Epilogue

She stumbled along the streets talking to herself, as she had for the last three weeks. "Not Ice... not Ice, Cherish no... not Ice... Sins, sins, sins, cast aside your faith, and come to the embrace of the devil. Embraced by the devil... Not Ice... Not Ice..." The blond girl continued to ramble, pacing back and forth along a small strip of alley, her arms wrapped around her shoulders to hold in the little warmth her sparse clothes afforded her.

"Not Ice... Jake and Raven, together... yes together they should be, here comes the bride... Mary, Mary, not Ice... " She hadn't stopped rambling in three weeks... she sleep only when her body lost control to exhaustion, then she awoke and started rambling again.

"Royalty, Ice, not a queen... not ice... to cold for Ice..." The bums, drunk or otherwise, continued to find the crazy girl a strange oddity, she could cast the most evilest of glares upon any of them... for no given reason, then she could be cawling at them desperately pleading for ice.

"Cherish."

The girl stopped as if a bear had jumped into the alley bearing it's teeth fiercely at her. "Not Cherish..." She refused the exclamation in furious anger. "NOT CHERISH!" She shouted.

"Cherish LaRusso."

"NOT CHERISH! NOT CHERISH!" She cried anguised as her small, mal-nutrishied fisted rained weakly on his chest and she cried, "No... no... no... not Cherish... not Ice... no..." She broke down, her legs giving way, her only saviour the arms that caught her about her waist.

His arms picked her up, and carried her from the alley. There were muted protests from the bums on the alley. They were mostly drunks, and beggars, society's retrabates, but in there way, had grown accoustomed to the girls rambling, but none of them made a firm stand.

The girls long silver hair hung down towards the ground, her arms and legs limp as she kept sobbing, "not Cherish, not Ice." Her eyes slipped opened and closed without logically reason, and before she could make any sense of the matter she found herself in a soft bed, across from a fire, dank brick walls her housing.

A chair scrapping across the cold stone floor caught her attention and her eyes turned to him, her eyes looking at him apprechensively, fear clearly registered, but along side was hopelessness, making quiet a potent misture.

"Have you any idea of what has happened to me? I lost the women I loved. Since I last saw you, my world has crashed. Because of you! All because of you! The suspect me of murdering Marea... did you tell them that?" Bill asked sharply.

She registered that his breath didn't smell as it had usual smelt of strong liqour. She wasn't sure if that made him more or less dangerous. His own eyes were clouded with desperation. Her eyes stayed wide, even though she wished they would close.

"Not Cherish. Not Ice." She mumbled, not sure wheather she would receive condemnation or acclaimation from her brother-in-law.

"No... I don't suppose you'd want to be. I've heard about your little escapade with the Manhattan Newsies. Made quiet a mess of things didn't you?" Bill asked quietly, ;til this point he had remained calm. "What if those newsies were to find out where you were?"

She shook her head fearfully whispering, "no... noo..."

Bill stood, coming to kneel beside Cherish's bed looking earnestly at her as he said, "Then it looks like we both have something to lose if you don't do me this favour." Bill informed his young sister-in-law desperately.

"No..." She whispered... she knew he would ask her to do something wrong. She couldn't do it again. She just couldn't. She didn't want to hurt anyone else.

"Why? You sold your soul for a newsies, I'm your only family, I'm the one that will protect you. I'll look after you... I promise... you just have to do me a favour." Bill promised looking earnestly into her's scared eyes.

She looked back at him, searching for the protection she had always desired. Could he give her what she desperately needed? He hadn't hurt her yet... maybe he didn't intend to. Maybe...

Her eyes looked into his, renewed with a desperate hope of protection. She'd sold her soul once for it. She was willing to get her moneys worth... "What... what... do you... want me to... do..."

THE END

(or is it...?)