DALTON: Things are not going well back at the fort…
(is sitting sprawled on the sofa in her pajamas, watching the very last scene of Newsies and switching from frame-to-frame with the remote) Now, watch as Davey's shirt changes—
Clean...DIRTY! Clean...DIRTY! Clean...DIRTY! Clean…
DALTON: She's without her squigglies for three weeks, and this is what happens…
They were like family to me! Tell me, Charlie—without my squigglies, what do I have in this world?
DALTON: Um…well…(cough) Me! (cough)
Oh, are you coming down with a cold, Nuwanda?
DALTON: (sobs)
Um. Anyway…
To make Charlie happy, I'll grace you with a late disclaimer about what I do and do not own (Dalton loves disclaimers. He loves them. Actually, I don't think he's ever quite as happy as when he's writing one out). So, apart from the eighteen bajillion pop culture references (which I won't list here, because it would take up a good bit of memory and since I'm writing this on a computer that's older than I am, that might not be the best idea) I also don't own any of the swell OC's submitted by authors, twenty-five total (all of which I am using, you codfish, so worry your pretty little heads about something else (wink))
DALTON: (happily) My love…
(pats Dalton on the head) …And now, on with the fic!
.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.
Chinese Lantern
.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.
Chapter Five—
Up on the Catwalk
.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.
"I'd rather like a twenty carat earring, ha ha—
If I'm not pure, at least my jewels are!"
--Candide
.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,..,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.
Whenever the world seemed like too much to deal with, Spot Conlon went for a walk. It was as simple as that. When he felt bad, he went outside and wandered through his kingdom, and always, at the end of the day, he felt better.
Whenever Maddox was depressed, she went to the drugstore and bought a new toothbrush. Something about bright plastic and new bristles was always oddly comforting and cheerful, and you can't take yourself too seriously when you're holding something sparkly and day-glow pink. But Maddox didn't know where she would come by a toothbrush in the Dall Mansions, so when Ershey showed her to her room that night—a tiny cubicle, barely big enough for a mattress—she turned out the lights, collapsed in bed, and sank into a deeper kind of darkness. And Spot went for a walk outside.
It didn't take long for him to find his way out of the Dall Mansions. He did his best to retrace his steps up to the dining hall, ignoring once again the glares of the women clustered around tables and taking their coffee out on the balcony, and by the time Spot got there it didn't take much detective work to find his way to the double doors that led outside.
He stepped out, and immediately found himself suspended in midair. The city was hundreds of feet below him, the soot and smoke nearly camouflaging the people making their way around the crowded streets and thoroughfares in the dripping heat, making them almost seem like elementals, parts of the very atmosphere…he could see the whole city, the buildings and cobblestones and stalls and shacks that stretched out for as far as he could see and then farther. All that separated him from it was miles of lacy gridiron catwalks and fire escapes. The whole city was in his grasp, and all he could see was black.
He grasped the handrail tightly, noticing the grease and soot that came off on his palms, and looked up—far up, above the Dall Mansions, a few dirty panes, cracked and splintered like a pattern of frost, let slip through a few milky shards of sunlight. That was the only real light he saw. The entire city below—a song of turning gears and vendor's cries, hot as the seventh circle of Hell—lived without sun, without light, without warmth.
With a sigh, Spot let go of the rails, and began his slow descent into the metropolis below.
He couldn't have guessed how long he was down there. He wandered the knotted streets, ignoring guttersnipes, whores of all kinds, thieves with knives in their boots, the drunks, the hawkers, the gangs. He felt his way along the corners and the sides of buildings, pressing his body up against the walls, as soot fell dark on his brow and cheeks, staining his clothes like blackened snow, settling in the whorls of his ears. Spits of cinders stung his eyes; he found a half-hidden door leading underground, found himself in some murky dive and saw men at the bar filtering something green and poisonous through the grain of sugar cubes, sitting behind the counter as they stared out the dark windows, lighting match after match. They laughed and with blackened hands gave him something to drink that made his eyes cloud up, and, hoping that his mind would cloud as well, he had five glasses and then stumbled outside, leaning against the wall, all the time scanning the streets.
It was only as he was walking away that it occurred to him what he was looking for—children. The entire time he had been down here, he hadn't seen a single child.
It was sometime between midnight and dawn when the knock came on Maddox's door. She struggled into the waking world, the covers binding her tightly as she came away from a dream, she opened the door to see Spot leaning in the corridor with a black eye and a ripped collar, almost asleep on his feet.
"You look a little spiffed," she remarked.
