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: Okay, well, I hadn't touched this story in about… umm… a month and I got my cast off and I was like, dang it! I am going to write a stupid chapter! So here I go, sitting down and not moving until I get this finished, so if it is kind of random, hard to fallow, or out of sorts, blame my muses. I am a little rusty here. Anyway, here goes everything.
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Warning: This chapter is rated PG-15 for adult situations, language, violence, and angst; just like the rest of my chapters.
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Chapter 15: If Only
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// Dying to try again,
But I missed,
My chance,
And now she's gone…//
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His legs burned as they pumped hard, pounding the ground with each long stride. The vibrations from the impacts were felt in his healing ribs and hand with startling pain, but onward he pressed. The soft feel of sweat dripping down his cheek and forehead went unnoticed as his lungs flamed in protest from lack of air. The exhaustion of the day was forgotten as he pressed onward, pushing himself to the ultimate limit of endurance. A blast of a train whistle served only to speed his feet as he dashed towards the train station.
Arrival would come to late for Spot as he came to the landing platform just as the last car pulled past. Loud gasps could be heard as he scanned the few people still milling about the area. There was no sign of a chestnut haired girl. Stumbling over his weary feet, he moved to the ticket counter where a middle-aged man waited. His billed cap and pin stripped shirt designating him an employee of the railway.
"Can I help you, boy?" he asked, his mouth moving from behind a full face of whiskers that matched his graying brown hair.
"A goil," Spot gasped. "Shoyt - chestnut heyah - black eyes," he breathed heavily as he filled the description. "Did she-" he coughed, trying to suck air into his deprived lungs. "-buy a ticket?" Spot finally managed and the man looked at his warily.
"It isn't railway policy to give informa-" he started and Spot slammed his hands down on the counter in front of the metal bars that separated him from the man.
"Did she?" he demanded, his eyes flashing to a shade of steely gray as anger clouded his face.
"I'm sorry, but I can't-" that was all the attendant got out before Spot's good hand reached out with lightning speed and shot through the bars. Grasping the collar of the man, he yanked him forward, the weariness in his body forgotten in desperation that only someone in love could feel.
"Did she?" Spot's eyes narrowed menacingly, his powers of intimidation kicking in full swing. "Oah didn't she?" his heavy breathing pulsated through the night air. Even though Spot's size was small, the man couldn't help but taste the cold metallic shock of fear as he felt himself be yanked forward towards the metal bars.
"A girl did come here," he spoke hurriedly. "Bought a ticket on the train that just left," he offered and Spot's grip loosened.
"To Chicago?" Spot's voice made it clear that he already knew where she was going.
"To wherever she gets off," the man drew back as Spot released his collar.
It was then that Spot realized that the few people that had been on the landing platform were now watching him attentively. So with a nod of his head to the railway employee, Spot pulled his cap over his eyes and set off numbly into the dark night. Though he had known that she had gone, there had still been the faintest glimmering of hope that she might have remained or that she might have still been at the station. This, however, wasn't the case as Spot had learned.
Frost was gone. Disappearing just as quickly as she had come that cold winter night. It had been late January then, now it was April. How rapidly time had passed as she had been there. From one whirlwind moment to the next, fate had tossed them together, but for what? What if he had told her he loved her? Would she have stayed, or would she have left sooner?
Pro'ly woulda left soonah, he thought bitterly to himself looking up at the night sky.
It was a clear night, the endless expanse of sky stretching above the city. The stars were twinkling merrily above him, seeming almost to laugh amongst themselves. They all had a friend up there in the black backdrop. A companion in the cold dark world in which they lived. Spot had nothing. The metaphorical happiness that the stars above portrayed was nothing more than a caustic jibe to his already stinging wound.
Five minutes, he lowered his eyes from the heavens and continued to trudge down the streets. Dats all I'se need, he hung his head in defeat.
If only he had been a little faster. If only he had gotten to the station a little sooner. If only he hadn't been so worried about what the others thought. If only he hadn't been so worried about his own reputation. If only he had been able to admit it to himself. If only he had taken advantage of all of the times they had together. If only he had been able to somehow been able to stop Luke from ever showing up.
If only he knew that Frost was still in New York….
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//Three thirty in the morning,
Not a soul in sight,
The city's looking,
Like a ghost town…//
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The streets were bare of humanity as Lice made his way down the byways, Frost in tow. His knife was still firmly pressed against her back as he led her down various pathways. The girl's mind was working frantically as she tried to devise a sort of plan to escape the grip of this boy. She had been so close to freedom, but now she was anything but free. Profanity was on her tongue as she clenched her jaw shut, fighting against her will to give this boy a piece of her mind. Fear kept her in check, for she still remembered the fateful night not that long ago.
