Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies or any of its characters, Disney does. I own Sport, Fred, Tom, Dr. Linda Mallorie, and Brandon. I do not own Alley and Sheriff, they belong to a friend of mine. :)
(A/N: "Return to Innocence" fanfiction trailer is now up on Youtube. Just do a search for DimensionalTraveller and newsies, or DimensionalTraveller and Return to Innocence. :) Or you can go to my profile and copy and paste the link under fanfiction trailers. )
"Detective, you've been here all day, you need to go home and get some rest."
Tom looked up as Dr. Mallorie entered the waiting room, he shook his head, "Nah...I need to stay, incase she wakes up."
"Detective -"
"Tom, I insist," Tom replied, he wasn't on duty and didn't need to be called 'Detective.' Also this was Fred's doctor, the woman who'd be watching over his sister and caring for her until she woke up.
She sat down in one of the dark blue chairs beside him and set her clipboard into her lap, "It's not healthy for you to be here all day. I know you're worried, but I'm going to tell you the same thing I tell all my patients' families, go home. Get rest. The moment your sister even twitches I'll be on the phone to you. I have your apartment's number, as well as your parents', and I can reach you at the police station..."
"You don't have my cell phone number," he replied as he leaned over onto his left side and pulled his wallet from his right back pocket. He paused as he stared at the small leather wallet with a Chinese Dragon engraved on the front. Fred had bought it for him for Christmas using her own money and had put a note inside thanking him for all he had done for her and that, if it was alright with him, she'd rather think of him as her brother instead of 'adopted brother'. He had been honored.
He shook his head and cleared his mind before pushing the rim of his glasses up his nose. He grabbed one of his cards and handed it to Dr. Mallorie.
"Here's all my phone numbers, doctor," he said as he handed her the card.
"Linda," Dr. Mallorie replied, "I insist. You can reach me here at the hospital, if I'm not here they'll page me with your number."
He nodded, "Great.....Doc -- Lisa, Fred....Her heart beat...it's steady...Right?"
Linda paused, "It is....Officially I can't let you see her for another few hours, but...You've been here an entire day. I'll take you to her room."
He nodded as he stood and followed her through the waiting room and past the Emergency Room; he walked down a long hallway filled with doors. Some doors' windows revealed empty rooms, others showed worried families sitting with their family members. Finally they turned the corner and walked into the hallway for the Intensive Care Unit, Linda led him into the first room to the left.
Tom walked into the room after Linda and froze, he had known it was going to be hard to see Fred hooked up to IV's, but he had no idea how hard....He swallowed as he forced himself to look at her again.
She was lying on the hospital bed, a pulse ox was wrapped around her index finger a small green light blinking with each heart beat. She had two IV's that ran into a pick line in one of her veins. She was so pale, her dyed light red hair looked more like a dying fire than it did sunlight. Her natural hair color was a dark shade of ash brown, but she wanted to change her hair color, it was her way of 'leaving the past behind.'
"Her pulse is steady," Linda said, dragging him from his thoughts, "And she's breathing well on her own."
Tom paused, "I always tell her that she's one of the surviving kids from the streets...You know what she always said to that?"
"What does she tell you?"
"That she isn't a survivor.....She's just strong and stubborn....Then she tells me 'street life isn't easy, it's not 'ooh look at that poor child' as you see in the Oliver Twist movies. She says street life is hard, and that by the age of 13 you have to be mentally 16. You grow up fast on your own, if you don't...." He shook his head, "She always stopped there."
Linda paused, "That's very moving....I had no idea how many children were on the streets...How long was she on the streets for and how did she get food and money?"
"There's more homeless kids than you could count, some with their families, some on their own. She and the guy who shot her ran away when she was 14. She lived on the streets for three years, until her 16th birthday." He paused, "I had been assigned to Maple street that day, it's one of the worst areas of town, I was to go there undercover. People were constantly giving reports that their wallets, watches, purses, and other personal effects were going missing without them even noticing. I had been there for almost the entire morning when this little brunette walks past me, at first I thought nothing of it until I went to check the time." He paused, "The girl was good she had walked past without me even noticing and took my damned watch, I know she had slowed down, I thought she was looking at something."
"Did you arrest her?"