He shuffled in, apparently having not heard, and had just enough energy to kick off his shoes before he fell into the bed next to her, burying his face in her neck, feeling how soft and clean she was, and closing his eyes against the coolness of her skin…
She switched off the lamp and lay down, letting him curl around her, on the edge of sleep. "How did you know where I was?"
"I didn't know. Jus' knocked on all the doors 'till I found out." He burrowed more deeply under the covers, and was out like a light.
Resting her head against the pillow, Maddox ran a hand gently through Spot's hair, full of static from the air outside. As she threaded her fingers through, down at the nape of his neck, she felt a little shock on the tips of her fingers—the tiniest bit of electricity, enough to see her way. She ran her hands along his forehead, and watched the sparks fly.
.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,
At dawn the next morning, Ershey came knocking at the door, holding a tray with coffee and sugar, bread and some condensed milk. She raised a quizzical eyebrow when she saw Spot curled up in the corner of the mattress, and setting the tray on the rug, she sat down next to Maddox on the bed.
"A freebie, on your first day?" She clicked her tongue in mock-consternation. "Pardon me for saying this, hen, but you don't seem to be making much progress…"
Maddox rolled her eyes before falling upon the breakfast tray, devouring the food ravenously. She smiled when she saw Ershey staring at her with a mix of awe and disgust. "What? I haven't eaten in days."
"You ate lunch yesterday, you pig."
"…Same difference."
"What an odd grammatical construction," Ershey remarked, as Maddox tore into a slice of bread. "Honestly, the semantics used where you come from are quite bizarre. Same difference. But how could a difference be the same? How could—"
"Ersh," Maddox interrupted, "you know I love you, I really do, but are we going to do anything today, or just sit around playing syntax hockey for the entire morning?"
Ershey stared at her a moment, and almost looked as if she was going to ask another question, but caught herself just in time. "I have everything worked out," she said primly. "We're going up to visit Coin this morning. If anyone will know what to do, it's her. Oh, and you can borrow some of my clothes, of course," she added.
"Thanks a lot," Maddox teased.
Ershey just smiled, too preoccupied to notice the sarcasm. "It's no trouble. And your friend—"
"Spot has to come," Maddox interrupted. "We're in this together."
"But how will we get him upstairs without someone objecting? They'll know he's not a patron, and they won't want him around if he can't pay, I can tell you that much." She sighed. "Goddess, I can't see any way around this…"
Maddox and Ershey both looked down at Spot, slumbering peacefully, completely oblivious.
"Hey Ersh?" Maddox said, studying Spot's face, "you know a lot about make up, right?"
"Yeah…why?"
"What color lipstick do you think he would look better with—coral pink, or fire engine red?"
.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,
It was almost terrifyingly easy to find clothes that fit Spot well. "He's got a wonderful bone structure," Ershey murmured as she slipped her best corset over his head, admiring her handiwork. "And wouldn't you just kill to have lips like that?"
Maddox just stifled a giggle and went to work with the concealer.
They learned a lot more than they needed to know about Spot that morning, but perhaps the most important lesson was that he was an incredibly deep sleeper. They had time to dress him, do his make-up, and find a rosy satin tea-dress and slippers for Maddox to wear before he even came to.
As he woke up, he rolled around, noticing the fabric against his skin and sleep mumbling: "I love the feel a' taffeta…"
When he opened his eyes he saw the horrified stares Ershey and Maddox were giving him, and said it backwards to see if it would reverse the effects. "Attefat 'a leef eht evol I—" he stammered. "Uh, Maddie? Why am I dressed like dis?"
"Very long story," Maddox said.
After they did their best to explain the dress situation to Spot (who actually didn't seem to mind it that much) they went up to Coin's apartments at the very top floor of the Dall Mansions. As they walked out of the elevator, they were immediately greeted by chaos—behind the door, someone was screaming, and a moment later something shattered against the wall. The door was flung open and a naked man ran outside and down the stairs, looking like he was fleeing for his life.
"And stay out!" the woman behind the door snarled. Ershey covered Maddox's eyes.
The man stopped when she hurled his clothes at him, his shoe hitting him squarely in the jaw. He put his finger inside his mouth, and it came away bloody.
"You chipped my tooth, you fucking bitch!"
"I like dis goil," Spot said. Ershey covered Maddox's ears as well.
The girl behind the door threw the other shoe at the man on the stairwell with remarkable force, and he took that as his last invitation to leave without injury. As he sprinted down the stairwell, the door to Coin's apartments was flung open, revealing a girl a shade over five feet tall, with fine, dark hair and the palest skin Maddox had ever seen, a fiery blush spreading across her cheeks. Her jaw was clenched so tightly that her face was tensed all the way up to her forehead; she was clearly no one to be trifled with.
Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain, Maddox thought, doing her best to get Ershey's hands away from her ears, to no avail.
Coin surveyed the motley crew assembled outside her doorway. While she was silent, every breath in the room was held. At last, she looked at Spot, and sighed deeply, her face twitching in a strange approximation of a smile.
"That's a very ugly girl you have there, Ershey." And then a grin broke out on her face; she laughed, and flung her door wide open.
Ershey launched herself into Coin's arms, hugging her so tightly it looked as if she would never let go. "My sister," she said, softly.
"I thought I would never see you again."
Ershey laughed. "Well, with your reputation for dealing with unwanted visitors..."
Coin just shook her head, laughing, and turned to survey Maddox and Spot, standing uncomfortably on the landing. "You are a boy, aren't you?" she said to Spot. He nodded. "Good. You're passable as a boy, but as a girl, you're an absolute dog."
"I'm glad ya think that, Miss."
"Now, come on," Coin said. "All of you. We're having breakfast on the balcony today." She smiled. "Oh, and Ersh?"
"Hmm?"
"Coral lipstick? I think I would have gone with mauve."
"Oh, but he has just the right complexion…"
They sat on the terrace and ate bananas and cream and had fresh milk from pale blue bowls, looking out at the Dall Mansion pavilion spread below, full of cool stone benches, fish ponds and bridges and exotic trees heavy with fruit, where the higher-status girls could wander in their free time and catch up on their gossip. A little sunlight filtered in through the paned glass above, and Spot and Maddox stretched out languid as cats on the tile, for once relaxing a little, and Coin and Ershey talked over breakfast, both making up for lost time.
"I have to say," said Ershey, "you really lucked out here. I mean, the apartment, the pay, the view…"
"Luck!" Coin laughed. "Luck has nothing to do with it. It's just like they say—rely on a fuck, not luck, to get you where you want."
"You're a poet and you don't know it," Spot said. Maddox laughed and Coin just looked puzzled.
"Honestly," Ershey said, "I could make a fortune just writing about the dialect where these two come from."
"And where is that?" Coin asked curiously.
As Ershey's explanation unfolded, Coin stared at Maddox, looking more and more astonished, until, by the end of the story, her eyes were as wide as saucers.
"The worldwalls," she murmured. "Incredible."
Lazily, Maddox rolled over onto her stomach, looking up at Coin. "It's completely credible," she assured her. "Trust me. I should know."
"But nothing like this has ever—"
"So what?" Spot piped up. "It has now."
"So what," Ershey mused. "Yet another odd construction. Do you suppose—"
"SHUT UP, ERSHEY!" everyone said at once.
"Well, there's no need to get snippy…"
"So no one's evah done this before?" Spot asked inquisitively. "I mean…gone through?"
"Not…not recently," Coin said.
"Well, whaddaya mean, 'recently'?"
"It's a long story, my ugly."
"Then tell it," he said.
.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.
Five hundred and eighteen years. That was how long it had been since anyone had broken through—and up until now, it was the first and the last time that it had happened.
The first crossing of the worldwalls occurred at the same time as the great color war—before that, Möbia was an idyllic place, fertile and rich, where anyone could wear whatever color they wanted, Gliss and Nour got along as sisters and the Dall Mansions were something that no one could have imagined. But all that changed when she came along.
She was the youngest daughter in the royal court at Nour, the best beloved, most beautiful princess in the nation. By now, her story had little truth left to it, but what legends remained told that she had a heart as strong and vengeful as it was capable of love—and when she fell in love with the eldest heir, and he broke her heart, she vowed to settle the score. And she did—in the most destructive act of political sabotage in the history of Möbia.
She understood power, and she understood the crown. All she needed to do was cause a rift between the Northern city and the Southern, and when they were at war, everything would topple. And of course, she managed to do just that. And of course, she succeeded.
After the twelve year war—the war that killed a third of the population, left the entire country between Gliss and Nour as a no-man's-land, and made what was once a thriving nation into a wasteland—the country realized who was at fault. But before she could be put to death, she found a way to navigate the worldwalls and move into an alternate universe, and escape.
There, legend had it, she had been living in exile for the last five hundred and eighteen years, plotting her revenge on the country that had cast her out from her home, waiting for the opportunity to strike. Spot and Maddox's arrival meant that the time had come. Any day now, she would emerge, and wreak havoc in this world. Before, she had weakened Möbia beyond comprehension. Now, she would destroy it. Her name was…
"Priscilla?" Maddox sputtered. "The face of ultimate evil is named Priscilla?"