Barely three months ago, she had a different name, one of Specter. Queens had been her place of residence as she had been the only girl in the main Queens borough. Acquiring such a position hadn't been easy, but nothing in her life had been handed to her, so she had been able to fight for it. That borough had been her home for the entire duration of the strike, and for more than six months after that. It seemed that nine months was the total number of months she had spent there, but she wasn't quite sure.
Though she remembered the night she had run, she remembered why she had run. Being the girl of the leader didn't grant you instant immunity, especially when you were the main power behind the leader. Many of the boys had little or no respect for Brink as their superior, but they did respect Specter. It was clear that she had definite attributes that would categorize her as a leader, but she was a girl which would keep her from ever controlling Queens in that time.
However, if she had the right front man, the pull she could have would be phenomenal. One boy had this exact idea and had the desire to be in power. The boy was Lice. The strange lad who kept mainly to himself would watch the world from behind his two-toned eyes. His only real friend had seemed to be Brink, and in return Brink trusted Lice. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, until one cold night in late December he caught Specter and pulled her into an alley.
"Whot do ya wont Lice?" Specter had asked harshly, her impatience showing in her voice.
"Be my goil," he had stated right up front, not wasting any time on formalities. Specter had frowned, her jaw dropping slightly as she looked like she had no idea what he was talking about.
"Whot?" she gaped, her tone that of disbelief.
"Be my goil," he had repeated and she shook her head as if to clear her thoughts.
"Ah yous crazy?" she accused. "I'se Brink's goil," she had shook her head again and made motions to walk away, but he had caught her by the arm and slammed her back against the brick wall. "Whot da hell ah yous doing?" she gasped against the pain.
"Be my goil," he gripped her wrist as she reached for the brass knuckles in her pocket.
"Lemme go," she had struggled, but he was too strong for her. "Whot do you wont?" she had demanded breathlessly after finding that her struggling was useless.
"Get ridda Brink, be my goil," he elaborated slightly on his previously repeated statement.
"Why da hell do ya wont me ta be youah goil?" she put on a front of superiority.
"You an' me ah goin' ta take ovah Queens," he had informed.
"Whot?" she had been flabbergasted.
"You an' me bot' know dat Brink ain't half da leadah I'se could be," he bragged, his strange eyes had glittered with an unspoken passion. For a moment she just looked at him before she started to laugh. Again, his eyes darkened and his brow furrowed. "Whot's so funny?" he demanded roughly, slamming her back against the wall, stopping her laughter.
"Yous bein' a leadah," she had snapped, pain sobering her.
"I'se goin' ta be da leadah, an' yous goin' ta be my goil," he growled, whatever gentleness that might have been there disappearing in a rage.
"No I ain't Lice," she had denied. "An' you ain't goin' ta be nobodies leadah," she summoned up all of her courage and intimidation, knowing she needed to use them. "I could be a bettah leadah dan yous!" she had exclaimed rashly and the truth of the words didn't sit will with the angered Lice.
"I hoped dat yous weah smahtah dan dis Spectah," Lice said, his voice was almost piteous. "So I guess we'se goin' ta have ta do dis da hahd way," at those words, his strange eyes had sparkled ominously.
"Yous bettah lemme go," Specter's voice had trembled noticeably as her mask of self confidence had slipped.
"I ain't lettin' yous go doll 'till I'se get whot I'se wont," he had smiled then, a terrible smile that sent a cold chill down Specter's spine. Instantly, he had slammed her back against the wall again, her head snapping back against the brick with a sickening crack. Specter wasn't in Queens anymore she was floating along the sky. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she was faintly aware that she was being dragged into a building.
Cold air stung her bare flesh, hot tears scalding her cheeks as Lice took her to hell and back. No matter how she begged and pleaded, he wouldn't listen as he took her and shredded her innocence. The ropes around her wrist chaffed and burned as she struggled but every time she did, he would strike her. Why hadn't she run when she had the chance? After what seemed an eternity, he had let her go. Before he had, he had whispered a warning in her ear.
"Tell anyone, and I'se got a few witnesses dat says yous weah wit' dem," his hot breath had filled her ear canal. "Doin' t'ings dat Brink would kill foah," his voice was a dangerous low as he traced the rim of her ear with his tongue. One more rough kiss was delivered to her bruised mouth before he sliced the binds on her wrists and walked from the place, leaving her alone to dress herself.
