Author's Note: I do not own West Side Story or any elements of it.
The days that went past seemed to go by in a blur.
Vivienne felt a constant ache in her chest at all hours, constantly reminding herself of her failure.
Even after having spoken to her professor, who was as shocked and disappointed as she was at her shortcomings, could not do anything to help her distress.
Sadness turned into a depression and she kept the red scarf up by her window the whole time, not wanting to face anyone, especially Riff.
After the third day, she spurred herself out of bed by going through and tidying her apartment, scrubbing surfaces and wiping windows until the skin on her hands was red raw. When she went to clean the kitchen table, she saw the spots and stains of blood that now lay there from countless encounters with a bloodied jet where she fixed and mended them. It all seemed so pointless now. A reminder of her failure of the only thing that had mattered.
It was staring at this table that made her remember to check her first aid kit to ensure she was all stocked up for whatever stupid trouble they would get themselves into next. After all, what else was there for her to do now?
Upon inspection she found that she had run clean out of bandages and thread, so she unwillingly took her coat and made her way outside. She walked down the street towards Doc's, jealous at the smiling people and faces that she encountered along the way. Those who did not seem to be stuck in a cloud of dismay such as hers.
When she reached Doc's, to her annoyance, she found that Valentina had nothing of what she needed in stock, and wouldn't for a few days yet. Not wanting to be caught out and adding further fuel to her self-deprecating fire, she decided to walk uptown and buy it from the other pharmacy a little further up.
On the way up the street, she passed the basketball courts and heard some familiar voices. She looked over and saw Action, Mouthpiece, and Baby John animatedly discussing something that she couldn't quite hear the subject of. Feeling oddly put-off by the idea of talking to them, she tried to walk past with her head down. Although, it wasn't enough to avoid them spotting her, and soon she heard the sound of jogging feet and her name being called.
"Hey, Viv!" Baby John called, and they all appeared by her side.
"Hey," she replied, still keeping her eyes away from them.
"Ain't seen you around in a while."
"Where you goin'?" Mouthpiece asked.
"Just to the pharmacy," she replied, somewhat curt.
"Well you passed it," Action interjected, suspicious as ever. "Doc's is back that way."
"I know. Valentina doesn't have what I need, so I'm going to the other one."
She could feel them passing glances to each other from behind her.
"The one past the park?"
"Yep."
"You can't go there," Mouthpiece explained. "That's PR territory. It'll be lousy with Sharks!"
"Well then I guess you'd better leave me to it."
They followed her shortly, a tension in the air until they reached the end of the street and turned the corner. There, the storefronts began to look unfamiliar with Puerto Rican names and brightly coloured fruits they didn't come across on their end of town. Vivienne made to continue, before the Jets jumped in front of her.
"Hey, you shouldn't," Mouthpiece warned, his voice more serious now than she had ever heard before. "Riff will be pissed."
"Let him be pissed," she countered, growing bored of their interference. "I need to get stuff for you guys for the next time you mess yourselves up for no good reason."
"Don't get smart," Action said, pointing his finger towards her.
"I'm not trying to. But I need stuff and the only ones who are going to suffer if I don't get it are you guys. So either leave me alone and let me past, or come with me if you're so worried about it. But I have a feeling it would be a lot easier for me if you stayed the hell away."
The Jets exchanged glances, Action and Mouthpiece locking eyes.
"Riff said no jazz until..." Mouthpiece glanced at Vivienne and decided not to say anything. "...You know."
Action stared at all of them, before letting out a frustrated sigh.
"Alright, we'll walk you down to the end of the street. Don't do nothin' stupid-like," he said, brushing past Vivienne towards where they were headed.
"I don't think it's me doing something stupid we need to worry about," she shot back, feeling only slightly bad when she caught the hurt glances that Mouthpiece and Baby John shared.
They walked wordlessly together until the end of the street, where the Jets hung back and Action gave her one last warning look before she walked past them. She'd only been to this side of town a handful of times when need be, but it had never felt this strange before. Despite her differences in opinion with the Jets regarding the Puerto Ricans, she felt now more than ever that she might be unwelcome by association.
Still, she hoped that nobody paid her any mind.