Tom paused, "I ran after her, caught her, she fought me tooth and nail, left me a few good scratches and a large black eye. I booked her and let her sit in jail for a week to think of what she'd done. I dropped by her 'cage' as she called it and checked in on her at least 3 to 4 times on her. Then at her hearing the judge wanted to send her to the juvenile detention center, now her record states she was there at 13 after hitting her foster father - whose now in jail for raping a young girl. I talked to her lawyer and then to the judge and the judge released Winifred into my custody. The first 4 or 5 months was like a living hell to tell you the truth," he chuckled, "She hated me. She made quick remarks any time she could find the chance; she was sarcastic, snide, and ungrateful. Then in July....It changed. I came home from work figuring 'best get ready for another night of attitude' and she was making dinner."
"Wow." Linda replied wide eyed, "I wonder where the change of heart came from."
"For the life of me, I don't know," he replied as he shook his head, "She dished up dinner and said we needed to talk. She admitted to me that she hated my guts at first, but then said she didn't realize how lucky she truly was to be adopted by a cop who had gotten her off the streets instead of keeping her penned in some little cage."
"Did she apologize?"
"Not until her 17th birthday," he replied with a smirk, "But after that dinner we both started getting along and grew as close as a brother and sister are."
Tom looked down at Fred, "Everyone calls her Fred, she insists on being called that," he paused, "I really want her to wake up, Linda."
"I do too," she replied, "It helps when family and friends come in to talk to the patient, read to them, involve them. They can hear you....I'll leave you alone in here to talk to her. You can drop by after visiting hours, I know you work long hours. I'll leave a note with the head nurse."
"Thanks," Tom replied with a smile.
She nodded and paused, she opened her mouth to say something but quickly shook her head.
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing at all," she replied with a small smile before quickly leaving the room.
Tom shook his head and looked down at Fred, "Fred, you women are a constant mystery, I want you to know that."
------------------------------------------
"I got off undercover duty...I didn't know you had been shot...I was coming to swing by O'Brady's Groceries and take you out to dinner and see what's new." Tom smiled as he sat at the table across from her.
Fred beamed, "I missed you so much, how did the undercover work go? I was worried you wouldn't come back..." She paused and bit her lip, "I never got to tell how you how sorry I was for being such a brat..."
"When I found out you had been shot....Man, my heart musta just leaped outta my chest, Fred. I wanted to find and kill the bastard who did this to you...Then I was told it was Brandon, and they had him in custody....However he somehow has some slick attorney, and I don't know how he got this snake to work for him, he only works for the big time pin stripes, catch my meaning?" He paused as he scratched his chin, "All I can think of is someone in the underworld is taking an interest in him, I swear to you Fred, I am not going to let him walk, if I have to stay near that register where you were shot for a week on end finding evidence so help me, I'll do it."
Fred paused and felt her stomach churn, Brandon had a lawyer that could possibly get him off the hook? No! That couldn't be! He couldn't walk, he couldn't! Tom was good, and he'd make sure that wouldn't happen.
"I know you won't let him walk, Tom. About your undercover work did you catch the guy?" She asked.
"Mom and dad have been here most of the day in the waiting room too, your doctor, Dr. Mallorie, she's a good doctor....Best in most of New York." He paused, "I have to tell you though....Dr. Mallorie says you can hear me even though you're asleep..." He licked his lips looking almost uneasy, "The bullet didn't only hurt your side, it punctured a hole in your left lung and busted an artery. They got the artery sewed up, but they had to remove your left lung...I'm so sorry sis."
"Tom, why aren't you listening to me?" Fred asked in frustration as he leaned over the small square table that was settled in middle of Spot's room. She waved he hand in front of Tom's face, "Tom! Please!" Then she paused, her left lung was gone? Oh God...The pain she had earlier...That must have been her lung being removed....But if her lung had been removed and she could hear Tom that meant...She was in a coma? Spot, Alley, Race, they were all...illusions?
No, they weren't, she had seen their pictures in her history book in the third grade. And if she was asleep she wasn't supposed to be able to feel things, yet she did. Then she remembered reading a book by men and women who had awakened from a coma and swore that even though their bodies were asleep their minds and spirits were wide awake. One woman even admitted in being back in the 1940's and falling in love, no one believed her until she found the photograph of her and a British soldier together.