The night of hell had passed, but never to be forgotten. If only she had run. If only she had somehow moved faster or thought quicker. If only Lice had never come up with such a foul plan. If only she had never come to New York. If only she had never left Harlem, or Manhattan. If only she had picked somewhere else. If only she had controlled her tongue. If only she had controlled her temper. If only….
Again and again, the scenes of the terrible violation played through her mind as Lice guided her down the streets. One night wit'choo wos enough, he had said. If that was so, what on earth did he want with her? Surely he didn't think she intended to return to Queens, not after the humiliation and pain he had caused her. The mere thought of him sent chills down her spine, as the painful wounds were ripped open yet again. Now as he held her captive at knifepoint, she was nearly paralyzed with fear.
It didn't seem possible that the night could get any worse, that anything could happen that would possibly heighten the displeasure of the events. Though it seems whenever it seems this way, something always happens to make it just one bit more uncomfortable. That night was no exception to the rule as yet another twist of fate drew a painful expression onto Frost's face. The abandoned street was suddenly not so abandoned as three tall shadowed figures stepped from the alleyway just as Lice and Frost reached the Queens territory.
"Look whot we'se got heah," a terribly familiar voice rang out in the night. "It's ouah lil' friend, an' she brought us someone ta play wit'," the speaker stepped from the shadows to revealed his identity. It was Chester Pullvine.
The Pullvine brothers had finally caught up with Frost.
If only they hadn't….
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//For a moment,
All the world right,
How could I have know
That you'd ever say goodbye…?//
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It had been hard and feverish, then soft and slow, quick and gentle, passionate. The feelings were warm, wild, and inviting. The taste of dated nicotine clung still clung to his breath as he remembered just how she had felt in his arms. If he had only known how brief the moments would be he wouldn't have taken them for granted. She wasn't supposed to actually leave, though he was foolish to think that she would have stayed. By her own admittance, she had lived several different places, and wouldn't hesitate to live somewhere else.
To think that he would be able to change that had been foolish indeed. She was different, she was stronger than most of the other girls were, with an exterior as cold as stone. Her attitude towards him had been as cold as the night she arrived. Nothing he ever could have done would have been able to change that, no one would ever be able to change her. He wished that he could have, but would he have loved her if he had been able to?
As he trudged back to the lodging house that cool night, he couldn't help but change his route. It had seemed that there wasn't anything worth living for anymore. Too many good byes and farewells had been said for Spot's time, and this was the last one he could stand. So he was prepared to take the final plunge and say his last ultimate goodbye. This fateful twist pulled him towards the one place he knew would be able to stop him from ever feeling again. The bridge.
If only he had gone back….
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//It isn't right,
It never has been,
But tonight,
We can't ignore…//
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Normally, nothing could wake him from the deep comatose he would enter every night, but this night was proving to be anything but usual. As his deep set gray eyes cracked open, he was very aware that something was amiss. Through the steady heavy breathing around him, he listened in the darkness for other sounds, but didn't hear anything unusual. Still, he knew that something was wrong, he just knew.
Pushing his covers back, his feet hit the chilled floor, sending a shiver up his lanky length. The night air was chilled as the stove had burned out long ago, leaving nothing but a void where the heat had once been. Silently he padded down the rows of bunks, not really knowing what he was looking for. Sighing with frustration, he raked his fingers through his hair, unsure of what he was looking for and convinced that he was insane. Turning back towards hid bunk, he caught something unusual. An empty bunk that was normally occupied was what he saw.
Spot's bunk.
Where was Spot?
Just to be sure, Outsider moved over to the place where his co-leader normally took his nighttime residence. Sure enough, it wasn't an illusion of the dark, there was no one in the bed. A crinkling noise under his foot drew his attention to the floor as he stepped on something. It felt like paper, and as he peered down into the shadows, he bent over to find a note, crumpled and discarded on the floor. Picking it up, he could see that it was a note, but couldn't make out any of the words.
A candle stub, once lit, provided just enough dim, sputtering light for him to make out the words. Even though the note wasn't to him, the insatiable curiosity of a newsboy wouldn't be sufficed by simply reading the first few lines. So, against all better judgement, he began reading the letter that was written to their leader in strangely correct grammar.
Dear Spot,
I left tonight and I'm not coming back. My train will be halfway to Chicago by the time you get this letter. You won't be seeing me again, which probably is a good thing to you, but I will think of you and Brooklyn ever day, dream of you every night. Your ribs should be healed in about a week or so, your hand in about three.
