"We gonna eat or what?"
Jack threw a stone at a barrel on the corner. The shot was wide and came closer to hitting Dutchy than getting in. He didn't know which he'd rather have hit, but decided it would have been Dutchy, as the barrel was being less annoying at the moment.
"For the last time, I ain't payin' for yous," Jack said as he picked up another stone from the ground.
"Mush ain't gonna show, he probably found somethin' better," Dutchy said, obviously getting more enjoyment out of getting a rise out of Jack than the prospect of food. He knew enough to get out of the way when another rock came his direction.
"Better than a free lunch? He'll show," Specs said, ducking his head out of the restaurant door. Dutchy elbowed him.
"You're right, he ain't showin'," Specs said quickly, "I'd give up on him if I was you."
Jack looked at them dryly and threw another stone at the barrel.
"What's this about a free lunch?"
Jack turned his head, preparing to glare at whoever else had come searching for a free meal. Word had spread fast and the restaurant was packed. He estimated roughly half the city was inside.
"Don't bother, Race. Jack ain't feelin' generous today. He don't want to help his fellow man," Dutchy said as he flicked a rock back at Jack and slipped past Specs through the open door.
Jack nodded to Race as he tossed one more stone at Dutchy for good measure. He was honestly surprised to see Race. They hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms.
"I'm waitin' on Mush, go in if you want," Jack said.
"Nah, I'll wait." Race put his hands in his pockets and looked at the chalkboard menu.
There was an awkward silence between them. Jack didn't know what to say and Race seemed content not to say anything at all.
"Were the tracks no good?" Jack asked finally, finding the one thing besides the weather that was always safe to talk about.
"Wouldn't know, never made it over. There's some trouble with Brooklyn down there. Word has it, it's best to stay clear," Race explained with a shrug. It must have been some trouble. Race wouldn't miss a day at the tracks if he could help it.
Jack bent down to gather a few more stones from the sidewalk. As he stood up, his eyes fell on three unfamiliar faces walking through the street. Their hands were blackened on the fingertips from newspaper ink. They were newsies, or so it seemed, though he had never seen them before. One of them happened to be wearing a brown cap, but Jack didn't think too much on it.
"You know them?" Jack nodded to the group of outsiders.
Race took his eyes off the menu and glanced to the street. "Nah," he said, "You?"
"Never seen'em before," Jack replied as he watched them move slowly through the crowds.
Race picked up the suspicion in Jack's voice. "You wanna go make some trouble?"
Jack entertained the thought. He had nothing better to do until Mush showed up. He shrugged and dropped the handful of stones back to the ground. "Yeah, why not."
They stepped off the curb and made their way across the street. Jack looked in the direction of where the three boys had come from. It was a side street and a dead end if he remembered correctly, not the sort of place someone would wander innocently.
"Take a look around, start with down there," Jack said, nodding toward the dead end.
"And what am I lookin' for exactly?" Race said.
"Anythin' that don't look right."
Race nodded. He put his hands back into his pockets and started toward the alley. Jack walked after the boys, trying to see where they were going or who they talked to. Their pace was easy and they didn't seem in a hurry. He would easily be able to catch up to them. Jack glanced back to see if Race had found anything, but Race wasn't in the street.
Just then, he heard Race shout for him.
"Jack!"
There was urgency in his voice. Something was wrong.
Jack hesitated for only a moment before he turned back the way he had come and started running toward the dead end. Race called for him again. Ducking through a broken fence, he slowed down as he saw Race helping Mush to sit up. Jack immediately looked for Blink, but he was nowhere in sight. The place was deserted except for them, a few crates and scattered rubbish. Mush wouldn't have left Blink willingly. Something was definitely wrong.
"Mush, you alright?" Jack said as he knelt down next to him, "Look at me, you alright?"
"Fine, I'm fine," Mush mumbled, though he didn't lift his head to look at Jack. The side of his face was red and starting to swell already. Fine or not, he had clearly taken a few hard hits.
