A/N: Well, first things first…
(gets down on her hands and knees) IIII'MMMM SOOOORRRRRRYYYYY!
It's been a long time. And such an eventful past few weeks. First I was in Iowa, then I was sick, and the, when I could finally drag myself out of my house, I watched Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights, and THAT was so awful that I couldn't get out of bed for another few days.
DALTON: (dances by) You must FEEL the music!
(sighs) …Oh, and Charlie's back, after being baby-sat over at my good buddy Sapphy's house, which he apparently liked SO much that he wants to live there permanently. However, not wanting to subject anyone to being woken up at the crack of dawn for a good, thorough flossing, Charlie's back for good, I'm happy, and the world makes sense once again. I only hope you can forgive me, too, in a way that I will never be able to forgive that movie…
DALTON: Because the music sets them dancing…and the dancing sets them free…
How could such a great film have spawned such an awful spinoff?
DALTON: …Nobody puts Dakki in the corner.
(grins) Now, that's more like it.
And now, on to the fic!
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Chinese Lantern
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Chapter Nine—
Despite the Falling Snow
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"For once, there was an unknown land, full of strange flowers and subtle perfumes; a land of which it is joy of all joys to dream; a land where all things are perfect and poisonous."
--Velvet Goldmine
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"Obviously," Coin said, "we have absolutely no way of knowing where they ended up. We sent both of them out on the train, but it's anyone's guess as to how far that actually went."
"So they could be anywhere?" Ram asked glumly.
"Oh, north, or in that general direction, I suppose."
"Oh, in that general direction, you suppose?"
Coin looked at him bemusedly. "You know, if you don't shut up, I might be forced to stop your heart by way of torturously extreme sexual pleasure."
"Do me next!" called a voice faintly from the back. Coin ducked away, and did her best not to burst out laughing.
They were in the butterfly garden of the Dall Mansions, Coin leading the tour through the heavy, sweet air of the glass dome that had been a gift from a former Nouri prince to his favorite courtesan, kept full of hundreds of species of butterflies for the amusement of the girls.
It was the crowning jewel of the pleasure-gardens in a place where all was hot ice and splintering, exquisite poison. It was where you would go to sit and dream of a better life and feel the snow-soft wings of a Queen Aureliabrush against your cheek, or any one of a thousand other species, creatures so beautiful that they lived only for a single day. And now, it was where Coin had taken the boys who had decided to venture forth in search of their friend—Racetrack, Kid Blink, Skittery, Snitch, Mush, Jack, David, Itey, Dutchy, Bumlets, Specs, and, of course, Jack—and Ginnie, Ram, and Max, still a little woozy, who had decided to look for theirs.
"Here's my plan," said Jack (who, in fact, had yet to say anything today that didn't start with, "here's my plan." For example: "here's my plan—I'm gonna have eggs on toast, and Ershey, do you know where I could find another coffee cup?"). "Here's my plan—the boys an' me, and you guys too"--he nodded towards Maddox's friends--"sneak outta the city tonight, walk aboveground till we find civilization, which can't be that far 'cause the place ain't so big, then we get pointers from there, and—oh, look! A butterfly landed on my arm!"
Racetrack groaned. "Got anythin' else to say, Jack?"
"No, not really…"
Coin craned her neck to look at Jack, who was staring transfixed at a black Morpheus' Moth perched on his forearm. Slowly unfurling its wings, it revealed to the light of day what was concealed so well by its drab, sooty underbelly—in subtle gradations from dusky purple to a blue as electric and iridescent as the virgin sky, as water, as sugar-ice or a beetle's miniature armor, the Morpheus' Moth displayed its beauty to the world, hidden neatly away until it was coaxed, little by little, to let it out. Coin watched for a moment, hypnotized along with all the other boys, leaning in against the worn-through sides of their boots to get a better look at what had to have been the most beautiful thing they had ever seen. And then, with fingers quick as lightning, she plucked it up and popped it into her mouth.
Everyone looked at her, aghast. Smiling innocently, she smiled and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "What?"
"It's…brutal," David said, almost to himself.
"It's a delicacy," Coin corrected him. And with that she led them off along another path, skirting back towards the balconies of the Dall Mansions, and began to explain their escape route.
It was perhaps then that the newsies first realized they were pilgrims in an unholy land—how cruel and cruelly exquisite this world really was, and these girls as cold as ice who seemed to melt like milk and honey in your mouth and low along your body, but as time went by still had hearts as cold as frost. Every one of them reacted to it differently, spoke different words or didn't speak at all, but still they saw. If there was any bitter gift the city had at last given them, it was clarity of vision, and an unending need for forgiveness.
