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: For all of you reading Blind Spot, I'm sorry for updating this one again before it. The muses made me do it though. Plus I want to see what happens with Spot and Frost just as much as you do! So enough with my mindless ramblings and onward too greater things.
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Warning: This chapter is rated PG-13 for swearing and violence. If you've read the rest of the story, it isn't anything new.
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Chapter 12: After the Fall
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//After I fall,
Where do I stand?
And my heart is in,
Your hands…//
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For a moment, Spot didn't say anything. Somehow he had suspected some family connection, but never one so close. Her brother? A million questions raced through his mind. Why would she have to be hiding from her own brother? Why would her brother be in New York? Why would her brother be ruthlessly pursuing her? All of these and more swirled in a confusing pattern and Spot couldn't form a single sensible question.
Frost now had let go of his hand, the snow she had held against it melted, freezing her thin fingers to the bone. It was terrible cold out here on the roof all of the sudden. The ice she knew was in Spot's stare that she couldn't bear to meet. Stepping back from him, she turned to go back inside and he followed silently. There seemed to be an understanding that she wasn't going to tell him anymore, at least not tonight.
In the same as adding to the confusion, it clarified a lot of things. Like why the man was so interested in her, or why he would know her name. Though he seemed to have more hostility than affection for Frost, he definitely was interested in finding her. That was clear in the way he had pursued Spot and invaded the lodging house. With the way that Frost acted around the topic, one would have thought her more than skittish.
Opening the hatch into the lodging house, Frost went in first followed still by Spot. It took Spot much longer to descend than Frost because of his hand, but he managed to close the hatch as well. Shivering against the cold air, Frost wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold in the warmth as she waited for Spot. When he had planted both feet firmly on the ground, she looked up at him.
"We'se should get youah hand in a splint," she had a hard time making out his face in the darkness.
"Is'll be fine," he shrugged off the suggestion.
"No yous won'," she disagreed quietly. "We'se goin' ta splint dat hand right now," she ordered and set off towards the bunkroom. "Wait heah," she whispered, creaking open the bunkroom door and slipping inside.
Obediently, Spot waited for her to return. As he waited, he pondered the whirlwind events that had occurred with Frost's return. He wasn't quite sure what all had happened, but she was back here now and that was all that mattered. Though the idea of her brother chasing her was rather unnerving, but he knew that he could protect her. As silently as she had left him, she returned with a lighted lamp in her hand.
"Common," she motioned with her head as they moved slowly down the hall to the door of the unfinished girls-bunkroom. "Dey's gotta have somet'ing in heah foah a splint," she explained as she bend over and expertly picked the lock.
When they went in, even in the dim lamp light, they could see that someone had done at least some work in there. The tools weren't as scattered and the clutter not so overwhelming. Perhaps all they had done was cleaned some of their mess. This however wasn't relevant to their mission. Now was their time to find the materials for Spot's splint.
Frost, lamp in hand, rummaged through the clutter until she found an appropriate sized board for her work. Gently measuring it against Spot's hand, she frowned as she found it too large. Looking around, she spied a saw and set down the lamp at her feet. As quietly as possible sawed it to the correct size. It made a terrible noise and Spot grimaced as she tried painfully hard to make it so that she wouldn't bring the lodging house owner upon them.
Miraculously, no one came though the noise from the saw was something awful. Standing, Frost, took the lamp and the newly sawed board and measured it against Spot's hand. The board was thin, and lightweight so it wouldn't be awkwardly heavy, but it would keep his fingers from moving. Seemingly satisfied with the wood, Frost looked around for something to bind it with. Then she saw the sheet that she and Spot had sat upon those few late nights of story telling.
Setting down the lamp, she took it. Then taking the knife that she kept in her boot, she slashed down the fabric, making a loud ripping noise. Biting her lip, she winced at the noise and tried again, making even smaller strips, but failing to make it any quieter. The fates must have been with them because still no one intruded upon them as they worked. Satisfied with the strips of fabric she had created, Frost took Spot's hand and proceeded to create the brace.
Turning his hand over so his palm was face-up, she put the wood over his two inflicted fingers. The wood went down to the heel of his palm, insuring limited movement of the digits. Then, firmly, she began to wrap the cloth over them and Spot bit his tongue against the pain. It hurt like hell and worse as the pressure from the makeshift bandages made him wince inwardly. When she had wrapped the fingers she wrapped all the way down the hand, keep the thumb free, but binding the wood to his palm.