"What happened?" Race asked as he turned Mush's face towards them in order to get a better look at him.
"Cornered us," Mush said slowly. As he spoke, his expression changed and his eyes grew more alert. He grabbed hold of Race's arm. "Blink. You gotta help Blink."
"Take it easy," Race said, steadying him.
"Where is he?" Jack said. He tried to keep the concern from his voice as he looked again for Blink.
"There." Mush nodded to the far end of the building, toward a stack of crates. Sure enough there was a boot, barely visible around the corner.
"I see him," Race said. He was already starting to get up when Jack pulled him back down.
"No, you stay here. Stay with Mush," Jack said.
"Jack-"
"Do it," Jack told him, leaving no room for argument. He was on his feet before Race could protest.
If Blink was dead, he didn't want Race to see it up close and personal.
Jack prepared himself for the worse as Blink's body came more fully into view. He was facedown on the ground and wasn't moving. In his experience, that wasn't a good sign. Still, Jack approached cautiously. As he neared Blink, he kept his eyes on the surroundings and the fire escapes above. It could have been a set-up. If Spot was willing to use Blink as bait, there was no reason to think Greene would be above it. That was assuming Greene was even involved. Blink had a list of enemies that went far beyond the Delancys, but Jack had a feeling the timing wasn't a coincidence.
Jack risked looking down at Blink as he knelt by his side. There wasn't enough blood to suggest he had been stuck with a knife and that, in itself, was promising. His hand hesitated on Blink's shoulder for a moment as he worked up the courage to turn him over. Taking a breath, he carefully rolled Blink onto his back.
Jack winced inwardly. It was bad. Not the worst he had seen, but bad. They had definitely gunned for Blink, leaving Mush relatively unharmed.
Jack could hardly see his face. Anywhere that wasn't bruised was bloody. It had dripped down his chin and stained the front of his shirt a sickening red. It looked like his nose might have been broken, though Jack couldn't be sure.
It wasn't the worst he had seen, Jack reminded himself. He couldn't help but look away.
"Jack?" Race called over to him uneasily.
His question was clear.
Jack rested a hand on Blink's chest and waited for it to move. Up or down, he didn't care which, he would take any sign of life. At that moment, Jack felt Blink's chest shallowly rise then fall. He was breathing. He was alive.
"He ain't dead," Jack called back, trying to keep his voice steady. Relief was an understatement. He held himself responsible for what had happened. It was his job to keep them safe and he couldn't even manage that.
"Blink, you with me here?" Jack asked as he wiped the blood away from Blink's good eye with his sleeve. It would be easier to move him if he was at least partially awake, and they needed to get out of there as fast as possible. The bulls could come along at any minute and lock them all up. Jack for soaking Blink, Race and Mush for being accomplices and Blink for loitering.
"You wanna carry him out?"
Jack glanced up to see Race standing next to him, he didn't even hear him walk over. He was looking down at Blink with uncertainty and worry, a rare moment of unguarded emotion. His expression changed quickly as he noticed Jack looking at him, becoming almost unreadable.
"I think we gotta," Jack said, seeing no other option, "What about Mush?"
"He'll walk, no problem," Race said as he crouched down next to Jack, his eyes still fixed on Blink's bloodied face.
Jack glanced over his shoulder to see for himself. Mush was on his feet, though unsteadily. He was leaning heavily against the building and had assumed the role of lookout. Concern was plain on his face as he watched them.
"Come on, Blink. That's it," Race said quietly.
Jack looked back to see Blink's good eye opening.
He seemed to become aware of his surroundings almost instantly. His muscles tensed and he brought his arms up to guard his head. It was obvious he didn't recognize them immediately and was reacting to what he thought was a threat. Jack knew he would come out of it in a moment, but made the mistake of putting a reassuring hand on Blink's shoulder.
"Get your hands off me!" Blink said with a surprising amount of energy considering he had been out-cold the minute before.