That night, they were shown the other city, the dark underbelly for the ornate butterfly that was the Dall Mansions. As they wandered through the clotted backstreets and alleyways, they realized for the first time that there were so few words to describe the world, and Ram, for the first time than anyone could remember, managed not to burst into song. In a rare moment of affection, Max asked Ginnie if she was all right, if she would be all right, because he wasn't, and was she…was she…but of course she wasn't. Ginnie who cried at everything: at old movies and new movies and children in the park and meteor showers and waterfalls and old people and babies and homeless men and once, for no apparent reason, an old drinking fountain that struck her as particularly poignant. Ginnie getting upset was a given at any occasion but for the boys, anyone could tell, even after having known them for a few hours, it wasn't. Racetrack drove himself crazy looking for children, any child, anywhere, just something, please, dragging himself along stone walls and cast-iron grates and hoisting himself up by the tips of his fingers, scraping them down to nothing, ending up in tears. Skittery and Blink got lost for hours, and it was only be sheer luck that they—that any of them—found their way back to the Dall Mansions before dawn.
"So foul and fair a day I have not seen," Specs murmured, and even Dutchy didn't have the heart to tell him to shut the hell up.
But for Mush, it was Ershey that got to him the most. She greeted him at the door when he came back to Coin's apartments, and when he looked at her, her eyes soft and sleepy and her hair in a dark halo around her head, she looked so innocent—and even if it was all smoke and mirrors, and only and act, he still knew somewhere that there was time, for her at least, to escape from this life and never look back. And at that moment he wanted more than anything to be the one who helped her find her way.
In the darkness of the threshold, when all the world slept, and dreamed their restless dreams, he leaned down and kissed her, on the forehead, on the collarbone, on the mouth. He kissed her with more tenderness than she had ever known, and then, leaning down, whispered three words soft in her ear: come with us.
The next morning, fifteen people left the Dall Mansions, leaving their friends to stay with Coin and help her guard home territory, or whatever closest approximation of it the city of Nour happened to be. Fifteen people left, on the trail headed north (or in that general direction), just edging into blue-skin gypsy territory, and a moment later, after a hesitation no longer than thought, a sixteenth joined them, bringing along with her maps and skins and bread and water, and far too many articles of pink clothing for any practical voyage.
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While Jack and all the rest were headed in any vague direction that took them farther away from Nour, Spot and Maddox were headed there on one of the most exacting routes they could ask for. As soon as sunlight dawned on the first day—which, granted, wasn't until about ten o' clock in the morning—Lute was already drawing out a map, deep in the saddle of her sturdy mountain pony, trying to keep a straight hand as the animal worked his way through the rough terrain that lead out of the valley. It was the perfect plan—straight up away from Grisette, then a meandering few days through the eastern outskirts of the black forests (but never deep into it, because Goddess knew you heard awful stories about the creatures living there and what they did to children, and no, she didn't know anything firsthand, but she had it from extremely reliable sources, all right?). Then they would reach the Serrel River, follow it as far as the Ivory Mountains, and once they got through those, Gliss was within walking distance.
All in all, it would take about three weeks to reach the foot of the mountains, and they had started their journey well prepared. It seemed as if, like Maddox, Lute had spent much of her life until now planning for an adventure that never came, and now that it had finally found her, she knew with a daydreamer's instinct exactly what to do. They had blankets and tents and horses and saddles, water, food enough to last them for days, and clothes sturdy enough to weather the winter cold. Every morning they nestled into knitted gloves and shawls and hats, burrowed into fur-trimmed mukluks and vests, wrapped in coats and balaclavas and even (brought along especially for Spot) a lovely pair of fluffy, warm earmuffs, that for some reason he didn't seem to like.
But the best part, for Maddox at least, was the horses. Lute called hers Aias and Spot simply referred to his as It (for example: "It's looking at me funny again. I swear ta God, it has this murderous gleam in its eyes…what? You didn't see it, okay? No, don' laugh. Someday you'll know what I mean, and then will you be laughing, Maddie? I don't think so,"), but Maddox crooned over hers, loved him, kissed his flea-bitten pate, and named him Norbert Leo Butz, which, for reasons neither Lute nor Spot could decipher, she seemed to find hysterically funny.
"Y'know, that Catholic church probably has a thing or two to say about this," Spot muttered once, on the second morning they were traveling (or maybe it was the third), while they were crossing a little rocky stream and Maddox said more to her horse than she had to him all morning.
"We deserve each other," she said grandly, "Fiyero and I."
"I thought his name was Norbert?" Lute asked absently, not bothering to look up from her notebook.
"Oh, whatever."
Spot smiled, only to quickly change his expression into a grimace as soon as he realized Maddox was looking at him.
It was cold at night, and darker than he could have ever imagined the world to be. He and Maddox shared a tent, sleeping wrapped in animal skins softened with age, while Lute stayed nearer to Aias and It and Norbert Leo Butz, scribbling in her little book far into the night with a stump of a candle-end by her side. And at night, Spot and Maddox talked, about pasts, or futures, or anything really; it was the only time when they were serious, and even that lasted long enough. Maddox seemed to have the sleeping sickness; she would sometimes doze off in the middle of a sentence, words poised but never spoken, so he had to resist the urge to shake her awake sometimes. Once, burrowed down deep, curled on her side under an enormous redbear skin, rough and warm, she murmured a few words smooth with shadow, and then closed her eyes, and was almost gone by the time he spoke her name.
