--author's note.

This chapter. Is interesting. And I was a bit wired on caffeine when I wrote the beginning, and slowly going down when I wrote the end. And the person who usually beta's me isn't here... she's working. So uhm. If it's got grammatical and spelling errors (it shouldn't, as much as it bored me, I read it like, five times afterwards), then just tell me and I'll fix them.

--another disclaimer.

I still don't own Newsies. Or the lyrics to 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. Darn.

--chapter two.

He doesn't realize that he is still running until he reaches the apartment. Jack is somewhere far behind him, but Blink is certain that he knows where he'll be. Shakily, he shoves his key into the lock, because Mush has already left, and being more responsible than Blink, has locked the door.

Blink knows that no one is following him. He knows that there is nobody in the corridor, save for a balding cat and a few empty bottles of milk. He knows that he's gotten away.

And he's still frightened. The key jostles around and he kicks the door open, quickly shutting and locking it behind him. He lets out a sigh of breath and falls onto the bed.

It is late afternoon, and vaguely, he can hear Mrs. Jacobson next door preparing dinner for her family. Blink breathes in deeply, desperately trying to taste the roasting beef through the air.

There is a knock on the door.

Terrified, he doesn't move. He thinks to himself, as though trying to telepathically convey the message to the visitor, No one is home... a louder knock- no one is home... He thinks the door is about to cave in- NO ONE IS-

"BLINK."

Jack's voice is easy to recognize. Blink quickly dashes to the door to let the Cowboy in.

Standing in the doorway, Jack is drenched with sweat. He gives Blink a once over and scoots his way into the room.

"Are you okay?" he asks, genuine concern in his voice, as he walks to the table and picks up the bottle of pills, still full minus the one.

"I'm fine." Blink answers shakily. He pulls out the revolver and places it under the bed hastily while Jack's back is turned to him. He doesn't want Mush to find it in his pocket or on the table when he comes home.

"You want these?" Jack shakes the bottle after examining its contents. Blink shakes his head and Jack continues, "That was a good shot back there."

Blink swallows, not wanting to think of it, but the hollow look of death in Oscar's eyes flashes back across his mind, and he can remember every detail of the hallowing scene; the mother, the scream, the stares, the way the bustle seemed to stop, Oscar's gun lying a few feet from his body, and running. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Mush at the cafe tonight?" Jack asks awkwardly. Blink wonders why he asked, because Mush is at the cafe every night. He just nods. "You gonna go?"

Blink thinks it over for a moment, "Yeah, I think I might."

"Yeah."

They sit in silence until Jack announces that he's meeting Sarah for a soda and possibly a movie.

But before he leaves, he adds, "And you'd better watch out for Morris, Kid, I know you made tracks back there, but lotsa folks saw you shoot 'im. Just... don't go gettin' yourself shot too."

Blink nods, suddenly even more terrified at the prospect of being shot. "I'll be careful." And he shuts the door.

He had only worried about the law. About going to jail. About leaving Mush with no way to make the rent. Not about being shot or dying. He locks the door again and looks around nervously.

The scent of the roast beef is filling the air now, and Blink's stomach is screaming at him to fill it, seeing how he hasn't eaten since the night before.

He checks the cupboards. Nothing. He can't leave for food. He has to think of a safe place to go... A safe place...

There is no safe place anymore. At least with Oscar, there had been a chance of him letting Blink live, but now that he was dead, Morris would not, under any circumstances, let Blink get away. Not with his debt and Oscar's death on his head.

His stomach distracted him again.

There is no safe place, he reminds himself. He hopes that Mush brings home leftovers again. Sometimes he does, and sometimes he doesn't. Sometimes he has money when he comes home, and sometimes he doesn't. Blink never comes home with money, save for when he's done a job for Jack or Dutchy delivering some bottle of pills or some conspicuous package.

But those jobs always brought in more money than Mush's job at the cafe.

He's not proud to say that he does them. And he's even less proud to admit that he would love to keep some of the things he delivers, but the money is necessary, and it's better than being broke and homeless.

At least he has Mush.

He sometimes wants to tell Mush what he does while he's gone. About the pills and the drinks and the girls and Oscar and Morris and Jack and Dutchy and the Four Step Plan... but he's afraid of what Mush will think of him if he knows. He wants Mush to think he's a good person.

