Note: And, yes, there is another chapter. No, we did not forget you. It may seem like a shock but one of us (I'll let you guess which, heh) does have a very busy real life – and, sometimes, RL does get in the way of producing awesome fic. Anywho, here's the next bit. Enjoy it!

Disclaimer: The movie characters highlighted in this awesome piece of work, unfortunately, do not belong to us. They are owned by Disney (© 1992-) and appear here because we made them. But we're not making any money off of them, so it's all good. The original characters included were donated generously because their creator's had no idea what they were in for.

--

These Brutal Streets

--

PART SIX

--

Jack had been following a string of stories for nearly half a day. The stories bounced from one newsie to the next, leading him to various persons, and it made him sick. Feeling as though his stomach couldn't do any more somersaults, and his anger hitting an all time high, he had ended up in the shower. Arm bracing his body against the wall, hot water streamed down his back, and the heat of that water, he found, calmed his tense muscles.

Traces of the day swept through his mind, taking him through each conversation that had occurred. His mind opened up to what they each had said, relaxing and considering the discussions in their entireties.

Having had the intellect to approach those more in touch with reality, he had found himself drawn to Illusion and Dragon. They were both older, around the age of 18, and more levelheaded. Having felt the need not to become aggravated too early in the day, Jack knew he should begin questioning with this particular pair.

They lacked certain knowledge on the rumors though. When he had approached them, they were talking in low tones, their bodies turned towards each other in the lobby downstairs. Illusions' sharp blue eyes had turned up suddenly and her lips were not in the full line of a smile she usually held. Instead, they were serious and set. Her fair skin wrinkled as she frowned, the freckles that sprinkled her face becoming more apparent. That expression caused Dragon to pull his eyes away from her and his deep brown eyes were narrowed as his head turned.

Seeing Jack standing there with dark circles shadowing his eyes, Dragon's face lost the dark stare and his tan features turned up in empathy. "Jack…" he had spoken in a deep, low tone with such an underlying sorrow that Jack was forced to turn his eyes downward so as not to cry.

All in all, Jack had left the pair with nothing but another set of names: Gip and Hair.

Jack had been certain that he wouldn't find the two girls together. Gip was as dark and brooding as Hair was giggly and joking. But he found himself wrong.

They sat across from each other in the bunkroom, heads bowed close together and their words whispered. Both girls had dark, long hair, but their facial features differed drastically. Hair's skin was pale, her heritage showing its true German features down to the wide, blue eyes. Gip's features expressed her gypsy blood, all but her blue eyes – inherited from her father's Irish side.

Before that instant, Jack had never noticed how similar their features were. That wasn't important though, not when he had questions that needed answers. He coughed once, two pairs of blue eyes turning to blink at him. Body leaning against the doorframe, he had crossed his arms over his chest, appearing more weary and tired by the second.

They stood quickly, almost colliding. If Jack had been in a less solemn mood, he would have laughed heartily at them. After talking with them, their hands wringing together and their eyes shifting to anywhere except his face, he found himself giving up. He'd be better off talking to Hair's dearest Jake and Gip's Specs.

His morning ended with the two boys, found separately and interrogated without violence. He had, in turn, searched for Gimmick and Trouble, only to find them missing.

Jack put the thought of his head as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Turning the shower off, he sighed. People disappeared all the time. The two had only been there for a few weeks and may have already moved on. It was a dead end to search them out again when they hadn't been seen for a good forty-eight hours.

He had others to question, and he would find out more information somehow, even if it took him weeks to do so. There was one thing you could say about Jack Kelly – it was that he was damn stubborn.

--

Stress felt tired. That was an easy assumption to make with the way her feet dragged all the way up the stairs. Every day seemed longer without the amusement of her friend Bittah. It had been weeks since she had last seen her – bruised up at that bar.

Stress let out a long sigh as she managed up the stairs, pausing. A noise made her forget her earlier thoughts, and her ears perked up as she heard a fierce tone and a slight whimpering coming from the bunkroom she was headed towards. Her hurried footsteps echoed down the hall and she skidded to a halt just outside the door.

Jack's tall frame leaned over an average sized girl with long brown hair. The girl's eyes were turned down, a wince illuminating her features. Stress called his name out, without thought.

He turned, his snarl turning into a thin line of quivering lips. His body straightened and Styx – the girl – slid quietly past him. Styx's body whipped past Stress, forcing her to flatten against the doorway, her eyes transfixed on Jack's.

