AN: Okay people, if you have any suggestions, I'll be happy to take a look and see what'll work. Just keep reading and reviewing!
"Two days without food, huh?"
Mush looked up from his soup as I broke the long, uncomfortable silence. He shrugged, obviously not thinking it was that big of a deal. "Happens sometimes. Bad selling days." He said quietly.
I nodded, even though there was no way I could understand being that poor. I watched as he ate the soup in the space of about a minute or so, as if it would've disappeared if he didn't eat it fast enough. Annie poked her head in the room, looking a bit disheveled.
"Mush, there's a bowl of soup on the stove ready to be heated for Skittery when he wakes up. Just tell Joseph and he'll show you how to use the stove." Mush nodded, with a barely audible 'yes ma'am'. Annie's tone got more serious when she looked at me. "I need to talk to you, Terrence. Could you come in here, please?"
I nodded, standing up and walking out slowly. I closed the door behind me, and then turned to face my confused and concerned wife.
"You were going to make that boy walk home in this weather, wearing no kind of protection and carrying a newsboy that probably weighs close to what he does."
It wasn't a question; it was a statement of fact. I nodded, swallowing hard as my lack of judgment was laid out right in front of me.
"I want to know why, Terrence. That isn't like you at all."
"I can't tell you that."
"Why? Does it have something to do with Blake?"
My breath caught in my throat. "What makes you think that?"
She laughed, a breathy sound that barely caught my ear. "You never knew, did you? He was making friends with some of the 'lower class' boys before he died. I should've guessed they'd been newsies. They were over at least three or four times, but you were always off at work."
"He never told me? He never even thought about introducing me?"
"He was afraid you wouldn't approve."
"So why didn't you tell me that when I brought Skittery here? He was one of those 'friends', wasn't he?"
"That was over a year ago now, and I never actually talked with the boys. I wouldn't remember them now if I were paid to." She leaned against the counter, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. "I knew something fishy was going on here. What else aren't you telling me?"
"Annie, I-"
"No, I don't want more of your bull shit comforting, Terrence!" she shouted, and I fell silent, waiting for her to speak again. "I want the truth. I want the whole, entire truth, uncut and unedited."
I took a few shaky breaths before deciding that I wasn't going to win this fight. "Fine. You want the truth? Go and talk to Mush. He'll tell you the whole thing. But I'm not going to be responsible for making you cry again. He's dead, and we need to accept it and move on." I snapped, starting to head for the door.
I stalked upstairs and fell asleep on top of the covers, not caring about even changing into pajamas.
It was about 1am when I woke up and couldn't fall back asleep. Annie was sleeping beside me, and even in the dim light I could see that her face was stained with tears. I knew she wouldn't be able to handle hearing all that in one night.
I decided to go downstairs and check on the boys. It was a funny thought- I hadn't had to go downstairs to check on anyone since Blake died. I took the stairs slowly, trying not to make any creaking sounds so as not to wake them if they were asleep.
The light was still on in the sitting room, and I made my way over to the sofa. I noticed an empty bowl on the table- Skittery must have waken up and eaten sometime during the night. Mush had fallen asleep sitting up in the chair beside the sofa- I wondered if he'd been trying to stay awake to watch over his friend.
An overwhelming wave of an emotion I hadn't felt for a long time washed over me- father instinct. Mush was once again shivering horribly, and I let my father instincts take over. I made my way to the door on the opposite side of the sitting room- the one that led to Blake's old room.
Nothing had been moved in there. Annie even washed the bed sheets regularly, as if she expected him to come home for a visit. I pulled down the bed sheets, and then left the door open as I walked back into the sitting room.
Gently, trying not to wake him, I reached under Mush and lifted him up into my arms, letting the blanket fall. I was appalled by the light weight of the boy, just as I had been with Skittery only the day before. I took him into Blake's room, laying him down on the bed and pulling the covers up over him.
I was about to walk out when I heard a strange mumbling behind me. I turned around and listened hard, trying to make out what the boy was saying.