"Don't blame me," Coin said, shrugging.
"Actually, I think I will."
"So that goil," Spot murmured, still deep in thought. "That goil at the opium den, who cut me and—and—"
"Priscilla," Coin finished for him.
"Wow. When they said addiction could kill ya, they weren't kiddin'…"
Deep in thought, Maddox was staring intently at Spot. Something about him was so familiar—the shape of his face, his eyes, something. Something made her feel like she'd seen him before. But where?
Suddenly, it came to her. She pulled the newspaper clipping out of her pocket, gingerly unfolded it, and handed it to Spot.
"Hey," he said, as if he had somehow accomplished something. "That's me."
"You don't photograph well, do you?" Ershey remarked.
"Aw, shaddup, it's a bad angle…"
Coin leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm and looking down at Maddox's photograph. "You two are linked," she said, quietly. "Doubtless. Maybe you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, but you've been brought together, and that's the only way you're going to get out of this, too."
"And how exactly is that?" Maddox asked.
"You have to go to the court at Gliss," Coin said, completely serious now. "You have to make your way across the country, and warn them. You have to be envoys—"
"Ambastards," Spot said, faintly.
"…That works too. We have to have our defenses ready when Priscilla comes back…oh, and she will come back. You two have to help us. Right now, you're our only hope."
"Then call me Obi-Wan Kenobi," Maddox said, a remark which Ershey chose to ignore, probably for the good of her health.
"I thought there was no way out a' the city," Spot said, looking remarkably calm. When you find yourself in a world that you know nothing about, made up in blush and eyeliner and sitting on a balcony in the biggest whorehouse in the world, everything starts to feel like a lucid dream.
"Well, there is," Coin said. "Sort of."
"The underground?" Ershey asked. Coin nodded. "But does anyone even know where that is?"
"I do."
"I wouldn't have put it past you," she sighed.
.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.
Ershey led them down from the lobby that night, after they had made arrangements and packed a few things. Maddox walked with head down as they traversed the narrow alleyways and paths that snaked through layers beneath the streets, a dark scarf bound tightly at her skin, hiding her hair and casting her face in shadows. Whether it was from fear or just the darkness she didn't know, but Spot held close to her for the entire journey.
They walked for maybe two miles, all the way going gradually deeper and deeper underground. No one spoke. And when they finally reached the train, it was only through Coin's shout of recognition that they realized they had arrived—it was completely dark, out of order for hundreds of years. The only light was cast by the kerosene lantern that Ershey held with an outstretched arm.
Coin was fiddling with a fuse box when they got there, flipping switches on and on and working at the wires with her deft fingers. Suddenly, something connected, and the entire terminal lit up, the train coming to life once again.
"Neat trick," Ershey said.
Coin handed two parcels to Spot and Maddox. "I've packed you some food and other essentials. No. Don't open them until you're on your way. Ride the rails until you can't go any further, and then go aboveground. If you're lucky, it will take you for half of your journey, or at least as far as Grisette—that's the first major settlement outside Nour. And if you're not, well…"
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Spot finished.
Coin smiled and tweaked his ear. "My kind of fellow." Ershey rolled her eyes and made gagging motions.
Maddox was preoccupied, looking at the train in the terminal, a behemoth from another era. It was magnificent.
"It's sort of like Speed," she said, and was rewarded by puzzled stares from her companions. "The movie, about the bus…that went really fast…and then they went on the subway…and Keanu Reeves did a What Now? look…" Maddox sighed. "Never mind."
"You an' your movies," Spot muttered.
Coin pulled a lever, and the doors to the train sprung open. "In," she hissed. "While we still have a chance. I can get it moving; from there on it's up to you."
Maddox hugged Ershey tightly, and then Coin, while Spot stood a few feet away and tried without much success and tried to arrange his face into something appropriate for the situation (he ended up looking like he had swallowed a bug, but the sentiment was surely appreciated). And then, both travelers clambered aboard, and the train heaved itself into motion.
Maddox pressed her nose against the window as Coin and Ershey were pulled out of sight—as faster and faster they left behind the terminal, the terrible city of Nour; as her eyes got too weak to see even small figures in the distance, and the train rushed farther away, away from the warmth, away from the light, and farther than she had ever traveled.
[TBC…]
.,.,.,.,.,.,.,
A/N: If anyone feels the need to pelt me with overripe kumquats as punishment for putting Spot in drag, those will be made available. And, if you want to reward me for it…do the same. I'll go through botanical dodge ball, and then have a nice fruit salad afterwards.
Shout-outs!
