Disclaimer: Maybe if I ever get rich enough, I will own WSS. Until then, I will have to be content with writing fanfiction. -_-; Also, cameo appearance by a character created by LCV Productions.

Note: This includes one of the first-ever scenes I wrote for this fic, almost a year before posting. Amazing how time flies, isn't it?

Hope you enjoy!

—viennacantabile

fell the angels

six : and the night illuminated the night

.

Long ago, in April it was, Grady had taken of him a mental photograph, an intense, physical picture, emphatic as a cut-out on white paper: alone, often isolated by midnight, she let it emerge, an intoxicating symbol that set her blood to whispering…

—Truman Capote, Summer Crossing

.

The wind is rushing after us, and the clouds are flying after us, and the moon is plunging after us, and the whole wild night is in pursuit of us; but, so far we are pursued by nothing else.

—Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

.

They don't make it a block from the gym before Ice tugs her out of the well-lit street and into a darkened doorway and kisses her. Velma, arms winding around his neck, sighs. Her back is against the brick wall and his hands are running all over her dress and he might have a lot on his mind, she thinks hazily, but he sure doesn't kiss like it at all.

"If you're tryin' to distract me," she breathes, barely able to concentrate on her words as his mouth moves to the hollow between shoulder and neck, "you're doin' a good job."

She can feel him grin. "Oh, there's somethin' in it for both of us," he assures her, and the murmur of his voice against her skin makes her dizzy. It just isn't fair, Velma thinks, inhaling as he works his way back up to her lips, that he can do this to her so easily. It's enough to make her forget her own name, let alone the finer points of a gang challenge and war-council that may or may not have happened already. But as always, Velma lets herself give in. She loves this boy, intense and inscrutable as he is, and she is willing to wait for him to tell her, as he always does, the truth. Besides, she thinks, as a delicious shiver runs through her body at his touch, he's right: there is something in this for both of them.

They've only just stopped for air when a bright light invades the doorway.

"Hey, you!" barks a deep voice as Ice takes a careful step back. "Get—oh, hi, Velma."

Velma shades her eyes in surprise. She can barely make the figure out, but it sounds like— "Officer Goddard?"

To her relief, Minnie's father redirects the flashlight beam away and gives a feeble cough, clearly embarrassed to be catching his good friend's daughter and her boyfriend together. "I, um—thought there was some hanky-panky goin' on. Been a lotta that tonight. I'm on Purity Patrol," he explains seriously, adjusting his cap.

"Oh, no," Velma is quick to assure him. To her right, she hears Ice snort. Velma elbows him—now is definitely not the time. "We were just, um—talkin'."

Officer Goddard shifts his weight fom side to side. "Talkin'."

"Yeah," Velma says sunnily. "Talkin'. About the dance. It was fun," she adds with a bright smile.

"Oh," says Officer Goddard, looking slightly reassured. "Well, that's good. That your boyfriend?" he asks, waving his flashlight around.

Ice takes a slow step forward into the light. "Yeah, that's me. Ice," he adds with a nod, leaning against the brick wall.

Officer Goddard, a skeptical frown on his face, inspects him for a full minute. Velma, glancing over, bites back a giggle. "Ice," she hisses, "your mouth."

Ice looks confused for a moment. Then his eyes widen and with a cough, he reaches up with a casual hand to cover the lipstick smudged there.

"Hmm," says Minnie's father, still eyeing Ice with suspicion. "I remember. Y'know, Joe's told me a lot about you." Velma doesn't know who he's talking about at first, until she remembers her father mentioning that that, faced with 'Johannes,' George Goddard had turned Dr. Andersen's given name into the very American-sounding 'Joe', complete with the hard J. "You're one-a those Jets."

Ice nods, and Velma winces. Ice is, sure, but so is—

"Minnie still at the dance?" Officer Goddard demands, puffing himself up. "I don't trust that joker she's with."

"Last time I checked," Velma confirms, not mentioning she'd heard something about going out for ice cream. "But don't worry, Officer Goddard, Baby John's a good kid. Really."

"Sure he is," mutters Officer Goddard, before raising his voice. "You two stay outta trouble, okay?" he says sternly. "I don't wanna have to explain to Joe how you got yourself mugged."

Velma just smiles. "A-course not, Officer Goddard. I'm goin' home soon, don't worry."