"Dere," she smiled, satisfied with her work. "I hope dat woyks," she added and Spot looked at here menacingly.
"Ya mean dat dis might not woyk?" he sounded angry.
"I dunno," she shrugged. "I ain't done much woyk wit' bones," she admitted.
"So dis ain't goin' ta do nuttin' but make me look like a scabbah?" Spot growled.
"No," Frost shook her head hurriedly. "Dis will help youah hand ta heal cause it'll keep yous hand still," she explained and Spot looked down at the crude cast. "Da fastah yous heal, da fastah yous can use youah sling shot again," she reminded and he looked at her.
"T'anks," he grinned wryly, relishing the idea of using his slingshot.
"Yous welcome," she smiled back, happy for his approval, no matter how small.
So they stood opposite one another, closer than they had realize when she had been binding his hand. The smile faded from Spot's lips as he looked into her eyes and he tilted his head slightly to the side as though inspecting her. Frost felt as though he was looking down into her soul with those strange steely blue eyes of his and her heart rate accelerated. Being vulnerable wasn't something that she should be, and she couldn't let anything happen. For the first time in her life, she was completely and totally petrified with fear.
Almost in slow motion, Spot began to lean in and Frost froze. He was only a few inches away when she stepped back, trying her best to control her shaking. Everything she was feeling was so foreign and it scared her to death. Bending over she picked up the lamp and avoided looking at Spot, who was staring at her, confused.
"We'se should get ta bed," she muttered, going to the door, leaving Spot behind in the darkness. "G'night Spot," she whispered from the door before exiting into the hall.
Once there, she moved as quickly as she could while staying silent. Hurriedly, she went into the bunkroom and found that her old bunk was still unoccupied. Setting down her things on the ground next to it, she blew out the lamp and stripped down to her undergarments before slipping under the freezing covers. It wasn't until she had closed her eyes that she began to mentally berate herself.
He wos goin' ta kiss yous! She balled her hands into fists. Why did yous pull away? He wos so close! She pressed her fists to her eyes, trying to block out the dim image of him drawing closer in the pale lamplight. Why did yous say yous hated him? She asked herself. Gawd can't yous do anyt'ing right? She struggled with these thoughts and she heard the door of the bunkroom open. Knowing whom it would be, she turned on her side, looking away from the door, and drew the scratchy wool blanket up to her chin.
His soft footsteps fell on the floor, and with each one Frost felt her body tense. Why was she so afraid? She knew that she loved him, but why was she so afraid? Closing her eyes tightly, she listened as the footsteps stopped a few bunks away from hers. A long soft sight was uttered in the darkness and she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Why had she pulled away from the one thing that she really wanted? More than duly frustrated with herself, she heard him climb up into his bed and lie down.
Sleep wouldn't come to either of them that night.
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//After I've loved you,
All I can,
Will I still stand tall?
After I fall…//
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The next morning came with painful awareness. There was no real reason for the incredible awkward feeling that accompanied the rousing and awakening of the lodging house. As quickly as she had left, that strange Frost girl was back and Spot seemed to be in an extremely bad mood. Maybe not a bad mood, but he was definitely on the edge. On the edge, but with good reason.
After Frost had left him, he had waited for awhile in the darkness before going after her. The whole thing had happened so quickly that he wasn't sure of exactly how it had come about. One moment he was simply standing there, the next he was leaning in to kiss her, and the next he was watching her leave. Was he so repulsive?
By the way she had pulled away you would have thought that there was nothing else she would rather do than get away from him. This wasn't something that he was used to. Normally girls were more than happy to oblige him, but he had already found that his girl wasn't like the rest. He just had to fall for her didn't he? Of course, never one to follow convention or the rules, he had to fall for the one girl that he couldn't have.
Across the room, Frost watched the boy dressing. Pulling his red suspenders over his slumped shoulders, she couldn't help but feel her heart break. He was beautiful, in every way he was beautiful. Faith, why did she have to be ugly? She knew his reputation and the way that she would just be another conquest on a wall of many, but she couldn't help but want to be the one that he wanted. Even if it was only for a little while, or not at all, she just wanted him to want her.