She sat down in shock, so that meant her body was asleep and her mind and spirit were back in time. She was getting another chance. WHY? She of all people didn't deserve it! She had beaten people up on the streets, mainly to survive, but some people had been innocent. She hadn't deserved the second chance Tom had given her, she sure as well didn't deserve this one.
"Listen sis, where ever you are," Tom said softly, "I hope wake up and come home....I read that same book you did. If you're truly in another time or dimension and finding yourself with friends and family, possibly falling in love.....God, I don't know if I can say this..." he paused as he wiped his hand over his face, "But I have too, or I'll feel guilty for the rest of my life if I don't....If you're finding yourself with family and friends and falling in love....You can stay there, you don't have to wake up....Though I want you too...I want you too so badly. So badly. Please wake up....But if you don't...I understand, it needs to be your choice, Fred. Not mine, not anyone else's, yours. Listen I need to get going back to the station and finish filling out my report, I love you sis. Come home soon, please?" He asked before standing and leaning forward over the table and kissing her forehead, he turned and began to walk away.
Fred stood so quickly her chair toppled over onto it's side, "No! Wait! Please! Tom, don't go! Stay, please....Please stay....Please?"
He continued walking, suddenly the room began turning dark, inky black and Tom was disappearing into the darkness.
"TOM!"
"Fred! Wake up, Fred."
Fred gasped as her eyes snapped open, Racetrack was leaning over her bunk staring wide eyed at her, his dark eyes filled with concern.
"Tom....Where's Tom?"
"Who?"
"My older brother, where is he?"
"No one's heah, everyone's out sellin' deys papes I'se came back early to be wid ya," Race replied with a pause, "Da doc was here an hour ago...He says its alright for youse ta start walkin' around. Youse jist can't sell papes yet." He sat down on the end of her bed.
Fred stared at Race, "Tom was here. I saw him. He spoke to me."
"Dere was no one heah," he replied, "Maybe youse hoid da docta talkin' ta me and Spot?"
"No. It was Tom, he just returned from undercover, and...." Fred paused, her left lung was gone.
"And what?" He asked, "Whatevah it is youse can trust me. Look, if youse say youse older brother was heah, then so be it he was heah, I'se believe youse. People come in and outta da lodgin' houses awll da time without us noticin'." He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
She paused, "And....He's alright..."
"Dat's good," Race smiled, "Did he ask how youse were?"
"Yeah..." She lied with a nod, "Yeah he did, I told him I'm getting better and I can't wait until he meets you all..."
"I'se hope he comes by again so we'se can," Race replied, "I'se jist hope he don't arrest us."
"He won't, he's a good police officer, stands up for newsies and street kids," she smiled.
"Sounds like a good guy ta have around," he replied.
"He is...He really is..." She paused, "So how did your selling go?" She questioned, forcing her emotions to the back of her mind and heart.
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Race blinked, one moment ago Fred was so emotional she was bordering on frantic, now it was as if nothing had happened. He paused, she must have been doing what Spot was famous for doing: pushing the weaker side away so people never saw it. Maybe he could see the weaker side more, every person had one. But being weak at times wasn't bad, and nothing to be afraid of. He had learned that the hard way.
"It was....Good...Interestin', Spot decided ta sell papes wid me today."
"Doesn't happen much?"
"Nevah happens," Race replied, "He only sells papes wid his second in command, Sport, or wid Cowboy, or wid Alley. No one else."
"Hmm...Maybe he just wanted to talk?"
Yeah, about youse, Race thought to himself angrily, Yeah I'se respect him, but I'se ain't stayin' away from youse, Fred, I won't do it. Yer me friend and maybe one day we'se will be somethin' more...
"Eh, jist him bein' Brooklyn and braggin' about himself again," Race replied with a smile and lie.
"That doesn't surprise me," Fred replied, sounding as if she had known him forever, "All he did last week was brag about himself until I grabbed his nose."
"Youse grabbed his nose?"
"Yeah," Fred smiled, "He wasn't amused."
Race snorted and began to laugh, he could only envision the mighty Spot Conlon being held captive by his nose, trying to pull away from his captor, Fred, without tearing his nose off. That had to be a sight to see!
Fred chuckled, then began to sit up. Race moved to help her but she shook her head.
"I need to do this on my own," she replied as she slowly sat up on her own, "I need and want to do things for myself starting today now that I know I can walk around."
She paused, "I need to ask you a question."
