Numb - Epilogue

Summary: RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.

November, 1900

It took longer to heal from that night, longer than I think either of us expected. The days I spent working, away from Spot and numb, seemed to hurt me more than help. The moments we were once more together, the emotions would swarm me, overwhelming as guilt and grief battled for dominance. To know that I'd been responsible for the death of my father, no matter the lack of any relationship, seemed to weigh heavy on me as the seasons changed around me.

I cannot say I was surprised when Spot's patience wore thin. He'd been saint-like through the spring and summer; despite the good times through the sweltering summer, when he taught me to swim in the East River, the picnics in Battery Park with Hoot, or the trips to Manhattan as Jack and I grew closer.

But come autumn and then the winter that would mark our first meeting, he grew agitated with my moods.

"When are ya gonna snap out of this, Eden?" Spot finally spoke up in the stillness of my apartment. We'd just finished dinner, his fork clanging against the ceramic plate as he put it down, blue eyes narrowed as he took me in.

A year ago I would have some snappy reply but now I was haunted by my father's piercing green eyes, his roar of pain from the fire echoing in my memory, and I could only find myself shrugging in answer, "I don't know, Dominic. Maybe when the Police find his body and we can finally bury him?"

He shook his head, "They wouldn't drag the river for some drug dealer and they found pieces of the wreckage. His body is either at the bottom as fish food or was scorched to ash. Isn't that enough?"

I stared at him across the table, the oil lamp flickering shadows across his devastatingly handsome face and I wondered at how he could be so incredibly naïve for someone who lived on the streets for so long. "Spot," I began, frustrated enough to use his newsie name when I usually kept it personal when we were alone together, "The amount of heat it takes to burn a human body-"

"I know, you've told me!" His equally irritated tone and loud octave in my small, quiet apartment made me all but jump out of my skin as I realized he was well and truly angry.

We stared at each other for a long time, his blue eyes searching my face for something I wasn't sure I could give him in this moment.

Because I was having a revelation as we sat there, my own eyes searching his face. The way his jaw was twitching as he clenched his teeth, the way a lock of his bronze hair fell onto his forehead. I'd forgotten somewhere in the last eight months that I didn't always have him in my life. And I hadn't realized my moods were affecting him so much, that he was absorbing my sadness and grief and bottling it up inside-just as he admitted was his tendency-until now. It hit me like a freight train, so suddenly I couldn't believe I'd been so consumed by my own depression that I hadn't realized it could have consequences for the most important person in my life.

Maybe I was just as selfish as Jack.

"Spot…" I started once more, ready to apologize or beg for forgiveness or just anything but he was already shaking his head, pushing his chair out and heading for the door.

His other bad habit. Always leaving right before I was ready to surrender.

The door shut as the words left my mouth, "Don't leave," And then the numbness settled over my bones and I knew he was gone. I hoped not for good, but I couldn't be sure. Not after all I'd put him through since March. There'd been nights I couldn't stop crying as he held me like he'd done the day after it all happened.

And then there'd been nights I'd been all but unresponsive, laying there as he asked me things or tried to get me to eat something.

God, I'd been so selfish, wallowing and not doing anything to really fix myself. I'd never experienced this kind of thing, didn't know how to cope. But, I didn't even try, either.

Suddenly, for the first time in a long time, I was gripped by a steely determination that harkened back to before the boat crash, back to a girl that took a knife for a man she barely knew, but a man who inspired a loyalty in her that he'd answered back with through the darkest of her days.

But, first, I needed to go talk to the only person who knew what I was going through. Gain insight into how I could fix what I'd broken.

"It's late, Eden." Sue's greetings were never very welcoming, but I knew that was just how he was.

I pushed passed him as feeling began to spread through me once more and headed for the table, greeting Sam from where he was laying on a cot across the room. In April, after Sam found himself kicked out of the apartment that Q paid only the first month for, Sue grudgingly agreed to let him stay just until he could get back on his feet.

But Sam had a way about him-that nervous kicked puppy aspect mellowing the longer he was away from his father-and he meshed well with Sue's gruffness and he'd been here ever since with no real end in sight. Sue even hired him after months of them working odd jobs to save up for a new fishing trawler, and though I missed seeing Sue every day, I'd found my own calling at an elementary school not far from my apartment.

I'd always loved learning and reading. I never knew I'd enjoy sharing that knowledge with curious children. Children that reminded me of Hoot, with eyes wide and excited as I we explored various subjects with them.

Granted, I had no formal degrees, but the teacher I was an assistant to was an older gentleman who'd long since lost his passion for teaching and let me take most of his lessons.

"Sue, I have a problem." I told him, sitting down as he followed me at a slower pace. He sighed as he took a seat across from me, the chair turned back around in a way that reminded me of Spot.

"Shoot, kid." He groused, pulling out a toothpick and seeming content to pick his teeth as I launched into the whole thing.

