A/N: Ok, this is my first chapter in over a year, I really hope that I am able to keep writing. I've re-read this story over a bajillion times to make sure I have all the facts straight. So… here it goes.

Chapter 8:

Melody quickly dug through the drawers in the Brooklyn Lodging House washroom looking for any kind of bandaging she could use. She mumbled a few curses before grabbing a washrag and a bowl of warm water then walking into Spot's bedroom. He sat calmly on the small desk letting his feet swing freely. Melody set the bowl down next to him and roughly stood in front of him, stopping his feet. She dipped the rag in the water and roughly wiped blood away from his face.

"Ow!" he pulled away from her and she glared at him. He reluctantly relaxed again letting her press the rag against his face again. She finished cleaning the blood off his face and pressed an icy rag against his eye to help the swelling. She stepped away from him and dumped the water out the window. She put the rag into the bowl and set it in the washroom before walking back into Spot's room and grabbing her coat. She started to leave when he said, "Thanks Mel."

She stopped at the door and then turned around quickly. "How could you do this?" she hissed. He stared at her, confused. "You started a fight with Blink when you had no right to."

"Hey, he hit me first!" he said defensively.

"After you hit him, beat him to the ground and then asked me," she paused, "his girlfriend, to marry you." She looked away, "And don't even start with me about kissing me and practically demanding that I break up with Blink. You have a new girl. I have a new guy," she looked back up at him before whispering, "We've moved on."

She turned away again, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back. She stared up at him, wide eyed. He touched her cheek and ran his thumb over her lips. "Spot," her voice cracked, "please." He looked at her and was surprised when tears started slipping down her cheeks. It was then that he realized that her hand was shaking in his and her whole body had tensed under his touch.

"Do you hate me that much?" he whispered, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"Hate you?" she looked away, "No, never hate you."

"Then why?" he ran his hands down her arms and grasped her hands, "Why wont you let me in?"

"Because," she said quietly, "I'm still in love with you, but" she looked up at him, "I can't look at you without wanting to throw up. I gave you everything and," she paused, "I was one of God knows how many girls, and I don't think I could ever forgive you for that."

"Mel," he said quietly, "I love you."

She hesitated for a moment before saying, "I love you too." She softly smiled down at him, "Maybe, eventually, I'll be able to give you all of myself again. But not now." She walked out of the room and down the stairs. She walked back to Manhattan and up into the bunkroom where she ran into Blink.

"Hey," he kissed her gently.

"Hey," she said back, sitting next to him. He put his arm around her shoulders and said, "How's he doing?"

She shrugged, "Ok. You bloodied him pretty bad, but he'll survive." She looked up at him, "Thanks for letting me go help him. I needed the closure." He kissed her forehead. She smiled and said, "Lets go get some lunch."

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Nearly a month later Melody found herself snuggling up to Blink in her bed. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her deeply before saying, "We should probably go sell our papes soon."

She nodded, but kissed him deeply, forcing him back down on the bed. He chuckled and kissed her back, running his hand through her hair. When she pulled away from him, she looked down at him and smiled. He smiled back up at her and said, "You're beautiful."

Her smile broke into a grin and she said, "Thank you." She got out of bed and wrapped her naked body in a sheet before scampering into the bathroom.

Blink rolled over and sighed before slowly pulling himself up and starting to get dressed. He sat on her bed, waiting for her to come back. When she did she was fully dressed and ready to go. He grasped her hand gently and they slowly walked down to the Manhattan Distribution Office.

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Spot slowly rolled out of bed, sighing when he heard the girl laying next to him wake up. She rolled over and looked at him, smiling when her eyes caught his.

"Hey," she mumbled, stretching.

"Morning," he said quietly, getting up and pulling his shirt on. He tugged his pants on and said, "I'll see you later."

He headed out the door, but she grabbed his hand and pulled him back. She kissed him, but he pulled away before looking away from her. She frowned and sighed before pushing him away from her and muttering, "Whatever." She grabbed her dress and pushed past him to get to the washroom. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair before walking downstairs and out the door.