I wish I had the time to explain everything to you, but I don't. There is someone here that can. Do you remember that night where I was with a girl on the streets and you confronted me about her? It seems that was forever ago, but you have to find her. She is a barmaid from Queens that I befriended in my time there. Go to the bar named 'The Red' and ask for Cecile. Show her my cross necklace from the pouch that was with this letter, she will tell you everything she knows.
I am very sorry Spot, I just wish –
That was the entire letter he read, the want for sleep had gone from his eyes as he read the second paragraph. If Spot didn't remember that cold night rendezvous, he did, and he had wondered about it. That Frost girl had always made him wonder. She wasn't trustworthy, and now with this link back to Queens, he was absolutely sure of it. Now would be the time to make his move, so he found the pouch made of a fine white linen handkerchief and opened it. There were some other objects in there, a knife, a bandana, a pair of brass knuckles and a coin pendant on the end of a leather strap, the last thing he saw was a metallic glint in the candle light.
Picking up the golden cross with the delicate chain, he smiled slightly and hurried to his bed to fetch his clothes. After he had dressed and slipped the golden cross into his pocket, he returned to the pouch, retied it and replaced the letter and sack to their places as best as he could remember. Then, blowing out the candle he headed out the door towards Queens at a breakneck speed, curiosity burning at his heels.
If only he had stayed in bed….
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//Why can't you,
Just leave me alone,
I am not yours,
Not something you own…//
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The air was much warmer than it had been when he first arrived in December. It was still chilly and the reminder of winter was still around him, but he didn't tremble violently in the late night rounds as he scoured the city streets for something, anything. His single black eye scanned each alleyway and each shadow with equal never ending perception. He was looking for her. As her wandered the territory of Brooklyn, he saw many unusual things that became usual in his eyes.
The drunken men staggering every which ways, the screaming laughter of a bar wench, the hardened prostitutes the only ones daring to approach the one eyed man. An assortment of riff-raff and scoundrels making the own by playing the games of intimidation, the homeless beggars sleeping along the streets, on benches or wherever they could find a place to rest their heads. The reality of their life being that they might not wake in the morning, but they were all too tired, hungry, and desperate to care.
The wanderings of the tall young man brought him to a place he hadn't been for awhile. The bridge between Manhattan and Brooklyn, its hulking figure looming amongst a cloud of fog that hung as a deathly cloak over the city. Having no real convictions as to why he began crossing the bride, he did.
If only he hadn't….
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//And now we're grown up orphans,
That never knew their names,
We don't belong to no one,
That's a shame…//
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The knife that had been pressed against her back was withdrawn suddenly and Frost was about to take advantage of this when she felt Lice grab her arm and pull her back firmly against his chest, bringing the blade to her throat. The trio of ruffians watched this with a strangely amused expression on their faces, the apparent leader, and smallest of the three began to chuckle and was soon joined by his brothers.
Charlie, Chester and Caleb.
Lice knew who they were, he had been in Brooklyn enough to have had a few run-ins with the troublesome trio. Time seemed to freeze and speed up at the same instant as they stood there, none of them moving. As though not moving would keep the moment from happening, if they could hold time in their own command. It was Charlie who first found his voice.
"Well, well," he smirked, strutting forward a bit, but not coming too close. "Look who we'se got heah boys," he pointed with his thumb, chuckling in a manner that rose the hairs on the back on Frost's neck. "It looks like we'se found ouah selves some friends," he started towards them and Lice took a step back, pressing the blade closer to Frost's throat.
"Stop," he ordered and Charlie gave him an ironic smile before laughing and taking another step forward.
"Whatcha goin' ta do lil' boy?" Charlie asked, spreading his arms in question.
"Is'll kill her," he threatened and Caleb and Chester exchanged a confused look behind their wittier brother.
"You'se goin' ta kill youah goilfriend just foah us?" Charlie mocked. "I don' think so," he shook his head as he continued to progress towards them as they continued to back up.
"She ain't my goil," Lice denied. "Did ya get a look at her mug?" He scoffed and Frost felt her heart sink even as it rose into her throat. It was true, he would have no qualms about killing her, the ugly girl. The comment however elicited nothing but more cruel mirthless laughter from the brothers and Frost could see the evil glint in Charlie's eyes. They wanted her.
"We'se got a little t'ing ta settle wit' youah goil dere," Charlie explained as they continued to mirror each other's movements.