Minnie's father nods, gives one last skeptical look to Ice, and moves off, taking the circle of light with him. The street subsides back into shadow.

After the flashlight's beam disappears, Ice huffs. "As if I'd let ya get mugged," he grumbles, clearly offended. "What's he think I am?"

"A Jet," Velma informs him, lips twitching. "One-a the lousiest, scummiest gang-members around."

"So don't that mean I can take care of ya all by my big bad self?" says a very unamused Ice.

"It should, yeah," agrees Velma with a giggle, "but you know cops ain't long on logic. An' Minnie's dad's actually better'n most."

Ice rolls his eyes. "I'll say. Anyway, I don't like his timin'." He makes as if to kiss her again, but Velma ducks back and puts a hand on his chest.

"Not now," she laughs. Now that her head has cleared a bit, she remembers that there are a few things she wants to iron out first. "Wait 'til later."

"But, Vee," Ice protests, reaching for her waist, "we got—" He gives his watch a cursory glance, but its face is obscured by darkness. Velma stifles a grin as Ice blinks, and forges on. "Anyway, we got time. Why don't we pick up where we left off 'fore Goddard came around?"

Velma dimples. "Speakin'-a Goddard, he might come back. You don't want him tellin' my dad about any hanky-panky, do ya?"

Ice makes a face. "'Course not. But that don't mean we gotta wait 'til—"

"C'mon, honey," Velma teases. "Don'tcha need a clear mind for the war council later?"

Ice groans. "Yeah, well, this ain't exactly helpin', I can tell ya that."

"Later," Velma promises. It's not that she doesn't want to—she does, very much—but she knows if they get to making out again, the forty-five minutes or so they have left will go by in a quarter of the time, and for now, Velma wants to enjoy just being with him. She giggles. "'Sides, a little anticipation's good for ya."

Ice sighs, defeated. "Well," he says, draping an arm around her shoulders, "whaddaya wanna do, then?"

Velma shrugs. "I don't care. Let's get outta here, though." She grins. "I don't much wanna get caught by the Purity Patrol again."

Ice snorts. "Yeah, me neither. Where d'ya wanna go?"

Velma considers this. The park is too far for the time they have left, and she's not wasting time having him walk her home; he'd just have to leave earlier to get back. She does know one place, though, that isn't too far from Doc's. "The playground?"

Ice guides her out of the doorway and drops a kiss on her forehead. "Anywhere's fine with me."

Velma smiles to herself. Now, as always, she remembers how lucky she is. "C'mon," she invites, holding her hand out for his. "Let's go."

.

As they walk through the warm humid streets, Velma breathes in the close summer air and wonders what the future will bring. On nights like these their lives seem to stretch out golden and bright in front of them, a long stream of evenings spent glimpsing endless opportunity. They are young, and in love, and at this moment it seems like nothing can brush their reality. Most of all, it seems impossible that they will not always go on as they are now, because out here, they're untouchable.

Velma doesn't want this summer to end. She's never been happier than she is now, and with the fall will come questions that are harder to answer now that she has someone to hold on to. Ice has just finished school, and this is her last year, now. In another June, she will graduate. And after—

She glances at Ice. After, she doesn't know. But she knows it's not just her life to consider anymore.

Ice, as though sensing her gaze, inclines his head and smiles down at her. "Penny?"

Velma giggles. "What, my thoughts're only worth that much?"

Ice grins. "Well, I could pay ya other ways, too, but I thought ya wanted to wait 'til later."

"Don't tempt me," Velma says with a sigh. Casting around for another subject to distract him, she furrows her brow. "Hey," she says slowly, "what happened at the dance, anyway?"

Ice's face doesn't change, but Velma can tell he is not unaffected by the question. "What, with Tony?"

"Yeah," nods Velma, glad that he is not trying to hide the obvious. "An' you an' the Sharks."

Ice sighs. "Honest? I don't really know. Riff said he was gonna get Tony to show so's he could have backup for the challenge, and yeah, Tony showed up, but I don't think it did much good. 'Specially not with him dancin' with that girl, an' all. Got the PRs mad. Don't know what he was thinkin'; he's too smart to pull that kinda dumb joke." He shrugs. "Don't really matter, though, Riff got to Bernardo an' we're havin' the war-council at midnight. 'S all that counts."