Although all of her promises to change herself to make herself more appealing to him had failed within the first instants of conversation, she wished they hadn't. Why had she told him that she hated him? Because she loved him that was why, and it scared her. It terrified her. She wasn't used to feeling anything of the sort, so her defensive anger had risen and blocked out whatever chance she might have had with him.
The thing that probably scared her most was if she completely gave herself up to it, to him, what would she be? Would she still be the smart-mouthed, independent girl that she truly was, or would she have to be changed? She had already fallen, but what about when she gave herself to him? Would she still be her own person, or would be forced to become another one of her characters?
It didn't matter though, because there was no way that she would ever be able to tell him.
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//He's got me,
Learning and yearning,
And tossing and turning,
For him all night…//
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Slowly, the hours trickled by, and selling was miserable. March was a terrible month in New York, especially early March. As the old proverb went, March comes in like a lion and out with a lamb. It was holding true this year. Even though the other days had shown hints that the arctic cold might recede, this day smashed all of the newsies hopes with another frigid blast.
The snow and ice that had melted froze again, making conditions slippery at least. By the end of the day, each and every newsie was more of an icicle than a person was. The sudden snap in temperatures hadn't done anything to improve the mood of any of the newsies, especially Spot and Frost. If it was possible, they both seemed to be in worse moods than before. Spot's smirk was replaced by a scowl and no one even approached the brooding girl. For being so good at hiding their emotions, they were doing a terrible job of it this night.
Frost had gone out on the streets and sold, even though she knew the danger she was in with her brother out on the streets with her. Spot had sold as well, and he had sold out quickly as always. Though today he had followed Frost and knew where she was selling, so he found her again and watched her sell. The cold made his broken hand ache, but nothing like the pain in his gut he felt as he observed her. How could someone be so close, but be so completely non-accessible?
The ribs that she had insisted he keep wrapped protested against the tight binding that he had continued to apply, even though she had doubted him. Though it was uncomfortable, it was better than how it felt when they were free. The Pullvine brothers hadn't given him any problems as of late, which was odd, but he would take his blessings where he could get them. Even if they weren't that great.
So he stood in the shadows, following her as she went, stealing a cigarette of two along the way. It was easy enough to blend into a crowd if you knew how, even with a gold-tipped cane at your side. The interest in a small dark-haired boy was low, so he watched. Apparently the interest in a small chestnut-haired girl was low as well, because she was having a hard time selling her stack of papers.
As he watched, he couldn't help but wonder why she had turned away from him the night before. He was inches away, but he hadn't even gotten close. This thought disturbed him because he was convinced that if he could just kiss her once more, he would have had enough of that enraging girl. All he was feeling for her was the thrill of the chase, right? Though he had chased girls before and he had never wanted one like this. He didn't want to want anyone like this!
Taking a cigarette out of his pocket, he lit it. Finding this simple task difficult with his damaged hand and he swore under his breath. When he had finally lit up the fag, he took a long slow drag. Filling his lungs with the poisonous smoke before exhaling deeply. Opening his eyes, he scanned the crowd, and found Frost quickly. A pang of pain erupted in his chest as he looked at her.
It hurts to want someone so much, but not to want them at all.
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//Staring out the window,
At the sinking sun
Another painful day,
Is done…//
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So passed the day. The pain they felt more keenly than the cold that penetrated their moth-eaten clothes. Too bad both were too stubborn to admit that they felt anything. Though Spot quickly engaged himself in a game of poker, Frost stayed distant from the group. Few even thought of approached girl as she frowned menacingly at anyone who dared to make eye contact. The only time her dark eyes softened were when they fell upon a certain dark-haired newsboy.
It was apparent to anyone who watched her that she had some sort of feelings for this boy beyond the hatred that she professed. No one brought it up when the two were around, but the attraction between them was painfully obvious to everyone. Everyone but them, that is. Some talked, some speculated, others gossiped, but all came to the same conclusion. There was definitely some extreme energy flowing between the duo.
The sun was setting when Frost stood up off of her bunk and grabbed her coat. It was too much to be in the same room with him right now. The scene of the last night's encounter still ran through her mind. She donned all of her outerwear and exited the bunkroom. Spot didn't want to care, but he did. The poker game had ended with him losing, but it had happened before. Automatically, he went to go get his coat and hat, reasoning that he needed to talk to her about her brother. Before he could follow her though, Outsider came over to talk to him.
"Spot," he said as his leader was gathering his things.
"Yeah?" He masked his annoyance with his normal know-it-all smirk.