"Shoah, ask away," he replied. She was confiding in him, that was a big step. She hadn't been confided in Alley or Spot or any other newsie for that matter either. He was the first one....It made him feel...Special, strangely. He shouldn't feel special just because of that, but he did. Maybe it was the fact he knew now that she trusted him?
"Let's say you were in a coma, a long sleep-"
"I'se know what a coma is," Race replied and paused, "Me mudda was in one befoah she died."
"I'm sorry, Race," Fred frowned.
"It's alright," he replied, "Go on."
"If someone told you that you were in a coma and you had two choices: to either stay where your mind is if your happy there, or to wake up back in your home or wherever you body is, what would you do?"
Race paused, "Dat's a difficult one," he frowned. "I'se personally would wanna wake up and be wid me friends," he replied, "Besides, watchin' Jack lead da Delanceys on a wild goose chase each mornin'....Well...It ain't a good mornin' until Jack makes dose two knuckle brains life a livin' hell," he laughed.
Fred paused, "Who are the Delancey brothers?"
Race paused, "Oh boy, I'se forgot youse luckily haven't met dem yet....Awright, it's a long history, wheah to start heah?"
After nearly half an hour Racetrack had educated Fred on the Delancey brothers. Morris was the older one who resembled an ape (according to Sara), and Oscar was the younger one who liked to act tougher than he actually was. Their uncle was Weasel, the old man with a long beak like nose who the newsies gave their money too.
"They sound like a handful," Fred exclaimed, "Where I come from, we'd call them the Three Stooges."
"Da T'ree Stooges? Why dat?" Race asked.
The amused look that appeared on Fred's face, followed by the twinkle in her eye, and the smirk that was slowly growing into a mischievous smile made Race wonder if he should be happy, worried, or duck. When her arm moved he chose the latter and ducked, her hand barely missed the top of his head by an inch.
"What was dat foah?" He asked. What had he done but be a good friend? And she was going to hit him for it?! Anger and hurt welled within him, but he hid it well, but not well enough.
Fred's face went from a smile to a look of concern, "Race, I'm sorry...I was going to give a demonstration on why they call the 3 Stooges, the Three Stooges...I didn't think you were going to take me seriously with a smile on my face."
"Wait, youse were jokin'?" Race asked, surprised.
"Yeah, I was only going to give you a tap on the head, I'm sorry, I should have warned you."
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Spot watched through the crack of his doorway as Fred and Race talked, Fred began to laugh and Race exclaimed, "So dat's why deys call dem stooges!"
Spot squared his jaw and curled his fingers into fists, anger made him see red. He had brought Fred to Brooklyn for a reason. Wanted Race away from her for a reason. Damn him! He spun halfway around and began to pace back and forth for a moment, anger making him want to run into the room, grab Race, soak him, and throw him out of his room, then ban him from Brooklyn.
Fred was a tough and amazing girl, was stubborn, beautiful, and knew street life like the back of her hand. A girl like her needed to be with Brooklyn, not with a gambler.
"Spot?"
He growled, "Not not Alley."
"Yes, now," she replied as she quickly made her way down the hallway towards him. He mentally groaned to himself, he was going to get lectured and right now he was not in the mood for a lecture.
"Why?" He sneered.
"Because you're obsessed," Alley replied as she shoved her face into his and glared him eye to eye, "That's why. You both have known this girl for what? Nearly a week now. Doesn't it say something that trusts Race enough to open up to him and laugh when she doesn't open up to you."
"She did open up ta me da odda day! She grabbed me nose and laughed."
"She threatened you because you threatened her," Alley replied in exasperation, "She was far from opening up to you. If anything you only pushed her farther away from you. She groans when you walk into the room, what does that tell you?"
"Dat she's pissed at me for a stupid reason."
"She's pissed at you for a good reason. Have you ever thought she came here because she's meant for Racetrack?"
"She's meant foah me."
Alley sighed, "Spot, come on. You've had how many girlfriends this year and especially after the strike last month? This year in total you've had what, 5 to 6 girlfriends? Race has had how many?"
"I'se don't know."
"You do know."
"No I'se don't."
"One," Alley replied, "One...Two years ago before she was killed in that carriage accident. Don't you think that if Race was given a second chance at love that he of all people deserves it?"
"Yeah he deserves it, but wid another goil," he replied.
"Spot...Out of all these girlfriends you've had in the last three years, how many has Race tried to take? Think about it...How many?"