"No, Dad…don't hurt her…Daddy, no…please…"
My eyes welled up with tears as I made my way back to the bed and sat on the edge of it, gently stroking the boy's cheek. After a minute or so he calmed down, and I left the room, shutting the door all but a crack on my way out. I was troubled by what I'd heard him say…what kind of father could beat his wife, and quite possibly his child as well?
I sat down in the chair beside the sofa, and then another memory from the lodging house came upon me. I reached down and carefully grasped Skittery's right arm, searching for any scars. None were there, and I moved to his left arm.
There, along the bicep of his left arm, was a scar at least five inches long, definitely made by a type of dagger.
I fell asleep in tears.
I awakened to find Skittery sitting up and gingerly trying to remove the bandage on his face, grimacing with each tug or pull. He hadn't noticed that I was awake, and was cursing profusely under his breath.
"You shouldn't take that off. It's helping you heal."
He jumped about a foot off the sofa with a yelp, and shot an angry look in my direction. "Yeah, well, it itches!"
"It will. But you can't do anything about it. Let me go get some alcohol and we'll rebandage it."
I stood up and stretched, then walked to a desk across the room, picking up the alcohol, a rag, and new bandages.
"Did you sleep well, Skittery?"
He looked at me as though it were a trick question. "Yeah, pretty good. Um…where's Mush?"
"In Blake's room, still asleep, I presume. He stayed up pretty late watching out for you."
"I told him not ta do that…"
I sat down beside him, pouring some alcohol onto the rag. "This is going to hurt, but just hold still." I reached up and took hold of his chin with one hand to make sure he didn't move, and his whole body stiffened and jerked away when I did that. I looked up in confusion, and he blushed with embarrassment.
"Sorry…just don't grab me like dat without warnin me…"
"I'm sorry. Note taken."
I took his chin in my hand gentler this time, and he still stiffened, but didn't pull away. I took off the old bandage and went to work cleaning the wound, noticing his complete silence. He wouldn't have shown that it hurt unless I poured the whole bottle on his face. He did curse a few times though, muttering an apology after each time.
"You expected me to hit you, didn't you?" I asked, carefully searching his face for any kind of emotion. Not a single clear emotion crossed his face.
"Wit all due respect, dat ain't none of your business."
"I understand." I said, and then I stood up and stretched once again. "I'm going to make breakfast and wake up your friend."
He nodded, pressing his fingers to his temples as he lay back down. He was still running a fever, and that worried me. There was still a chance he could take a turn for the worst. At least Mush had obviously explained everything to him last night and he wasn't scared to death of me.
I slipped into Blake's room, where Mush slept fitfully. A shiny layer of sweat covered his skin, and he tossed and turned as though he were in the throes of death. I jogged over to the bed and carefully pinned his wrists above his head, trying to calm him down by speaking to him softly.
He struggled against me fiercely, and after a few moments I let go and he shot upright and awakened with a scream of terror. He sat for a moment, breathing erratic, and eyes glazed over with fear and realization.
"Are you alright?" I asked, and for the first time he noticed me standing there, and he swallowed hard.
"I'm fine. Just a nightmare." He said with a weak smile, but he obviously wasn't fine just yet. I sat down beside him and put an arm around his shoulders as he shook not from being cold, but with fear.
"I always wondered if it was something about this room." I said, almost in a whisper.
"What?"
"Blake used to have nightmares a lot, too. When guests used this room and Blake slept on the couch, he'd sleep fine and they would have nightmares. Annie and I used to laugh about it. Called it the 'dream room'. Not after he died, though. Because then it really was."
"I…I'm sorry…"
"It isn't your fault. It's mine. I should've thought of that before putting you in here."
He was silent, probably unsure of what to say in response to a desperate father's ramblings. I laughed quietly and gave him a quick hug, probably scaring him to death in the process. I decided to get things a little more back to normal.
"Want some breakfast?"