"Ah yous goin' aftah Frost?" he asked quietly, keeping their conversation as private as he could with the dozens of listening ears.
"Whot if I am?" Spot got defensive.
"I knows yous got a fancy foah her, but I still -"
"I'se got a whot?" Spot blurted out a little too loudly and the whole room looked in their direction. Glaring out at them, Spot lowered his voice and asked again, "I'se got a whot?"
"Dere ain't no use pretendin' Spot, da whole borough knows," Outsider to patch up what he said.
"Knows whot?" Spot growled and his co-leader backed off a little.
"Dat you an' Frost…" he drifted off, letting his gray eyes tell the story and Spot clenched his teeth.
"Dere ain't nuttin' dere," Spot informed. "She's got some infoahmation dat I'se wont an' dats all," he clarified and Outsider looked at him doubtfully. "Ya don't believe me?" Spot took a menacing step forward and his tall friend stepped away.
"I nevah said dat," Outsider defended.
"Ya don' havta say it," Spot growled and he could tell that his friend had something else to say. "Wos dere anyt'ing else?" he waited and Outsider swallowed heavily.
"I don' trust dat goil," Outsider reinstated his distrust with Frost.
"Why not?" Spot inquired, wondering if his friend had come up with any justified reason.
"She's da Spectah o' Queens, I jus' know it!" He insisted quietly, not wanting anyone else to hear. "An' wheah wos she da last few days?" he asked. "She coulda been in Queens, foah all yous know, she's a spy!" It was well known that Queens and Brooklyn had never really gotten along, but there wasn't any reason for spying, was there?
"Ya got any proof, Outsidah?" Spot asked heavily, dreading what would happen if there were.
"Well…" Outsider looked down at his feet before mumbling the answer.
"Whot?" Spot scowled, not making out his answer.
"No," Outsider spoke a little more clearly.
"Den dere ain't nuttin' I'se can do," Spot said. "Dere ain't no rule dat says I'se can kick her out jus' cause yous don' like her," Spot put his good hand in his pocket, letting his splinted one hang at his side. "But now I'se got business ta do," he informed before walking out the door after the girl that had left only a few minutes earlier.
As he went, Outsider watched with a rather strange look in his eye. What could his leader possibly see in that girl? That question would go unanswered as he watched his friend go out the door and down the stairs. Whatever he saw in her, it must be something else because he had never seen Spot act this way over any girl.
After Frost had exited the building, she looked up and down the streets, unsure of where she was going or what she was doing. It was dangerous for her to be out on the streets now that her brother was out there after her. Though there was always danger on the streets no matter where she was. One chance meeting with the wrong person, or the wrong group and she would be nothing more than a faded memory.
The reason she had left was more for a distraction from her feelings than for any other purpose. The feelings that she had were powerful and she knew that if she spent too much time around him, she might betray herself. Nothing could be less appropriate than her going after another one of the territory leaders. Hadn't she already learned her lesson? Apparently not.
As she walked slowly down the streets, the growing darkness closed around her. Sometimes she would see young couples, or children walking home together from the factories. It was nothing more than a cruelly painful reminder of how very alone she was. Alone, she had been that way for years, so why did it bother her now? Was it because now she actually had a desire to be with someone?
Frost shivered as she walked aimlessly down the slippery streets. It was cold, and she wished for something or someone to keep her warm. If she closed her eyes she could almost remember the way it felt to have Spot holding her in his arms. Now wasn't the time to remember this though, she didn't want to care about him. Love meant pain and she didn't want anymore of that. Though now she really didn't have a choice did she?
Her slow pace wasn't helping to keep the cold from laying claim to her thin body as she couldn't remember why she had even set out on this venture. There was nowhere for her to go, no one for her to find. The only thing she had done by stepping out on the streets was put herself in danger. Why was she being so stupid and wishy-washy? Spot was just another boy that would do nothing more than use and abuse her if she ever succumbed to his advances.
Hot tears of frustration stung the backs of her eyes and she blinked them back furiously. There was no reason to be crying, and there was no way she was going to cry over that boy. He was nothing more than the thorn in her side, the pain in her neck, he was nothing more than the boy she desired. There was no reason for her to feel anything for this boy either. They had done nothing more than squabble and quibble over the smallest things since the first time they had met.