"Oh," says Velma, absorbing this. "Tony comin' to that, too?"

"I don't know," Ice repeats with another sigh. "Hell, I don't know why Tony does half the things he does anymore. Today was the first time I've seen him in a week. An' when I have seen him it's just 'cause he works at Doc's. He ain't been what'd I'd call really with the gang in a month."

Velma slides her free arm around Ice. "I'm sorry," she says, and she means it. She doesn't know Tony as well as some of the other Jets, but Ice has told her enough about the former Jet leader to know that he's a very, very good friend in a pinch and that Ice, as much as he hates to admit it, misses him.

Ice waves her off. "Nah, it ain't a big deal. Worse for Riff than me, really." He hesitates. "It's just—funny, is all. Without him around."

Velma nods, and settles deeper into his side as they continue walking. She doesn't say anything, and neither does he, but it's a comfortable, friendly quiet that says everything that they don't. And up near a streetlight, a few tiny glowing pinpricks are floating, dotting the air. Velma blinks. "Ice," she murmurs, pointing up into the night, "look. Fireflies."

"Huh," he says, shading his eyes against the light. "Would ya look at that."

"I've only ever seen 'em once outside the park before," she confides, glancing up at him. "When I was six, maybe. You?"

Ice takes his time answering, his gaze fastened on the dancing bits of light. "First time."

"Pretty, ain't they?" asks Velma, watching the fireflies trace a golden arc against the velvet night sky.

Ice finally turns back to look at her and smiles. "Yeah," he says, eyes soft. "They are."

.

"Hey," Velma says a few blocks later, "we're almost to the playground."

"Are we," Ice says, resting his arm unconcernedly over her shoulders.

Velma glances at him. "Say, Ice," she says, frowning. She has been thinking this over and Velma figures she might as well find out now. "What were you'n the PR talkin' about, anyway? Not the leader, but the other one."

"Pepe?" he asks.

"Yeah," she says, dimpling up at him. "Looked pretty cozy over there."

Ice smiles a little. "Might as well ask what Baby John said to Krupke."

Velma's lips twitch at the thought. "What did he say?"

Ice gives a low chuckle and grins down at her. "Kid said he asked Krupke how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop."

Velma claps her hand over her mouth to cover her laughter. "He would!"

"Yep," says Ice, looking amused. "An' the way he told it, Krupke was actually tryin' to figure it out."

"Wouldn't be surprised at all," Velma agrees, tickled by the mental image. After a few minutes of content silence, though, she tries again. "Yeah, but what'd Pepe say?"

"Nothin'," Ice says with an easy half-smile and a squeeze to her shoulder. "Ain't important, Vee."

"No, really," she persists, because Velma can tell from his too-casual voice that it whatever it was, it wasn't just nothing. "Tell me."

He pauses, then snorts. "Well, see, I asked him how the tamale was over on his side-a town."

Velma giggles. "No, you didn't!"

"I did," says Ice, his face completely serious. "Felt like tamale the other day, been lookin' for some good ones. Thought he might know where to get some."

"What'd he say?" she asks, eyes wide. His poker face is so good she's not sure whether to believe him or not.

Ice grins. "Told me sure, he'd take me to get some next week."

Velma laughs, but it doesn't last long. "What'd he really say, Ice?" she presses again. "C'mon, you can tell me."

Ice keeps his gaze forward. "Why d'ya wanna know so much?"

"'Cause," she says seriously, taking him by the arm, "you're comin' over late tonight 'cause-a things you boys do an' say to each other, an' I wanna know what kinda thing it is that's so important it can't wait 'til tomorrow."

Ice shrugs. "It ain't important, Vee."

"'Course it is," Velma says quietly. "Everything's important, Ice. To me, anyway."

Ice glances at her and sighs. "I know." He stands indecisive for a moment before putting his arm around her and beginning to walk again. "He wanted to know why us Americanos couldn't just stick to our girls."

Velma gazes up at him; he's staring straight ahead, mouth in a flat line. "What'd you say?"

Ice gives her a half-smile. "I said I didn't know about Tony, but I was fine with that."

"And?"

Ice sighs. "Then he said they knew exactly what Tony wanted with their girl, and he wasn't going to get it." He snorts, shaking his head. "Only he didn't exactly say it like that."

