Archive of Our Own ^beta

Nadia wakes to whispered voices in the hallway.

What ... ? she thinks blearily. She thinks one of the voices is Shorter, which is a relief. And he doesn't sound angry, or upset.

Well ... definitely not angry. Upset is still up in the air, actually.

Groaning, Nadia forces herself out of bed. Dragging her feet, she shuffles into the hallway, making immediate eye contact with Shorter over the blond head of another figure—smaller, hunched over.

"Oh ... hey, Nads," Shorter mumbles. He laughs nervously. "Didn't mean to wake you."

Nadia blinks slowly. "Who is this?" she asks, gesturing to the little one.

The figure spins to face her, and—it's a kid. He's not just short, but he's actually a kid. Nadia swallows.

"Shorter ... ?" she asks, a sinking feeling in her gut. Shorter wouldn't have gotten a kid this young involved in his gang bullshit, would he have? Nadia has been worried about Sing recently, but Shorter's managed to keep him out of everything so far.

"This is Ash," Shorter says, smiling awkwardly. He nudges the boy forward, but the kid—Ash—flinches almost violently at the touch. "Shit, sorry. Ash, this is ... this is just my sister, okay? She's—she's safe."

It's silent for a moment. The kid glances up at her, but it seems like Shorter's words did nothing to reassure him. He looks at her with a mixture of skepticism, anger, and fear before he looks away.

"Oh, Nadia," Shorter starts. "I told you about Ash. Remember? The kid I met in juvie."

"Not a kid," the kid growls.

Shorter rolls his eyes, then smiles tightly at Nadia.

"H-hello, Ash," Nadia manages. "What ... are you doing here?" She doesn't mean to be rude about it, but Shorter winces when she says it.

"Uh—" Shorter interjects before Ash has a chance to speak. "I was thinking he could hang with me tonight. He'll stay in my room, and we'll be quiet. We won't bother you none."

Ash's eyes widen when Shorter mentions Ash staying in his room, but Shorter doesn't seem to notice. Nadia thinks he might be shaking.

"That's fine," Nadia says hesitantly. Shorter bringing a friend over isn't uncommon, but something feels off about this situation. Something isn't sitting right about this. "Can I"—Nadia glances at the kid, and he looks away quickly—"Shorter, can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course. Ash, can you wait here for me?"

Scowling, Ash nods. Nadia realizes, distantly, that he hasn't spoken save that one sentence earlier. Not a kid.

Shorter and Nadia step into Shorter's room, and Nadia pushes the door shut behind them.

Shorter grimaces. "Nads—"

"What the hell is going on? Why are you being so fucking weird about it?" Nadia asks.

"He's hurt," Shorter says quickly. "He's really hurt."

"Like ... ?" Nadia starts, afraid to continue. Like gang war hurt? Like gunshot hurt? He didn't seem to be injured like that—but then again, Nadia realizes that the only times she saw him move were when he flinched.

She swallows.

"He's, uh ... He's hurt. Okay? Look, it's not really my story to tell, okay?" Shorter's upper lip curls a bit—not aggressive; he's never aggressive toward Nadia, not really. But ... he's not happy, to say the least.

"I think it's my right to know, if he's going to be under my roof," Nadia insists, placing her hands on her hips in an attempt at false bravado. In truth, she's scared. Scared of what she'll find out, and scared to have this kid here.

Something about him ... something about those eyes. He scares her, just a little. Like some sort of angel of death, almost. He scares her.

Shorter's expression saddens. "I don't want you involved," he mumbles.

"Is it ... the gang stuff?" Nadia whispers. The kid is clearly white, and Nadia knows that Shorter generally only affiliates with the other Chinatown boys. Is he from a rival gang, or an allied one? What's his story?

"Kind of?" Shorter replies. "Not quite. It—it's hard to explain. I'm sorry."

"I understand that it's hard to explain, but I still need something, Shorter. You can't leave me in the dark like this."

There's a knock on the bedroom door.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Shorter sighs. Then he smiles apologetically at Nadia and goes to open the door.

"I'll just leave," Ash whispers. "Shouldn't have come anyway. I'm sorry."

"No, Ash—buddy. Stay with me. You're in no condition to—"

"I've done worse in worse condition. I'll be fine, melon head."

Nadia snorts at how casually the insult flows from the kid. Talk about a stereotypical preteen. She instantly softens a bit toward him.

"Hey," she says softly, crouching down to the kid's level.

He scowls at her.

"Ash, right?" she asks. "You're welcome to stay here. I didn't mean it like that. I just ... I'd like to know some of what's going on. What brings you here. Everyone's got a story, right? I just want to know yours."

"... No you don't," Ash mumbles. "No you don't."

"Why do you say that?"

"My story's a long one. And it's not very fun to tell, or to listen to."

A long one? Nadia wonders. How could it possibly be a long one? This little one doesn't look much over twelve.

Nadia blinks, remembering what Shorter said. The Ash that he talked about at juvie. That would make him fifteen, based on what Shorter said before.

He does not look fifteen.

"Everyone's got a story," Nadia repeats. "And everyone's is worth telling."

