Disclaimer: I claim no rights to the characters or the places mentioned in the story. All that is Disney's is Disney's, and all that is mine is mine. This disclaimer holds true for all chapters posted, or to be posted of this story. I am not making money with this story; I am dirt poor, so don't sue me. I also take no claim to the song lyrics. Those belong to the producers, the artists, the composers, the record label, the writers, and the genius that is not my own. I am not making money off of it or any part of this story, no infringement is intended, so don't sue me.
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A/N: Thank you all for being so incredibly patient for this chapter. I'm sorry I had to go out of town, it isn't my entire fault! Well here you go, I personally am partial to this chapter because after this it gets so darn depressing. This chapter is my idea of fluff. He, he… - Sigh - I liked writing this chapter because after this it is all down hill. - Sob - sob -
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Warning: This chapter is rated PG - 13 for mild language, and domestic abuse.
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Chapter 4: Love is Blind
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"For love is blind and lovers cannot see…"
-- William Shakespeare
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The sweat poured down his face as he ran for his life. He was unsure of why he ran or from what, but he ran for dear life, turning every corner of every alleyway. Still something pursued him. Breathing heavily, he turned his steel-blue eyes in all directions, thinking of a way of escape. Something was burning him on his chest. Looking down, he saw that the cross and key hanging on his neck were searing his skin. Tearing at them, he tried to pull them off. Before that could happen, the ground beneath him opened and he was swallowed into all consuming darkness.
Spot shot bolt upright in his bed, gulping down air and pushing his hair out of his face. It was a dream, another one of those dreams. The darkness was back. That burning blackness that promised to envelope him in it's eternal night. Groping for the cross around his neck, he found it there, the cool metal pressed against his palm.
Chest still heaving, he looked around his dingy shack. It barely had enough room for his small corncob mattress, and the suns first beams were shining through the cracks he needed to patch. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he allowed his breathing to return to normal before he rose to get dressed.
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//Here in this collapsed lung of a borough,
There is no sunlight,
The sunlight is manufactured,
In a windowless room…//
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"Drought Caused by God's Disfavor," Proclaimed the headline and Spot wrinkled his nose in disgust. News must have been very slow for them to bring religion into the main headline. "Priests Say that Immorality is the Cause for the Lack of Rain," The subtitle scrawled underneath.
Muttering some non-understandable babble about the stupidity of the entire situation, Spot readjusted his cap, grasped his cane and headed out the gate. If he were lucky, he would sell out fast and maybe be able to find some relief from the intense heat. He had some business to attend to.
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//The bruises on her face will go away,
Mom keeps him home from school till they fade,
She's sorry he was born and tells him so,
She takes it in, she hangs her chin, she ducks another blow…//
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Emily stood over the kitchen stove, cooking the lunch meal for her father. Today he had told her that he would be home for lunch and she had better be sure to have lunch for him. Normally she would spend the whole day upstairs in her quarters, the doors locked against intruders. Today, she was in the kitchen slaving over the hot stove trying to prepare some sort of meal for her father.
The lunch was prepared and she was quite hot, overly so in fact. Opening a window to the alley by the kitchen, she let out some of the heat from the baking activities. Using the pump, she poured some water into a large wooden tub and began scrubbing the utensils she had used to prepare the meal. Today she didn't want to risk her father's displeasure.
The water-cooled her hands somewhat and she pressed the moisture onto her flushed cheeks. The heat wasn't the only thing that was making her face red, she had been thinking about Spot. The other night had been wonderful, just to be held by someone with no complication and no string attached. Oh but there were complications weren't there? Yes there were, she was falling for this strange street rat who had showed her the smallest kindnesses.
Lifting a dish from the water, she stood and began to dry it. Soon it shone with the noontime light as it flooded the kitchen. Right above them was where she and Spot had sat a few nights ago. His rough hand had held hers as she leaned against his warm shoulder. Lost in her own world, she didn't hear her father come in.
"What are you doing?" He asked in his loud manner, finding his daughter staring blankly at a dish. She started and the dish slipped from her grip sending it crashing to the floor. The shattering noise was deafening in the silence of the kitchen and her father's face turned bright red with anger. "You stupid good-for-nothing!" he yelled, storming over to her. Raising his hand, he slapped her soundly across the face. "That should teach you to be more careful!" His words were forceful, hard, cold, and merciless.
Holding her hand to the injured cheek, Emily held back the tears. "Your lunch is ready," she said shakily. "It's on the table," she pointed to the small room directly off of the kitchen that held only a small table and a few chairs. Kneeling she began dutifully picking up the shards.
No more words were spoken between the father and the daughter, she was accustom to his abuses, but every stinging slap added to her self doubt. She heard him stand from the table in the other room and walk towards the door. He was going out again. Never once did he ever make attempt to tell her where he was going, or even if he was going, he just left. The door opened and closed with a bang but Emily continued to clean the bits of glass that littered the floor. With every shard, her tears welled up further behind her eyes. After she had finished and disposed of the shrapnel, she found the broom and began to clean the area further.