"We ain't gonna hurt you," Jack said, letting go of Blink just in time to avoid being punched in the face.
"You're fine, Blink," Race said, keeping his distance, "Just calm down."
Whether Blink finally realized it was them or simply exhausted himself wasn't clear, but his arms fell back to the ground. Race moved forward again, keeping his hands where Blink could see them as he knelt next to him.
"Blink, look at me," Race said, snapping his fingers a few times in front of Blink's face, trying to get him to focus, "You know who I am? What's my name?"
Race studied his reaction carefully. He was watching how Blink was moving and noticing how he didn't respond to his voice. His good eye was only half-open and didn't seem to focus on anything in particular. Blink looked as though he was trying to say something, but couldn't quite manage.
"You're fine, Blink. You're alright now," Race said. His voice was calm and steady, lacking the anger Jack knew he felt at seeing Blink like that. Despite what had happened, Blink was still one of them and Race wouldn't forget it.
"He's out again," Race told Jack, "Don't matter though, he wasn't walkin' either way."
"Alright, let's get him outta here," Jack said as he picked up Blink's hat from where it had fallen and tucked it under his belt. He pulled one of Blink's arms over his shoulder and waited for Race to do the same.
With a bit of effort, they lifted him up between them and took a few difficult steps.
"Ragazzi!" a woman's voice shouted from one of the windows of the tenement.
Jack and Race both looked up. Sure enough, the woman was yelling at them.
"What's she sayin'?" Jack asked as he readjusted his grip on Blink's arm and took more of the weight off Race.
"How should I know, do I look like I speak Italianese?" Race said before he yelled up to the window, "Shut up, lady! Mind your business. Go wash some clothes!"
The woman seemed to understand the tone of what Race had said and grew more incensed, yelling even louder. Soon a baby's wailing joined the racket and another woman from across the alley started yelling for them all to shut up.
"Good goin', that helped a lot," Jack said, giving Race a look, "Let's cheese it before the bulls decide it's a good day to start doin' their jobs."
Keeping a low profile on the way back to the lodging house was easier than expected. Nobody paid them much notice. Luckily, it looked as though they were just taking a drunk home. Mush was careful to walk just a step ahead of Race and Jack, obscuring from view the fact that Blink was far from drunk.
As soon as they made it up the stairs and laid Blink down, Jack pulled Mush aside. He began to grill him on what had happened. Race didn't stay to listen, instead he headed to the washroom. He didn't need to know what had happened. All he needed to know was who did it, so he could get revenge. Whatever Blink did, he didn't deserve what he got. It was brutal.
He couldn't help but feel partly responsible. It was his fault Blink wasn't able to fight back. If he had just walked away from the fight last night, Blink would have been in good enough shape to defend himself.
Race filled a cracked basin with a little water and found a washcloth that had been left behind. Taking care of Blink was something he had done many times before when Blink was too beat up to take care of himself. He'd try to make him comfortable, give him some liquor if the pain was bad, and made sure nobody tried to settle any scores until he was on his feet again. It wasn't much, but it was what Blink had done for him on more than one occasion.
He carried the basin back into the main room. Mush was handing Jack a folded piece of paper.
Race sat down on the edge of the bunk Blink was laid out on and set the basin on the floor. He slipped Blink's eye patch off and put it in his own pocket. It would be the first thing Blink would ask for when he was awake enough to realize it was gone. Race bent down and dipped the washcloth in the water before wringing it out. His movements were almost automatic.
Carefully, he began to wash the blood from Blink's face. The water turned red in the basin and dripped red through his fingers as he wrung out the cloth. At least Blink wasn't awake, it would have to have been done regardless and at least this way he would be spared the torturously slow and painful process.
Race glanced up as Mush put an extra shirt on the foot of the bunk and started to unlace Blink's shoes. He didn't look happy. Race looked over to Jack, who was concentrating so intensely on the paper Mush had given him that Race thought it might rip in his hands.
