Chapter 3

Charles and Thomas strolled the crowded market, bumping into people and taking what they could; their slippery hands jumping from pocket to pocket. The mud smudged their boots as they pushed their way past the crowd until they came to a clearing from the swarms of people. They walked through the market looking for the items Edward asked for. "We need to get cabbage," Charles said.

"I'll get the cabbage," Thomas said before walking over to a vegetable stand.

He walked over and eyed the cabbage which still glimmered with morning dew. He rubbed his chin while he looked on at them, conceiving a plan before deciding to just take them when the shopkeeper wasn't looking. He glanced up and saw the shopkeeper helping another customer. He snatched three cabbages and walked off, looking out at another stand. He glanced behind him to make sure no one followed him. No one did. No one even saw him take the cabbages, or didn't care enough to say anything. He glanced up at the sky and saw many zeppelins cast their shadows over London; all of them holding large, busted up machines.

He squinted and saw several soldiers standing on the metal floors with bronze railing. One had an arm replaced with a gatling gun; his eyes covered by thick black goggles.

He found Charles walking away from another stand with a large loaf of bread in his hands. "What else do we need to get?" Thomas asked.

"We need a pound bag of oats and flour. Also we need to get carrots, potatoes, and milk," Charles said.

"Is that all?"

"Yup," he said, folding the paper and stuffing it in his coat pocket.

"We should get the flour and oats when it's dark. It'll be a bit hard gettin' it while the sun is up," Thomas suggested.

"We could also bring a few extra hands," Charles added.

Thomas caught a glimpse of a familiar trio running around with handfuls of stolen goods, all three scurrying like mice in a barn. Lily, Skye, and Fred. "Speakin' of extra hands, look," he said as he pointed at the trio running through the crowd.

Charles watched the three run towards Sarah-Williams and Henry who had two baskets with a piece of cloth over each of the tops. Sarah and Henry walked around, admiring all the vendors had to offer and pointing at things they liked while they talked.

Both young men glanced at each other before turning to meet the five kids. They crept around the crowds of people until they were behind Henry and Sarah-Williams. An evil grin grew like a spit of fire across Charles' face. He shook Sarah-Williams and growled like a mad dog. She jumped away, her long brown hair jumping with her, and turned around with a knife steady in hand. Her cold grey eyes and pale skin to match glared at him before realizing who he was.

Thomas and Charles cackled, patting Sarah on her back. "You two dimwits scared the crap out of me!" she scowled.

Henry was barely holding in his sniggers, covering his mouth to stop them from escaping. He was a tall scrawny boy with loose clothes and curly, brown hair. He had childish brown eyes and little pimples scattered on his face. He wore a grey flat with his tattered clothes. He glanced around and noticed some woman taking peeks at the scene Thomas and Charles made, whispering and pointing at them. "I think you two got us some unwanted attention," he said.

"Great, now we got to go find another place to pickpocket," Sarah-Williams scowled, slapping Thomas and Charles on the shoulder with her free hand.

"Don't get fussy with us," Thomas chuckled. "How much did you take?"

"A pocket watch and two coin purses. We still 'aven't counted 'ow much is in them, though," Henry said as he counted what was in their baskets.

A discerning look fell on Charles' face. "Business is slow," Charles sighed.

"Ever since that bloody war, there 'aven't been much money to be taken," Henry told the two with a sense of concern in his tone.

"We know, just keep takin' what you can," Thomas told them.

"And hold these, take them with you when you head home," Charles said, handing the two the bread.

Thomas then gave them the cabbage he took. "Alright, we'll get the three right now," Sarah-Williams said.

"By we, she meant me," Henry sighed before walking off with hunched shoulders to find Skye, Lily, and Fred.

Thomas started his way back into the marketplace to gather the rest of the food Edward wanted. "You really know how to control men, don't you?" Charles teased before he scurried away, earning another slap from Sarah-Williams along with a scowl.

He caught up with Thomas. "So, I'll get the carrots and you go get the potatoes?" Charles asked. "And then meet up to get the milk?"

Thomas nodded with a sly grin before vanishing into the crowd.

They quickly finished their thieving for the day and walked side by side, heading home to drop off the goodies they acquired. They walked down the creaky steps and entered the tunnels. Their boots echoed against the cold stone, but so did another. Thomas glanced behind them and saw a figure following. "We got some company," he whispered.

They both knew the drill. They kept going the right way before making one wrong turn. They waited. Charles dropped the carrots he carried. He stood back and pulled one of his knives from his jacket. He waited. . . And waited. Nothing. Thomas then pulled his pistol out and peeked behind the corner. No one. "There's no one there," Thomas said, putting his pistol away.

