Many to thank for the last chapter. :-) First, Relic for always willing to beta and suggest and all that good stuff. To Filly and Autumn for their mucho support. And to Whisper, Calliope, Puck, Sneaks, April, Stretch, Misery Loves Company, Gambler, Lute, Slash, Smalls, and Maverick. :-)
And to anyone that's left a review in the past, THANK-YOU!
Also, I should include a slash warning. It's very small, but there is a slash dream towards the end of the chapter. If you don't like slash, sorry, but slash happens in real life, so consider it just another part of the fic and move on if you don't enjoy it.

CHAPTER FIVE
No passion so effectually robs the mind of all its powers of acting and reasoning as fear.
-Edmund Burke

Autumn had found a new, more convenient path to her favorite park in the fading afternoon sun. Pleased with herself, she celebrated by taking a quick nap under her usual tree. Unbeknownst to her, Glory had been following her every move since she returned to the lodging house. He'd watched her from afar in the morning and he'd followed her around town hoping for the perfect opportunity to randomly bump into her.

While she rested under the comforts of a tall oak in the late afternoon sun, Glory knew his chances of running into her were growing slim. Step by step, Glory slowly approached the tree. He smiled at her figure – relaxed yet guarded. Her eyes were closed, but her ears were open, taking in everything from the whispers of the leaves to the clunk of an old man's uneven boot as he passed through the park.

Glory breathed heavily as he stood but a few feet from his prey. Autumn's arms were crossed, her nose wrinkled by an itch. What do I say to her? What do I do? Panicking, Glory stepped back, but his shoe caught a forlorn branch, causing it to snap under the pressure. In an instant Autumn's eyes were open, startled by proximity of the sound.

"Glory!" she yelled, exasperated. "What in God's name are ya doin'?"

"Havin' a bit of a walk. Is that alright with ya?" he asked as his temper returned quickly.

"No, it's not alright. Next time ask me permission," she countered, strangely aware of the insecurity in his eyes. Sitting up, Autumn brushed the dirt from her skirt and pretended not to notice that Glory was indeed staring at her.

Sighing, Autumn wondered if she would actually have to endure a conversation with Glory. She'd never been real friendly with the character. Sure, they had their moments, but those moments were usually filled with sarcasm and bickering. Autumn only knew Glory because he had become good friends with Bumlets. And she still couldn't figure out why Bumlets would want to associate with such an individual. "Can I help you?" she questioned. "Perhaps toss ya in the water? Find a stray dog to bite yer ass?"

"Just for that I think I'll be intrudin' on yer little picnic here a bit longer," Glory responded, quite confident that this would be an affair to remember.

Autumn pouted. "I guess that's a no, then… But I really wanted to test me throwin' distance. You'd be a great subject," she nodded, her hands gently picking at the grass around her.

Glory took advantage of the sudden lull in Autumn's temper and sat beside her, his legs crossed. "Ya know I'd really like ta give you the opportunity ta test on me, but… I don't think you really want to throw me in the water," he explained.

Autumn cocked an eyebrow at him. "I don't want to?" she asked, mimicking his tone. "And what gives ya that impression?"

"Because you would rather enjoy me company then see me drownin' in some lake," he stated.

Rolling her eyes, Autumn threw what grass remained in her hands at him and smiled. "Fine, then target practice will have to do." She grabbed another handful complete with grass, leaves, and dirt, and flung the matted substance at Glory's face.

Flinching, Glory brushed the results of her attack from his clothes. He curled his lip as he contemplated a counterattack.

Autumn watched him curiously. He wasn't moving. He wasn't even frowning. What sort of reaction was that? Shaking her head, Autumn crossed her arms and leaned back against the tree, resuming her pleasant nap. Every few moments she'd open an eye to see if Glory finally had a reaction, but he remained so still that she thought he'd even stopped breathing.

Glory waited until Autumn closed her eye again before attacking. An onslaught of leaves, twigs, grass, and dirt flew at Autumn's figure, draping her in an earthly attire.

She should have known. "Pffft…" Autumn spit out a stray leaf from her mouth and nodded to Glory. "Well, now that we're both satisfied that we can throw dirt… I suppose it's time for a better challenge."

His ears perked. "Oh? What do you have in mind?" Anything that involved Glory spending more time with Autumn was okay in his book.

Autumn stood and brushed as much dirt off as she could. Her hands on her hips, she smiled sweetly at Glory. "An old fashioned race to get dinner."

Glory looked at her skeptically. "What do you mean?"

He shouldn't have asked.