"Somethin' important?" Race said, turning back to Blink.
"Yeah," Mush said. He pulled Blink's shoes off and set them down on the floor. "Greene wants us to set somethin' up with Spot,"
"That don't make sense," Race said, "Why would they soak Blink and then expect us to do them a favor?"
"I don't know," Jack conceded, finally looking up from the note. Nothing about it seemed right. "What'd it look like to you, Mush?"
"From what I seen, it looked like a warnin'." Mush shrugged. "Maybe he don't want us joinin' Brooklyn."
"So you think Kid bein' alive is an accident?"
"Nah," Mush said after thinking it over, "They let'im walk. They coulda finished it."
Jack nodded, but wasn't convinced.
Nothing about the situation made sense. If Greene wanted to send a true warning to Manhattan, he wouldn't have let Mush or Blink live. If he wanted to use Manhattan as an intermediary, like the note suggested, he wouldn't have wanted to give them a reason to hate him more than they already did. Unless, he was stupid enough to think that he could intimidate them into doing what he wanted. If that was the case, he had another thing coming.
"Race, what do his hands look like?" Jack asked almost as an afterthought.
Race glanced at one of Blink's hands and then the other. He didn't like what he saw. There were no scrapes, no new bruises, nothing to suggest he had even tried to defend himself.
"Not a scratch, nothin' new anyway," Race said.
"He didn't fight back," Jack stated the obvious implication. "He didn't fight back and they let him walk."
"That ain't it. That ain't what happened," Mush said. He was quick to defend Blink, but his voice didn't hold much conviction.
The evidence was there and it didn't look good.
Jack stood away from the wall.
"Where you goin'?" Race asked.
"Brooklyn," Jack answered.
"You're gonna do it?" Race said in disbelief ,"After what they did to Blink?"
"What else do you want me to do?"
"You can do somethin' on your own for once instead of runnin' to Spot every time you get scared."
"And you can watch your mouth," Jack warned him.
"Quit it. Both of you," Mush said, attempting to put an end to the argument before it could escalate.
Jack ignored him for the moment, but didn't lose his temper. He didn't want to get into anything with Race. "Look, I know you don't like Spot, but that's the way it's gonna work. You wanna get back at Greene, you're gonna have to deal with him."
Race didn't respond, which was his way of agreeing. Jack took it as such and considered the subject closed.
"Mush, you feel up to a walk?" Jack asked. He wouldn't have gone to Brooklyn alone on a good day, but with all the trouble it would have been suicide to attempt it now.
Mush nodded before he turned to Race. "If he needs a doctor, get him one. We'll find a way to pay for it."
Mush gave a Blink a last glance as he moved to the stairs. Jack followed him, but stopped just short of the door.
"See if you can get him to talk," Jack said, pulling on his hat, "I need to know what the hell is goin' on."
Blink opened his eyes slowly. The sunlight was painfully bright. He didn't remember it being so bright in the alley. He also didn't remember the ground being so soft.
He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to shake the haze from his mind. It took him a few moments to realize his eye patch was gone. That was why everything seemed so fuzzy. He closed one eye, then the other, forgetting which one was the bad one. With the less blurry eye open, he lifted his head just enough to see his shoes were also gone. Some bum probably rolled him and took anything that looked remotely valuable. He had gotten that pair of shoes less than a month ago and he knew he wouldn't be able to convince Mush to steal another pair for him so soon.
As he thought of Mush, an odd feeling of fear passed over him. Something happened to Mush.
He thought he could hear a voice talking, but couldn't focus on what it was saying. Every so often he heard the sound of newspaper page turning. There was someone nearby. Maybe they knew what happened to Mush.
Blink sat up, or rather, he tried to. He only managed to lift himself up a few inches before his head began to swim and he fell back. Trying again, he met with similar results. He was dimly aware of the fact that the sound of newspaper pages being turned stopped.
"Lay down, Blink," he heard a voice say.