If Emily was one thing, she was clean. Everything had to be in order, everything had to be clean, if they weren't, and her father would be displeased. That meant that she would be in trouble, and that wasn't something she wanted to be. At the thought of being punished her cheek began to sting with a new wave of injury. The thought of her father kept her going as she went into the dining room and picked up the plates and glass that he had used. Placing them into the already full basin of water, she began to scrub.
It was only then that the tears began to fall. Their salty water mixing with that swirling in the tub. She knew that she shouldn't cry, that it would make her father angry to know she was crying, but she couldn't help it. All she wanted was to please him, to make him love her, but instead all she did was make him even more upset. Maybe if she wasn't so stupid or ugly he would like her better, but Spot had said she wasn't ugly.
He was most likely just being kind, and she brushed at the tears with the back of her sleeve. Everything was so confused right now. Everything was so complicated. Why had she ever been born into this world? Surely there was a reason, though she couldn't see it now, but even as she scrubbed she could feel the bruise forming on her cheek. Shame flooded her, knowing the mark that it would leave. This was the punishment she would bear for not being good enough. At this thought, her tears began to flow harder still.
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//Like a bad star,
I'm falling faster down to her,
She's the only one,
That knows what it is to burn…//
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A breeze from the northeast blew into New York, offering little relief from the heat. Now not only was it unbearably hot, they were drowning in the humidity. Trails of sweat dripped from the workers in the factories and newsies alike. The humidity wrapped the city like a blanket, but with the moisture came the chance of rain. A welcome change that would be, for the headlines and for the community.
Spot moved through these hot streets with the trained ease of years of experience. Papers were sold, and it was mid-afternoon so he was headed to the lodging house. The afternoon edition would be out soon, but he didn't need to sell that one. He left that edition for the others, for those that worked only the afternoon shift, such as the school-going children, or the younger ones. Also, this was the time that he normally spent with Emily for the reason that no one else was ever there.
Her father was always gone and the other newsies never sold out this fast, and most sold the afternoon edition. Inside, he knew there were some things that he needed to do before he went to talk to Emily, but he felt the undeniable urge to be with her. They hadn't seen each other since that night on the roof, and he felt the all consuming want to feel that contentment again.
I'll be able ta see Fiah, too, Spot justified his visits with a practical explanation. He needed to talk to Fire and see what had happened.
Tension was building between the groups still. No more attacks had been made since Fire reappeared, but there was still a gap in the able bodied young men. Spot knew that something was going to happen and it was going to happen soon. The scattered and seemingly random attacks were just a precursor to the larger scale of things. Queens was planning something, and Spot wanted to know what.
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//I'm on the outside,
And I'm looking in,
And I can see through you,
See your true colors…//
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"I still don' undahstand," Bruiser scratched his head. "Why can't we just take 'im?"
"Because," Lice said tensely, "We'se jus' can't walk inta Brooklyn an' take 'im, 'e's too populah," the leader sat in the darkness with a few of the other Queens' boys. "We knows dat now. Doe's newsies were wit' Spot an' we knows it, but dey didn't tell us notin', you knows why?"
"Cause dey like 'im?" Drifter offered.
"Right," Lice nodded. "Dey likes 'im an' dey ah afraid o' 'im."
"So whot's we goin' ta do 'bout it?" Bruiser asked. "We can't just sits 'round doin' not'in. We ain't sellin' papes too good 'round heah," he scowled. "We needs some new terrahtory."
"An' we'se goin' ta get it, from Brooklyn," Lice promised. "But right now, we'se goin' ta wait," the leader cross his arms across his chest.
"We ain't goin' ta do not'in?" Drifter exclaimed his question. "We'se gotta do somet'ing, da boys ah talkin' 'bout how dey want Brink back. Dey is talkin' 'bout how dey don't likes ya no moah Lice."
"It weren't Brink dat were powahful, it were 'is dame," Lice growled. "But now dat we took cahah o' da lil' whore, Brink won't try ta come back heah," he spoke and they knew it was the truth. "Aftah all, I didn't say we'se goin' ta do not'in, I jus' said we'se goin' ta wait," he smiled slyly as he moved to the more pressing subject, his odd eyes sparkling with sadistic glee. "I'se got a friend dats goin' ta be helpin' us out boys," Lice made a jerking motion with his head and out of one of the shadows emerged a form. "I'd like ya's ta meet my friend heah. Dis heah gents name is Shadow," he informed them as the boy emerged.
The two other lad's eyes grew wide as the figure seemed to form out of pure nothing. Shadow was lanky, but not too tall to be overly noticed. His clothes were that of the street, his hat one that resembled the newsies' cap. Nothing too remarkable to note about his appearance besides the way he carried himself. A lazy stance overtook his pose, but the way his eyes shifted and took in everything gave you thing impression that he missed nothing.
"He's goin' ta be goin' inta Brooklyn an' helpin' us make dis heah Spot a lil' less popular, ain't dat right Shadow?" Lice grinned maliciously, and the Shadow nodded.
"How's he goin' ta do dat?" Drifter asked.
"Simple," Lice shrugged. "Shadow's goin' ta go woyk in Brooklyn. He's goin' ta be a newsie wit' Spot Conlon."
