8 Days, 8 Letters; Spot Conlon

Trouble's Coming

A/N: Hi everyone and happy almost new year. I am extremely grateful for all of you. I apologize for my hiatus, life decided to kick my butt these past couple of months. I will try to post at least a few times a month so I don't keep yall waiting. Anyways please enjoy the next chapter of 8 Days, 8 Letters.

Present Day: March 1899

Jaime's POV

It had been two days since Skittery, Bumlets, Tumblr, and Specs were jumped. Two days since I broke my promise. Two days that I had only thought about how I'd get Queens back.

I can't do much to make up for it until the rumble in a few days. Even got Brooklyn in on it, although that's because Queens jumped a couple of their own the next day. 

"Boots can you's get a cold cloth for Tumblr; he's burning' up."

Boots got up and ran to the bathroom. I heard the rush of the sink and Boots came back with a cold cloth.

"Thanks," I said. 

Boots hummed and went back to his bunk.

It's been quiet in this room. Too quiet. I know its helping the injured ones but I hate it. It feels wring. This room used to be filled with talking and laughter but now just silence (aside from the cries of pain).

"Here Tumblr," I smiled, putting the cold cloth on his head. He gave a weary smile. 

He wasn't hurt too much. A couple cuts sure, but he got sick after. Really sick and we don't know why. He's gotten better but he hasn't eaten in a couple days; and last time he only ate because we begged him too. He could only manage a couple bites of his soup but at least it was something.

I looked over at Beatrice who was trying overlooking a sleeping Skittery. She looked tired. After her long shifts at the mill, she comes over here to check on him until Eddie comes and gets her to remind her that she has a home she should e at. 

"Doin' alright Beatrice?" I asked.

"As alright as I can be. Will he be okay?"

"Its Skittery, he's the most stubborn person I've ever met. He'll be alright. He's not gonna left is keep him down."

She laughed at that last part. A small laugh, but it was the loudest I had heard in the last few days.

She looked comforted which only made me feel worse. The truth was I didn't know if he would get better. I didn't know if any of them would or even the extent of which they would.

I hate not knowing. I can't protect them. I can't heal them now. I have to wait and I hate waiting. I especially hate waiting for something like this. Waiting to see if my friends would get better or if this was the end. But most of all I hate lying. I hate having to lie about knowing the future when I don't even know what will happen.

I've barely slept or ate but how can I when they're not. I'm stuck here waiting for answers that may never come.

Boots came bursting through the door, shaking me out o my thoughts.

"Books. Brooklyn agreed to help us with the rumble."

Well there's one answer to a question that's been haunting me every night: how will I strike back? The answer: hit 'em where it hurts- their pride.

Another person came through the door.

"Hello Eddie," I said, rebandaging Bumlets's leg.

"Hey. How are they doin'?"

"Better than yesterday. Its slow but progress is progress," I respond, trying to be optimistic.

He nodded and went to get Beatrice.