"Mush-Where's Mush?" he asked. He was surprised at how hoarse his voice was and how distant it sounded to his own ears.
"He's fine. He's with Jack," the voice responded.
"He's okay?"
"Yeah, just lay down."
Blink couldn't remember laying down. He didn't remember closing his eyes either, but he must have. The next thing he could remember was opening his eyes. This time the light was cooler, like it was in the late afternoon. He lifted his head, finding it much easier this time around.
"Lay down, Blink," Race said, not looking up from the newspaper he was reading.
"Race, that you?"
Race looked up from the page. It was the first time Blink had noticed he was there. He had been in and out for the past few hours, sometimes coherent, most of the time not.
"You know where you are?" Race asked.
"God, was I that bad?" Blink let his head fall back to the mattress and closed his eyes at the painfulness of that sudden movement.
"For awhile," Race confirmed. He put the paper aside and moved to sit on the edge of the neighboring bunk, so that it would be easier to talk with him. "Mush said you got knocked in the head a bit."
Blink forced his eyes open at the mention of Mush's name, as if just remembering something important. There was an odd combination of confusion and fear on his face, or at least that's what Race concluded it was. Once or twice he saw it when Blink was sleeping, but mostly when he was awake enough to realize something had happened, even if he couldn't remember what.
"Mush is fine," Race said, stopping him before he could ask again, "He ain't hurt."
Visibly relieved, Blink nodded. "Good."
That was a first. Usually, he kept asking until he passed out again. Race took it as a good sign that he was able to follow a conversation.
"How 'bout you? How you doin'?" Race asked.
"I'm doin' good," Blink answered, attempting to keep his voice steady as he did so. It was the expected answer, the one Race would have given. It was the answer any self-respecting newsie would have given, and as such, Race promptly dismissed it. They tried to never show weakness, even among friends. Blink was no exception, though Race could read him better than most, and knew he was lying through his teeth.
"Yeah? 'Cause you don't look it," Race said bluntly. He didn't feel like doing the runaround and knew it would spare Blink a whole lot of effort to be honest. "There ain't no one here but you and me, n' I know for a fact you ain't good."
Blink almost smiled, but winced at the movement.
"I don't want no doctor, or nothin'," he said finally.
"Why's that?" Race responded, avoiding a direct answer. He didn't want to promise Blink something like that. If he needed one, he was getting one, end of story. The fact Blink had even brought up the subject, made Race believe he knew how bad he was.
"I don't want a suit hoverin' over me, holdin' a handkerchief over his nose, afraid to touch anythin' in his fancy clothes," Blink said.
"They ain't all like that," Race said as he reached down and picked up a nearly-empty bottle from the floor, " 'Sides, when've you seen a real doctor?"
"Once," Blink said, "He came for a neighbor. He had a real fancy suit."
"Sit up a bit," Race said.
Shakily, Blink attempted to sit up, holding on to the edge of the bunk for support. Race didn't help him. He wanted to see if Blink could do it on his own and if he couldn't, he wanted to know why. If it was something like a cracked rib, they might need a doctor, if it was just because he was too weak, he might just need rest. Blink tried to suppress a grimace as he struggled to sit up, but couldn't completely. Only when it looked like he was about to collapse, Race moved to help him and propped up the pillow underneath him.
"Anythin' hurt more than it should?" Race asked. Blink shook his head slightly. Race didn't know if he completely believed him, but saw that he could move well enough. He decided to let the doctor issue go for the moment.
"Here, drink that." Race passed him the bottle.
"What is it?" Blink said. He looked at the contents doubtfully.
"Hair tonic," Race said, reading the label for him. "Finish it off, it'll kill the pain a bit."
Blink took a sip, frowning at the taste.
"What happened back there," Race asked, taking the empty bottle back. He tried to keep the question free of accusation, but he wanted to know what Blink's game was as much as Jack did.
"I don't remember, it happened quick," Blink said.
"You don't remember," Race repeated with an audible trace of disbelief.