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//There's something inside me,
That pulls beneath the surface,
Consuming…
Confusing…//
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Spot found Emily in the kitchen as usual, doing something with her time. Today she was sewing the button onto one of her father's shirts. Her face was turned away from him, and he noted that the kitchen was even more spotless than normal. It looked like the floor's had been polished until every crack had yielded it's last bit of filth to someone's persistent hands. Removing his hat, Spot moved behind Emily and covered her eyes with his hands. A jump in her body let him know that she hadn't expected anything.
"Guess who?" He joked playfully.
"Spot," she breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought you might be someone else," he noted that she didn't turn to greet him. "You never know these days," she continued, her voice overly cheerful. "So many people out there, you really scared me," she lifted her work again. "Now I'd really like to talk, but I have to work right now Spot, maybe some other time," she continued to ramble in an uncharacteristic manner. When he moved to stand in front of her, she stood and looked at the wall.
"Oh look," she pointed and Spot stopped. "The window is open, I better go shut that!" She moved hurriedly to the offending window and rested her hands on the raised edge. With all of her strength she tried to bring it down, but it refused. "Stubborn windows," she laughed nervously, still not looking at Spot. "They never shut when you want them too!"
Brow furrowing, Spot walked behind her. The way she was acting was making him suspicious, but he said nothing. Instead, he stretched his arms out around her and placed his hands over hers. Forcing it downward, the window closed without much protest leaving Spot and Emily in a rather compromising situation. Spot's chest pressed against Emily's back and his hands still covered hers as they rested on the windowsill. The warm breath from his mouth tickled the back of her neck and she lowered her head to look at the floor. Neither one of the moved nor spoke, they simply froze.
"I need to get some work done," Emily muttered finally, but Spot didn't move. "Spot did you hear me? I said I need to get some work done, will you please move?" her tone was quiet and halfhearted as she slipped her hands out from under his.
"I hoyd ya," Spot cleared his throat. "I jus' don' wanna move," he admitted, trying to make it sound as authoritative as possible.
"Please," she softly spoke. "I don't want da to get mad again," he heard a catch in her voice and a something twisted in his chest.
"Is somet'ing da mattah?" Spot whispered into her ear and he felt her shiver.
"I have to work now Spot," she tried to push one of his arms out of the way, but it wouldn't budge. Ducking, she stepped under it but he reached out and caught her arm, she kept her head lowered as he moved closer.
Gently, Spot moved out his hand and cupped her chin, raising her face towards his. An ugly bruise crept across the far side of her left cheek. Her eyes were carefully lowered, a masked expression keeping him from knowing what she was thinking. Dark anger began to bubble up inside of the pit of Spot's stomach, he knew who had done this to her. It was her father.
"Did 'e do dis to ya?" Spot's voice came out rougher than he expected.
"Let me go," she protested weakly.
"No, yous goin' ta tell me who did dis to ya," he demanded.
"You already know," Emily informed him. "Please let me go, there is nothing you can do," Her voice broke at the end. "There isn't anything anyone can do," tears began to well up in her eyes and she tried to pull away.
"Wait," Spot said softly pulling her into his arms, he held her as she cried. Inwardly he cursed himself. He was going soft. Also he was no better than her father was. Demanding answers of her when he already knew the painful truth. This wasn't the first he had ever seen of this and he knew it wouldn't be the last. He himself had been a victim of such abuses, but holding a girl as she cried wasn't in the job description of being the toughest newsie leader around. The last girl he had done this for was Frost, and look where that had gotten him, she was gone. What could he do now? He couldn't just leave Emily to cry by herself, could he? The questions continued as he murmured soft nothings into Emily's ear and rubbed her back. Soon the tears had subsided, and Emily pulled back, ashamed.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, wiping I underneath each of her eyes. "I shouldn't have done that," she looked up at him and froze. Spot's arms were still firmly wrapped around her middle and her hands rested in the crook of his elbows. An apprehension formed in Emily's eyes as she realized the closeness between them. Licking his lips, Spot stared down at her, unsure of what to do, but knowing what he wanted. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her until she was breathless and clinging to his desperately, begging for more.
I shouldn't do it, Spot reasoned with himself. It wouldn't be right ta do dat, his thoughts continued. He knew that she had never been kissed, she had confessed as much to him the other night, to take advantage of her innocence would be wrong. Though, he couldn't deny his attraction to her, would it be wrong to do something that seemed like the most natural thing in the world? Oh hell, Spot thought as his tight control began to break.
Slowly, Spot lent over, giving Emily sufficient time to turn away. She didn't however. She tipped her chin up towards him and waited. Moving painfully slow, Spot edged closer to her face, continuing the debate whether this was the right thing to do or not, but reason seemed to be very futile right then. As he tilted his head to one side, his mouth glided closer to hers. She was close enough to taste when a loud crash was heard in the alley and they both jumped.
Spot left Emily to see what it was, his heart hammering in his ears. Opening the door he saw that a stray cat had knocked over a box. Turning back to talk to Emily, he didn't see her anywhere, but heard the door to the private quarters close and lock. Swearing under his breath, he cursed himself for being so stupid as to ever try something like that, but he couldn't help but want to try again. Why did he want to try again? Why had he even tried at all?
