Bitter was back on her feet after a day or two. Her loss of blood caused her floods of dizzy spells that lasted a good day or so. She didn't mind being bed-ridden so much. She kept an eye on Gip, and talked to her whenever she was awake. Gip was recovering phenomenally well. She could almost sit up without causing her wound through the makeshift stitches Irish had sewn across her stomach.
Spot had not been to see Bitter since she had woken up. Irish Flare wouldn't tell her about it and Bitter was so defeated she didn't fight her friend on it. She knew something was going on, she didn't understand it and no one would explain what was happening with Spot Conlon.
Bitter wasn't one to sit still for too long. Her shoulder still ached with pain, but she needed to find Spot. Gip watched as she rose from bed, not eliciting a single word. Gip herself was healing faster than expected and raised herself on her elbows to watch Bitter gather her things.
Bitter pulled on her pair of shorts, holstering her dagger in its rightful place on her right thigh. She tugged on her washed blue button down shirt with difficulty. "Fuckin' shoulder" she muttered quietly.
"Goin' somewheah?" Gip finally asked.
"Yeah, Brooklyn… I'll be back in a day just in case anyone come inquirin' aftah me," Bitter smirked at her new friend and walked over to her. "Jist don't go fightin' off dis gang without me…"
"You wont have to worry about dat," Gip laughed as she laid back down. "Be careful on yer way.. of both the gang an' Spot. He ain't himself lately."
Bitter rolled her eyes. "Don't be startin' dat kinda talk now. I bettah git goin' 'fore you start off like Irish, claim' he's smitten with me."
Gip just chuckled and watched as Bitter peered out the door, escaping once the coast was clear. It wasn't the most sensible route, but Bitter made her way to the girl's bunkroom. The fire escape had always been Bitter's favorite way out of the lodging house. There were many times during her stay in Manhattan that she found it very useful.
Bitter knew there was a chance she would run into Irish Flare on her way out, but she wasn't too concerned about that. She peered into the room cautiously and found only a few Manhattan newsgirls around. Corduroy and Jittery were playing a hand of cards in one corner, while Half-Pint and Kit were laughing in the middle of the room, sharing the latest gossip. The only other person present was Flit, who was daydreaming by the window.
Flit jumped as Bitter snuck up behind her, reaching over to slide open the window. Her face turned a few shades of red at the sudden disturbance of her thoughts, most likely of David. Before she could elicit a complaint, Bitter was through the window and heading down the fire escape.
It was a hard walk back to Brooklyn for Bitter. Her arm ached something awful and the rest of her body was still recovering from the fatigue caused by her blood loss two days earlier. Night had fallen long before she reached the lodging house and most everyone was already inside and most likely asleep. Bitter left a few coins at the abandoned desk, signed the lodger and silently made her way to her bunk. She was out like a light before her head even hit the ratty old pillow.
Whispered voices awoke her form a feverish sleep and two pairs of green eyes glowed with the same look of concern in them. Bitter blinked and rubbed her eyes, realizing that she wasn't seeing double. One pair gleaming emerald green she found belonged to Books and the other pair to Maverick. A hand found her forehead and she looked at Books strangely.
A frown crossed over her face and she spoke as she removed her hand. "I'm going to get some ice, yer burnin' up pretty badly…"
Bitter groaned in response, still groggy and didn't do anything but watch as she left. Left with her was a concerned but smirking Maverick. "Don't tell me. Ya walked all de way heah aftah only a day of recovery from dat nice stab wound ya got in your shoulder?"
A nod from Bitter and she smiled broadly. "Well its good ta know ya haven't lost yer toughness about ya, bein' stuck in Manhattan fer dat long!"
"Wheah's Spot?" Bitter spoke finally, her voice gruff with drowsiness.
"He's out sellin' an' den takin' care of some business wit his boids…" Books interrupted, hovering over Bitter to place the bag of ice on her head.
