A fic inspired by “Little Joey Run”

Written by William D Olsen

Sung by Connie Scott

the fiction part by a tattered rose

disclaimer: I’m not claiming anything except the actual words I used, in the order I used ‘em.

This actually reminds me of the Little Matchbox Girl…*sniffers*

I read the evening paper

I can ‘t believe my eyes

The trouble that this world is in

Oh, what does it mean?

(I think I’ll go to bed)

The gunfire was getting closer each day. Soon they’d have to move further back to keep out of the way.

But not too far – not yet. Santiago’s men were destroying a camp – a large one. The people would lose, but they fought. Some got away, and the Sisters needed to be there to help them.

They came in the night – the injured refugees of life, guided by their own pain and need. The sun had just bid itself to rest, settling in for the night and pulling the trails of its cape below the horizon. And they came.

Today Santiago’s men must have pushed deep into the surrounding forest. What looked like the remainder of the village was heading towards them now, weary and battered. The Sisters would help as they could, healing the physical hurts, and easing the mental. Then they would all move on.

And it seems a little cold outside

Maybe just a little breeze

Better make sure everything’s all right

(I think I’ll light a fire)

But for tonight, they existed together, paths crossing. The silence of the Sisters slowly spread to the moans of the bleeding and the cries of the children. They worked through the night. A few hours after they’d begun most of their work was through. Some stayed guard over the sleeping innocents, while others went outside to meditate and regain their strength.

And just outside my window

On a dark and distant street

A young boy tries to hide himself

From the things in the night he sees

(Little Joey run)

Outside, one of the Sisters stopped, breathing deeply, thanking the God for her gift. As she relaxed she could feel pain and confusion from the brush nearby. Treading softly, she uncovered a small boy behind a shrub. He pulled away, but then gave himself up instinctively to her maternal embrace.

She took him in by the fire, healing small cuts and abrasions, and warming him. Moments later he was asleep, safe for the night.

He’s a cold and lonely child

Who is lost among the night

And it’s cold outside

Better find a place to hide

Little Joey run

The child whimpered in her arms and she shushed him gently. When he was again quiet she stroked his brow, wishing she would smooth away the horrors he’d lived through, and keep him from those he have.

A crackling of the fire marked a shower of sparks. She watched, drawn. Deep within the flames she could see a man, lost among the logs.

She had seen him before, but never so clearly. Hunkered down behind a tree he fought off sleep, gun at the ready. He’d been chassed, she could sense that.

Danger was coming for him. Near and far. By one, he might soon be caught.

Fear for him shook her body, upsetting the boy. Calming him automatically, she stared again into the flames.

Here I am in comfort

Not in need of anything

Oh Lord, I’m truly thankful
But what am I to do?

(Help me find out soon)

Something must have moved, made a sound. The man jerked around, pointing his weapon, but not firing. Time wore on and he slumped into an uneasy sleep.

Still pervading was the scent – the feel – the nearness of danger – of peril. Everything within her wanted to go to him, to comfort him, to protect him.

And this child in the distance

Fights to stay alive

Sometimes I find it hard to sleep

But I still see him cry

(When I close my eyes)

The night was lifting, and she was looking into a dying flame. Danger had come for the man, and he was running. Silent branches reached for him, then he dove into a small ditch.

Soldiers – lowly patrollers – ran past and he came up shooting. They weren’t prepared, or even well trained. Two half fell before disappearing, the third fled.

The man was safe, for now. But more were coming, for him. Much was coming…

The woman closed her eyes, exhausted. Her eyelids became a screen, continuing the drama that was projected from her mind.

He’s a cold and lonely child

Who is lost among the night

And it’s cold outside

Better find a place to hide

Little Joey run

It was as the first tendrils of the sun began threading through the leaves that the fire went out completely. It was also then that the first of the villagers rolled over and stood up. Rubbing the sleep out of their eyes and gathering their belongings, they moved gravely and silently.

Most people took on the quiet calm of the Sisters while in their care. And so they received their quiet thanks – the press of the hand, the nod, the impulsive hug of the child.

The woman’s child grabbed her about the neck, and she kissed him softly on the forehead. When he turned to follow the motley crew she watched him, wishing again she could keep him back, keep him safe.

He turned, waved, and was gone.

And a cold wind blows

Cuts to the bone

And the young boy cries

As he tries to hide

And I wake up from my sleep

I hear the Father speak:

Little Joey run…to me!

Before the trudging of the villagers faded to silence the Sisters were breaking camp. They had done all they could, it was time to move on.

The woman stood, staring after the boy. In the shadows of a bush she could see the man, so far away, and yet so near.

The leader came up to her, eyes questioning. ‘Come?’ They didn’t need words, or even hand gestures when among themselves. Everything was said through their eyes.

‘No’ The thought startled her. She hadn’t really realized it before. The man was calling to her, and she would go.

For another minute they exchanged emotions, feelings, thoughts, then the leader turned and left. The woman packed some provisions, and walked away, starting on a path opposite the one the villagers hand made not half an hour before.

I’m taking you home tonight

Though the world around you is sleeping

You will be warm tonight

In my holy mansion

There will be no more night

Little Joey run

She ran through the forest. Now that she had made her choice, there was no going back. The man was her child, hers to protect. To protect him she would fight, and break every law the Sisters possessed. He called, she would go.

In his solitary wanderings their future lay. In that man their future lay. The woman could feel the connection the world had with this one individual. Beneath that she could feel how fragile his tie to fate was.

A Sister couldn’t harm another, couldn’t act – only heal. This one could feel herself called to save on a higher scale.

He’s a cold and lonely child

Who is lost among the night

And it’s cold outside

Better find a place to hide…

The journey was long – he was far away. Each night she meditated, watching over him from afar. Each day she traveled, learning as much as she could. Days passed, and she was hardened, weapon-ed, travel weary.

Each day the dangers closed in on the man. She went faster, not daring to be too late.

Then she found him.

Their eyes met. He couldn’t communicate like the Sisters could, but he could understand that she was a friend. For now, that would be enough.

They would run together until he was ready to turn and fight.