The setting sun was now being swallowed by the night sky as the first of the stars began to light up the sky and the moon forced the sun into submission. How long had she been walking? The sudden realization that she had been plodding along slowly for probably close to ten minutes brought her to the conclusion that she had better go back. The fall of night meant that the scum of the earth would be crawling out from under their rocks soon. They were nothing more than trouble for girls like Frost.
The idea of getting in some sort of trouble seemed a welcome distraction to her though, as her thought pattern was slightly askew. So she kept walking, and walking, and walking, until she was finally at the Brooklyn Bridge. The darkness kept her view from being of anything more than the endless black expanse, but that was okay.
A cigarette would have been an appropriate accessory at this point, if she had one, but she hadn't managed to steal one throughout the day. So her nicotine fix would have to go unfulfilled like so many other needs she had. Sometimes, if she smoked, she could forget how hungry she was, or sad she was, and just lose herself in the bitter flavor.
No such relief would cone to her tonight, so she simply stood on the bridge. Looking out in the empty expanse, she didn't want to remember anything right now. Focusing on the darkness around her, she worked on forgetting. Though such intense emotions are rarely forgotten.
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//Long ago,
Far away,
Glowing dim,
As am ember…//
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So the day came that the mayor would be arriving at The Refuge and Spot waited outside of the building, hiding in the alley like he had the night of his break-in. A few older boys were with him, and if the plan went well, they wouldn't be needed. They were only for the worst case scenario, which hopefully wouldn't happen. They had been waiting for quite some time now since the mayor had arrived. Then the sound of a hundred little feet sounded as they marched out of the building like a ragged army.
Warden Snyder was probably having the whole group out there waving goodbye to the mayor and thanking him for coming. A pleasant little act to keep the inspectors out for a good long while. Any boy that didn't smile and wave would probably be beaten if Snyder saw him. What a nice man….
Then the gates opened and the mayor's carriage could be seen. Spot straightened, as did the dozen boys he had brought with him. A ragged head of Cowboy was seen popping up from the rear end of the carriage just as the buggy pulled through the iron gates. Stepping out of the shadows and signaling the boys with his cane, he watched as his minions went forth with their deed.
The dozen boys all crowded around Cowboy as he jumped off the end of the carriage and as Snyder began barking out commands to get that boy. Just as they had been told, once Jack had been confused into the mix of boys, all similar height and build as the newsie, they splint into four groups. Each of the groups ran off in a different direction and the guards had no idea which one to chase.
Spot watched all of this happen with a delighted smirk on his face. The plan had been pulled off without a hitch and no one had even seen it coming. With a tune on his lips and a spring in his step, Spot headed for the upper-east side Manhattan Lodging house, knowing that the Cowboy would be there waiting.
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//You're a move,
I want to make,
You're a chance,
I want to take…//
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Spot stepped out onto the streets after talking with Outsider and Frost was no where in sight. Swearing under his breath, he knew that it would be worthless to look for her now, she could be anywhere, but reason had never been Spot's way. Taking a deep breath, he set out into the darkening world, looking for the girl to whom he wanted to talk.
On ward he pressed, looking down the alleyways as he walked down the streets. Already his legs were tired from the day's work, but he pressed onward. The cold seeped in through is coat and into his sore ribs and broken hand. Still, he kept walking, not really knowing where to go. She had left her things, so she hadn't run off, had she? No, she valued those things, but maybe it was all a bluff to keep him from guessing. No, she wouldn't have done that, would she? He coughed as the cold air seemed to freeze his lungs, and the sudden motion made his ribs ache even more.
The abuses he had suffered from the Pullvines were fading, but there were still several evidences to the attack. The swelling had gone down even though the bruises still remained, faded, but remained. At times his lips still hurt and the cuts on his face were scabbed over nicely, but they were disfiguring. If they scared he would take those Pullvines and beat them bloody. In all reality, he looked rather pathetic and no one would take him for a good fighter from his appearance.
His battered face, his braced hand, the knuckles on his good hand still raw from the fight. One would have assumed he had gotten into a brawl with some older thug, and in a way he had. Though he had been unfairly outnumbered, no one knew that, and no one really cared. All they saw was a pathetic little ruffian who was beaten at his own game. Some pitied him, but few took the time.