"Oh," says Velma, absorbing this. She settles into his arm and sighs. "Tony ain't like that." Tony's a nice guy, she thinks, and even though she wouldn't have thought he'd fall for a Puerto Rican—especially when the girl in question is probably already with one of the gang members his buddies are tangling with—Velma knows he's not the kind of guy to pick up and drop a girl, just like that. Tony is the kind of guy who cares.

"I know," Ice says quietly, squeezing her shoulder. "But they don't know that, an' anyway, Tony shoulda known better." He sighs, and Velma realizes again that no matter what he says, Ice really does miss his friend. "Like I said, I don't know why he's been actin' so weird. First droppin' us like hot potatoes, an' now goin' after the one girl he's never gonna get in a million years. It ain't like him."

"He's never been stuck on one girl before, has he?" Velma asks. Her mouth quirks up. "The girls said he's always had one if he wanted, but that he's never been what they'd call dead gone on one before."

Ice half-smiles. "They're right. Tony, he's never been real serious about a dame before." Then he frowns. "Which is why this whole thing worries me."

Velma glances at him. "Why? Don't ya think he can get her? Sure, she's a PR, but Tony's a handsome guy, y'know," she teases. "Not my type, a-course, but I know the girls think he's real cute."

Normally, Ice would let her know he's not happy about his girlfriend calling his buddy handsome, but tonight he just sighs. "That's just it. If it were just her, sure he could. But this ain't just any girl. Even any PR girl." He pauses. "It's Bernardo's sister."

Velma glances at him, startled. "But ain't Bernardo—"

"The PR captain," Ice confirms, frowning.

Velma inhales sharply. "Oh."

"Yeah," Ice mutters. "Tony sure can pick 'em."

"She was pretty," Velma offers. She doesn't know what else to say. She's never had a friend change so much in so little time, let alone one as close as Tony was to Ice. What would help? she wonders.

"I didn't notice," Ice shrugs, eyes clouded, and Velma smiles.

"Enough about them," she says, lifting his hand up and pressing her lips to it as they reach the playground. Ice might be worried about Tony, and Velma might not know how to help, but what she can do is be here, with him, and let him know that nothing is ever going to break them like that, no matter what is up against them. And as Ice swings the gate open for her, she glances up at him. No one knows what the future holds, but they have time right here, right now, and she is not going to waste it.

.

Velma has been perched and Ice has been leaning on the monkey bars, talking (and kissing, despite her best efforts) for the last fifteen minutes when Ice checks his watch. He is smooth and careful about it, angling his arm behind her shoulder, but Velma, eyes attuned to his every movement, still sees him. Well, this is silly, she thinks, exasperated and a little bit hurt. Even when they're alone they can't get away from the Jets.

"So what time is it?" she asks pointedly.

Ice, catching her very unamused gaze, shuffles his feet. "Eleven-thirty. We got time," he adds quickly.

Velma arches one eyebrow. "So why ya married to your watch, then?"

Ice reaches apologetically for her, and she allows him to pull her closer. "Sorry, Vee. Just don't wanna be late, is all."

Velma stares up at him. Even if she's resolved not to waste their time together, she realizes, it won't matter if he's thinking ahead to the war-council, anyway. And for once, she doesn't feel like shutting her mouth and letting him trot along after Riff like a little boy. "Ya really gotta go to that thing tonight?"

Ice nods, pale eyes intense. "Y'know I do, Vee."

Velma sighs at this answer she does not want to hear. But maybe, she thinks, there is a way to persuade him. "Don't you wanna just come to my place?" she asks, fingertips idly tracing circles on his shirt-front. "We could get real comfortable…"

Ice stares at her, eyes hazing over, and for a minute she thinks maybe he will. Then his gaze refocuses, and he shakes his head regretfully. "Damn if that don't sound good. But I gotta be there, Vee," he reiterates, drawing her closer. "I'll come by straight after, though."

Velma pulls away, piqued. Getting up, she plants her hands on her hips. "Well, maybe I'll just lock my window tonight. Leave you out on the fire escape all night long. How'd ya like that, honey?"

Ice raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Like ya would, Vee."

Backing up to the nearby see-saw, Velma settles herself sideways on its seat and tucks her skirt around her. "Baby," she breathes up at him, gaze running seductively over him, "don't tempt me."