"Strange," Charles said as he tucked away his knife.

"Probably another bum livin' here," Thomas mumbled before holstering his pistol.

They looked down the dark tunnel, silent. Nothing crept from the darkness. Still, they wondered who it was. The two continued back home, still checking behind to see if the figure reappeared. They stopped at the front door and did the knock pattern on the wooden door. The door gently opened and Isabella stood in front of them with no clear emotion. The baby was in her hands. Olivia stood next to her with a crowd of little ones behind them. She was a short pudgy lady with pale skin and dark hair that rested on her shoulders. She had a sweetness that always glowed from her bright smile which almost never faded.

"How was the trip?" she asked with a loving sweetness in her high pitched voice, taking the food from Thomas and Charles.

"Easy as can be," Thomas said as he walked in.

"Sarah-Williams and Henry are supposed to be comin' back soon," Charles told her before walking in.

She nodded and closed the door.

Charles took a seat with Thomas at their little table. They watched Olivia gather the kids to teach them some more tricks. All of the little ones had the time of their life, pretending it was a game. They giggled lightheartedly and successfully snatched a coin purse from Olivia. She cheered them on before calling for another small group to do the same.

"Charles, can you help me make lunch for them?" Isabella asked as she worked at the kitchen with one hand. "And Thomas, can you hold on to the baby?"

"No problem," Thomas said as he walked over and took hold of Millie.

Charles silently got up and started helping prepare lunch.

Thomas took little Millie and started cradling her; her blue eyes lit up at the sight of him. His heart melted into mud at the sight of her innocent joy. She reached up at him, trying to touch at his face. He couldn't help but chuckle softly before he let her play with his fingers. She giggled as she bent them and pulled lightly, looking up every so often to smile at him.

Isabella handed him a bottle with milk in it. "Her food," she said before heading into the kitchen.

He walked over and sat down on his chair. He gave her the bottle, which she took. She drank the precious white liquid. He put one of his fingers out for her to grab. She dropped her bottle and reached out for his fingers. She held onto it with her delicate hands. They were so soft like cotton against his calloused ones. She toyed with them, moving one of them closer to her face and bending it. "Bugaboo," he chuckled, making up noises to make her laugh with funny faces.

She looked up at him with a funny look, like she had no idea how to react. "Bugaboo," He chuckled, crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue out.

She started crying, bawling her eyes out. She thrashed her arms, sounding an alarm that she wanted Isabella to hold her. "Look what you've done," Isabella grumbled, rolling her eyes and taking Millie from him.

"I was tryin' to make her laugh some more," he said with a smile.

"What a bloody good job you've done," she said with a slight grin.

"Go help Charles make lunch," she said as she calmed the baby from her panicked cries. "There there, baby. The mean man isn't gonna hurt you."

"Pfft, I'm hardly mean."

Knock! Knock! Knock knock!

"I'll go get the door," he said.

Even as he walked over to get the door, he glanced at the baby. He knew she was safe, but her echoes tugged at his heart. He walked over and opened the door for Henry and Sarah-William. "How did it go?" Thomas asked.

"We've seen better days," Sarah-Williams said, a dissatisfied look in her eye.

Thomas sighed. "You an' Henry go get everythin' sorted in the storage room," he said.

Lily Skye, and Fred walked in next. "How was it this time?" Thomas asked with a small smile.

"There wasn't much ta take," Skye murmured with her arms behind her back and eyes not daring to look at Thomas.

"But it's not our fault there's hardly any people with coins," Lilly added in a panicked voice.

"It's fine, go play," Thomas told them, making an effort to smile at them.

They smiled back and ran off to go play. Thomas walked over to the kitchen and started cutting the meat for lunch. The kitchen was a decent size with many things scattered around it. Meats were wrapped in paper or on the cutting board. The sink was almost full. Vegetables were stored in bags and there were many homemade machines that filled the room. Charles continued slicing the bread then put a thin layer of butter. Thomas kept taking peeks back to see if Millie was ok. "She's fine," Charles said out of the blue.

Thomas looked at Charles, who didn't move his attention from the bread and butter. "I know," he whispered.

"Then why do you keep checkin' on her?" Charles asked.

"I like to think I'm a natural father," Thomas saidd with his signature sly smirk.

"Ha! Edward is a better father than you," Charles teased.

"That's not sayin' much. He's a good caregiver," Thomas said, unfazed by the comment.

"I'm sure he's a good giver of many things," Charles said with a gleeful smile.

Thomas stopped. His cheeks swirled red. His lips started to quiver. He turned around and saw Charles still chuckling at his joke. Both caught each other's eyes for a split second before Thomas started laughing. "Never let Edward hear you say that one," he snickered.