Spot glanced at her before looking away.
"None." Alley replied for him, "He's told you when you found a nice girl, when he actually gets to meet her that is, other than that he's done nothing but be a good friend. As good of a friend as be, right now he hasn't said a word against you. He hasn't been telling you to stay away from Fred."
"How did youse find out about dat?" Spot asked as he glared at her, he knew she found things out but...Not this quickly.
"Sport told me," Alley replied, "He passed you and Racetrack on the bridge today and your....'conversation' and told me. The Spot Conlon I know does not threaten other newsies, especially newsies who are his friends."
Spot glanced away and grabbed his cane, he kept his hand tightly curled around it.
Alley sighed, knowing he was trying to shut her out, attempting to ignore her.
"Fine, learn the hard way, but I don't think it's going to be Fred this next time whose going to tell you to back off. I think Race has had all he can take." Alley turned and began to walk down the hallway.
"Alley...Stop," Spot exclaimed.
Alley stopped in her tracks and looked behind her shoulder at him, "You know, if you would stop thinking of girls who were tough as nails maybe you'd be able to see the person in this lodging house who...."
"Who what?" Spot asked as he fully turned to her, "Finish what youse were saying."
"Nothing," Alley replied, "Nothing at all."
"Tell me," Spot commanded.
"Don't command me. And it wouldn't matter what I told you or what I didn't tell you. You're just going to have to straighten yourself out and show her who you truly are. Then the smart thing to do would to be to let her decide....Though if you ask me she's already made her choice," Alley replied as she glanced through the crack, Fred was standing up and walking slowly around the room on her own. Racetrack was following close behind her, ready to catch her if she fell.
Fred was looking back at him, smiling, looking truly happy. Her eyes were bright and she was glowing.
"Am I Interrupting something?" Exclaimed a new voice.
Spot was glad for the interruption, he had been about to say something he could never take back and he would regret for a long, long time. He turned to Sheriff.
"No, nothin', what's goin' on Sheriff?"
"The usual," the newsgirl leader replied as she leaned against the wall with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. Her light brown hair was shoulder length and curly, her eyes could pin any newsie to the wall with just a glance, all the newsies except Spot. Spot had long ago learned not to let that gaze affect him, and in turn she had learned not to let his get to her.
"Priest causin trouble again?"
"Yeah, only I think we're going to get into a war soon, Spot. Bronx and Harlem, and if it does I want your swear that Brooklyn will be here to support us."
"We'se will be heah ta support youse," Spot replied.
"Now I'm hearin' rumors," Sheriff replied, "About a girl who fell from the sky and you and Racetrack Higgins are fighting over her. Why do a stupid thing like that?"
"It ain't somethin' dat's just everyone's business," Spot replied.
"You made it everyone's business with that little scene on the bridge today," Alley exclaimed before walking off.
"She's right," Sheriff agreed, "Now, tell me Spot, what's so important about this girl. Don't give me the same crap you gave Alley about 'oh she's so smart and tough, perfect for Brooklyn.' How many girls have you said that about? Five or six of them? And they wound up being Ms. No-Brains 1899."
"She's different," Spot replied, "Da subject of Fred is ta be dropped now."
"Fred?" Sheriff asked as she raised her eyebrows, "Tell me you didn't give her that name."
"It was heh nickname and she refused ta let me change it," Spot replied.
Sheriff leaned forward and glanced through the crack in the door, Race and Fred were talking.
"Well that's one little girl with a big backbone," Sheriff commented, then looked at Spot before rolling her eyes at him.
"What?"
"You got a girl in this lodging house whose loved you for years now and you're still damned oblivious to it."
"Who?"
"You know who."
The door suddenly opened and Race jumped ten feet high, "Oh jeez, I'se didn't see youse two dere."
"No problem, Race," Sheriff smiled, "Mind if I meet the new girl?"
"No problem wid me," he shrugged before glancing at Spot and walking into the hallway.
"Dis is absurd youse know," Race exclaimed.
"What is?"
"us fightin' ovah a goil, we'se friends," Race exclaimed, "And we'se breakin' da rule dat we'se don't let a goil get between friendship."
Spot paused upon hearing that, he and Jack had made that rule a few years ago after a long fight over a girl that nearly tore their friendship apart.