Grinning, Ice moves over to the other side and puts one foot down on it. Velma shrieks as her end of the see-saw rises up into the air. "Ice!" she yelps, grabbing the handle, "let me down, right now!"

Velma doesn't know if it's intentional, but somehow he's startled all the anger out of her, and now she is laughing and can't stop. Ice, still smirking up at her, plunks himself down to sit on the seat.

"Kinda stuck, ain't ya?" he observes with a self-satisfied grin, crossing his arms.

Velma can't hold back her giggles, even as she measures the distance between the ground and her dangling heels and realizes he's right: Ice has her trapped, at least if she doesn't want to ruin her favorite pair of shoes.

"Let me down," she insists with a helpless laugh.

His gaze turns serious. "So long's ya say ya won't worry, Vee."

"I ain't worried," she scoffs. He just looks at her with his pale steady eyes until she has to bite her lip. "Fine," she admits after a moment, with a sigh. "So I worry, sometimes. Ya can't blame me, can ya?"

"No," says Ice quietly. "But that don't mean I want ya to do it."

Velma gazes at him. "If it were me—"

The corner of Ice's mouth twitches so immediately it's as if he can't help it. "Runnin' around bein' a Jet in those fancy shoes?"

Velma is not amused. "Ice."

The half-smile fades, to be replaced by a restless frown. "I'd worry, yeah," sighs Ice, glancing around. "Don't think I ain't thankin' my lucky stars it ain't."

"Then you know why I have to," says Velma. It isn't a question.

Ice gets to his feet, holding his end of the seesaw down as he removes his weight. Then he eases her down as lightly as if she's a feather floating to the ground, controlling the descent of the seesaw so that she doesn't feel the slightest bump as her feet touch the pavement. His gaze never leaves hers.

"Yeah," he says softly, coming over and holding out his hand. "Just like you know why I have to."

Velma bites her lip. Of course she knows why Ice has to go. This is what she signed up for when she first went on that date with a Jet, and what she has gone along with in the year since. But it doesn't mean she likes it.

So instead she takes his hand and pulls him across the playground to where the swings make their shadows over the gray pavement. Velma positions Ice behind a swing and stands on the other side, hands gripping the cold hard links of the chains. She gazes at him for a long, long moment, blue eyes meeting blue. There are so many things she wants to say right now.

But tonight, like every other night, she keeps silent. Now is not the time.

Velma turns, lowers herself on the swing, twists her head to look up at him. "Push me," she says, and faces forward again.

She feels his hands come up to grip her waist, pull her back—push—and she is flying, the humid air whipping over her bare skin. Tonight the constellations are out in full force and brilliance, and Velma watches the gleaming points of light go past in a blur and wonders how many others like them are out under the heavens tonight. There are so many stars, so many lovers. One for each of them? Maybe. At the top of her flight she feels like she's almost near enough to touch them, grasp them in her hands and make wishes on fistfuls of stars. That's enough, isn't it? If you just have enough failsafes, it has to work. That makes sense. Everything makes sense up here.

And then gravity reaches for her and she is falling back to earth, glowing pinpricks rushing forward past her and now Velma can see the sharp edges of buildings all around her and the gritty reality of the Upper West Side near midnight. She is just about to collide with this concrete jungle when she feels firm hands on her back and she is launched again into the clear air of night sky.

It's a swooping, dizzying rush, a near-endless loop, and Velma isn't quite sure how long this flight into fantasy lasts. She knows when it ends, though, and that is all too soon. Every time she rises into the night it is lower and lower, that calm, steady push on her back softer. Ice is bringing her slowly but surely to a stop, and when at last Velma is able to twist the chains of her swing and and turn to face him, thread her legs through his and lock her ankles around them, he leans forward and kisses her forehead.

"It's about that time," he says.

Velma, if she were smarter, wouldn't even think about it. She would get up and walk away and never come back for this intense, incredible, impossible boy, because everything is converging and she doesn't know how but she does know this can't last. Something has to give, and Velma, if she were smarter, wouldn't be around for when it does.

But she is in far too deep for that, and so Velma gets up, smoothes her dress, runs her hands over her hair, and takes a deep breath.

"C'mon," she says, avoiding his eyes, "let's go."