"I'se got business wit' her too," Lice insisted and Frost could feel his tense muscles against her back, he was just as scared as she was, if only she could figure out a way to use that.
"Really?" Chester raised his eyebrows. "It seems dat we'se got a veahy busy goil on ouah hands," his face lost all of it's caustic humor instantly as though he dropped a mask. "But I'se t'inkin' dat we'se goin' ta deal wit' her foist," his tone said that he wasn't going to be bargaining. "Whot do yous t'ink boys?" he asked his brothers without turning to address them and they both responded with a mumbled yes, the idea of violence was in their veins numbing their already dull senses.
There was a pause in the dialogue as Lice seemed to be searching for an escape, Frost too afraid to make any sudden moves as the metallic edge of the blade pressed against her long throat. Funny how she would never get the chance to tell Spot what really happened, at least she had written a note. Though words written in a letter never expressed the true words she wanted to say. Every word she had ever said to him came flooding back as she had a sinking feeling that she was going to get the bad end of this confrontation. A noise came unexpectedly, interrupting the flow of her thoughts. As her brain began to process exactly what was happening, she saw Outsider plowing around the corner and knocking squarely into Caleb Pullvine.
Never in her life did she ever think she would be so happy to see that meddling boy.
There was a sting of profanity from the large Pullvine brother and he turned to see the tall lanky boy. This brought a distraction from the torrid duo, and she felt the knife slip down from her neck and the hold Lice had on her was loosened. At that moment she knew that it was a matter of now or never and she lunged for the momentary chance she had. Swiftly, she delivered a back kick, hoping to hit Lice somewhere that would immobilize him momentarily at least.
A loud exhale, the clatter of the knife on the ground, and then there were the pounding footsteps blending with her own. She didn't know exactly whose they were, but she wasn't interested in know, she simply ran. Harder and faster than she had ever run before, she ran away from the group of boys and away Brooklyn. Her feet flew towards the connection to the Isle of Manhattan, the Brooklyn bridge. Hoping to get lost again in some unknown area just until she could steal enough money to get by.
If only she had run the other way….
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//Can you see the line,
Where the water ends?
Throws itself,
Off into oblivion…//
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The air seemed cooler than it had before as he took a long drag from his third cigarette, trying to delay the inevitable. He was the same place he had been when he had kissed her, the same place he had once almost jumped. Several hours had been spent here alone, in solitude with his own dark thoughts. Those same dark thoughts consumed him completely in this moment as he stood there, delaying his own destiny.
Then there was that feeling that rose the hackles on his neck, but it was too late because he felt someone knock him over the back of the head, stunning him. Maybe he would die differently than expected as he felt his hands being brought behind him swiftly as he tried to clear his pain fogged brain. Before he could react, his hands were both tightly bound behind his back and he was being forced to walk forward.
The blow had knocked his cap off and the cold wind blew through his dirty brown locks, the sun's highlights long gone from his shaggy hair. Suppressing a shiver, he looked behind him to catch only a glimpse over an eye-patch before tripping over his own tired feet, forcing him to look forward. So it was Luke that had him, and he mentally swore, but he had no desire to fight.
He was too tired and too depressed to care, but he wondered if her brother knew that Frost had skipped town. An ironic smile pulled at Spot's lips, because he knew that her brother probably had no idea about his own sister. At least she was safe, away from Luke and away from him.
If only he knew how wrong his thoughts were….
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//And isn't it ironic,
Don't you think?
A little too ironic,
Don't you think…?//
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So set forth a pattern that would prove to bring forth an interesting and climatic confrontation. The kind of confrontation that only could end in a way that would prove lethal to at least one of the parties included. The wheels of fate were turning on their axis as the world seemed to be a very vast place, but so very connected in the same. The echoing foreshadowing of the events to come were laid out but none could see the full picture.
If only the players on the stage of life had written their lines slightly different. If only they had chosen the less selfish or perhaps the selfish way instead. If only they could see what was coming before them. If only they could see the traps they had set for themselves. If only they had learned to forget. If only they hadn't fallen in love. If only they had forsaken their self-motivation. If only they had kept to themselves.
If only….
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A/N: There. I did it. I can't believe that I just sat here and wrote that, but it is late and I don't feel like proof reading it. So if it is absolutely terrible, I apologize. I also apologize for the atrocious update regime I have kept, or more so, haven't kept. I am the world's worst author. This story probably only has about two to three more chapters in all. So I will just try to get those out so I can finish Blind Spot. Dang it. I am going to finish these things if it absolutely kills me. Now to thank those who reviewed my last chapter, I LOVE YOU GUYS!