Autumn's boot impacted sharply with Glory's leg before she sped towards the street. She was a rather fast runner, though she had no doubt Glory would catch up – but the shin situation would certainly heed his progress. The two spent much of the late afternoon charging around lower Manhattan, pilfering what food they could, and actually getting along, despite the occasional kick or sharp-witted comment. Autumn didn't know Glory wanted more than just a silly afternoon, but Glory aimed to enlighten her of that detail – and soon.

~~


Filly strained her ears to hear an organ grinder not too far off, but he was singing in Italian, and the tune was unfamiliar to the Australian's ears. Her mind was cluttered with the rowdy sounds of the street and the bleak humming of the factory's machinery. Her brown hair lightly falling out of a lopsided bun and green eyes faded by life itself, Filly tried once more to diligently concentrate on her work, even with the workday coming to a close.

Usually one had a real reason to go to Five Points. It wasn't for the scenery or the hospitality – it was for the work, or the family, or to pay off a debt. Turf wars in Five Points had raged on for decades - families of the old country pitted against those 'Born Americans'. Tempers were never fully contained in the area – one false word or movement could send things into an uproar, usually leaving bloodied bodies strewn about in the aftermath of the Points' newest fight.

The factory that Filly and Ember worked at was by no means large enough to accommodate the work they did daily. By definition the establishment wasn't even a factory, but rather the third floor of a dress shop on Hudson Street, right in the heart of Five Points. Outside awnings lined the street, a sure sign of flourishing businesses. The chorus of merchants could be heard from one end of Hudson to the other, each voice offering the customer the best price in town. Crowds of people did their best to walk freely along the dirt roads, but space was limited, and Five Points was overrun with mainly Irish and Italian immigrants – each equipped with that one spark of hope for a better life.

Ember and Filly, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to be rid of their Five Points existence. The job was blistering, the pay was lousy, and the area gave them both chills. They both hadn't faired well hawking headlines and when word of this job filled through the boarding house, neither of them could brush off the notion of working in Five Points. If it hadn't been for the job, they'd both have been out on the street, selling something much more sacred than newspapers.

Ember's bright red ponytail bounced in satisfaction as she completed another portion of her latest dress. She ran her fingers over the silken fabric, admiring her craftsmanship. Imagining herself delicately twirling in the dress, Ember set to work on the next portion. The only things keeping her motivated were the thought of wearing a similar dress someday, of buying it with her own money, and of having the affections of a handsome gentleman that would take care of her. The fear of living her life alone in this hellhole was buried in a dark corner as she weaved her hands over the cloth.

~~


"C'mon Blink! Take a swing! I'm standin' right here waitin' for ya!" Jack exclaimed, excited to have something to do during the downpour outside. The boys never grew tired of a "fight", whether real or with playful intentions. The organized bouts in the streets had occupied their interests (and sometimes their money) for years and many learned to mimic the moves of the aged boxers.

Smirking, Blink put up his fists, aligning them with Jack's, and protecting his chest as best he could. He jabbed gently with his right as Jack swerved to miss the hit. Jack countered with a quick left that connected with Blink's chest, only to send the boy back a step. Grinning, Jack circled Blink, awaiting the next opportunity to thrust a punch.

Hooting and hollering, more and more lodgers gathered around, making a human ring for the boys to duel in. Some cheered on Blink, some Jack, but Racetrack was more interested in taking bets for cash. As every punch flew, he quickly recalculated the odds in his head, making sure that whatever the outcome, he'd take a percentage of the winner's bets (for holding their money and organizing the betting, of course).

Fighting without much depth perception hindered Blink's attack, but finally he saw an opportunity to overtake his opponent, and lunged forward with all this might, throwing his strength and hope into one single punch. Surprised by the move, Jack didn't move in time and the punch connected with his stomach, sending Jack's arms to protect the wounded area. In the process, Jack's hand clipped Blink's head, his fingers tugging at the boy's eye patch. Within seconds, Jack was tumbling towards the floor while Blink's life was changing forever. His eye patch had been stripped from his face, rendering him as vulnerable as the day he'd first needed the discolored leather piece.

Blink swung his arms wildly, forced to relive an encounter that haunted his dreams periodically. His hands grasped fistfuls of air as they frantically searched for his eye patch. The air grew silent as Blink caught the piece of material and threw himself to the ground, his arms covering his face like he was cowering from gunfire. The boys stood there in shock, horror, and disbelief – eyes fixated on the slumped-over figure below them, mouths wide open. They'd imagined what Blink's eye looked like a hundred times, but no one actually thought his eye would be completely missing. Though they'd only caught a glimpse of it, that sole glance was all they needed. Jack covered his mouth, Pie Eater turned as his face twisted in disgust, Racetrack's cigar dropped from his mouth. The rest merely stood there in shock – their bodies frozen in time. They'd all seen blood in the streets, but they weren't attached to those instances outside of the lodging house. They felt attached to Blink in many ways and the bond between them buckled under the stress of this new discovery and the pain that was carried with it.