"I got punched," Blink said quickly, meaning to put an end to the conversation. It was obvious he didn't want to talk about it. Too bad Race didn't care what he wanted at the moment.
"No shit," Race responded with more than a little sarcasm, "What for? A threat, a warning, what?"
"Yeah," Blink said.
"Which one?"
"Both," Blink said evenly, "What did Mush say about it?"
Race paused before answering, looking at Blink closely. If Blink had just said he didn't remember, he might have bought it. The fact he was asking about Mush made Race suspicious. Blink was trying to get his story straight.
"He said you was talkin'," Race said.
"I did. I was tryin' to get him out," Blink said defensively.
"I thought you said you didn't remember what happened."
"I guess I do."
"So maybe you can remember somethin' else while you're at it," Race said, ignoring the cool look he was getting from Blink. He figured he only had a short time before Blink figured out he was cornered. "You wanna tell me why you didn't fight them?"
The color in Blink's face paled slightly, but he responded without missing a beat, "I did-I tried."
"You wanna tell me why you're lyin' about it?" Race asked calmly. He was prepared to be yelled at, cursed at, and, if Blink was in better shape, he would have been ready to duck a punch. But, to his surprise, Blink didn't respond. He just laid there, his eyes focused on the underside of the top bunk. He'd been caught and he knew it.
"You ain't playin' your cards right, Kid."
"Don't start, Race. I don't wanna hear it," Blink said, glancing at Race only long enough to glare at him.
"Too bad, 'cause I ain't lettin' it slide," Race shot back, "You wanna wreck yourself, fine. Go to town. But don't bring the rest of us down with you. You coulda got Mush hurt or worse. That ain't like you." Race tried to keep the anger from his voice, but couldn't completely. Blink had closed his eyes and wasn't even acknowledging what he was saying, something that angered Race further. "I don't know what you've got goin' on with Greene, but I know there's somethin'. I ain't stupid and I ain't blind, that gives me two up on you."
"You done?" Blink said suddenly, sharply. Apparently, he had been listening after all.
"No, I ain't," Race said. He was just getting warmed up. "Y'know, I used to trust you. But it's getting harder and harder for me to find reasons to anymore." Race stopped himself abruptly. Nothing he wanted to say would affect Blink. Once he made up his mind, it was a done deal.
"Forget it. I'm wastin' my time." Race reached into his pocket and pulled out Blink's eye patch. As he stood up, he tossed it on the mattress next to Blink.
"Now, I'm done," Race said before he turned and walked away.
Blink shifted as much as he could without jarring a sore muscle or bruise. He couldn't find any comfortable position that lasted more than a few minutes. It hurt to breath. It hurt to talk. It even hurt to think about how much it hurt. He hadn't been beaten that badly in long time.
He slipped his eye patch into his pocket. There was no way he would be able to put it on, he couldn't even lift his arms enough to scratch his nose.
It made the pain all the worse to suffer through knowing it had been for nothing. Race had seen through him faster than he had expected. He knew Race would have caught on eventually, but he thought he would have had more time. Whatever suspicions Race had, Blink could only hope he had kept them to himself. In order to keep up his end of the bargain, he would have to be trusted by Jack.
Blink put the thought out of his mind as regret settled over him. It would be a few days before he had to go through with Greene's deal. For now, he could rest and think about how much it hurt to rest.
There was a faint smell of cigar smoke drifting in from the fire escape.
What he would have given for a cigarette. He hadn't had one since morning. The scent of the smoke suddenly became too strong to ignore. He needed a cigarette. Moving his hand just enough to touch his shirt pocket, he searched for the one he knew was there.
It didn't take him long to realize he wasn't wearing his own shirt. It was clean and looked like one of Mush's. He let out a frustrated breath and let his hand fall back down to his side.
The smoke was becoming insufferable. He licked his cracked lips, almost imagining the taste of a cigarette in his mouth.