So onward his walked, wondering what had inspired Frost's late night excursion. The cold air stung his eyes and bit his nose as he coughed again. The urge for a cigarette was fought down, remembering the trouble he had the last time he tried to light one. If the cold wasn't enough, patches of ice and hardened snow were reminders that winter still had his steely grip over the city. Raising his good hand to his mouth, Spot breathed some of his hot breath into its palm as he walked. Already his fingers felt more like icicles than a human hand.
As his feet had on so many other late night walks, they had somehow ended up at the Brooklyn Bridge. Smiling bitterly, he thought of all of the times he had stood on this very bridge and contemplated taking his own life. He remembered the warm and wild feel of Frost's mouth under his own. He remembered how he had wanted more, but she had pulled away. Standing at the edge of the bridge, he knew that any further searching would be futile and he started onto its long path.
Trudging along, he looked up from his feet for a moment and blinked in surprise at the sight in front of him. There stood Frost, the same place she had been when he had kissed her that night. Her expression was blank, her back rigid, it was clear she hadn't detected him yet. Stepping into the shadows, he watched her, unsure of what to do. Simply watching her stand there was like standing in the presence of an angel and he wondered if she knew how attractive she was.
An off-key chorus of male voices echoed in the silence and Spot pressed himself further into the darkness. A trio of men, all with their arms around each other's shoulders, were stumbling down the bridge from the Manhattan side attempting to remember the words to some bar melody. They were laughing hysterically at one another's antics and he saw Frost's head whirl around and survey them. To Spot's surprise, she didn't run or make any motions to hide, and she just turned back out to look over the edge. Was she insane?
The men, however drunk they were, were large and could easily overpower such a petite girl. This truth held in his mind as he silently urged her to run, hide, or do anything to defend herself against these men. Knowing that she couldn't hear him, but hoping that she might somehow hear was he was trying to say to him. She didn't move and the men spotted her.
"Hey!" One of them yelled rather loudly. "Looky heah!" His rough voice was slurred terribly. "We'se - We'se gots ouah - ouah selves - a - a goil," his loud speech was interrupted by intoxicated hiccups.
"A goil?" one of them looked around, squinting his eyes as they staggered. "Wheah?"
"Ovah - dere," the first replied, making a miserable attempt to point in the direction of where Frost stood.
"Get outta dere Frost," Spot hissed, watching her not even flinch as the three surrounded her, laughing in an amused fashion at whatever retort she had offered their drunken slurs. Soon, she was reverting to slapping away the hands that strayed, but still made no motions to run. The disgusting display sickened Spot, even though he had seen it before.
Gritting his teeth, he watched as the men repeated several offenses that didn't go ignored by Frost, but she still made no moves for escape. What was she doing? Did she was to be raped? The straw that broke the camel's back came when one of the men grabbed her around the waist and dragged him to her, pressing his filthy mouth to hers. That did it, Spot stepped out of the shadows brandishing his slingshot. Broken hand or not, he was still a deadly aim as he drew back the band and fired. Marble after painful marble, he shot them at the men, hitting his targets easily and the drunks couldn't understand what was happening. Putting his slingshot back into his waistband he yanked his cane from his belt loop.
The man that had held Frost released her from his strong grip, and Spot charged towards them, waving his cane. Smashing the closest one to him over the head he gave Frost a look that said 'run'! Finally, the girl did what she should have done long ago and turned and ran towards Brooklyn. Spot likewise took off in the same direction. He might have been bold, brash, and courageous, but he was far from stupid. The group of drunken men was too intoxicated to run after them, but not too drunk to throw a string of vile curses after the affliction of their pain.
As soon as Spot caught up to the Frost he grabbed her arm with his good hand and yanked her into the nearest alleyway. Both of them were panting, gasping for breath, but once Spot had gotten his second wind, he spoke.
"Whot da hell weah yous doin' out dere?" he asked, still breathing heavily.
"Wheah da hell did yous come from?" she returned his question with her own.
"Dat ain't impoahtant," he shook his head and looked at her coldly. "Whot wheah yous doin' out deah on da bridge?"
"I wos t'inkin' a'ight?" she returned his cold gaze with her own. "Since when did yous cahah? It ain't like I'se got anyt'ing ta give ya. Is dere a law against goil goin' out by dem selves ta t'ink?" she fired questions at him.
"Dere ain't no law, but yous shoulda run when doe's men came," Spot reprimanded, sounding very much the part of the angry older brother. "Whot ah yous tryin' ta do? Get youah self raped?"