Ice Renegade: Oh honey, I hope this chapter was worth the wait as well. I have to say that it basically one big set up chapter for the next one that will hopefully be up sooner than this update was. Now I am out of drama, finals are over, and school is coming to a close, I might be able to get some of this done in some sort of timely fashion. I completely apologize for the late update. As for your questions that you probably don't even remember by now I am going to answer them.
Q: Where do you get those sayings at the beginning and middle of your chapters? A: They are song lyrics, bits of poems, or text that I have written. I don't write the songs mind you, just the poems. My final chapter will contain credits and clarifications for all such uses.
Q: how do you get the Italics to show up on FF? A: I use Microsoft Word97, and it has an option to save as an HTML document. It keeps all of the Italics and bolds saved as such. Unfortunately, for some reason, it won't keep my text centered dang it. Oh well.
Well thank you so much for the review and I am the world's worst reader and the world's worst writer/updater! Many apologies!
Rae Kelly: Well you had to wait a long time for this chapter, but I hope it was worth the wait. ^_^ Thanks for reviewing.
Ireland O'Reily: My dear faithful Ireland. Oh my dear I am such a bad girl, I haven't updated for over a month, nearly two. Don't hate me forever, life has just been hectic. I truly hope to finish both of these crazy fictions by the end of this summer and I have a sequel to Blind Spot in the idea cooker right now. So I really want to get these suckers done so I can start on that one! Not to mention an interesting take on a Davey fiction and a few other ideas tucked up my sleeves! Agh! We aren't even going to touch on the millions of one-shot ideas that are ricocheting off of my brain! As always, thank you for your reviews and your comments. I love you, I really do! Take care of yourself.
FatBottomGirl: Thank you so much for your reviews! Agh I can't even express how much I appreciate all of you guys. My chapters are long? Ha, ha, well this one isn't that long, but I hope it is all right. It takes a lot of "writing endurance" to make longer chapters. Once you get more practice it is easier. Trust me, I used to think those four pages, double-spaced paragraphs, with size 10 Tahoma font was a massive chapter. Ha, ha, oh the good old days, eh? Reviews are fun things to see in the mailbox, aren't they? Ah, I love them. They are food for my muses. Well, my cast is finally off and my thumb rehab has gone well, so I am back and badder than ever! Watch out Newsie Fanfiction world! Raven's Wing is BACK!
Random: Hmm… well… Spot!Muse in my bedroom, that could be an interesting moment. He probably wouldn't get out in the same condition in which he left. :: cough – cough :: Anyway, wow, I got a reference. I am not sure if I should be honored or what. While this is quite a Spot romance, I like to think that it has a lot of other elements tied into it. It isn't a sappy love story that is for sure, it is angst all the way. I am not much for fluff writing. I've been thinking about reading Road Trip, but I just haven't had time to even read my regular fics. So right now I am going to catch up on those and then maybe I will stop by, how about that? Thanks for the review, take care. ^_^
bulldogchik05: Ha, ha, thank you for the compliment. I like to add as much detail as I can without being boring. It is my personal belief that there is too much assumption in writing fanfictions. A lot of authors just assume that the readers are going to understand what they want them to, and that isn't true. Oh well, I am just a nit-pick like that. Maybe I will stop by and check out some of your writings if you have some and review some of your work. Take care, peace. ^_^
Kaylee: Its okay you didn't review right away, I mean look at me, the update stalling queen. I am an absolute loser when it comes to updates dang it. I hope that you will still like this story. Sorry about your comp breaking down. That is no fun at all. Take care. ^_^
The Illusion Mage: AGH! I GOT A REVIEW FROM MY FAVORITE NEWSIES FANFIC WRITER EVER!!!!!!!!!!!! Okay, now enough of sounding like a teenybopper, I just can't describe the feeling I got when I saw that you had reviewed me. It was like I was tingly all over, like the feeling you get when you're a kid at Christmas. It was wonderful! Agh! Now enough scaring you with my psychobabble. You think that I am good writer? I can't even tell you how much your stories have inspired me. I can't even articulate…. I just absolutely love them. Seriously, I can read them again and again and still pick up on something I had missed the first time. I really hope you come back and write some more Newsie stuff because I will be your number one fan. Wow. Check it out, as of now, you are the ONLY author on my favorite author list. I am a very picky person, so you should be honored. Ha, ha. Thank you so much for reviewing. Take care. ^_^
Tiger: You think this is a great story? Well thank you! Take care. ^_^