Lifting his head, he looked for the shirt he had been wearing. Bloodstained and torn, it stood out from where it had been put on the neatly-made bunk a few rows over.
It could have been a mile as far as he was concerned. He could barely lift his head, let alone stand up on his own. He could have called for Race, but he didn't.
It didn't take brains to know Race wanted nothing to do with him and Blink didn't exactly blame him. He regretted lying to Race, but it hadn't been the first time and it probably wouldn't be the last. He had desperately wanted to confide in him, if only to lift a small part of the weight from his shoulders. But what Race had said rang true with him and strengthened his resolve to see the mess through to the end. He wouldn't bring anyone down with him. That had always been his priority. Race, for all his perception, had missed that one small fact.
At least he had managed to keep something from him, Blink thought wryly.
Blink glanced again to where his shirt lay. The distance didn't seem so far anymore. He was sure he could make it there and back.
He slowly moved one leg to the edge of the bunk. Finding little trouble, he slid the other one over and waited for his toes to find the floor. So far so good. Now, for the hard part. He figured it would be best to just get up as fast as he could. He knew something was wrong with his ribs, but had no idea what or if it was serious. Whatever it was, he was vaguely aware that he was about to find out as he pushed himself up. Blinding pain split through his side, taking the air from his lungs. He couldn't breath, he couldn't make a sound.
He didn't realize he was standing until he began to lose his balance. Falling forward, he caught hold of the nearest bunkpost and clung to it weakly. The room was spinning around him at a nauseating speed. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to get up after all. Blink closed his eyes and waited for his head to clear. He had made it this far and, pain be damned, he was getting his smoke.
Blink pushed himself away from the support and stumbled toward the next bunk. He could hardly stay on his feet as he crossed the row to where his shirt was laying.
Holding his side gingerly, he sank down to his knees. He pulled his shirt from the bunk and began to fumble through the pockets. He found the one cigarette just where he had left it. It was a miracle it hadn't been broken or lost. He held it with his mouth while he looked for a match.
No matches. He went through each pocket again. No matches. No Goddamn matches. He threw down the cigarette in defeat. His life was a joke, one big ironic joke.
He didn't know how long he sat there, his fingers digging into what remained of his shirt. It had been his second best, with only two holes and all of its buttons. If he could have gotten up, he would have, but his strength was utterly gone.
He didn't call for Race, though he should have. He didn't want anyone to see him like he was. Shaky, unable to even hold his head up for more than a few seconds. He was weak, there was no way around it, not that he would admit it to anyone else.
"Blink?" he heard Race call from across the room. He had probably just noticed the bunk was empty.
Blink didn't answer immediately, instead he tried to get up one last time.
"Blink?" Race said again, this time his voice was farther away and held a bit of concern. He was looking for him. "Blink, where are you?"
He didn't want to cause Race any more grief than he already had and he couldn't sit there all day.
"Here," Blink called back reluctantly.
Race's footsteps grew closer as he followed the sound of Blink's voice. It only took him a few moments to find him and Blink could see the relief on his face.
"What the hell are you doin' over here?" Race asked with a frown. The way he said it made Blink believe there would be no acceptable answer.
"I-I, well, I," Blink started, realizing how lame a reason it actually was, "I wanted a smoke."
"God," Race muttered, rolling his eyes, "How long you been there?"
"Awhile."
"You coulda yelled, I woulda heard you."
"I know, I know," Blink said quickly, not needing to hear more logic, "You gonna help me up or what?
"You hurt yourself more? You fall or something?"
"No," Blink said impatiently, "Are you gonna talk me to death? Either help me up or cheese it."
Race gave him a dry look, as if seriously contemplating the latter. With anyone else, Blink would have thought it was for show, but with Race he wasn't so sure. Race could hold a grudge like no one else he knew.
Luckily for him, it was only a few moments before Race relented and took hold of him under his shoulders. Race pulled him to his feet with far more care than he was sure he deserved and told him to lean on him as much as he needed to. It was a short and relatively painless trip back, making Blink all the more aware of how stupid it was for him to try and do it on his own.