"Jack," she had repeated his name in a concerned tone. She moved out of the doorway and stepped towards him, her eyes wide and questioning. "What are you doing in here?" she inquired in a small voice.

His gaze was frightening: a mixture of confusion, anger and gravity. Albeit surprised, Stress continued her steps forward with an arm outstretched in comfort, meaning to touch his shoulder in a way to express her empathy to him. His stare fell from her and she found her legs unable to move her body closer to his, her arm falling to her side.

"Is everything okay, Jack?" her voice was soft and soothing, her eyes wrinkling at the edges as her worry for him escalated.

His eyes briefly met hers, trying to collect himself as his head shook slowly from side to side. Stress moved forward, her body suddenly in front of his and her hands reached up, gently grasping his shoulders. Her eyes were desperate for answers as he continued to avoid locking eyes with her.

"It'll be okay Jack," she spoke again, just as soothing as before. Her eyes were searching, capturing his after a few moments of harsh silence. A sigh escaped his lips and his vivid, emotion-filled eyes finally met hers, but only for a second.

Pulling away, he let out another breath. "No. It's not going to be okay Stress…" Gruffly, he stepped past her.

"Jack, they're just rumors…"

Jack cut her off with a sharp glare as he turned just a few feet from her. Her hands were stretched out towards him, her arms extended from her body with a pleading expression written across her face. His fierce look softened, his lips opening as if to apologize and then shut once again in a painfully tight line.

She took this as a sign that he would hear her out, and a startling amount of words tumbled from her lips. "They're just silly rumors Jack, nothing more than that. No one would intentionally want to hurt Sarah, especially not a gang. I mean even Bittah has seen these guys and she thinks…"

"Bittah…" the word was a low growl and Jack's face contorted fiercely with anger. "What would that bitch know, Stress, huh? Just rumors…" he scoffed, waving his hand, brushing off what she had said. "You don't know anything, Stress, anything!"

He had been practically shouting at her with those last words and as he turned, exiting the bunkroom at a furious pace, she found that her body was shaking, her lips quivering. Her knees hit the ground and she buried her face in her hands. A wail of sobs echoed through the room, yet no one came running to see if she was okay.

--

Bittah had no idea how it had come down to this, lying calmly in the arms of none other than Spot Conlon. The sun had set just hours before and she reluctantly pulled her body to the edge of the bed, forcing herself to leave the warmth of the boy's half-nude body.

Gently, she removed his arm from around her waist, placing it beside him as her feet slipped carefully onto the cool wooden floor. She stood as she buttoned her shirt with tired fingers and dragged her trousers on. So quietly did she dress that Spot had not once stirred. Fully dressed now, she turned to take one last glance at his sprawled, sleeping form. She loved how he lay with his brown locks in a mess and his face peaceful.

Turning, she trained her eyes on the door, trailing quietly to it. Bittah drew it openly slowly, only enough that she could slip through it. This was the third night she had spent with him, leaving him once he fell asleep to sneak back into her bunk. She had a reputation to keep up after all.

As she settled into her bunk, her thoughts turned back to the past two weeks: how things had gone from harsh exchanges of words to loud, brash arguments, and then to violent physical fights with the stubborn Brooklyn leader. Then, suddenly everything had changed, turning into a passion that Bittah could barely handle, nonetheless completely understand. Not that she was about to halt it just for the sake of her confusion.

She fell asleep, feeling unnerved and confused for the first time in years. Maybe it was time to take a trip back to Manhattan, to breathe and clear her head. Definitely, she thought as she nestled into a deep slumber.

--

Jack pushed back the lingering feeling of guilt for the third time that afternoon. The guilt, at least, forced him to forget about his deceased girlfriend for minutes at a time. He turned, his body now facing the direction of the lodging house. Staring blankly for a moment, his mind shifted over the countless tidbits of information that he had gathered.

This didn't help his situation. He was now torn between grief and guilt and he chose the lighter of the two, forcing his legs to move. Jack tried not to think about it, the fact that he was about to apologize. Not being known for his apologetic ways, he knew this would prove to be quite a feat for himself.

At least it was a girl he was apologizing to; the thought soothed him into walking further. Only when his hand held the doorknob to the front door did he pause, shaking his head a little as he pushed it open.

He gazed around, weary of where Stress could be and hoping she would make this easy for him. Knowing of her sweet nature, he prayed that she'd forgive him and he could be on his way quickly.

