
"Are you through?" she asked, her voice barely audible, the tears threatening to slip out.
"I'll go now," he conceded, ignoring the pang in his heart that told him to run to her and hold her, begging her to forgive him.
"No. Why stop there? You forgot 'Spineless, stupid, evil'. Did I leave anything out?" she seethed quietly, more angry with herself than him. She knew she deserved all the grief he was dishing out at her. Never one to just sit and take verbal abuse, Dearbhail straightened her back, leaning forward and continued "You didn't seem too keen on approachng my father about us, yourself! You're nothin' but a scared little boy". Why did she have to go there? Bad move.
A vein throbbed at his temple. His jaw began to twitch. An inhuman sound ripped through the air. "I'll show you scared," he threatened, lunging forward to land on top of her. He didn't even look like himself.
Not recognizing him, Dearbhail screamed as he tore open her gown.
Minutes later a couple police men showed up. As if returning to his senses, Skittery let go his grip on her shoulders, allowing one of the police men to pull him off of Dearbhail and put the shackles around his wrist, unable to meet her eyes. He could hear her sobbing uncontrollably. What did he almost do?
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'I hope dey t'row da book at me. How could I do dat ta her? I love her... She hates me now anyways. I hate myself... Here we go... 'Micheal Behr, you are charged with breaking & entering and assault. How do you plead?'... 'On my knees Your Majesty'... 'Don't be flippant'... 'What's dat mean,?'... 'Guilty or Not Guilty?'... 'Guilty'... 'Very well, two months in The Refuge or one hundred dollars. Move along now...'
So here I sit. One month inta my sentence. I haven't eaten da slop dey feed us. Don't need ta. Don't mattah if I live or die. Da guard is making his rounds again. If I actually cared I'd bust outta here, but I don't. What's he stoppin' in fron'a da cell for? Oh. Okay He let me out... Wondah who paid da fine... Nobody I know could affoahd it.... He ain't gonna tell me eiddah. Great!
I don't see anybody I know waiting for me. Who da Hell paid da fine? Wait, is dat...?
A cloud of red faced him, looking out the window. "Here he is, Miss. You're free to go now," the guard broke through Skittery's thoughts, walking back to his desk.
"What are you doin' here? Why'd you get me out?" he fired off questions at her as they left the courthouse. She didn't speak. "Dearbhail... please say somethin'. I dasoive ta rot in Hell fah-" he continued to try to get her to speak to him, only to be cut off when her finger pressed against his lips.
"Sssh. That wasn't you, love," she smiled softly, her thumb outlining his lips. Her arm was still in the cast. "The factory fired me. Papa doesn't know I'm here," she tried to answer all of his questions.
"What bank did you rob ta get da money and what did you do dat for??" he asked, still thoroughly confused. He stepped back a few paces from her.
"No bank... I sold an old ring from my dad's side of the family that was coming to me when he passed away. Are you gonna keep askin' questions or kiss me?" she responded, twirling a lock of hair that had fallen out of the bun. This was far too easy. Dearbhail leaned in, pressing her lips to his.
"Poet. Stop," Skittery stepped back a few paces, holding his arms out defensively to keep her at bay. He wasnt going to let her off the hook as if she hadn't hurt him. "So, what ya git me outta Da Refuge and I'm sposed ta drop down on my knees and beg ya take me back?" he asked, a hand running over his hair.
Dearbahil's jaw fell open. "I jis sold a family heirloom to get you outta jail, ass. Where's the gratitude?" she asked, growing more angry by the minute.
"Next time don't," he spat back, turned and walked away.
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Everything was back to normal... well almost everything. He was the same ornary but decent guy on the outside and to people who didn't know him too well everything seemed peachy. Only his close friends knew that Skittery wasn't himself anymore. He had developed a few vices, namely drinking and whoring. He barely had enough money to stay in the the LH, let alone eat consistent meals. It seemed he threw himself into those worlds to forget about *her*. A train out of control and about to jump rail. That was a good picture of him. That morning, he sold his papers like normal little did he know what news awaited him. After selling he headed back to the whore- house, running into Spot. "Ehya, Spot," he greeted the leader of the Brooklyn newsies as they fell into step drawing closer to the brothel. The smell of alcohol and disease already permeating the air.
"'Ey, Skitts. What're ya hangin' around heah fah? Don't you got a goil.. You look like shit, man," was the return. It was true. Skittery didn't care much about his appearance anymore. It was a miracle he could still sell. The two stood outside the brothel, smoking a cigarette.