"Thanks," Blink said as Race helped him to lay down again.
"What? You think I'd let you sit and rot?"
"Well, if you were mad enough, yeah," Blink said matter-of-factly. There was a vague sense of amusement on Race's face, but nothing close to a smile. Blink figured he might as well get the one thing he could say off his chest while Race was in a good enough mood to hear it. "Look, I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean to soak you."
The lightness disappeared as Race shrugged. "Forget about it. You were in a tight spot, it'd make anyone jumpy."
"Jack told you about it?"
"Some."
Blink looked at his hands. "I wanted to tell you."
"No, you didn't," Race said. "And you didn't have to. God knows I don't tell you everythin' I do. I got in your business without you askin' me to." Blink wasn't prepared to hear that. Though, he got the feeling that was supposed to be an apology of some sort, but Race never said it outright. They had come to an understanding, of what Blink wasn't sure, but it looked like Race might have forgiven him in part for what happened. It was better than nothing.
"But you trust me, right? When you were sayin' you didn't, you was mad. You didn't mean it," Blink said uncertainly, "Right?"
"I don't know." Race shrugged again, but wouldn't look at him.
Blink felt that remark cut into him deeply. He felt low, lower than he had when he dealt with Greene. Even though Race knew the truth, he still didn't trust him. He had done many things wrong in his life, but this topped it all. He'd made a mess out things, so much so, that he couldn't even see how far it had gone.
"You gotta trust me, just this once," Blink said.
Race considered him for a moment. It seemed like a small eternity before he finally responded, "Earn it. Tell me what's goin' on."
At least Race hadn't given up on him completely. Blink could feel his eyes on him, waiting for an answer. In his mind, Blink firmly intended to tell Race that he couldn't. But before he knew what he was saying, he had already begun to speak.
"I got myself into somethin' I don't think I can get out of," Blink started. He had been not talking about for so long, it felt strange to speak so openly. Though, as soon as he began to talk, the words came more easily. "It was like you said, I didn't fight them," he continued, keeping his voice low, almost to a whisper, although he knew no one else was within earshot.
"There a reason?"
"I made a deal with Greene."
Race didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. He was disappointed in him. Not angry, not surprised, just disappointed.
"It was for Mush, I had to," Blink said quickly, trying to defend himself, "He won't think twice about comin' after Mush if I don't keep my end."
"We can protect Mush," Race said with assurance, "You don't gotta do nothin' for Greene. He's a snake."
"You don't understand," Blink said. He would haven laughed if it didn't hurt so much. Race didn't get it. Greene walked into Manhattan in broad daylight without being noticed. He could have killed Mush right then. The deal was too big for him to let Blink welsh on. There would be consequences.
"Nah, I don't think I do," Race agreed, looking at him closely. "What was your end?"
Blink hesitated. He had told Race most of it already, there was really no reason to hold back. He was done for anyway. But still, he couldn't quite bring himself to say it. He opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again.
If Race could trust him after all that had happened, why couldn't he return that trust? Race would help him, he had helped him so many times before. And, for the first time, Blink realized he needed that help.
"He wants me to set Spot up," Blink said quietly.
"Set him up?" Race said, becoming wary, "Set him up for what?'
"That meetin' he wants Jack to work out, it's just to get Spot out in the open. He wants me to do it, Race. He wants me to kill Spot."
Race sat back, taking it in silently. The implications were immediately clear. Brooklyn would turn on Manhattan, Manhattan would fight back. In the resulting confusion, Greene could take down both. It was serious. Serious enough that Race finally understood why Blink was so rattled.
"I can't do it, Race," Blink said, his voice catching in his throat.
"We'll think of somethin', don't worry," Race said.
"I can't do it."
"I know. I'll figure somethin' out," Race assured him, his voice filled with all the confidence he didn't feel.
A/N: Thanks for reading, guys and gals. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.