October 31, 1999

Adjusting the small, cracked mirror for the twentieth time that evening, Aislynn unwound the last of the cheap pink sponge curlers she'd bought earlier that day. She and Jack had discussed briefly a few days earlier the prospect of dressing up for Halloween, but now that she was looking at herself in the mirror, wearing the dress she'd bought at a thrift store and her usually-limp red hair in curls, she felt like a little girl again. Near the point of actually giggling, she put on the final touches of her costume - long black gloves that matched the dress, and a pair of six-inch stilettos (a lucky find at a consignment store).

"Hello?" Jack called out as he opened the door.

Aislynn smiled seductively as she stepped out of the bathroom and struck a dramatic pose. "I'm ready for my close-up, Mister Kelly," she said in a deep voice, then was unable to contain herself and burst out laughing.

Jack laughed with her. "You look gorgeous," he said, although he was no longer looking at her; he was assembling the pieces of his own costume. He'd worn some of them all day, the worn button-down shirt and suspenders and vest, all that was left were his boots, lasso, and cowboy hat.

"Go get 'em, Cowboy," she teased as he jammed the hat over his wavy golden-brown hair.

Suddenly, Jack looked a little uncomfortable. "Hey, I know we were just gonna go walk around for a while tonight." Aislynn nodded. "But, uh, some of the boys decided to throw a party, and they really want me to go. So, I was wondering…if you'd want to come with me?"

The girl raised her eyebrows, showing Jack why her eyes had looked so different - fake eyelashes. "That depends," she said slowly, smirking. "Will there be beer?"

Jack laughed and swatted her arm, but quickly became serious. "Of course," he said, acting as if he'd been insulted. "What kind of boys do you think we are?" They both laughed, and as they walked to the door, she picked up a cheap faux-fur stole that had been thrown across the back of a chair and a small black handbag before taking his arm.

It took Jack the entire half-hour walk to explain to Aislynn how the first boys to work the pizza place had set up a lodging house of sorts - more like a dorm, really - in the apartment above the restaurant, how they each paid their share of the rent for the place every month. By the time he lead her to the alley behind the shop, to bring her upstairs, her feet were aching and probably blistering. As they walked up the stairs, they could hear the loud rock music blaring from inside, something popular that Aislynn couldn't identify and didn't care enough about to ask Jack, who she was sure knew exactly what it was. "It's me," Jack yelled as he pounded on the door, clearly struggling to be heard above the noise.

They were let in by a boy who looked to be about their age dressed as a pirate, eye patch and all. He stared at Aislynn as she nervously followed Jack into the correctly described dorm-like room, full of bunk beds against walls that were covered with posters of various interests and things like that. Aislynn should have known by the stare that there was something off, for she certainly wasn't the only girl in the room, nor was she the prettiest. But as Jack lead her past the doorway, she began to attract the attention of more people, causing one to even turn down the music that was playing. Within moments, it was silent, and everyone was looking with distaste at Jack and the girl he'd brought with him.

"Who's the whore, Jack?" a voice called out furiously.

"That's Jamie Conlon's girlfriend," another voice replied, with just as much anger.

Jack should have seen it coming. He couldn't deny that it was his fault - he hadn't told any of them about her, and he hadn't warned her that they all had known Jamie well, some of them better than they would have liked to. She was clinging to his upper arm, now, and it didn't require looking at her to tell how uncomfortable she was. I knew this was a fucking bad idea, he thought, as the first of the boys to speak stood up. He had only seen David look this angry once before, during the summer's strike, and after being given a second chance, he knew things were about to get bad. "Aislynn, go wait outside," he muttered to her, and although confused, she nodded as he pushed her in the direction of the door.

From her position, seated on the landing of the fire escape with her ear pressed to the door, Aislynn could only hear bits and pieces of what was going on inside. The boy who had stood up was yelling something about Sara (the girl Jack used to be dating, she recalled), and Jack yelled something back, and before she knew it, she could hear the sounds of a fistfight, and all of the boys shouting as they watched. Goddamnit, Jack, she thought in exasperation as she listened to the fight inside. You should have told me they'd know who I was. You shouldn't have invited me in the first place.