When I finished, we all sat in silence for a long time. I think silence was a comfort to all of us, to Sue who spent years in it, to Sam who'd probably prayed for it some nights when his father's fists rang loud through his body, and to me who'd lived with a silence in my body for many years before Spot came along.

"I think you already know what ya gotta do." Sue finally said, pale blue eyes unfocused and lost in the past as they were a lot.

I sighed in frustration, "Can you explain it to me like you would a child?"

The man cocked his head, eyes focusing back on me and peering at me like a curious bird, "Ya gotta let it all go, Eden."

Scoffing, I folded my arms, "Advice from the King of holding onto things."

Sam was suddenly there, his hand soft on my shoulder, "He's right Eden, even if he doesn't listen to his own advice. I let my father go, let all of that bad part be in the past where it belongs, and I'm a lot happier now." He paused before adding softly, "Let it go so peace can settle in its place."

I found my ego deflate and my body loosen at those words, finally coming to terms with what everyone was telling me but what I couldn't realize until Sam's eloquent words. The more I clenched onto things in the past, the more it poisoned my present.

They were right, of course.

Nodding, I stood. "Thank you, both."

Sam and Sue both smiled softly, encouraging me, and I found my own smile answering them before rushing out of their apartment to find Spot.

July 21st, 1901

"I gotta deal foah ya."

I knew he was behind me long before he spoke, but I was too busy enjoying the tickling of feeling that began to spread throughout my body the closer he got, inhaling deeply the salt-water smell, basking in the warmth of the blazing July sun.

I'd heard his boots hit the wooden boards of the dock, first, but it wasn't long before my numbness slipped away and I was left with a body that hummed like a live wire, electricity and adrenaline coursing through me when I heard his deep, rumbling voice.

Slowly, I tipped my head back, so I was looking at him upside down, his grin a frown from my bat-like vantage but it brought a matching smile to my own lips.

"Oh, I don't know. I've heard it's dangerous to deal with Spot Conlon." I teased lightly, eyes hungrily taking in his facial features. The straight cut of his jawline, that mouth, the small upturn of his nose and those eyes.

I could sigh and write sonnets about those eyes. The transition between silver, light blue, and when they darkened to a becoming, evening blue.

All too often, my thoughts skipped the tracks on my train of thought when he looked at me with those blue eyes. I brought my head back forward just to jog some blood back into my brain as he moved to sit beside me, tossing his legs over the edge and sliding his cane down on his other side.

"The you a year and a half ago would have taken my offer." He pointed out, cockily, taking off his newsboy cap and running his hand through his hair.

He'd been working on the docks all day, unloading heavy crates from cargo ships and baking under the summer sun, but still he was so unreasonably attractive to me.

"The me a year and a half ago didn't have a lot to lose." I murmured softly, reaching to intertwine our fingers, enjoying the roughness of his show of hard work and enjoying the situation he was presenting me with.

Because of course Spot knew I knew this was a recall of our first meeting-but set up on some of the opposite conditions. Rather than it being December, it was the middle of summer, and instead of just as night settled, here we were in the middle of the day, and instead of waiting for me at the other end of the dock, he'd come all the way down it to me.

The biggest change? This time, I wasn't numb.

My hand squeezed his and he squeezed back, "Come on now, at least hear the deal befoah ya make up ya mind. Maybe it's more about gaining than losing." His mouth was near my ear, his words soft and scintillating, causing me to shiver in the best sort of way.

I turned to meet his eyes, my own voice dipping to match his whisper, "Alright then, tell me the offer, Conlon."

He slid his free hand into his pocket, my eyes flitting down to the motion as he continued to watch me, and I looked back up into his eyes as he said, "The deal is…you could marry me and I'll spend the rest of our lives making sure ya nevah feel numb again."

My mouth dropped open in surprise at his words, a tangle of thoughts clouding my mind as I tried to wrap my head around the deal he'd just laid on the table for me…for us. "Dom…" I murmured, looking away as I tried to collect my thoughts. Sometimes, the moment called for me to use his real name, though it wasn't often and felt surreal when I did use it. He was always Spot but knowing he'd given me, and only me, his real name made me treasure it like gold, only bringing it out on the rare moments when we were alone.

"Eden."

I turned my head back as he said my name, finding his steady blue gaze and I melted in a way I didn't think I often did but happened more times when he did something so unthinkingly romantic…except it was clear this was very thought out.

Spot Conlon would never propose without thinking it through one hundred percent.

"I…" My voice caught in my throat as he lifted the ring pinched between his thumb and pointer finger, his eyebrows raising as though he was saying, cockily, 'I even gotta ring'.

My eyes widened at the small, intricate little piece of jewelry. As a girl who'd only ever worn a key to her apartment as an adornment, the small object was enticing as the two diamonds nestled on either side of the sapphire sparkled in the July sunshine.

But, I didn't want to be swayed by sparkling jewelry, I wanted to think this through. I turned to gaze out onto the bay, "Let me think." I finally managed to say, even as I felt him let my hand go and wrap around my waist, his thumb lightly rubbing circles against the dress I wore.