Still muttering under his breath, Spot headed for the stairs. He knew he shouldn't have tried to kiss her, chances were that she didn't trust him at all now. Since he was here, he might as well see if Fire was awake. After all that was the reason he had come, he reminded himself. The stairs up to the bunkroom creaked under each of Spot's heavy steps.
An invisible weight seemed to have settled on his shoulders. He had been so close and the only thing that his failure had brought forth in him was the more intense desire. More than anything he wanted to pull Emily into his arms again and kiss her until she was trembling and weak in his embrace. Then he would walk away, leaving her to want more. To burn for him like he had burned for her. That would show her, that would put her in her place… but could he do that?
The question went unanswered as he pushed into the boy's bunkroom, not wanting to think about it anymore. Fire lay on his bunk, his faces mauled almost beyond recognition, he was stripped of his outer-layers, and lay still on the bed. In fact he was so still he almost looked dead. As Spot edged closer, he saw the steady rise and fall of his friend's chest, and knew him to still be alive. If he was still so soundly asleep, Spot could wait to wake him. Now he had others things he could do, but when darkness fell it would be too late. So down the stairs he went and out the front door. Exiting this way seemed strange since he almost always exited the back door or the window route.
Now out in the oppressive sun, Spot made his way down to the docks, his cane swinging merrily, the gold tip glinting in the sun. Only four other boys were there, all of them factory workers, but they recognized Spot Conlon. Everyone knew who he was. If not by face, by reputation, his golden tipped cane helped identify him wherever he went. Today, Spot would indulge himself in a quick swim. Rarely did he reward himself with this pleasure, but he needed it today.
Stripping down, he plunged into the water. It was cool and refreshing and he felt it cleanse his body of life's grime. The other four all seemed to know each other and were taking turns showing off their various tricks from jumping off the dock. Spot simply swam underwater, letting the feel of the water sliding over his body calm and soothe him. The whole situation with Emily had him out of sorts. The Queens ordeal had him scowling most of the time. He couldn't rest, couldn't eat, and couldn't think properly with all of these things happening around him. Unsatisfied by the water, he climbed out and went to sit on his perch of boxes. The sun quickly dried him and his breeches and he fetched his clothes. Just as he finished slipping into them, a boy he had never seen before approached him.
"Ah yous Spot Conlon?" The new boy asked. He was lean and of medium height, his piercing dark eyes taking in all of his surroundings.
"I'se might be 'im," Spot said guardedly, anyone who didn't know him by his cane was suspect. "Who's askin'?"
"Da name's Shadow," the boy informed Spot. "An' I wanna be a newsie wit'choo."
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//We may rise and fall,
But in the end,
We meet our fate,
Together…//
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Time passed and Spot spent much of it talking with this Shadow boy. The boy claimed to have lived over on Stanton Island until a few weeks ago when he managed to get over here and had been working in a factory. The life inside a building didn't fit him so he heard about the newsies and was interested. Every newsie he had talked to had told him to go find Spot Conlon and finally one girl had directed him to these docks and that is how he came to be here.
"You got five cents?" Spot finally asked and the boy held up a nickel. "Den you can be a newsie," Spot answered. "You can stay at da lodgin' house unless you gots some oder place ya ah stayin'," Spot shrugged. "I was just headin' ta da place if yous wanna come wit' me," he offered.
"T'anks," Shadow smiled, and the boys walked in silence to the lodging house.
Already Spot had assessed the situation. Taking in the whole of the character of the boy. Everything from which his personality to the way he carried himself. One thing was gleaned from his inspection. Whoever this Shadow character, he wasn't someone to be trusted.
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//
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When they got there, Spot was thinking deeply. It was nearing dinnertime and his stomach was rumbling. The last time he had eaten was some old bread a baker was getting rid of for breakfast. Maybe he could go find something, he had enough money. Five dollars were in his pocket, and an assortment of change. The poker game last night had been a profitable one.
"Stay heah," Spot said to the boy and he went back into the kitchen. Emily wasn't in there, and he frowned. Going into the smaller room off of the kitchen, the one that held a small table and a few chairs, he didn't find her there either. "Emily!" Spot called out, careful not to be too loud. A moment of silence then the sounds of footsteps on stairs, a turn of a lock, and the door to the private quarters opened into the kitchen. The dark haired head poked out. "A new boys heah ta get a bunk, ya got a place ta put 'im?" he shifted uncomfortably as she came out and headed to the front, not meeting his eyes.
"Can I help you?" She asked weakly and Shadow's eyes darted between the two. Even without contact, he could sense a strongly protective air on Spot's part over this dark haired girl. A bruise on her cheek made him suspect possible abuse in their relationship, but he didn't know enough to assume that yet. If it was, it could be enough to turn a lot of disfavor upon the Brooklyn leader. For even if the boys and girls were broke and morally corrupt, they all knew that hitting a lady was wrong.
"I'se like a bunk," Shadow answered evenly.
"It's five cents to bunk here," she answered calmly, lowering her eyes to the counter in front of her.
"Heah," Shadow placed the coin he had earlier shown Spot onto the counter.