"Us goils made suah he didn't find out yer heah yet, but he's suah ta notice eventually…" Maverick added, sitting down on the edge of the bunk and pulling her knees to her chest.
"We missed ya Bittah, ain't been da same withoutcha heah." Books smiled, adjusting the blankets around Bitter's shivering body before getting up to leave. "Mav's gonna watch ovah ya for a bit while I sell me papes."
"See ya latah Books, an' I missed all a ya too," Bitter spoke gently. The cold ice was helping her pounding scorching head and she closed her eyes, drifting back into slumber.
Consciousness came and went. Vague images of her Brooklyn girls spun in and out of vision. Hiccups feeding her a few bites of soup. Relic helping her to the bathroom. Winter trying to read a funny dime novel to her and getting no response. It was Buttercup Tate's voice that she finally awoke to. Her body was covered in layers of sweat and she could feel that the fever had lifted from her.
"Spot doesn't need to know until tomorrow. He'll just get concerned! At least wait until her fever breaks. The last thing we need is for Conlon to be more disgruntled than usual." Her voice was soft but serious as she spoke. As Bitter's eyes opened, she could see the back of the lean muscular body of Spot's right hand man Captain. His arms were crossed over his chest and he didn't seem to be giving into any of Buttercup's protests.
"Jist let de ass tell our great leader of my damn presence." Unsteady elbows held Bitter up in a sitting position and her once flustered face was paled with a smirk planted firmly between her dimples.
Shock came over the pair and Captain was the first to recover. He glared slightly at Bitter from their last encounter and then exited, leaving the two girls to their privacy.
Buttercup strode over quickly and pulled her friend into a gentle hug. "I was starting to get worried about ya…"
Bitter chuckled and as Buttercup released her, she found the energy to pull her body fully up and swing her legs to the floor. "Now before Spot comes a hollerin' I think I better get a wash in and a change of clothes on me back," Bitter said as she stood up unsteadily.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say yer tryin' ta look good for dat boy…" Buttercup laughed, putting an arm around her friend's waist and helping her to the bathroom.
"Nevah!" Bitter chuckled. "Now get me some clothes and I don't care who you steal dem from!"
"Yes ma'am," Buttercup laughed as Bitter grabbed a towel and lashed it out at her.
Buttercup disappeared down the hall and Bitter ran a shower. She leaned against the wall, letting her body cool off beneath the cold water. By the time she was done, there was a fresh set of boy's clothes, suspenders and all waiting for her. She dried off and pulled them on. Just the way she liked clothes to fit: baggy but still fitting pretty decent.
She breathed in deeply, feeling her energy somewhat restored from the shower. She opened the door slowly, ready to face the music.
Peering out of the bathroom, Bitter took careful steps down the hallway, tugging her silver chain form beneath her shirt and kissing the small silver cross for luck. She balled up her fist as she approached the door to Spot's room and hit it gently on the door. There was a slight scuffle, but the door didn't open.
"Spot…" Bitter whispered, opening the door and peering into the room. He was laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling from his bed when she entered. Hands behind his head, he turned it ever so slightly, sitting up abruptly as she entered.
"Bittah?" Spot's eyes were clouded over and there were dark bags under his eyes from lack of sleep.
"Dat's me name Spot," Bitter teased as his face lit up in genuine happiness. It was probably one of the few times he had smiled that week. She shut the door behind her and Spot did something unexpected: he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug.
"I'se so glad yer heah! Been missin' Brooklyn like me I bet?" he pulled back and blushed slightly seeing the surprised look on her face. "Sorry, I uh…missed you…"
Bitter smiled warmly and asked, "So, you're not mad?"
Spot chuckled. "How can I be mad at you for returning home? We both need a break from all de fighting, all de problems that are going on in Manhattan. We need ta clear our heads." Taking her hand, he pulled her towards the window. Out side the bustle of daily life was in full throttle and the streets were packed. Across all the streets were the docks, the sun glared on the traces of water and it reminded her of all the fun they had been having just a week ago, when nothing kept them from their careless freedoms of life.