He walked to the Brooklyn Distribution Office and bought his papes. The day sped by. That evening he walked back to the Lodging House. He opened the door to his room, expecting to find Mandy waiting for him, but his room was cold and empty. He slammed the door shut and threw open the window before climbing out and sitting on the fire escape. A few moments later he heard the door to his room open and Jack Kelly climbed out the window and sat next to him.

"Hey," he said quietly. Spot grunted in response and Jack asked, "How are you?" Spot shrugged and didn't say anything. "Mandy's not here?" Spot shook his head. "Did you break up with her?" Spot shook his head again. Jack sighed and said, "Look, I know you're having a hard time, but you need to move on. You need to grow up. You and Mel both did stupid things and because of that you two can probably never trust each other again. But you need to live your life. You can't get hung up on her. She's not hung up on you."

"Jack," Spot's voice cracked and Jack was surprised to see a grin on Spot's face.

"Yes?" Jack said after a few moments of silence.

"I," Spot paused, "I've moved on. At least, part of me has. But the other part keeps pulling me back to her. I haven't seen her in over a month, but everything about her is still as vivid to me as if I saw her just yesterday." He looked up at Jack, "I think I'm going crazy." Jack laughed and Spot chuckled before pulling a bottle out of his coat pocket. He opened it, took a few sips and handed it to Jack.

They sat in silence for a while before Jack said, "So, what are you going to do?"

Spot didn't say anything for a moment, but when he did, it surprised Jack. "I'm going away."

"Where?"

Spot shrugged, "Maybe back home."

"Where?"

"Chicago." Spot turned to look out over the buildings, "I'll miss New York. It's been my home for most of my life, but I'm 18, almost 19 and I'm still here. I need to find something to do that's not selling papes. I need to find myself and a family."

"I didn't know you wanted that stuff," Jack said, drinking out of the bottle again.

"I didn't," Spot paused, "but then Mel happened. And now," he shrugged, "I don't know. Everything's changed.

Jack smiled, "You're growing up."

Spot chuckled, "Finally."

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Two weeks later Spot shook hands with Jack before exchanging a quick hug and getting on the train. He leaned out the window and said, "Maybe I'll see you 'round."

Jack shrugged, "I'll keep an eye on Brooklyn for ya."

Spot smirked, "Thanks Cowboy." He pulled his head back in the window and waved goodbye as the train pulled out of the station. He settled back in his seat and pulled out a book. The train ride was long. He spent most if it asleep or looking out the window, but when he got to Chicago he was surprised at how quiet it was. He was so used to the noise of New York that he found himself humming to fill the silence. He walked along the outskirts of town before following a road south towards a small town. When he arrived he jumped onto the porch of a small red house and opened the door. "Ma? Heidi? Anyone?"

A squeal was the response as a young woman ran out of the backroom and into his arms. "You're home! Why didn't you send us a letting to let us know? We could have had a dinner ready or at least cleaned the house."

Spot pulled away from the girl and looked at her. He hadn't seen her in years. His whole family, father, mother, and sister, had moved to New York when he was 7 years old. Three years later his father had been killed in one of the factories. His mother and sister couldn't support themselves so they moved back home, but Spot had stayed. He had visited two years later, but since then he hadn't seen them. Heidi had been 9 when he last saw her and he was surprised to see that she had grown into a beautiful young woman.

His mother, who was slowly making her way toward him, cupped his cheek in her hand and smiled up at him, tears making their way down her now wrinkled cheeks. "Benjamin Conlon." She smiled up at him, "My son." She hugged him and he held her tightly.

"What are you doing back?" Heidi asked.

Spot shrugged, "I just needed a break from New York, thought I'd come back for a while."

"How long is a while?" Heidi asked.

"A few months, a year," Spot smiled down at his mother and said, "However long you can stand to have me in the house."

She smiled up at him and said, "Come, sit down. I'll fix you breakfast."