"Maddox?"
"Mm..fishcake…oh, Spot, what?"
"What was that? That thing you just said?"
She opened her eyes and stretched out full, and said into the night:
She tells her love while half asleep,
In the dark hours
With half-words whispered low:
As Earth stirs in her winter sleep
And puts out grass and flowers
Despite the snow,
Despite the falling snow.
"It's pretty," he said at last. But of course, by then, she had already gone back to sleep.
They only got a few hours of rest every night before they had to wake up in the morning, still dark, for a quick breakfast, or coffee and hen-eggs and rashers of bacon, and biscuits to chew on while the horses picked their way up the slopes. And in the morning and the afternoon, there was nothing to talk about—because it was too beautiful to say anything at all, and the only thing they could do now was take it in. It was winter in the valley, and the trees, towering and proud and bare, stood over them, the frozen ground beneath them, and the sky was brilliant, and cold, and the air so clear that you could hear the snap of a twig from what seemed like a hundred miles away. And they rode their horses along every path and clearing and copse, the ground below them and the sky above them, and it snowed, and snowed, and snowed.
[TBC…]
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DALTON: YOU MADE RACETRACK CRY?
…Well…I…
DALTON: I can't believe you could be so mean!
Charlie, sometimes you need to sacrifice—
DALTON: What are you saying? That you don't want me to enter the dance contest with him? Is that it?
…
DALTON: Just because you gave up your passion, doesn't mean I have to give up mine! (stomps out)
…I should never have let him watch Havana Nights…
And now, on to…
SHOUT-OUTS!
Klover: YAY! I'm not the only one who secretly had Davey pegged as a badass…(high-fives) Ohhhh yeah…you an' me, WE know the truth…
Sapphy: Eeep.
RAM: NO! MY SWEET SAPPHY! Why…why did she have to die?
Actually, I think she's just—
RAM: SAPPHIRE! YOU WERE TOO BEAUTIFUL FOR THIS WORLD! (sobs)
Ya know what? I think I'll leave you two alone…
Soaker: YAY! FIELD TRIP! (skips away with Soaker in search of lawn chairs and some Coppertone) Weeee're…off to see the Fire Swamp! La la la la la la la la…
Ershey: Seriously, it's the perfect plan! Get 'em all in one room, sedate them, and then, when they're good and sloshed…
DALTON: (stares in horror)
…PLAY SCRABBLE WITH THEM! Yeesh! What'd you THINK I was gonna say?
Silver Petra: Oh, this is gonna be lucrative beyond belief. I met a guy this summer who looks EXACTLY like Gabe Damon, although he was from Massachusetts, not Brooklyn. So, if we can only find…sixteen or so other cast look-alikes…we're in the money!
Splashey: Can you make tea out of marijuana? If so, we should find some, call it "Himalayan Roast," and sell it to Starbucks for a bundle…guaranteed popularity, right? (sink)
Written Sparks: YAY! You love the Princess Bride too! And, y'know what? I'm sending Charlie over to do your job for you. You need some time to relax.
Checkmate: (is under eight tons of Circus Peanuts) I lve moo Checkmate…(attemps to blow kisses)
Coin: Hhmmm…feminine intuition, maybe? (cranks up the music, and joins in tangoing with Charlie)
Nada Zimri: I find that one triple-shot german chocolate mocha will do wonders for an overworked preppie-musw, especially when he happens to be doing your chemistry homework…not that I would…know from experience, or anything…nope…not me…(whistles innocently)
Saturday: You ARE out of your mind…but that is why I love you so. (yells to Ram) And Saturday loves you!
RAM: (from the other room) SO DOES EVERYONE!
(pause)…the kid's got a point…
Chaos89: (sings) Aaaaat laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaast…my-y lo-o-ove has…come alo-ong…(notices that everyone is staring) WHAT? At least I don't shave MY chest!
m-e lee12: Ah, I know the feeling. Although, nothing compared to trying to watch Jack in Newsies after seeing American Psycho…not recommended. ("DAVEY! LOOK OUT! RUN…WHILE…YOU…STILL CAN!")
BabyXtreme: Aw, no sweat, babe! (hugs) Follow the wisdom of Ram, and you can't go wrong…(nods sagely)
Brownie/Melody: (gasp) Can I come too? (eyes suitcase full of newsies) Ohhhh yeah…
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Next Up: Chapter Ten, In Which Things Get A Little Less Serious, Jack Freaks Out (But Since When Is That New?), Racetrack Breaks It Down, And The Newsies Learn Just What's So Special About Stacy's Mom, And Why She Has, In Fact, Got It Goin' On.