"Trust me, he's heard much worse from me," Charles snickered as he went back to cutting bread.

"Oh God," Thomas said with a grin as he went back to his work.

Isabella came over to the kitchen without Millie and started grabbing plates to set the table. "Where's Millie?" Thomas quickly asked.

"She's sleepin' in her cot," Isabella said.

"How is Jacob doin'?" Charles asked.

She paused for a split second. "He's not gettin' any better," she mumbled.

Charles shot a knowing glance at Thomas. "We need to tell Edward," he said with dread glimmering in his eyes.

"He won't listen," Thomas sighed, trying to relieve a weight of worry from his chest. It didn't work and it was still stuck there.

"He'll listen ta you," Charles said.

"I've tried!" Thomas snapped with a burst of anger.

"No you haven't. All you've done is ask what he thinks. You haven't told him anything. You need to tell him!" Charles shouted, louder than he intended.

Thomas stood silent, his words caught in his throat. He looked down at the ground and at the knife at his hand. He knew his anger was there, but he refused to let it take him. Not again. "I-I'm gunna go check on Jacob," he said before he stopped what he was doing and shuffled off to where Jacob laid.

Charles watched his friend walk with his shoulders down and head low. He saw all the other kids watch also. "Get back to work!" he said.

Everyone quickly went back to what they were doing, leaving the room in a sudden silence. He glances back just in time to see the door close to the children's room. He sighs and stops what he was doing. "You know how he is with Edward," Isabella whispered as she looked for the plates.

"I want him to do this for Edward," Charles said.

"How?"

"The sooner Edward can accept Jacob is goin' to die, the sooner he can heal."

He cut up the last of the meat and sat down.

"He just doesn't see it that way. He only sees it as Edward gettin' hurt," she said as she got the table ready.

"I know, but. . ." he began. He then realized he had no real but.

"But what?" Isabella asked.

Charles rubbed his face and let out a breath scorched with frustration. "I don't know," he sighed. "I'm, I'm gunna go read for s bit."

He walked over to his favorite chair and pulled his book to his face, not saying a word to anyone. He stared at the words on the page. He just stared at the words, not really reading them. A ball of fire swirled in his heart; it made his chest hollow. It pounded against his chest and his mind raced with nothing, it just ran away with no thoughts. He took a deep breath. It only reminded him how hollow he felt. He looked up from his book and watched everyone play. "I need someone," he whispered, his voice almost quivering under his breath.

"You ok?" asked a lady's voice behind him.

He turned and saw Sarah-Williams with Henry. Both looked at him with concern blanketing their faces. "I-I'm fine," he stuttered.

"Don't lie ta us. We know when somethin's wrong with you," Henry said quietly.

"I'm fine!" Charles snapped.

He shut his book and walked past everyone to his room. He slammed the door behind him. He sat alone in his room on his bed. His tears swelled in his eyes. He was alone. He had no girlfriend to be there for him. He was alone, alone and envious. He envied what Edward and Thomas had. They had a loving relationship and Charles wanted the same thing with a woman. He craved that one special lady's touch. He wanted to be hugged and know she only hugged him that special way, just imagining it made him feel warm inside which only sank into a bitter coldness.

He started crying to himself with no person to nurture or care for him. He didn't want Thomas or Isabella or anyone to comfort him. He wanted that one special person, but he didn't have that person yet. So he imagined one, just for him.

Thomas walked into the children's room and closed the door behind him. He looked and saw Jacob laying in bed with a piece of paper and a pen. He was so focused on writing, he didn't even notice Thomas walk in.

Thomas walked over and sat down next to Jacob. "How you doin'?" Thomas asked with a sad smile.

Jacob looked up and smiled. "I've been," he began before coughing roughly into his hands.

Thomas stood frozen in fear. He didn't know what he could do to help. Jacob kept coughing, a nerve wrecking sight caught for him. Jacob had coughed blood and grey slime onto his hands. "Jacob, how long have you been coughin' blood?" Thomas asked with glossy eyes.

"I've been coughin' like that since yesterday," Jacob said calmly as he wiped the blood on a nearby towel.

Thomas sighed and wiped the water from his eyes. He smiled and sat up to look at what Jacob was writing. "Wh-what are you writing?" Thomas asked.

"It's a secret," Jacob said, pulling the papers closer to his chest.

"Can I see?"

"No, it's not ready for you to read it," Jacob told him with sadness coursing through the young boy's words.

Thomas' heart skipped, nearly stopping completely. "Wh—. . . What do you mean?" he asked, his eyes glimmered against the solemn light of a nearby lantern.