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Two months later Spot was working in the small workshop down the street from his house. He had been offered a job with the woodworker within a week of his arrival. The man, Mr. Hill, had taken one look at the young man and offered him a job. Even though Spot had been working for a few weeks, he was still not allowed on most of the job sites and spent most of his time making small coffee tables or chairs that were put on sale at one of the local shops. He usually spent the day alone or with one other young man who worked for Mr. Hill, but very few people came to the workshop. That's why he was surprised one day to look up from a table and find a young woman sitting on the edge of a worktable playing with some wood scraps.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked, making her jump.

She looked at him and said, "Just watching."

"Watching what?"

"You."

Her frankness surprised him and he set his hammer down before crossing his arms and looking at her. She was a small girl, barely came up to his chin with long brown hair pulled back into a braid. She was wearing a simple white floor length dress that came up nearly to her neck and a small hint of makeup accented her chocolate brown eyes. He had to admit she was pretty. "What's your name?" he asked gravely. He didn't want to lead this girl on in any way shape or form, even if he knew her, without permission from her parents. The small town was funny and old fashioned that way.

She stood up off the table and said, "Emma."

"Emma what?"

"Emma Hill."

"I'm Sp-," he stopped mid-sentence, "Ben. I'm Ben Conlon."

"I know," she said quietly.

He slowly picked his hammer back up, glancing at her every once in a while, but she never moved. Just sat there and watched him. It became a daily routine for them. Around two or three in the afternoon Emma would show up and they would talk as he worked. She asked him about New York and the different people he had met. The places he had been and his friends. He asked her about what she was learning in school, what books she was reading and her family. She, of course, knew everything about his family, almost more then he knew. She had lived next door to his grandfather and gone to primary school with one of his cousins. Occasionally she would surprise him with maturity he knew he had not had at her age. She was 17, a mere two years younger then him, but at times he felt like he was talking to his mother. Their talks turned into more and eventually they were seen at a local restaurant together or dancing together at one of the festivals. He found himself being invited over to her house for dinner and meeting her family.

It was that that had brought him to Mr. Hill's office late one afternoon. He knocked softly on the door and heard a grunted, "Come in."

He quietly slipped in the door and said, "Mr. Hill, you wanted to see me?"

"Oh, yes, Ben, I did," Mr. Hill pushed some papers aside and gestured for Spot to sit. "You've been here for how many months now?"

"Seven," Spot said quietly.

"Yes, seven months," Mr. Hill looked down at him, "And how long do you plan on staying?" Spot shrugged, but didn't say anything, "The reason I ask is because I've been noticing you lately, Ben, noticing you and my daughter." Spot blushed and Mr. Hill went on, "And I've been wondering what your feelings towards my daughter are. And if you plan on staying here long enough to," he paused, "be willing to," he paused again, "That is, I mean," he started blushing, "What I'm trying to say is," he paused again, searching for words.

"You're wondering if I plan on marrying your daughter," Spot said quietly.

"Yes, exactly, thank you," Mr. Hill let out a long sigh of relief and looked intently at Spot, "Well, do you?"

Spot thought about it for a few moments before speaking slowly, "Mr. Hill, I care for your daughter very much. She is a wonderful young woman. But, I cannot make any promises right now. She is only 17 and I'm only 19. It is at least a year before she reaches appropriate age for marrying and everything could change in that time." Spot paused and said, "I guess, what I'm saying is, yes, I would love to marry your daughter, but I'm still not sure where I'll be in a year, in five years or even ten years. I'd like to think I'll settle down here, but New York is my home and I don't think Emma wants to live in a place like New York."

"But, you'd still like to marry her?" Mr. Hill asked anxiously.

"Yes," Spot said forcefully, "I would love to marry your daughter."

Mr. Hill smiled widely and said, "I'm relieved. Now I know I can trust you with her." He stood up and patted Spot on the back, "You're a good young man."

Spot smiled weakly but sunk down into the chair. He didn't want to get married, and he thought he had made it clear that he couldn't marry Emma, but Mr. Hill had plainly not understood that. He sighed and stood up quickly before excusing himself. He needed to talk to Emma.