Before them sat Kid Blink, someone they'd known for years, but now he was different. He had a new aura about him, a new feeling - one that didn't feel right or normal. He had changed in their eyes within the span of a few moments and it was all because of a single image that had been shielded from their eyes until now. An inescapable image of pain and suffering, they stared at Blink in horror. It was like they were witnessing an accident, and no matter how horrid the images before their eyes, they just had to look.

Blink quickly slipped the patch back over his face as his coarse fingers rubbed against the empty socket. He shuddered as he felt the hardened, scabbed-over skin. Visions of long ago flooded through his mind. He remembered standing in front of the mirror, staring at the area where he once could see. It was dark – so dark. And empty. The skin had scabbed over most of the wound, dark red and black pieces of dried blood and skin clinging to his socket. The doctors had removed most of the red substance, but the pain was so unbearable that Blink had refused much treatment for his wound. It reminded him of when his pa used to chew tobacco and the black substance that it produced when spit out of one's mouth. It was as if someone spit tobacco into his eye and it was permanently affixed to his face.

Dey've seen it. Dey ain't never gonna treat me da same. I'm so ugly, so different. Blink stood, his head covered by his arms. He pushed past the boys and made for the stairs. He decided wouldn't come back until after nightfall, when the others were asleep and their condemnatory eyes were hindered by night's darkness. Or perhaps he'd never return. Solace could be found in more than one town, he silently told himself. Solace was a place in his mind, one he could reach when he wanted.

The door swung open furiously and Blink escaped the cold, unwelcome feeling of Kloppman's lodging house. The air greeted him with a change of scenery, but Blink couldn't concentrate on the cool spring weather. Where would he go? Athena. He could make for the boarding house up on Chamber Street. He could go to her, tell her what happened, take comfort in her arms. But what if she questioned his eye? She'd never seen it. She'd never asked to in their months of courting. What if he scared her away? The mere idea of losing another friend tonight made his stomach churn.

No. He'd go to Medda's. She understood him – she never asked personal questions. She'd let him catch a show, or maybe two before charging him. He'd be welcome there and hidden in a crowd full of men who didn't care who he was or what he looked like. No one would pay attention to him, and he'd be safe. Without further hesitation Blink turned towards Irving Hall.

~~

Images feverishly paved through David Jacobs' head as he slumbered atop the roof of his tenement building. His dream played out like a fast-paced movie. He could see Bliss, his girlfriend of over a year, smiling at him, inviting him with open arms to come with her. But then she was gone – replaced by a taller, more muscular figure. David gave a confused smile at the familiar male. His hair was greasy and uncombed, shoulders broad and pronounced, his arms long and inviting. David wanted to be closer to him. He moved towards the boy, noticing the inviting look on his companion's face. Their hands met and fingers entwined as if they'd done it a hundred times. The taller boy laughed at David and smiled attractively. Abruptly David was pulled into a muscular chest, and the male let go of his hands in order to embrace David in a warm hug. David's face pressed against the long neck before him and he couldn't help but nibble on the balmy flesh.

"Davey, how could ya!" Jack screamed and pushed David away. "That's sick!"


"I didn't mean it!" David's eyes flew open. It was a dream. Wiping his eyes, David looked around desperately hoping no one had joined him on the roof. To his relief the roof was devoid of life save his lonely, confused figure.

"What the hell am I? Some… some…" David couldn't say the word out loud, but he couldn't help but think he'd been reduced to some sort of boy-lover. He'd had the same dream for weeks on end – Bliss would be there, but only for a few moments. Then Jack would appear, they'd become intimate, but before too long, Jack pushed him away.

Running his hands through his soft, brown curls, David lay back on the roof's gritty floor. "These dreams have gotta stop. I love Bliss ya hear? Bliss, not… not Jack… Jack's got a girl… A girl. He don't like… boys…" he whispered. He felt sweat drip from his forehead and quickly removed the beads with his sleeve.

Jack can't ever find out. Ever. I'd be a dead man. These dreams don't exist as far as I'm concerned. It's a stupid mistake. A mistake. His mind repeated those sentences over and over before David heard his father call him to dinner.

"Okay, Pa!" David made his way down the fire escape willing his body to forget the endearing touch of Jack Kelly.