"Let's go swimmin' Bittah," Spot said suddenly.
Bitter looked him over carefully. She could see the fear in his ice blue eyes, the panic he was trying so hard to push away and all the emotions she herself was feeling. Maybe some fun would do the two of them some good. "Sure Spot, we'll go swimming."
It wasn't hard to leave the lodging house, as long as you didn't use the front door. If you went through the front half of the place, newsies would stop you, ask what you're up to and before you knew it you'd be doing something totally different from what you had planned on doing all day. That is why when you wanted to leave unnoticed, you used the back doors and fire escapes.
Bitter had to pull the distracted boy back into the room as he started out the door. "You know better than that!" she smirked, dragging him back towards the window. Sure, it was a little dangerous to scale the few feet from the window to the fire escape, but it was quite a thrill.
It wasn't long before the two Brooklynites were on the street, Spot anxiously pushing through the crowd. Easily losing him Bitter stopped in her tracks and scanned the crowd, trying to locate him. A warm hand grabbed her own, shooting a shiver up her spine and Spot shot her a grin. "Don't want you getting lost," he teased, pulling her through the crowd after him.
The day was only half over and the sun wouldn't be setting for another two hours. Bitter peeled off her blue over shirt and untied the holster from her right thigh, leaving it and her dagger in a pile with her shirt. She dived into the cool spring water and felt instant refreshment. She watched as the scab on her shoulder wrinkled and she liked the feeling of cool water against the pulsating hotness that was coming from her shoulder.
A splash sounded and Spot swam over to her, his underpants and shirt revealing quite a bit when wet. Bitter blushed slightly at the sight and she felt his prying eyes on her as she looked away. "How's your shoulder?" he asked, his hand brushing gently against the wound.
"It's healin'," Bitter said, gazing at the wound and feeling her cheeks flush as he kept his hand on her shoulder. She looked up and found his eyes were clear and full of an emotion she couldn't quite grasp. Spot couldn't quite put a hold on the reason she made him feel so dumbfounded around her, with most girls he could have easily felt himself and flirted openly, but something was different about Bitter.
Then something happened that Spot had never thought would, never in his dreams. Bitter leaned forward and captured his lips in a breath-taking kiss, knocking all air out of his lungs and causing his heart to drum against his ribcage. Just when he thought his heart would explode, she pulled away.
Her cheeks were rosy red and his eyes traced the thin material of her undershirt to the natural curves of her body. He couldn't help but indulge in her beauty as he calmed his breath and heart so he could speak. She swam away with a smile playing on her lips, her once green eyes turning into a shade of brilliant blue as she turned from him.
Spot caught up with her, pulling her close, hands on her hips and his eyes searched hers, his lips open as if words were about to come out but none did. She pressed a finger to his lips and pulled him close, her arms wrapping around his waist as they waded in the water. Resting her chin on his shoulder she whispered gently. "You don't need to say a thing, not a thing," her voice was sweet and angelic at that moment, the roughness of it fading with each second.
His fingertips danced along her sides and they stood there, breathing in the deep silence of romance. They swam until dark, never leaving each other's touch and often times just letting their lips speak of their love and want for each other. Dark fell and they knew their obligations to getting back before curfew would override their want for privacy.
Spot begged Bitter to stay the night with him, but she wouldn't, leaving him with one final kiss before leaving his room. "Bitter wait…" he called softly.
"Yes?" she asked with a sparkle in her tired eyes.
"Be my girl?" The question was hardly one at all. She giggled like a schoolgirl and nodded, blowing him a kiss and disappearing into the bunkroom.
Spot fell back on his bed with a smile planted on his face. Goosebumps traveled up his wet skin and he fell asleep to the remembrance of how the soft skin of her body felt in his arms.