A/N: Okie, extra special thanks to Sage for loaning me her character! She doesn't really like Davey, and her family is supposed to be dead, but yeah. It's a story. I needed a character, and she opened up the possibility of using hers. The end!

Chapter VIII

Jack sat upright with a pillow behind his back in a bed in the bunkroom. This was the first time since his attempted murder that he'd been let out of the sickroom. Several of the guys were in there visiting him, as his health and strength were returning. "Jack, ya shoulda seen it! Davey went awf an' got Reflex an' 'is lackey! He was great!" Itey said to Jack excitedly. Jacks smiled a little at Itey and shot a look at Specs and Race.

Specs leaned forwards from the wall. "Heya, boys, we'll be back," he said, pulling Race out the door by the sleeve. "Did ya see dat?"

"See what?" Race asked absentmindedly.

"Da bunny dat popped out of 'is ass. Dat look Jack gave us!"

"What about it?"

"Race, don't ya see? Ya can't jist run inta dis blind as a bat an' kill everyone. Da point is dat we wanna get alawng. Ya gotta start usin' yer head!" Specs said behind Race as he turned his back.

"Specs, what da hell're ya tawkin' about? I know what I'se doin'," Race insisted defensively.

"Awl yer doin' is getting' back at 'em!"

"An whaddaya think I'se tryin' ta do?"

"Whaddaya gonna prove, huh?"

"Dey won't wanna fuck wit us, Specs. If dey know we ain't afraid, dey ain't gonna give us trouble."

"An' how does dat make peace?"

"Peace comes when it's equal. Nuttin's equal now, Specs! Look around you! We hafta balance it out foist!" Race fired back as they started down the stairs, their volumes growing louder and louder.

"And fer what?" Specs asked. "Ta justify what dey do ta us by doin' it right back ta dem? Ya gotta use yer head!"

"An' what da fuck do ya think I'se doin'? I am usin' my head!" Race yelled, turning to him at the bottom of the stairs.

"Yer too hot-headed! Ya need ta stop an' realize dat not makin' peace'll only make it woise! Now grow up and be a leadah!"

"I am bein' a leadah!" Race yelled back even louder. By now, they were in a full-volume screaming match.

"Yer getting' our guys killed out deah! What kinda leadah is dat?"

"I'se doin' what needs ta be done! Jack woulda done dis at any cost!"

"Jack wouldn't a killed our guys!"

"Aw, stop actin' like a saint, will ya? Jack wouldn't a listened tad is from someone like you! I ain't eiddah!" Race yelled loudly. He stopped and exhaled, some of the color leaving his face. Specs stood there looking at him, shocked and hurt. "Lok. . . I didn't mean anythin' by dat."

Specs nodded and sighed. "Awl I'se sayin' is dat ya gotta stop an' think," he explained calmer than he had before. "Ya saw da look Jack gave us. He didn't want Dave mixed up in dis."

"I know. And I don't want any of our guys killed any moah dan you do."

"I know, so slow down, will ya? Think befoah ya throw everyone out deah."

Race nodded and clapped Specs on the back. "No hard feelings, 'ey?" he asked as an old friend. Specs smiled a little and nodded.

* * * * *

That night, the guys went to dinner at Tibby's. Rebecca had the night off, so she stuck around with the guys for a meal. Skittery sat next to her across the table from Itey and her friend Bridget, who had stuck around for the meal. She was a few inches taller than Rebecca and was slightly more muscular. She had brown hair past her shoulders and brown eyes. At the head of the table by Skittery was Race, and Specs sat at the head by Rebecca.

"So. . . are we gonna do anythin' about Queens?" Skittery asked.

"Umm, y'know. . . Jack nevah tawked business like dis at da table, 'specially wit guests," Rebecca said softly, tucking some hair behind her ear and motioning to Bridget.

"Bec, shut up," Skittery said.

"Hey, don't evah tell Rebecca ta shut up!" Race said forcefully and loudly, pointing at him with his fork. After a beat, he brought his fork back to his plate and continued his meal.

"So. . . are we?" Skittery persisted.

"Skittery, we don't tawk business at da table, 'specially wit guests heah," Race answered casually as he continued his meal.

* * * * *

Dave stood in the doorway of a room with a crate full of spools. He glanced across the room, not having the slightest clue where to bring the crate. One girl glanced over at him and caught his eyes. She was relatively tall in stature, possibly even a bit taller than David. She had curly, dark red hair, close to brown, and a red bandana covering it. Her green eyes changed to a silver momentarily as she looked into the light. She left her post and walked over to him.

"Hey there," she said with a smile. "You look lost."

"Yeah. . . I am," Dave laughed.

"I'm Sage," she said, taking the box.

"I'm David."

"Well, David, I'll show you where to put this for next time."

"Great. Thanks."

She put it on the floor at the end of a row of people spinning thread and turned back to him. He glanced at the floor, then back up at her, and didn't move. "Well. . . I'll see you around then," Sage said nervously. She tucked a loose curl behind her ear and walked off. Dave watched her leave and go back to her station before walking back down the stairs.