Ershey: Yep! With every chapter completed, I'm that much closer to Newsies Rap! …Which, probably, isn't the absolute best reason to keep going…but whatever works, right? (wink)
MUSH: Even white boys got ta shout…baby got back!
(giggles and falls over)
Teepot: Are you going to be paired with Jack? Was there ever any question? (pause) Well…as long as you don't mind banjo music and living in a swamp…(grins) Suffice it to say, darlin', he's all yours.
Soaker: Well, considering that annoying Dalton is my one real goal in life...
DALTON: (wails) Why can't you be normal, and worry about college?
If Race can have his sock obsession…then I can worry about my asterisks.
DALTON: (sobs)
(high-fives Soaker) Now, that's five points for making him cry…
Nada Zimri: Does your friend sell real estate? Seriously, I'd be interested…(grins) Once again, another money-making scheme from Mattie and Dakki…with this money, we can BUY our asterisks back!
DALTON: Or feed hungry children…save the whales…preserve the rain forest…
(sighs) Obviously, Charlie, your priorities are just not in order…
Nani: (grins) TEAL! I knew girl named Teal once…she played Saxophone with me in band…interesting girl, Teal was…
DALTON: Is this going anywhere?
No…not really…(snaps to attention) Anyway! Baby blue is a great color, except, of course, when used on tuxedoes. (wink)
Petra: Weeeeell, let's just say the newsies can do many things we never thought they could…within reason. For instance, alternate world-hopping is plausible; roller-blading is not.
DALTON: You know…just because you couldn't do it…
(glares)
Buttons: (sighs) Oh, the froggie romances of my past…how I could go on…
DALTON: (stares)
Charlie…have you ever wondered why the handle of your toothbrush is clammy sometimes? Or why your pillows—
DALTON: AUGH!
Heehee.
Klover: When you think about it, those same principles can pretty much be applied to everything… (grins) And here we are, folks…conclusive evidence that Molly Ringwald movies really can save humanity!
DALTON: (sighs) Ya think, Dak?
Well, I wasn't gonna leave it up to you… (winks)
Coin: (gasps) Of COURSE you're lovely and mysterious! Anyone who wears pink Converse is by default, right?
DALTON: (rolls his eyes)
Ccatt: Aw, it goes without saying that you're in it, doesn't it? I mean, someone has to help Racey pick out his socks, right? (whispers) Between you and me…the guy has horrendous taste…
Rubix: AAH! THE CUTENESS! Must…not…tickle…
Haha! XD Of course you're in this one, darlin'—you didn't need Les to find that out. Although…now that he's here an' all…can I keep 'im?
DALTON: No…more…NEWSIES!
(whines) But Charlie, he followed me home!
Shooter: (sighs happily) I love snickerdoodles too…seriously, just SAYING "snickerdoodle" is almost as good as eating one. Snickerdoodle… snickerdoodle… snicker—
DALTON: (smacks upside the head)
(grins) ...Thanks. I needed that…
Sparks: Well…I just turned sixteen…and sound like I'm…seven, at best…so…(grins) consider yourself really, really lucky.
DALTON: And tell the same thing to your preppie-muse.
You know, Charlie…not all muses are preppie.
DALTON: No?
No. Most of them are half-naked newsies, actually. (pause) You're damn lucky I couldn't get a refund…
Strawberri Shake: (grins) The thing is, I can't figure out who's more unlucky…Ersh, for selling herself since she was twelve…or Jack, for being named Kermit. (grins) Kind of a toss-up…
Sapphy: It appears you're in a bit of a pickle, Ram…
RAM: (stabs himself in the forehead with a pencil) Look! Now I'm bleeding more than Race! (looks up at Sapphy with Shrek 2 Puss in Boots eyes)
(grins) Leave it to our Rammykins…
Uninvisible: (bows down to the genius) My GOD you are brilliant…and the sad thing is, in about three months, I bet Seventeen is gonna be featuring one pink shoe, one black. Ah, the curse of the trendsetter…(wink)
Splashey: (grins) Fetish, fetish, fetish, fetish…I agree, good word. You know what's even more fun to say, though? DOILIE.
DALTON: …Why me?
BabyXtreme: Yeah, I love torturing these guys…Disney has given us a beautiful gift…what's next—Spot Gonzo Conlon?
DALTON: Please, whatever you do, don't give her ideas…
(winks)
.,.,.,.,.,.
Next Up: Chapter Six—In Which NyQuil Is Put To Nefarious Purposes, Our Hero And Heroine's Friends Get Pulled Into The Adventure, Even If They Don't Really Understand What's Going On (Kermit, I'm Looking At You)