a book of shots | tbn one shot collection

BELOVED

Lane and Finch were gone.

Not dead, unlike some of their late friends. Spot, Jack, Elmer, Domino... thankfully, they weren't gone in that sense. But still, they were gone.

Dipper and Albert had stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder, watching as the two set off for Brooklyn. It pained Dipper to watch them go, just as she assumed it pained Albert. And yet she knew Lane and Finch were simply going off to where their responsibilities lay.

It didn't make it hurt any less.

Race had made Albert his new second in command. Dipper wondered if Race had taken her words from before into account, or if simply Race felt more at ease appointing Albert, now that the newsies weren't in any immediate danger. Now, they were just in danger of going to bed without a fulfilling meal, although Pulitzer did cut them some slack after the whole Unknowns fiasco, and they still had some of Amy's emergency money left.

It had been a hard few weeks. There wasn't a day that went by without someone breaking down in tears, especially the younger newsies. No one had been left unscathed by the events of late. No one went a day without missing Jack or the others. Many were the sleepless nights, the crying, the broken. Many were the tormented screams brought on by horrid nightmares.

Dipper felt numb to it all.

She hadn't felt like herself since she'd received news of the death in her family. She sometimes wondered why this cruel hand of cards had been dealt to her, only to realize soon after that this way of thinking would not bring her family back, nor would it make her feel any better. Albert had said this himself.

Speaking of, Albert hadn't seemed to notice how empty she felt. She hoped he hadn't. This was already far too much for him to handle without him having to worry about her. She'd been looking after herself for years. She'd be fine.

She walked slowly into hers and Amy's room, a bowl of steaming hot broth in her hands. "Here, Ames," she said softly. "I brought you soup. From Jacobi's."

This was one of Amy's own worst days. Days where she felt wretched, where she missed her sister and mother, where she hated her brother and father. Dipper thought she might've understood.

Amy rolled over, eyes bloodshot, tear tracks running down her face. Slowly, she sat up. "Thank you."

Dipper handed it wordlessly to the girl.

"Thanks," Amy whispered again. Dipper nodded, and turned to leave, when Amy's voice stopped her. "Dipper, can you stay?"

"Yeah," Dipper said, coming back to her and sitting down on the bed. "Of course."

Amy sipped tearfully at the broth. "I'm sorry William treated you so awfully."

Dipper was silent for a moment, thrown off by the sudden apology. "Amy, that wasn't yer fault."

"Maybe it was," she argued. "Maybe he treated you like that because he was so mad at me all the time."

Dipper pursed her lips together. "You know, I used to think that William only treated me tha way he did 'cause he couldn't handle me otherwise. Don't you see how little sense dat makes?"

Amy sniffled. "I guess."

Dipper squeezed her knee. "I enjoyed tha days when you was around, back when I used ta visit William. Talking wit you was some of my best memories."

The girl leaned her head against Dipper's shoulder. "I didn't know back then how much William was hurting you. I wish I did."

"William had a lot going on back then." She was quiet for a moment. "I hope he'll find joy someday. But I ain't ready to forget what he did, and it's okay if you ain't, either. I know he hurt you, too."