"I'se can handle meself," She growled. "An' I'se don' need poysons like yous ta help me!"
"Dey had yous back dere!" Spot yelled back. "Yous coulda been killed!"
"An' why would dat mattah ta yous?" She hollered.
"I'se da leadah an' yous undah me so I'se gotta look out foah yous," he answered, trying to get his temper under control.
"Nobody has gotta look out foah me!" Frost spat on the ground. "I'se take cahah o' meself," she informed. "I don' needs nobody!"
"I'se da leadah," he growled. "An' yous goin' ta listen ta me," he said. "You ain't goin' out at night unless yous got somebody wit'choo," he lay down the law and she looked at him sharply.
"I ain't youah slave, yous can't ohdah me 'round like dat!" She stepped closer and yelled in his face.
"I'se da leadah an' I'se can do whot I'se wont," he hissed and she narrowed her eyes.
"You ain't no great leadah," she insulted. "Yous jus' got evahybody inta t'inkin' dat yous so great," she continued telling him what she thought. "If yous didn' have dem all so scahahd, do yous really t'ink dat any of dem would follow yous?" she gave a slight, mirthless smile. "You ain't nuttin' moah dan a hoity-toity, good-foah-nuttin', scabbah wit' -" her insult was cut off as Spot moved suddenly, grabbing her by the shoulders and slammed her against the brick wall behind her.
The rapidity of this movement caught her completely off guard and she didn't even notice as Spot reached down and pulled the knife out of his boot and stood back up, pinning her back against the wall. A dangerous glint reflected in his darkened eyes as they stared into hers, and she knew that she was in trouble. His broken hand didn't pin her down, but his elbow did. The good hand held a knife that glittered in the dim lamplight as it filtered into the alleyway. Holding the knife dangerously close to her throat, he started into her eyes.
"All I'se gotta do is slit youah t'roat an' nobody would know," he growled, his voice tight. "No body would cahah," a disgusting smile twisted his mouth.
There was silence in the alley as they stood there. As Spot stared into her wide eyes, he could have sworn that he saw a thin sheen of tears covering them. The heart inside of him twisted and he couldn't help but feel terrible. He had never cut someone's throat, he had never even came this close, and the idea that he was now doing it to this girl made his heart cringe.
"I hate yous," she spoke very softly, and Spot heard the quiver in her voice.
"I hate yous too," he repeated, staring into her eyes.
For a long moment, neither one of them moved, never one of the breathed, then Spot's eyes dropped to her mouth, the darted back up to her eyes. Instinctively warned, Frost's eyes widened, but it was too late. The next instant, Spot's head had ducked the short distance to her mouth and kissed her savagely.
The clatter of the knife on the ground fell upon deaf ears as a bittersweet melody echoed in their minds. At first, Frost resisted, stiffening under his unfamiliar kisses. Then for one moment, one brief, heady moment, she melted against him. Returning his embrace rather than resisting, but it wasn't long before she put her hands on his shoulder and shoved him away.
Though the kiss hadn't been that long, it had wreaked it's damage. Her breathing was erratic as was her pulse, her lips were tingling from the kiss that he had given her. The fire that was coursing through her veins hadn't cooled any on separation and she looked at Spot with wide eyes. He had kissed her, but had he meant it? She didn't want to know, she ran. Without looking back, she ran.
In the moments that followed, Spot watched her go with a slight smile on his lips. Bending over, he picked up the knife that had fallen on the ground and returned it to its place in his boot. Even though she had run, he knew where she had gone. She had gone back to the lodging house. There was no where else she could have gone. Even though she had pushed him away, he had kissed her. That wasn't what made him the happiest though, all that matter right now was, she had kissed him back.
. : ^_^ : .
A/N: Wow, okay, that was lame. Anyway, that is what the muses wanted to have happen and that is what happened. Maybe it the sappy chapter for Valentines Day. Oh well, I don't care. I have somewhere around 0 energy right now. I am sick and well, that is about enough to make me tired. I've got the flu and I have been taking frequent barf breaks while writing this chapter. Graphic and disgusting I know, but that is the reason that I just don't have it in me to write person thanks to all of my reviewers this time. I want to thank you all, Ireland O'Reily, Rae Kelly, Kaylee, skittles, Ali, and the rest of you for reviewing. I just wanted to get this posted and I am sorry about the delay on Blind Spot. Two words for you: Writers Block.