Ash fidgets for a moment. Then, "Shorter," he mumbles, looking up. "You wanna—?" he gestures at Nadia.

"Ash ..." Shorter trails off. "You sure, buddy?"

Ash nods sharply.

Shorter's face twists with the taste of something sour and expired. "I'm sorry," he says, before anything else. "Nadia, h-he was ... Ash was raped. I think."

Nadia flinches at the word, but Ash doesn't react. Unlike how often he was flinching before, he doesn't react at all to this.

"You ... you think?" Nadia manages, voice coming out high and thin.

"He doesn't tell me much," Shorter admits.

"Sorry," Ash blurts. "I'm sorry."

"You're good, bud. It's all okay. I'm right, though, aren't I?"

Ash nods again, and Nadia inhales sharply.

"Why are you not—s-shouldn't you go to the police, or the hospital ... ?"

The look on Ash's face brings her to a halt. It brings back that fear in her. His eyes, they—they have her afraid.

"If you want me to do that shit every time this happens, I ain't ever leaving," Ash says with a smirk.

Nadia stares at him for a moment.

As though she's away from her own body, she starts to take in his appearance. What exactly he's wearing, and what he looks like beyond just those jade green eyes.

His jeans are a little too tight—a little too fitted, showing off a feminine figure that she doesn't think should be shown off on a child that age. His shirt, too—too tight, with a low v-neckline and pulled up a bit to expose a thin line of skin around his waist.

"You're an escort," Nadia blurts, the realization hitting her.

"I'm a hooker," Ash corrects.

Shorter grinds his teeth.

"How old are you ... ?" Nadia whispers in horror.

Ash shrugs. "Fifteen or so. What's it matter?"

"You're a kid," she croaks.

"Ain't ever stopped anyone."

Nadia presses the back of her hand to her mouth and takes a few steps back, pressing herself against Shorter's dresser. 

"It's not that serious," Ash says, rolling his eyes.

"Ash," Shorter scolds, using the same voice Nadia uses on him. Nadia could almost smile, if this were under different circumstances. "What happened tonight ... You showing up here—you didn't want this, right?"

"Do I ever?" Ash challenges.

Nadia looks down, nausea overtaking her.

"Why do you ... ?" she asks, but she knows the answer: he has to. He has to.

"You think I got a choice?" Ash says, demanding. "You think any of us got a choice out there? You think any of the girls want to be doing this shit, if we had a choice?"

"I ... I'm sorry ..."

"Yeah," Ash growls. "Everyone is, but no one does shit about it. All you adults are the same."

"Ash," Shorter warns softly. "That's my sister."

"... I know," Ash mumbles. "Sorry. I just—I'm sorry. Force of habit, you know?"

"I know. And I'm sorry, too."

Nadia stands in silence, watching the two interact for a moment. It's almost as though there's a second conversation happening between the two of them beneath the surface, a level of communication that Nadia doesn't share with either of them. Not even with her own brother.

She guesses that's what friendship is, maybe. She knows Shorter could use a friend, beyond his own gang. Someone he can truly trust.

But Ash ... ? Nadia is worried, to say the least.

The kid, despite being, well—a kid ... he seems dangerous. Nadia gets that undercurrent of danger from him, and it refuses to go away. She doesn't know what to do about it. She doesn't know how to tell herself that this is a child, and that she has nothing to fear from him.

... Right?

She bites at her lip for a moment.

"Stay here, Ash," she whispers. "Please. Just for tonight, if that's all you can do. Just stay with us."

Ash averts his eyes. "And what's in it for you, huh?"

"Ash!" Shorter yelps.

Ash tsks.

"All I ask is that you're a good friend to Shorter, okay?" Nadia asks. "And if I know my brother, I know he'll take care of you in return."

"... Dunno if I can be a good friend," Ash says. "Dunno if I know how."

"You already are!" Shorter insists quickly. "You already are, bud. You're doing great."

"You were yelling at me not to behave that way to your sister just a minute ago."

"You're trying, Ash. That's more than enough. More than most people bother with."

"... Yeah," Ash whispers. "That's true, I guess. Trying is more than most. But it's still not enough."

It's silent for a moment again. Then Shorter sighs, running a hand over his bald head. "Well, regardless, it's for sure that you're staying here tonight, Ash. You should expect this for the future, too—if you show up, you're staying here. I'm not"—he glances at Nadia—"I'm not letting you back out on the streets tonight, okay?"

"... 'Kay," Ash mumbles. "Whatever."

"All right. That's settled, then." Shorter grins.

Nadia stares at the kid. Ash. He's so ... so little.

"All right," Shorter says again. "I'm gonna let you get ready for bed, okay little buddy? You look like you could use some rest."

Ash pouts this time instead of scowling. It feels like progress, somehow.

"I'll sleep on the couch tonight," Shorter continues, "so my bed is all yours."

Ash eyes the bed. "How often you clean these sheets?"

Shorter squawks. "Often enough!" he says immediately. "God, Ash, I'm not a ..." He trails off, staring at Ash. Nadia looks over to Ash as well, and he's staring at the bed with a mixed expression.

