AN: Just r+r! Pretty please?
Annie had only been gone about ten seconds before Skittery began to come to. His breathing became less even, and his eyes fluttered open and slowly began to focus. As soon as he became aware of his surroundings he shot upright, but then cried out in pain and I slowly pushed him back onto the sofa. There was a good chance he had a few broken ribs, and that harsh movement couldn't have helped.
"Just relax. Don't try to move."
He looked up at me with genuine fear in his eyes, but that didn't last more than a split second before confusion and anger took over. "Where am I?" He demanded, ignoring my suggestion and trying once again to sit up. I pushed him back down, a little more forcefully this time.
"You're in my home, and you're hurt pretty bad, so I suggest that you do not move."
He tried to take a few deep breaths, but was met with pain with each breath and failed miserably. "What happened?" He muttered, calming down just a bit.
"I wish I knew. I found you in an alley. Looks like somebody beat you up pretty bad. Don't you remember?"
He shook his head, then shoved my hand off his shoulder and pushed himself up into a sitting position, much slower than before. I didn't try to stop him this time- if he was stubborn enough to try it a third time, then I'd let him find out for himself how much it was going to hurt.
"I gotta go back." He said, but his voice was weak and unsteady. I immediately realized what was about to happen, and I caught him as he fell backward and gently set him down. He reached up and found the bandage on his face, looking very surprised.
"You aren't going anywhere, young man. Not until you've recovered a bit. So you may as well lay back and relax."
He groaned, holding his head and muttering something that I didn't quite catch. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, and then said, "I gotta sell tomorrow. I's broke."
"You can't even sit up, let alone walk down the street for 12 hours screaming the headlines. We're going to take care of you here. Don't worry about the money."
"But-"
"No buts. You are staying right here, and you are not moving until I feel you are able to. Now, which lodging house do you stay at, and who's in charge of it?"
He hesitated, staring up at the ceiling as he struggled to stay awake. "Lower Manhattan. Kloppman's in charge, but youse might wanna talk ta Jack Kelly instead."
"Lower Manhattan, Jack Kelly. Don't worry, I'll let them know."
"Could ya…could ya do me a favor?"
"Anything."
"Don't tell 'em I got beat up. Just tell 'em I's sick. I don't want 'em to know until I know who did it."
I considered the request for a moment, and then I decided that it couldn't hurt. I could understand why he wouldn't want to look weak in the face of his friends. "Alright. I won't tell them." I said, but by the time I said it, he was already fallen back into unconsciousness. "Poor kid." I muttered, settling back down and picking up Blake's journal off the table.
AN: Yay! He woke up! Hugs Skittery tightly…. Next chapter, Terrence meets 'the guys'!