"Sign here please," she opened a large book and handed him a lead scrap. With his left hand, he grasp the piece of lead and signed where she had indicated. Scooping the coin up in her hand, Emily beckoned for him to follow and all three of them progressed up the stairs.
"There are three bunks open in the boy's room," she informed Shadow. "You can have your pick of them," when the entered the room, Spot stayed near the doorway, but watched them both carefully. Emily showed each of the open bunks and Shadow made his selection.
"Whot's da mattah wit' 'im?" Shadow asked, indicating Fire.
"We don't know," Spot moved away from the door and walked towards Fire's bed. "When he wakes up we'se goin' ta ask 'im." Out of the corner of his eye, Spot saw Emily moving out of the room and he made the same path without bothering to say goodbye to the newest addition to the newsies.
When he was gone, Shadow chuckled to himself. This is going to be too easy, he thought, Too easy indeed.
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//Would you look at her,
She looks at me,
She's got me thinking about her,
Constantly…//
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"Emily," Spot spoke. "Emily wait," he sped up as the girl rapidly descended the stairs. "We'se need ta talk," he informed her as he caught her arm at the bottom of the stairs.
"About what?" she fidgeted nervously.
"You knows 'bout whot," Spot moved his grip to both of her shoulders. "An' I ain't goin' ta apologize cuz I ain't sorry," he paused to catch her reaction before he went on. "I was goin' ta kiss ya in dere, an' if ya don' stop me, I'se goin' ta kiss ya right now," he informed her, expecting her to protest. The only reaction was the widening of her eyes and her jaw dropped a little, but if she didn't verbally command him to stop, Spot wasn't going to.
Bending down, Spot held her shoulders firmly in his hands. This time he wasn't as slow or cautious as he approached her upturned mouth. His mouth hovered above hers when they heard the front door handle turn. Both of them stepped back simultaneously as Spot lowered his arms. Flower and Spice tripped into the room. The selling partners both looked like they were near heatstroke as they nodded to their leader before stumbling up the stairs. Spice smiled at him, winking before she headed up the stairs to the bunkrooms.
As they disappeared up the stairs, Spot turned back to find Emily had left again. The girl had the ability to appear and disappear much like a ghost. Hurrying back into the kitchen, he saw her busily trying to prepare for the dinner. Her cheeks were flushed a bright red and her movements were jerky and fast.
Spot shoved his hands into his pockets and waited. She continued to move quickly, hurrying around the kitchen in frenzy. Taking things off of shelves and putting them back them taking something else off. Her train of thought seemed to have deserted her. After a bit, when she realized that he wasn't going to speak, she broke the silence.
"I have work to do," he noted that she had a quaver in her voice. "So it would be best if you would leave," she added stiffly.
"Lemme help," Spot moved away from his place in the doorway and went over to her as she tried to reach something on a high shelf.
The efforts the poor girl was making were futile without the assistance of a stool that happened to be on the other side of the room. For Spot however, with his fairly new acquired height, he reached the cooking supplies without much trouble. Handing her the box she had reached for, he noted that she refused to look at him.
"Thank you," she murmured as she tried to brush past him.
"Wait," he said, blocking her. "Please," he begged uncharacteristically.
That one word held everything else he wanted to say. Spot, the king of Brooklyn, had actually asked for something instead of taking it. Looking up at him, Emily froze. She hadn't realized just how close he was. Gently, Spot cupped her face in his hands and leaned over.
"Emily!" Her father's voice roared from the other room and Emily practically shoved Spot away before they kissed.
"Quick, hide in there," she pointed to the room with the table and chairs as she hurried to busy her hands with the dinner preparations.
"Emily!" Her father called again as he came into the kitchen just as Spot ducked inside the room.
"Yes da?" She answered politely.
"Get me some water," He ordered. "And make it cold." He looked around the kitchen and eyed his blushing daughter suspiciously. "Is someone else here?" He looked at her coldly.
"Just the newsies da," her soft Irish accent nothing of the overbearing drone of her fathers. "But they're upstairs."
"Are you sure?" He moved to look into the room where Spot was hiding.
"Yes da, I'm sure you have work to do, your water will be up in a moment," she had already fetched the cup and hurried over to her father's side, steering him towards the door of their quarters. Though the man frowned, he went, not having the real grounds for suspicion, and not really caring. Who would his daughter have in there anyway? Once Spot heard the door open and close firmly, he came out and Emily pointed towards the alleyway door. Both of them moved towards it and they both went into the alley. The entrance to the cellar was right by the door and Emily pulled out three keys unlocking each of the locks that kept the ruffians of New York out of their ice.
"Go home Spot," Emily told him, without looked up from her work. "Da could come down anytime. He would kill you," her words held a serious note that made Spot know she wasn't exaggerating.
"But…" Spot drifted off. What could he say? He couldn't admit what he really felt to her, he couldn't tell her how she was in his dreams, and how he tried to forget about her. What could he say? Could he tell her that he loved her? Did he even know if he loved her?
"Go Spot," she said softly as she lit the lantern that hung just inside the door and turned to descend the ladder. "Please," she looked up at him and their eyes met. The swirling pools of smoke, sky and earth meeting with the pure pools of emeralds.