Which he knows is a lie.

And so, instead of leaving the apartment to find Dutchy, he turns on a record and lies down on the bed, letting himself close his eyes.

But he can't sleep.

So he listens to the entire record.

He paces.

He stares out the window.

He feels the gun beneath the bed, but does not pull it out. He wants it gone, but he can't throw it out the window. The police would find it. Not that there weren't witnesses anyway.

Hours pass.

He feels as though he's going crazy. Song after song. The church tower down the street rings its bells every hour.

Ten rings.

Eleven rings.

Twelve rings.

He knows he's going crazy. The gunshot, the silence, the scream, the running.

Don't go gettin' yourself shot too...

The key is turning in the door.

Either Mush is home, or death doesn't know how to knock.

The latter, thankfully, is incorrect and Mush walks in, looking tired with the fedora propped onto his head and his suspenders let down. He almost doesn't see Blink, who is sitting on the edge of the bed silently for a moment.

"Oh!" He says, setting down his clarinet case and pulling the hat off his head to reveal his messy curls, "I didn't see ya there, Kid."

Jack and Mush are the only ones who ever call him 'Kid' anymore.

Blink just stares. Unaware of what to say without blurting out, sorry I just killed Oscar Delancey, and I lied to you about the drugs and the pills and I went out drinking the other night instead of seeing you play and I'm sorry, and I didn't mean to hurt you or put you in any danger but I DID, and I'm sorry- I'm sorry- I'm sorry- I'm sorry...

So he just stares. Mush has produced a bag of food.

"They had leftovers tonight," he says, setting it on the table, "I thought you might be hungry seein' how you didn't come in. How was your-" But he catches the terrified look in Blink's eye, "Are you..." he pauses, "Are you okay?"

Blink looks up at him. He can't lie again. Slowly, he shakes his head, not realizing that the rest of him is shaking as well.

Mush stops what he's doing and sits down next to him. He places a hand on Blink's shoulder and squeezes it, "Hey, I'm sure it'll get better, whatever it is."

Something inside Blink snapped. I'm sorry.

"I'm sorry." He says, fighting back the tears that he has always been able to suppress before.

"What for?" Mush asks, looking down but at Blink's face at the same time.

"I-I-" Blink stutters for a moment, "I got in a fight.. with Oscar Delancey."

Mush stands up and goes to the food again, "Is that all?" He asks, sounding relieved.

"No."

Mush looks up again, picking up a plate from the counter and setting the cold mashed potatoes and a half-eaten slice of beef onto it for Blink.

"He uh-" Blink swallows, "I owed him a lot of money. And I couldn't, y'know, pay. 'Cause of the rent and all that, and he was gonna kill me."

"What'd ya do?"

"I shot 'im instead. I was selfish, and I coulda just had a little less booze or few more lonely nights-" He is aware that he is rambling, but momentarily, he doesn't care, "and I coulda... I coulda... I shouldn't'a... Morris is gonna kill me, Mushee... I just- I can't- Oh God. Oh God. I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to. I just- I thought if I- Oh God-"

Blink is suddenly crying more than he ever has in his entire life. Mush sets down the food and walks over to the bed to sit next to him. He cradles his head gently against his chest, rubbing Blink's shoulder lightly with his other hand, whispering, "It's okay... it's okay..."

"I'm sorry..." Blink mutters under his breath, trying to regain control of himself.

Mush looks sad as Blink sits back up, and it stings. He looks at Blink as though he feels sorry for him, but then he answers, "It's okay. I swear it'll be okay."

Blink wipes his nose and nods.

"You want that food?" Mush asks, standing back up. Blink nods again and Mush hands it to him.

He devours it. He doesn't feel the hunger anymore, and he doesn't feel crazy anymore...

But he still feels like a murderer. He is still shaking and he still feels as though he's going to cry again.

Mush begins to set up the couch for him to go to sleep.

Blink stands up and quickly grabs Mush by the arm, but then loosens his grip, "Stay with me?" He asks, "Just for tonight... so I can sleep."

Mush nods slowly, uncertainly. But as they lay down, Blink feels Mush's arm wrap protectively around his torso, and the soft of Mush's lips brushing against the back of his head. And Blink smiles.

It would be heavenly, to hold you again in a dream...