"Youse right," Spot replied and paused, "And besides she ain't really sayin what or who she wants is she."
"The only thing she's done is asked me if youse were in a coma and given da choice ta eidda stay in da sleep or ta wake up and 'go home' what would ya do?"
"I'se would wake up, go about me life again," Spot replied.
"Dat's what I'se said," Race replied, "Dis goil, Spot, she don't even know if she wants ta stay heah or go home."
"Because she don't have much ta stay foah right now," Spot replied, "But she will. I'se say in a few days we'se take heh ta Medda's, let heh meet da oddas. Everyone grows ta be friends wid heh, den if she falls in love wid youse, me, or someone else she can make heh choice."
Race paused and nodded, "But no one forces heh in to doin' somethin' she don't wanna do."
"Agreed," Spot replied.
Both boys spat into their palms and then shook hands.
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Fred held onto the bed post, her side was beginning to ache a little, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. The pain it was giving right now was no worse than getting a hard punch to the side.
"Fred?"
Fred frowned, she didn't recognize that voice, she turned and looked at the newsgirl in front of her.
"Uh...Hello?"
"Hello," the newsgirl greeted, "My names Sheriff, I'm leader of the Bronx Lodging House."
"There are newsgirl leaders?" Fred asked in surprise.
"Yeah," Sheriff smiled, "Not many, but a few."
"It's nice to meet you," Fred smiled, then paused, she looked so familiar, yet she couldn't quite place Sheriff's face.
Sheriff suddenly smiled, "I know that look. My father was Doc Holliday, my mother was Big Nose Kate."
Fred's eyes widened, the history books never mentioned Doc Holliday having a child! Then again, there was a lot of things that had been forgotten throughout history and many years later discovered.
"Wow, it's an honor," she exclaimed.
"Yeah, sure is," Sheriff replied, "Though I know that smile."
"What smile?" Fred asked, as if nothing was wrong.
"That pretend smile, the smile that says 'I trust you' but really you don't trust me farther than you can throw me. Which is understandable since you don't know me, but I'd like to get to know ya. And I also wanted to ask you to give Spot a chance, he's a jerk a lot of times but he's a good one."
"If he'd stop being a jerk I would," Fred replied, "But I don't take well to threats."
"Neither does he," Sheriff replied, "But I will admit you are the first person to enforce your threat with a nose grab," she laughed.
Fred snorted and laughed, "Hey, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do."
"Very true," Sheriff smiled, "As I say, shoot first and ask questions later."
Fred flinched and looked away, the mention of a gun made her flinch. It shouldn't have, she should have been long since done with the trauma, but it was still there. Brandon, still in front of her pulling the trigger.
"I'm sorry," Sheriff replied, "I didn't realize..."
"It's nothing," Fred replied.
"No, being shot is more than nothing, it's a large something," Sheriff replied, "I'm sorry. I know how much it hurts. And don't tell me you weren't shot, I know the signs, the flinching at the mention of being shot, or shooting, or even a gun."
Fred nodded, "Not much gets past you, does it?" She smiled a little.
"No, but then again, not much get past you either."
"You knew I was watching you in the hallway?" Fred asked.
"Yeah, I felt it more than saw it. I was here longer than Spot and Alley think I was, even when you were walking around with Race you kept glancing through that crack in the door. Listen, stop thinking everyone of us are enemies except Race. We're good people, and no one here is going to whip out a gun and shoot you. As far as I know there aren't newsies who carry guns."
Fred paused, "Except for yourself," she replied, "Your vest may be covering it but the slight bulge shows there's something under there and it's too large to be suspenders or the hilt of a knife."
"Street girl," Sheriff nodded, "Good eye."
"Former street girl," Fred replied.
"Former, maybe, but those same instincts that kept you alive on the street are still with you today and they never fade away."
"Those instincts are a gift," Fred agreed, "I just....I just wish they would have warned me that the guy who shot me, Brandon, had a gun.....Or would do something like that...We knew each other for so long..."
"People change," Sheriff replied.
"I know," Fred replied, "Sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worst. But I've endured worse when it comes to the trust department, so I'm movin' on."
"Well if you ever need to talk we're all here for you," Sheriff replied and frowned when Fred's face went back to neutral and almost emotionless. This girl was going to be a piece of work to help. Before she could move on ahead she was going to have to deal with her past first...Whether she liked it or not.