Jacob looked unmoved. His face was like stone and his eyes inhuman. His lips were sealed. Thomas moved closer and grabbed Jacob's frail hands. "What's wrong?" he asked again, practically begging for an answer with tears dripping from his hurt and stained eyes.

"I know."

Thomas froze. He knows? His already pain filled look mixed with his confusion in the cauldron of emotions stirring in his heart. "What do—" he began before stopping himself.

Jacob stared coldly at Thomas, not a bitter cold, but a coldness a child shows when they know it is their time soon. "I'm dying," he whispered.

Thomas' heart ached with needles. He loved all the kids as his own. From little Millie to Henry, he loved them all. Hearing those words was like a father hearing them from his son. Thomas pulled Jacob in for a hug, a close and fatherly hug. As he cried for Jacob, he heard Jacob do the same against his back. He felt the sorrow soak his clothes and the fear quiver from Jacob's uneven breath. "I'm scared," he whimpered.

Thomas stayed silent. What was he supposed to tell Jacob? He'd watch boys die and he cried for every single one, but he never got to comfort them during their last days. "Don't be sorry. I. . . It's ok to be scared," he finally said.

"I don't want to die," Jacob continued between shaky breathes, "I want to live to be a man and see the stars."

Thomas stayed silent. "'morrow. . . 'morrow all of us will head out to the countryside and watch the stars shine," Thomas told Jacob.

"Promise?" Jacob asked.

"I promise with all my heart," Thomas quickly said.

Jacob let go of Thomas and laid back in his bed. "Edward doesn't want me to die yet, does he?" Jacob asked.

"No, no he doesn't. We've never lost one of the kids we've saved. He's. . . He's not ready to lose one yet," Thomas said, a gentle sorrow interwoven in his tone.

"You saved me from the coal mines. It's only been two years, but it feels like forever. I had been workin' there for a long time. I remember they sent me and other kids into places those big adults couldn't fit. It was always stuffy there and my clothes were always black with coal dust. I remember one night I was layin' in my bed in front of the mine. It was cold like always and there were hardly any blankets. I remember you 'nd Charles snuck in and took me and baby Ollie. I was six then. Now I'm eight and dyin'. . . Thank you," said he with a quiver in his voice and a soft smile on his lips.

"Wh-why thank you? You're still dyin'. Why?" Thomas asked. His heart told him he didn't deserve it; his whole body crumbling under an invisible weight.

"If I was still at that bloody mine, I'd be dead and alone. This family was the only thing that kept me going for so long. This love I've felt has kept me happy through my pain, through the days when I felt like I couldn't breath. Thank you for giving me a few years worth living," Jacob said with a jump of bitter happiness in his voice.

Thomas was silent.. "I-I. . ." he tried to speak but no words broke free.

"It's ok," Jacob said, pulling Thomas in for a hug. "Sometimes saying nothing can tell someone everything."

Thomas didn't even realise his tears were blinding him and had flooded down onto Jacob. They sat in silence like father and son. . .

. . . Thomas sat at a long wooden table with Charles and Edward next to him. They are their bland porridge silently like the rest of kids. Thomas glanced up and other kids his age, around eight. The only sounds came from the other side of a locked door and the sound of slurping.

The door swung open and a fat man in a rich man's clothes came out. He grinned cruelly and walked around the frightened children. "It's time to go to work so GET GOIN'!" he shouted, using a long, thin stick to whip any child who took their time.

Thomas saw Charles about to get hit. He jumped in the way. "Stop!" he cried with his arms extended to block the blow.

The fat man looked down without pity and grabbed Thomas' arm. "Want to be a hero? I'll show you a hero," he scowled before he lifted Thomas and hit his side.

Smack! Smack!

Thomas bit his lip and his eyes watered. "Oh, we got ourselves a lil hero, huh?" growled the man. "MARIA!"

An elderly woman rose from her chair.

The man watched her scurry to him with a wince in each step. "Oh hurry it up, don't got all day," he groaned.

She scowled. "What do you want?"

"Take this boy to 'is room an' beat 'im til he bleeds," the man ordered.

She snatched Thomas' wrist without a second thought and dragged him away from his friends. She took him down the dirty halls to a fat room with many thin beds scattered around it. She slammed the door and let go.

Thomas was ready for his beating, turning away so he wouldn't see it coming. He waited. . . And waited.

After a minute of waiting he looked back. She was looking down with horror. "I'm not gunna beat ya, don't worry. It's all an act," she told him.

He stayed silent.

She stood with her hands folded, waiting, thinking. "Ya know, if I was you, I'd leave," she said.

He looked at her with a hint of shock.

She smiled and left. . .