Shoving his hands into his pocket, Spot turned to leave, all the time thinking how completely soft he had gone. If he had done this just a week earlier, he was convinced that he would have kissed her despite her protests. Nothing would have penetrated that hardened heart. No, even less time than that. If they hadn't had that conversation of the roof, he would have kissed her no matter what, but if it weren't for that conversation on roof would he have wanted to kiss her this badly? Practicing his finely tuned ability to curse, Spot rounded the building headed towards the nearest diner. He had money in his pocket and he was going to enjoy a good dinner. Maybe then he could forget about Emily.
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//Riddled answers,
Funny boy,
With your memory,
We do toy…//
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Spot had finished a hardy dinner for a little over a dollar when he made his way back to the Lodging house. It was a relative feast compared to his usual fare and he knew he was luckier than most. He ate better than many of the children on the street, and he was thankful.
The heat was still extreme, but at least a slight breeze was still blowing. Strong gusts would blow once in awhile, but rarely ever, and they were too hot to provide any much relief. Wiping his brow, Spot entered the front way and resisted the urge to go see Emily. Right now he had work to do, and work always came before pleasure not mater how pressing the pleasure seemed to be.
The bunkrooms were now full of people, but they were all sapped of all energy from the heat. No one wanted to play cards, no one wanted to talk, no one wanted to move. Some of the girls were in their bunkroom and a few of the boys speculated that it was for modesty's sake. A few had dared others to play peeping Tom, but none of them had the energy. When Spot arrived up there, he found that most of the boys reclined on their bunks, or the bunk of a friend stripped to the waist and very uncomfortable. Fire still was sleeping.
Angry and frustrated, Spot stormed over to Fire's bunk. His second, Outsider, leapt to follow his leader to the side of the boy. Spot didn't care if the boy had been almost killed, all he cared about what getting the answers he wanted out of the boy. Grabbing Fire's shoulder, Spot shook him roughly. When the boy didn't respond, he shook him again. Again and again the Spot attempted to wake the boy until finally Fire's non-swollen eye popped open. His good eye darted around the room and he opened his mouth.
"Watah," Fire choked.
"Get him some water," Spot instantly commanded Outsider and his second moved to obey.
Quickly, Outsider had returned with a bowl from the bathroom that the boys used to wash the face, filled with water. Sitting up as much as he could, Fire drank like one parched, soaking up the water like the ground soaked up the rain. He drank in such haste that the water spilled over his chest and bedcovers, but he didn't care. Finally, he had his fill and leaned back down in the bed and closed his eye. A sigh of relief came out of his cracked lips.
"Wheah you been, Fiah?" Spot asked coldly.
"Queens," The boy muttered, his breathing already becoming more relaxed.
"Whot happened in Queens," Spot shook the boy again, keeping him awake.
"Asked me stuff," he replied, his whole body ached.
"Whot kinda stuff?" Spot prompted, he needed answers.
"Stuff 'bout yous, youah fightahs, youah spies. I didn't tell 'em not'in," Fire said proudly. "I didn' tell 'em dat I knew yous oah not'in…" he drifted off and Spot shook him again. "Dere were a boy," Fire continued to babble, remembering different things at different times. "A boy wit' two eyes dat were differ'nt colahs," he lifted his hand to his own face and felt his swollen eye and then ran his fingers over his closed eye. "One blue, one black," he shuddered violently.
"Whot ah you talkin' 'bout?" Spot prodded, he remembered Frost talking about such a boy, but he had never pursued it.
"A leader wit' differ'nt eyes," Fire was drifting off again and Spot shook him, this time to no avail. The boy's body was too tired to react to the prodding and shaking on the Brooklyn leader.
In the corner, a shadow watched all of this unfold with hidden mirth. This boy Fire, who was weakened considerably, was practically babbling incoherently. The baffled Brooklyn boys stood around not knowing what to make of their friend's ramblings. The mighty leader stood more puzzled than them all. If they only knew what kind of havoc the boy with two different colored eyes was going to bring to them. The shadow came out into the light, and moving unnoticed to his bunk. Yes, this was going to be too easy, too easy indeed.
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//We all live,
Such elaborate lives,
Never sure,
Whose words are true…//
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No one bothered to try and wake Fire again after that. They knew that they wouldn't get anything good from him. Their friend was far too disoriented and full of pain to think clearly. They had gotten some answers from him, but the answers from his confused remembrances left them with only more questions. After the heat of the day began to subside, some of the boys began to play poker. Spot didn't join with them, his mind was elsewhere. Shadow moved over to place where the leader sat thinking.
"Yous a'ight?" He asked, actually seeming to care.
"Yeah," Spot brushed him off, not trusting him at all, but Shadow stayed.
"Whot do ya t'ink dis kid means 'bout da two colored eyes?" He asked, already knowing better than the rest of them what he meant. Though this could be an opportunity to open conversation and possibly a way to create a gap between the leader and his boys.
"I dunno," Spot answered despondently. "You evah been ta Queens?" Shadow shook his head, lying deftly. "Oh," Spot didn't make any attempts to further the conversation.