"Dat's ovah," he dismissively waved his hand, walking inside. The minute he walked into the seedy establishment, Skittery was flanked by two scantily clad women with entirely too much make up, his regular whores. They both had red hair and green eyes. Yet, Skitt was over Dearbhail, wasn't he?
The next morning, around four, Skittery found his way back to the LH. His head swimming. Unfortunately for the entire LH, he was singing really loudly when he arrived inside. Still holding his last beer as he climbed the stairs, he avoided Kloppman and stomped upstairs, his words slurring into incoherent babble. "I'll kill him... You drunk fool! I oughta kick ya ass," a bleary eyed, cigar chomping Italian hollered before being held back by a half asleep Mush and Bumlets. "Newsflash, stinky. Dearbhail's dead," Race continued.
/The mug of beer Skittery had been holding slipped from his hand crashing to the floor, forgotten./ Skittery launched himself at Racetrack, his fists flying at his victims face, only to be pulled off of Race by the same two who had been holding Race back from Skittery. "It's true, man. Her obit was in the paper yesterday," Specs shoved an old paper in Skittery's face.
Dearbhail Murphey. 17. Died in the hospital early this morning when a carriage hit her yesterday. She is survived by her parents, Aiden and Moira Murphey and 5 sisters. Funeral services are tomorrow at St. Micheal's Cathedral at 9AM. She will be laid out for the wake at her parent's home until that time.
As if he had been struck by lightning, Skittery was on his feet, heading into the wash room. A few of the others followed him, astonished by his total 180 degrees of change. Sober completely by now, Skittery walked out of the wash room with a towel around his waist and his hair wet. "What you'se starin' at?" he rolled his eyes, removing his suit jacket from a closet and attempting to get the wrinkles out. Looking at each other, the rest of the boys went about getting ready for work. They all had a single thought in their minds 'Skitts done jumped off da deep end.
Hopping the back of a delivery truck, Skittery arrived in Queens at quarter after seven in the morning. Staring at the door to the Murphey's tenement, Skittery talked himself into and out of then back into knocking on the door. After knocking he stood nervously shifting his weight and waited for some one to open the door. "Whatdya want?" Erin spat out as the door opened. She was soon joined by the rest of Dearbhail's family at the door. Seven pairs of green eyes so much like Dearbhail's glared daggers at the distraught young man on the other side of the door.
Scratching the back of his neck nervously, Skittery cleared his throat before answering "I'se come ta pay my respects," he finally answered. The door closed softly then opened again with only Erin standing there.
"You killed her ya know?" Erin growled, backing away from the open door to let Skittery inside. He closed it behind him. "She was so upset when you cast her aside like trash dat she nevah saw da carriage come around da cornah," she continued, ignoring the fact that Skittery had begun to cry a little.
"My baby's gone! Why would God do dis ta me?" Moira Murphey wailed loudly, hugging the corpse which was spread out in the main room. Aidan Murphey pulled his wife off of their daughter and stepped back, rocking her in his arms. "What's he doin' here?" Moira nearly shouted when her eyes fell on Skittery. The entire family and few guests who were still in the room waited for his answer.
"Can I at least say goodbye?" he asked, tears springing to his eyes. The emotion must have shocked them because they left him with the body, escaping into the kitchen. "Ehya, Spitfire. Look, I'se sorry, aiight? You hurt my pride and things got way further outta hand dan dey was sposed ta. I'll always love you," he whispered, taking her hand in his and slipping on the ring he had worked to buy. He continued to whisper words of love into her ear, praying to whatever God existed that she'd somehow hear these words and move a little. "Ya gotta wake up, baby... I'm sorry. Don't abandon me. You'se all da family I got," Skittery sobbed quietly, not noticing when her hand moved a little bit.
"I-I want m-my neck-" he heard a hoarse whisper above him. These words were followed by a cough. The loud hacking brought the spectators into the room and Skittery's attention away from his own grief long enough to notice the eyes of the corpse flutter open and then closed again.
"Mary, Mother a God," some one in the crowd exclaimed as they all pressed forward to see if Dearbhail was really awake. Skittery was pushed to the back of the crowd crushing in on both sides. Erin ran to get the doctor who had pronounced her dead. Father O'Leary, the family's priest, was already leading a prayer over Dearbhail. Skittery was still unsure of what was really going on.