.

She can't help but try one last time as they reach the street. Turn left, and they will go to Doc's. Turn right…hers.

"My place?" Velma invites, hoping against hope that Ice will come with her and forget about this silly war-council business.

But he doesn't, just kisses her and murmurs "later" into her skin. And to be honest, this—the loyalty to his buddies, not the willingness to get into a fight over a little piece of street—is one of the reasons she loves him, and why he wouldn't be Ice if he'd said yes. He is someone the Jets can count on, always. And she knows it is the same for her.

Even so—she bites her lip and swallows her disappointment. "Later is a long time."

Ice slides his arm around her, a tacit apology for taking, as ever, the left turn. "I'll be there," he assures her, "just wait."

Velma sighs. And that's the kicker. "You know I always do."

.

Velma is just putting her lipstick and mirror back into her purse when Ice stops and sounds a quick whistle. She glances at him, confused. It's not until she hears an answering trio of notes and Ice resumes walking that she remembers. Right. There are other people out there tonight, and they are all heading for the same place.

It's Riff and Graziella. "Hey, Vel," calls the redhead with a smirk, wedged into Riff's side. "Doin' all right?"

Velma answers with a smile of her own. "Not too shabby, thanks." The boys are saying something about Doc's, but she and Graziella have better things to discuss. "Riff tell ya about what went down?"

Her best friend shrugs. "Sorta," she sniffs, then sticks out her tongue with a self-satisfied grin. "You'll have to fill me in later, we was too busy doin' somethin' else."

Velma laughs. "Sure thing," she promises. She lowers her voice. "How much time we got left, anyway?"

"Not enough," Graziella grouses. "I swear, I am this close to just dumpin' his—oh, hi, Riffy-poo," the redhead coos as Riff, apparently done talking to Ice, gives her hip a squeeze.

"What's that, baby?" he grins.

"Just sayin' how great ya are, Daddy-O," Graziella purrs, before pulling his face down and kissing him to distraction.

Velma, still watching, giggles and turns back to a very embarrassed Ice, whose ears are faintly red.

"Y'know, that ain't such a bad idea," he manages, pulling her to walk ahead of the couple.

Velma smirks. "We're almost to Doc's."

Ice sighs in defeat. "Or we could just walk. An' wait til' later."

Velma leans contentedly into his side. "Trust me, honey," she promises, "I'll make it worth your while."

Ice grins down at her. "Now that is somethin' worth waitin' for."

Velma presses a kiss to his shoulder. She isn't sure exactly how much farther it is to Doc's, but she does know she doesn't want this time of the night to end. Once they meet up with the others, Ice will be a Jet once more, and Velma, as all the Jets' girls do, will have to stand by and wait for her turn. Even if that's the last thing she feels like doing.

For now, though, she is happy. And really, decides Velma with a sigh, as Ice keeps his hand solidly on her waist, that's all she can ask for. It isn't as if Ice is like some of the other Jets, treating their girls as easy lays and never talking to them otherwise. She should be content with what she has. Because she is lucky.

"Nice night," she murmurs, smiling up at him, and Ice, eyes focused on the sidewalk ahead of them, grins. Both of them know that he understands exactly what she means.

"Yeah, I—"

But then they hear a scuffle up by Doc's and Velma unwillingly turns her head to see Anybodys pounding Baby John into the pavement. Ice releases an annoyed sigh, and just like that, he lets go of her to break it up.

"C'mon, Anybodys, knock it off," he groans, and Velma, watching him, feels that same twinge of discontent from earlier intrude as she catches up to Ice and deposits her purse in Doc's window. She slides back into the warmth of his body, but their part of the night is clearly over, and it's not the same, not at all.

Graziella and Clarice have told her before that this lingering, this hanging around while the boys take care of their business is all part of being a Jet's girl. She is not to take it personally, because before she knows it, they will be done and the waiting will be over. It happens every time. That's what they say, anyway.

Velma remembers the fireflies dancing in the night around the streetlamp and isn't so sure. Even if they die for it, they can't keep themselves from going toward that light. It's magnetic. A leap into the darkness to reach something so beautiful it hurts. Is it worth it? she wonders. To need something so badly it could break you? Is it worth it, in the end?

But there is no way to know. And all she can do, thinks Velma with a sigh, is jump.