"Is dere anyt'ing I'se can do ta help?" Shadow offered, seemingly to be showing a rookie's kindness.
"No," Spot shot the offer out of the sky. There was silence between the two for awhile and Shadow waited just long enough for the previous conversation to fade from Spot's mind.
"Who was da goil dat showed us up heah?" Shadow tried a different tactic.
"Da lodging house owner's daughtah," Spot recited almost mindlessly. "'Er name is Emily."
"She's a pretty dame," Shadow dropped casually, testing Spot's reaction. "She got a lovah?"
"Yes," Spot tensed slightly, almost unnoticeably, but Shadow picked it up.
"Dat were some bruise on 'er face dough, I'se t'inkin' dat somebody's been beatin on 'er," Shadow saw Spot's jaw tense ever so slightly. "Maybe it's da boy she's seein'," he tested.
"Maybe," Spot answered coolly. Shadow had to hand it to him, Spot Conlon was a hard one to read, but if anyone could do it, it was he.
"Do ya t'ink it was?" He played the curious child, trying to withdraw a more definite answer.
"Don' you haves somet'ing ta do?" Spot asked calmly, obviously showing more mercy to the new guy than the others. "Go play pokah oah somet'ing," he offered, making it clear that Shadow wasn't supposed to be over here at this time. Sensing that his welcome was over, Shadow slipped away and mingled with various boys, satisfied enough with what he had learned by his brief visit. It was all a matter of time before he forged an angle to which destroy Brooklyn.
Spot Conlon 'as a weakness, Shadow smiled inwardly as he watched a poker game. An' dat dame is it.
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"So yous t'ink dat 'e can pull it off?" Drifter asked skeptically.
"I knows he can," Lice answered confidently.
"But no one gets close ta Spot," Bruiser sided with Drifter.
"No one 'as ta get close ta 'im, Shadow's just gotta finda way ta make 'is boys not like 'im so much," Lice explained.
"I still don' see 'ow makin' 'im less populah is goin' ta make it any bettah foah us," Grumbled Bruiser.
"Look, I'll talk real slow an use small woyds so yous will undahstand," Lice took great care in pronouncing each syllable with care. "If - Spot - Conlon - ain't - as - populah - when - we'se - attack - 'is - boys - ain't - goin' - ta - fight - as - 'ard - foah - 'im," He gave a dramatic pause before he continued. "Part of bein' a leadah is makin' it so dat peoples wanna follow ya, an if da people don' wanna follow Spot no moah, it'll be easiah foah us ta take whot we want."
"But whot about da sellin' ground dat we'se goin' ta take," Drifter started. "Da boys we take it from ain't goin' ta be too happy, de's goin' ta wanna fight," He pointed out and Bruiser nodded.
"Well den, we'se just goin' ta havta make shuah dat doe's boys ain't goin' ta be able ta fight," A evil grin lit up Lice's face and comprehension began to dawn on his two companions.
"Does dat mean we gets ta fight some moah?" Bruiser grinned.
"Yea," Lice smiled, but then turned serious. "But not now," Bruiser's grin disappeared. "We ain't goin' ta do not'in foah now. We'se goin' ta make nice wit' 'em foah now. We don' want ta cause Shadow no problems, a'ight?" Lice's unusual eyes looked back and forth between the two. "Good, now go and spread da woyd. We ain't fightin' any of da Brooklyn newsies on da outskirts," He smiled as he watched his partners go off to inform the others in the warehouse where the Queens newsies called home.
"No we ain't goin' ta be fightin' no more of doe's bastards," he spoke to himself. "We ain't going to stoop down ta dere level no more," he lit a cigarette and watched the rings of smoke he blew before finishing his thought. "We'se killin' dem in da core."
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//Discomfort,
Endlessly has pulled itself,
Upon me,
Distracting, reacting…//
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Manhattan was just as hot as Brooklyn and the boys all upstairs, stripped to the bare minimal, none of them making any moves at conversation. Some of them would get up every once in awhile to get a drink of lukewarm water before going back and lying down on their bed. The sweltering heat promised to only grow worse as the terrible sun blazed overhead. The gates of hell had opened and were pouring its unearthly heat over New York.
Jack was personally thinking about Spot and the odd conversation they had a few days ago. The Brooklyn leader had paid more visits lately than he had in months. No word from Queens had come to Manhattan, but that didn't mean that things weren't happening. Brooklyn and Queens had never been on good terms, but to stoop as low as kidnapping another newsie from the opposing side was unheard of. The Harlem leader hadn't had any contact with the group in Queens either.
But this didn't puzzle Jack nearly as much as the unusual relationship that he seemed to hold with the lodging house owner's daughter. He already knew that Spot still wasn't completely over Frost, come to think of it, he wasn't either. Something about that girl was like an infection, creeping into your veins and coursing through your body, but Spot was definitely holding a flame for this girl. Spot was never 'just nice to a girl'. There was always something in it for him, always something fueling it. It was hard to figure, as well as Jack knew Spot Conlon, he really knew nothing at all.