Jack had never been known for his emotional side, always the serious or joking guy in a group, never anything more or in between. So when he found her, still on her knees in the bunkroom, her hands covering her eyes, he knew not what to do. Had she been there all morning?

There was a lump in Jack's throat and his mind screamed at him, abusing himself for treating her so harshly. "Stress…" the noise that came from his throat was quiet and pained, but it caught her attention rather suddenly.

Her green eyes stared at him, glossed over with a set of fresh tears and her cheeks stained red from wiping them away. The redness of her bottom lip quivered and she pushed herself unsteadily to her feet.

Had she really been there all afternoon? The thought seared through Jack's heart and he forced his eyes to the ground for a few seconds.

When he looked back up, she was wobbling on her feet and only a few steps closer. She stared at him with wide eyes, her hands trembling as they sat entwined together in front of her.

"I'm sorry…" his voice was still choked with an emotion he could not be sure of. Was it still guilt? Or maybe despair?

He didn't discover the answer until he was right in front of her, tipping her chin up with his broad hands. His lips, chapped and tasting of cigarettes, captured her own sweet and smooth ones in a tender, unexpected kiss.

--

It was more unexpected to the pair that had made their way up the stairway around that exact moment. David was holding Amalia's hand tightly, his lips pursed and his eyes glinting with anger.

Amalia, the ever gentle and sweet girl, tugged his hand gently. She flashed him a small, apologetic smile and pulled him away from the scene. Amalia knew that boy, Jack, was the one who had dated David's sister, Sarah – the dead girl. It did not hurt her in the least, but she could see David was fuming with an anger that was easily justified.

David did not speak until they were near her house, his hand gripping hers with an intensity that equaled the expression on his face. "That bastard…" he managed a growl under his breath and halted their leisurely walk to cover his eyes as if it hurt to think about. He started to babble angrily, ranting about Jack and how horrendous a person he was deep down and how he, David, had always known it.

Amalia had that same, stupid smile on her face, which only made David scowl more. Although he ran out of words to say after a few minutes and managed to keep gripping her hand in that intense fashion. As he drew in a deep breath, she tugged him towards her house. "David… let me make you some tea, help you calm down…" she said sweetly.

He felt like slapping her at that moment, but suddenly caught sight of a difference in her smile, something less annoying and strangely seductive about the way she was looking at him. So stunned was he by it, that she managed to lead him through the back entrance to her house.

They were in a spacious kitchen, neat and tidy, the countertops clean and everything put away neatly. She sat him down on a seat, ignoring his incessant murmuring words of hatred towards Jack. Then, she set to making a pot of tea. Her skirts swirled around her ankles and she made a show of bending over and reaching up for various things around the kitchen.

Amalia's face had suddenly heated to a sweet shade of pink as she caught him staring unabashedly at her body. She nearly dropped the teapot in her hand, but managed to whisk the cups and teapot to the table and fixed his tea to his liking.

David couldn't help but stare, the curve of her breast drawing his attention as she bent slightly to pour the hot tea into his cup. Growing more embarrassed, Amalia nearly burnt David as the spout of the teapot wavered and water dripped from it closer to the edge of the table. David sprung to his feet in reaction.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry!" Amalia said, reaching for a towel. "Did I get you anywhere?"

She examined him as he calmed himself and David stepped forward, as if to take the cloth from her hand. Instead, he grasped her wrist gently and brought his other hand up, gently pressing it against her warm, silken cheek. Her pale face grew redder in color and it was she who pushed herself up on her tiptoes and kissed him in the most passionate way she could muster.

David's hand pressed now to her side, holding her against him, and kissed her fiercely in return. He walked them backwards to the counter, leaning against it as he dared not to break the kiss, reveling in the feel of her warm, curvaceous body against his own. She ignited in him a lust that begged to be released.

Of course, she pulled away minutes later, just as he was about to further their kiss to the next level. "My parents…" she whispered in his ear, nipping at it and looking almost kitten-like in her smile that shone to her teeth.

Reluctantly, he released her from his hold, straightening himself and managing through a quick cup of tea. Listlessly, she watched him, letting him gaze at her openly with only a slight hint of a blush.

David did not stay until her parents were to arrive home. He left with a brief kiss and a hope that she would one day give him what he had desired of her in the moment of their kiss. One thing was for sure; he said to himself as he headed back home, school was going to be much more interesting from now on.