"Necklace," Dearbhail croaked out again, her voice still almost unrecognizable. Skittery nearly laughed outloud at the dumbfounded expressions from everyone in the room. Taking off the necklace Dearbhail had given him what seemed like years ago, he forced his way forward and clasped it back around Dearbhail's neck, where it belonged. "See? You kept it. We belong together," Dearbhail's emerald eyes sparkled with the familiar superior air they usually held when she was proven right about something, although she still hadn't moved anything but her hand.
Erin returned with the doctor who was, to say the least, scared out of his mind. The miraculous recovery didn't make sense. He could lose his liscense over this. In fact he did eventually. Examining her vitals again he found her pulse was much stronger than it had been and she was consious by then. "Excuse me.... everyone out now. I need peace and quiet to make sure everything's alright. Take this damned Catholic prayer service somewhere else. Now. That includes the family. Out," the doctor did something he would live to regret, insult a room full of people who were already mad at him for messing up. Instead of admitting fault, he tried to cover up and fast talk his way out of responsibility, after showing his bigotry towards the bulk of the room's religion. Most of the room posessed the stereotypical Irish Temper. Bad move. What followed was a deafening silence.
Erin rushed forward, attempting to rip the doctor's head off. "You stupid, filthy article. I'll kill you!" the pint sized ball of anger screeched, launching herself at him. The doctor was saved by her wrath when Skittery stepped forward and picked her up over his shoulder, setting her back down beside her mother.
Just as relief registered on the doctor's face, Skittery stepped forward again, accompanied by Aiden and every man in the room. "Mister Murphey deserves da honahs. Any objections?" Skittery's voice was almost gleeful at the prospect of ripping the now shaking and red faced old quack apart with his bare hands.
The one thing that could calm down the angry mob was a plea from Moira Murphey to "Take the bloodshed outside, gentlemen. There are ladies and a priest present! Erin, you aint leavin' my sight".
"The Lord teaches us to turn the other cheek. You're absolutely correct, Moira.... Yet, I believe He can over look our outburst this once. Have at him, Aiden. Do take it away from the women folk, though," Father O'Leary replied, an almost devilish smile curving his lips. Without one more moment of reflection, fifteen angry men, headed by Aiden Murphey and Dearbhail's would be fiancee, forcebly carried the snivelling doctor outside, leaving the women and children to crowd around Dearbhail.
Aiden broke a 2x4 piece of wood off an abandoned apartment building's front stoop. As he swung it into the air, Aiden was overcome with sobbing. "I refuse to turn into the beast you believe me ta be. You aren't worth it. You'll be hearing from my lawyer. I'll have your liscense for this. Take him away," the visibly shaken and haggard man dropped the block of wood and headed back inside, followed by most of the men. Smiling secretively, Father O'Leary's arm held Aiden, helping him inside. The priest looked as if he knew Aiden would come to his senses. Skittery stayed behind.
Before closing the door, Father O'Leary smiled and nodded at Skittery, as if giving him permission. Skittery felt as if a boulder had been lifted from his shoulders. Everything was going to be alright. "I wish I could be satisfied with that," Skittery seethed, punching him hard across the jaw, hearing it crack as the doctor spun and fell into a bank of snow. He waited for a second in case the doctor wasn't knocked out. There was no movement. Sneering one last time and kicking him as he walked by, Skittery went back inside. The sight inside was enough to make Skittery want to run back to the Lodging House and hide. He couldn't move anywhere.
The crowd seemed to multiply. This was due solely to what most in the room considered a sheer miracle. Typical of people of that religion, miracles were very plausible and happened all the time if one looked for them. Dearbhail, who had previously been thought dead, was now breathing and speaking, albeit slowly and groggily. She hadn't been allowed to try to move at all. Moira was hovering to closely for that. Aiden had been taken to the other corner of the room by the men to calm him down and get him sloshed with a few celebritory 5ths.
Joining a very confused newsie in the back of the room to watch the scene unfold, Father O'Leary leaned over and grinned again "Yes, my son, miracles can happen. Go up there. Dearbhail is waiting. Everything's going to be just fine now. She has you back," the holy man answered all the questions Skittery didn't even know he had.