"You're gonna wanna change the sheets after tonight," Ash says quickly. "Gonna wanna—yeah."

"Oh," Shorter whispers. "Oh, Ash."

"... Sorry."

It dawns on Nadia, a little late, exactly what Ash is saying: I'm dirty.

She bites back a protest, unsure if consolations from a stranger would do much good right now. Not from her, she thinks. Not from a stranger, an adult. She knows that much, even just from what little she's gleamed about Ash today.

"... Come on, Nadia," Shorter says after a moment. "Let's give Ash some space."

"You gonna talk about me more?" Ash asks, but he asks it softly, not angry.

"We might," Nadia admits at a whisper. "But not bad things, Ash. We just ... we need to talk about some things. It's not your fault."

Ash scoffs, almost a laugh. "Yeah, right," he says. "Always is."

Nadia doesn't know what to say to that.

Ash shuffles over toward the bed, saving Nadia the words. Swallowing back anything she could think to say, she steps away from Shorter's dresser and out of the room.

Shorter follows her out. "You can lock the door if you want," he calls over his shoulder, then closes the door behind him.

Nadia thinks she might hear a tiny "thanks" from within the room.

"I, uh—" Nadia starts. "I don't know what to say."

Shorter sighs, plopping down on the couch. "Me neither," he admits. "I'm sorry about all this. We weren't supposed to wake you, you know?"

"... Yeah. Is this the first time ... ?"

"Yeah. He's never been here before," Shorter explains. "He just ... Nads, he needs a place to stay."

Nadia knows what he's saying. He needs a place to stay, not just for tonight, but in general.

"Is he ... living on the streets?" Or just working them?

"I don't know." Shorter puts his feet up on the sofa, but he looks anything but relaxed. "He doesn't tell me shit. Leaves me wondering. Leaves me worrying."

"You met him in juvie? Shorter, that's not long ago."

"I know," Shorter whispers. "Things have moved quickly."

"He's so young," Nadia whispers. She sits on the couch next to Shorter, and Shorter leans back against her side. "He's so little."

Shorter takes a slow breath. "Yeah."

"He's really ... doing that stuff?"

"He was doing it in juvie," Shorter whispers. "Saw him ... soliciting. The other guys. Even in there. The guards too, probably. Maybe even judges, if how quickly he got out has anything to do with that."

Nadia feels sick.

She tilts her head back over the back of the couch.

Something about this feels ... different than the gang warfare. She's not sure if it's worse, really—the kids on the street are killing each other, after all. But somehow, it does feel worse. It feels ... a lot worse.

It feels like something she wished she never knew about.

With her family being loyal to the Lees, from her parents and before, Nadia has never been able to deny what happens on the streets of Chinatown—not the fighting, and not the killings. But what happens on 42nd ... ?

She never thought she would be face to face with the evidence of what happens there.

And she never thought that that evidence would be a child.

"Is he going to bleed on your bed?" Nadia blurts, then puts a hand to her mouth, eyes widening. She ... she didn't mean to ask that.

Shorter groans. "Dunno. He told me to change the sheets anyway, didn't he? It's fine. We'll deal with it."

"This is ... This is a lot, Shorter. This is a lot."

"I know. But if it's a lot for us, imagine how it is for him?"

"I can't," Nadia whispers. "God, I can't."

"I can't either, honestly. But I know it's worse. I at least know that much."

Shorter presses back against Nadia more, and the pressure helps, somehow. Reminds her that he's here, and that he's safe.

For now, at least. She's not sure for how much longer.

Nadia brings her feet up toward her chest and rests her head on her knees.

These are bitter pills to swallow. Bitter, bitter pills.

Everything in her is rejecting this information, telling her that it can't be true. That people can't do things like that to people like this—to children. But the more she thinks about how Ash was moving, about how he flinched at almost everything, about his clothes and how they fit just too well and the dark stain she might have seen when he turned away from her—

Nadia doesn't know how she's going to handle this. What she's going to do about this, or how she's going to get through it.

But she knows that she will. She knows that she has to.

She's always done what she can for the street kids, the Chinatown strays. She's always fed them leftovers from the kitchen, given them hand me downs from her and Shorter. She's always done what she could.

She guesses this one will be no different. A little whiter, but that's not the end of the world.

A smile slips onto her lips with that last thought. She never thought she'd adopt a white boy, of all the kids who have come to her. Sing and the other little ones—she never thought a blond would end up here.

But then again, she never thought a child prostitute would either.

Her smile falls away as quickly as it appeared, and she finally looks toward Shorter's bedroom door.

"He'll be okay," she resolves, steeling herself for whatever may come.

"He will," Shorter agrees.

"We'll make sure of it. We'll make sure we're all okay."

"Damn right. That's the spirit."

"... It's gonna be hard," Nadia says carefully.

"Yeah. But when has that ever stopped us?"

Nadia breathes out a laugh. "Never, I suppose."

She turns to face Shorter, a soft smile on both of their faces now. "All right then. He's one of us now."

Nadia hums. Maybe he always has been.