Standing from his bed, he went to look out the window at the darkened city. Finding a cigarette, Jack lit the fag and took a deep inhale. Somewhere out there, Spot was taking on the problems of the world, always trying to break the limits that were set to mere mortals. Defying death and the risks that it insured, Jack shook his head. Frost had done that to all of them. She made them all live a little harder, run a little faster, or jump a little higher. Smashing the but under his bare heel, Cowboy turned and went back to his bed. The soft breathing of his other comrades slowly lulled him to sleep.
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//Living might mean taking chances,
But their worth taking,
Loving might be a mistake,
But it's worth making…//
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The hour had grown late and Spot soon was sneaking out the window as had become his custom. Even when the lodging house owner wasn't sitting at the door asleep, this posed less of a risk of getting caught. Tonight he was actually looking forward to sitting on the roof and thinking. Something about the place was very calming and he could collect his thoughts. His thoughts wouldn't be alone because as he rounded the corner he saw that Emily was on the roof this night as well.
A strange warm feeling settled deep in the pit of turmoil within him, a peace that he only felt when he was with her. She was standing in her nightgown again, staring at the sky, her back to him. A deep longing to hold her, and to have her hold him quickly overtook the peace. Jumping onto the roof, the sudden sound made her turn. Seeing that it was he, she wrapped her arms around her torso and took a step back.
"I thought you were gone," she whispered.
"Would ya 'ave comes out heah if ya knows dat I was still dere?" Spot took off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair.
The heat in the air hung around them light a thick blanket. The soft breeze making that blanket wave around them, strangling them, choking out their ability to talk or speak. They kept their distance, neither one of them moving as the ball stayed on Emily's side of the court. She held the control over what would happen next, and she weighed her options carefully before she spoke.
"Yes," she whispered finally, the tension between them was thick.
Slowly, Spot walked closer to her, watching her face and her body language. He expected her to become tense or try to avoid him, but she simply waited. Already, she knew that this was where her decision would bring her. Stopping as he stood close, he looked down at her. Expectantly, she tilted her chin skyward and Spot dropped his cap to their feet. Almost with reverence, he leaned over and brushed his mouth to hers, not daring to touch any other part of her.
His mouth had barely touched hers, but a shock ran through his body, shaking his core. Drawing back, he looked deeply into her eyes. The wonders of the entire world were contained in those eyes as the stars reflected their dewy splendor. Finding no resistance, Spot dropped his head again and pressed his mouth to hers.
The wind blew gently at the contact, and the stars seemed to shine just a little bit brighter and he edged closer and wrapped his arms around her waist. The dark and light locking in the eternal embrace that so many lovers long gone had invented. Her purity balancing his sin in the embrace of the ages as they clung to each other in the dark of the night. Entire kingdoms rose and fell before Spot slowly lifted his head. The impossibility of the situation struck both of them as they looked into each other's eyes.
Diamonds of the purest form welled up in angel's eyes as she rested her head against the demon's chest. Unsure of what to do, the demon held the angel as she wept. For what can console an angel who loved a demon? And what can comfort a demon that brushed heaven on the wings of an angel?
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A/N: All right, there! I hope you're happy. For some reason I had a really hard time making this chapter longer. For me this is one of my medium length chapters, but I just couldn't keep writing on it. -Growl- My stupid one-part angst pieces are making my length writing skills goes down the tubes! AAAAHG! These are the same shout out as they were in the pre-edited chapter. I simply replaced the old chapter explaining my absence with this one. ^_^ Aren't I just so smart? Well there all of you reviewers go. Thank you again for your faithful reading and nice reviews. ^_^
Ireland: Thank you for your compliments. I try to focus on characters that already exist because a lot of times it is easier for the reader. ^_^ You know me, always trying to please the reader....
Derby: Thanks for the review, I like it when people tell me my plots are unique. I really try to aim for that.
Fearless: Glad you like it. ^_^ I promise to email on my latest addition.
Kaylee: Thank you for your reviews, I'm glad that you sister takes a fancy to my writing as well. ^_^ It really does mean a lot to me to know that people are actually reading it and liking it.
Falco Conlon: I first apologize for my grave errors, but my mean little mister computer head was being stupid. GROWL. Thanks for the review ^_^
Annie: Thank you for you're oh so enthusiastic review! It made me laugh and smile. I really needed that because I have been writing angst and that always makes me want to cry. Thanks for the flowers too. ^_^ I personally really liked writing the poker scene because it was the closest I have ever gotten to fluff... ever.
Angel: Cute?!?! You think my story is cute?!?!?! well I have to admit... umm... I don't think that anyone has ever called my story cute before. It's probably because they are normally about death and things. I try and have Spot stay true to his character, while he is a very passionate person, he tends to hold it all in there and be in control over everything. That includes whom he is attracted to. But as we all know, you can't chose the person you fancy, most of the time. ^_^
Pep Gep: Thanks for the candy co - I mean colored raisins. That made me laugh really hard. Haha, I guess I am kind of trying to keep you all interested in this so I get to add into it all of the scary, shadowy people and everything. I know I am going to have to keep you waiting for a few days, but I really don't have a choice. I am going to miss this place. .:* tear *:. But I promise some major updates when I come back.