"Micheal. Come here, please," Moira's voice sounded over the dull roar of the room. It held a ring of amusement that wasn't there before. Arriving at her side, Skittery wondered what was going on. "My daughter seems to have gained a piece of jewelry I have never seen before. Care to explain it's existance?" she asked, her eyes identical to Dearbhail's dancing green embers.
Aiden muscled his way to his daughter's side. His face a fire spitting volcano of fury. Jesus. Skittery still wasn't good enough for this man's daughter. "I won't have deceit under this roof, Moira," Aiden hollered. The crowd dispersed a few feet back from the shocked family and the young man who had unintentionally caused the trouble.
"Da. Stop it. Just stop, please," Dearbhail's voice rose over her father's followed by a coughing fit until Erin brought her water. When she was able, Dearbhail continued, taking on the air of the stubborn and indignant queen Skittery had grown familiar with and loved. "Nobody has decieved you. He hasn't asked me anything yet. Either you let Mike and I get married or I will be forced to leave and never come back... as soon as I can get up, that is," the tone of her voice told the whole room she was deadly serious. Dearbhail slipped off the ring, handing it back to Skittery. Aiden wasn't moved. "I'm jis as stubborn as you," she finished, her voice growing more and more muddled. Like a stand off at the OK Coral, Dearbhail and her father stared into the other's eyes to try to break the other's resistance. Neither would be breaking anytime soon.
Moira stood between them, taking their hands in hers. Making her husband of almost eighteen years look her in the eyes Moira smiled gently. "Aiden, they're jis as in love as we were and are. We lucked out with our arranged marriage but it's wrong of us to force our will on her if she's so dead set against it. She was right about Stephen. He was slime. Dearbhail is serious about this. You know her like you know yourself," she soothed, her voice taking on a mystical quality. It had always been the one thing that could calm Aiden's horrible temper.
"Dearbhail... just remember I am your father... and you can't just erase me, or your mother, from your life. Running away would not be the answer," he explained, almost pleading with his daughter to back down from this.
Father O'Leary stepped in, saving the day for the second time. "He's a good man, Aiden. Catholic or not, I see it in his eyes. He would lay down his life for her. You owe it to her and yourself to let her be taken care of after you're with our Heavenly Father," The priest stood his ground, standing before Skittery who was clutching Dearbhail's good hand, perched on the couch where she lay. Aiden sat in silence, looking like a man who had lost his whole world. The room was now only host to Dearbhail, Aiden, Moira, Skittery and the priest.
"Dammit, sorry Father," Moira crossed herself the minute the swear left her mouth. "Aiden you're going to let them marry, you hear me?" she continued, speaking up against him for the first time ever.
Finally defeated, Aiden met the eyes of each person left in the room. Settling on his eldest daughter, Aiden ran a hand through what remained of his carrot colored hair and sighed "You must really love him," he gave in quietly.
"I do, da. You wont lose me... you'll get more money to take care of everybody here. I promise," Dearbhail grinned, feeling more like herself. They had won.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Aiden sighed deeply "If you really love him... and want to be with him for the rest of your life.. then marry him".
Dearbhail threw her good arm around her father and pulled him to her, the smile on her face contagious "Thank you, Da. He hasn't asked me yet, though," Dearbhail shot Skittery a look that told him now was a good time. She had always wanted her family involved.
Moira could be heard sobbing quietly, watching the event unfold "My baby's gettin' married," were the only disearnable words.
Letting go of her father, only to be hugging her mother in the same one armed fashion. "I love you, mama," Dearbhail croaked out as the tears started pouring down her face. This continued for another few minutes before Dearbhail felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around to face the person, Dearbhail's eyes found nothing until her gaze travelled lower.
Skittery knelt in front of her, taking her hand right hand and kissing the knuckles. "Would you make me the happiest man alive and do me the honor of being my wife?" he asked, his voice filled with every ounze of love and admiration he felt for this young woman whom he wanted to grow old with.
Dearbhail sat speechless. Only when prodded by her mother did she break out of her teary eyed stupor and answer him "Yes. YES YES YES!" while pulling him into a hug and kissing his lips gently. This was how she had always imagined it. This was perfect.
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After telling the requested story to his granddaughter, leaving out quite a few details, Skittery was left alone with his memories as Moira had retired to get her "Beauty Rest". Skittery stood, walking over to the mantel where the bulk of the family photos were kept. his eyes falling on a picture of the wedding party with all their friends and Dearbhai;'s family standing on the steps of St. Patrick's Cathedral.