"Take ya time." His words surprised me back to looking at him and I realized it was quite possible I would get whiplash from this entire moment.

"Really? You've just asked one of the most important questions in life and you're going to be patient as I sort through this?" I asked, dumbfounded.

He shrugged, "Well, yeah. Like ya said, this is an important life question. Ya need to think about it." And then he smiled shyly at me and I felt my heart tug at the soft, vulnerability he rarely let through.

Spot was rarely patient about anything, but I inwardly argued, he had been very patient with me from the start. I had to give him credit where it was due. Especially after the whole ordeal a year ago in March and everything following.

That night in November after our biggest fight, when I'd crawled up the fire escape alongside the Newsboy Lodging House and snuck into his bed, asking him to forgive me and telling him I'd let it all go if it meant he stayed in my life.

He'd been incredibly supportive through everything. Which made me just as supportive when he finally decided to leave the newsboy business behind and work on the docks. His hard work and cleverness had already gotten him on the shortlist to be the next supervisor for his group of men.

I thought, perhaps, that my brain and heart would argue. Say something like we were too young or we'd never been in love before each other so how could we know if this was it? But, we were both eighteen now and honestly, being in love with someone else was not a prerequisite to knowing when you found the one.

So, it would seem, my brain and heart had nothing left to argue about.

"Yes." I said, simply, "I accept your offer, Mr. Con-"

He was kissing me before I could even finish my sentence.

I married Spot Conlon on December 12th, 1901. It snowed all day, softening and silencing the city as though it was holding its breath for the ceremony. We had it in a small church in Brooklyn and Sue walked me down the aisle so I could feel every little moment of it all.

Spot looked so handsome in his finest attire. Black pants that were worn a little less than his few brown pairs, a dark blue shirt he reserved for special occasions, and black suspenders. His shoes looked a little newer, but the thing I will always remember most is the softness of his blue eyes as they watched me just as avidly as ever-if not more. As if he was keeping a close eye on me in the rare event I bolted before he could claim me as his wife.

He needn't of worried. I wasn't going anywhere.

I handed my bouquet to Slips, my maid of honor, and Jack handed Spot the wedding rings.

It was small, simple, and private. Spot and I were never very big on sharing our moments, but witnesses were required and honestly, I was happy to have all the ones I loved in one room. Hoot and Sam cheered as Spot swept me up in his arms and kissed me so thoroughly, I thought it couldn't get any better.

But, it did.

It got so much better.

August, 1910

He remembered the days when he didn't want to share her, was greedy for every rare smile, laugh, and look. Ten years ago, all he wanted was to stay holed up in her old apartment, away from everyone, where she only saw him. A smile curled the edges of his mouth as he recalled their first meeting. He still got flutters when he looked at her, still felt as curious and enamored of her as when he'd confronted her. When all he wanted was to get her name in his book of debts, to attach her to him in a way that ensured he would see her again.

Shoving his hands in his pocket, he stepped off the street and headed to Brighton Beach where his family was waiting for him. He passed by others who were enjoying the beautiful summer day, the sky such an uninterrupted blue that it seared one's eyes at the brightness. Spot Conlon, he thought with another grin-smiles that came so easy after all these years-had been greedy then. Now, he knew the truth; there was something much more wonderful than keeping Eden Sullivan all to himself.

It was watching Eden Conlon play with their children.

He paused just out of view of where they played in the water a few yards from their abandoned blanket, the corners of it ruffling from the breeze but held secured by the wicker picnic basket.

"Feel momma?" Elizabeth Sue Conlon asked, holding her small hand up to Eden. She was only five, a year older than Eden had been when her mother died, when she got sent to the orphanage, when her brother ran out on her…but, Elizabeth would never know that kind of abandonment or heartache. Spot and Eden were both too stubborn, too loyal, to let anything knock them out of their children's lives.

His shoulders squared as he looked on at them with smug pride as Eden smiled down at her, "I always feel around you, sweetheart." She told the little girl, patiently, but she still slipped her hand in her daughters' as Jack took her other hand and together, the siblings hoisted the girl up and let the waves of Brighton Beach wash over her feet. She shrieked in laughter, her older brother and sister screaming as they came running through the water towards the three, kicking it up with their feet as they splashed along.

Spot's heart swelled at the sight, knowing they would catch sight of him at any second but enjoying the candid moment. His family. Spot Conlon had a family.

Eden had given him that family. They had been two lonely, lost souls and now…now they had a safe harbor, a place of peace, of hope, of love.

A/N: This jumps around a lot and it is kind of an amalgamation of all the rough draft epilogue's I had (there were 4 in total) for this story but it never felt complete until I sat down to finish it today. I know it's a little sappy, but who am I if not the author that can never say no to a sappy ending? Anyway, I apologize for the long wait. I don't think I was ready to let this one end, yet. Which was rude of me because Spot and Eden deserve a good ending.

Love to everyone still favoriting, reviewing, and reading this story. I hope this was everything you wanted and if not tell me it sucks and I'll re-do it lol.