It was a few minutes later, spent by Aislynn wondering what she could say to Jack when he left the building, when he opened the door and staggered out. "Jesus Christ, Jack!" she shouted, jumping to her feet so he could lean on her. He had clearly been the losing party in the fight (either that, or Aislynn felt horrible for the other boy); his left eye was already black and there were some more bruises forming on his face, as well as having gash near his temple that looked like it could have been from a broken beer bottle, some smaller cuts on his face and one on his lower lip, and his shirt was ripped in several places. His hat must have come off at some point, for he no longer had it.

"I, uh…Davey, he…" Jack croaked as he tried to make his way down the stairs. He was nearly successful; before Aislynn could say anything in response, he collapsed, nearly falling down the remaining five stairs, but was caught, in a sense, by the combination of the girl that followed him and the black metal railing.

"Shit, Jack," she muttered, putting his arm around her shoulder and trying to walk with him to the sidewalk. It almost didn't work, but before long, as Jack struggled to limp alongside her, she had hailed a taxi and was helping him into the backseat with her.

The cab driver looked back, intending to ask where they were headed, but instead saw Jack laying across the seat with his head resting in Aislynn's lap and couldn't help but say, "What the fuck happened to him?"

She sighed. "Mugged," she lied, but the explanation was good enough for the cabby, and she gave the address of their apartment.

After a few blocks of what could be described as reckless driving, Jack opened his mouth in an attempt to speak. "Shh, we're almost home. Don't try to say anything," she murmured before leaning down and kissing him softly on the forehead.

"I was going to say 'sorry for getting your dress all bloody,' but since you don't care…" Jack groaned, but managed a small laugh and a smile.

Once outside the apartment, Aislynn paid the cabby with a twenty dollar bill from her handbag, then went about the struggle of getting Jack up the flights of stairs to their room. Neither was keeping track, but it seemed to take as long as the cab ride itself had, and it was far more difficult - Aislynn had always been a short girl, Jack was nearly a foot taller than her, and she was just thin while Jack was well-built. Yet despite the struggle, she managed to get him to the apartment without causing him any further injuries.

Once inside, she promptly brought him to the bed and pulled off the quilt, so he could lay only on top of the sheets. "You don't have to do this, you know," he said as she took a scrunchie from the bedside table and pulled her still-curled hair into a messy bun.

She slid off both black gloves. "Yes, I do," she replied, bending over him to unbutton his shirt (the vest had been nearly ripped off during the fight, leaving no buttons for her to undo). She slid off his suspenders, then, with a bit of difficulty, removed the shirt and vest and got him a t-shirt from the dresser, which she helped him into. Taking off his pants was easier, as was getting him into the pair of pajama pants that he had left laying on the floor that morning. It was clear - partly from his silence - that Jack was not pleased about needing her help, but whether it was a conscious choice or not, he was distracted from his frustration when she unzipped her dress and let it slip to the floor alongside her already-fallen stole and purse, leaving her completely unclothed.

"That made this so worth it," he muttered to himself, just loud enough so she could hear and laugh. Taking a t-shirt of her own and a pair of his boxers, she walked to the bathroom, dressing as she did so. By the sink, she wet an old washcloth, wrung out the excess water, and brought it back to the bed.

She sighed as she began to wash the blood off his face, trying to be careful of the bruises. "That was a really fucking stupid thing you did, you know," she said, almost coldly - certainly as if he hadn't just seen her completely naked. He said nothing, but nodded his head slightly. It was silent for a few minutes, until she finished with the rag and returned it to the bathroom, leaving it in the sink to wash later.

When she returned to the bedroom, she simply turned off the lights, covered Jack with the quilt, and crawled into bed next to him. He pulled her closer, letting her head rest on his shoulder, and one of her arms naturally draped across his chest. "It was stupid," he admitted softly. "But I'd do it again if I had to."