She went into the pharmacy, picking up what she needed and quickly paying. When she stepped back out onto the street, she saw that the crowds had increased slightly with the late afternoon rush.
She stepped out, weaving and pushing through people until she walked right into someone. Vivienne stumbled back and came face-to-face with a woman with short dark hair and red lips. She felt she could remember her, but wasn't sure from where.
The woman stared at her, the same look of half-recognition working across her face. When Vivienne realised where she remembered her from - the night she had dinner with Riff in the diner - the woman seemed to understand at the same time.
Vivienne felt the woman look beyond her, and realised she must have been looking at the Jets who lingered on the street corner not far from them. The woman leaned to her friend standing next to her, and whispered in a hushed tone:
"Ella está con ellos. Corre y dile a los demás que están aquí."
They both shared a look - anger, nerves. Vivienne felt a shock run through her. They knew who she was, and they didn't like her for it. It was a horrible feeling.
The women disappeared, and Vivienne suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder. She spun around and saw Action there, whose irritation seemed now mixed with a small amount of anxiety.
"Time to go," he hurried, pulling her along through the crowd towards their territory once more.
Suddenly, behind them, they heard an almighty crash and a scream, followed by the unmistakable sounds of panic. They both turned towards the road where the sound came from and saw a small crowd forming. Through the legs of bystanders, Vivienne could see a man's body laying down crumpled in front of a car.
"Dios mío, que alguien me ayude!" she heard someone call.
Quickly, she tugged herself out of Action's grip.
"Where do you think you're goin'?" he asked, growing angry once more.
"I have to help!"
"Don't you dare."
But she ignored him and ran towards the scene. When she got there, the man was older, confused, with a gash on his head that pooled blood where he lay. She kneeled down beside him, her instincts and knowledge kicking in calmly.
"Don't move him," she instructed to the man beside him. "Wait until the ambulance arrives. You've called for an ambulance, right?"
She looked up and saw the dark haired woman, the one from the diner, staring down at her with a worried look on her face.
"Sí, I saw someone run to," she replied. "You're a doctor?"
"A nurse. Someone give me something to stop the bleeding."
She waited with the man until an ambulance arrived, comforting and soothing him in words that she was sure he didn't understand but seemed to help anyway. When he was gone, she rose to her feet and quickly scattered herself away and across the street, back to where she came from before any other trouble came her way. When she turned the corner, she found the Jets suddenly in front of her.
"What the hell was that?" Action spat, looming above her.
"Hey, back off," she replied, trying to step around him.
"We said you could go to the pharmacy, not go and save one of their lives."
"He wasn't a Shark, that was just some old guy. What am I supposed to do, stand back and do nothing?"
Action's brow knitted together, fierce in thought. "Whose side are you on?" he asked carefully.
She was growing so tired of him, of them, of their entire intrusion on her life that she let the words spill over.
"Maybe I don't know yet," she said, her voice venomous.
He didn't seem to like the answer in the slightest, and his eyes widened briefly before settling back again on his stone-like glare as he reached out and yanked her arm, shoving her forward as he begun to lead them down a small side street. He seemed to know where he was going.
"Ow!" she yelped as her arm bent back.
"Hey take it easy, Action," Mouthpiece spoke quickly.
"Yeah, leave her alone," Baby John said.
Action did not respond to them, but she did feel his grip in her lessen slightly.
They walked for a while, past the familiar streets and towards a place that Vivienne had never needed to go. The sky turned dark purple and the streetlamps began to flick on as they went. Eventually, they reached the docks, where she could see some figures sitting on the end with the sound of clanking beer bottles and playful laughter. One of them, she could see, was Riff.
Action strode over to them and once they turned to attention, he shoved Vivienne forward with such force she almost stumbled. She spun around to him, shooting him a glare and missing his brief flash of what looked like guilt, which he quickly hid. Riff stood up, confused.
"Woah, hey, what the hell are you doin'?" he asked, raising his hand to Action, his voice stern.
"Why don't you ask her? After all, I'm not the one who spent the afternoon with the Sharks," Action spat, turning and kicking the dirt on the ground.
"What're you talkin' about?" Riff asked, turning to Vivienne now.
"It's not a big deal. I had to go to the pharmacy because Doc's was out. I was in and out and these guys were with me."
"That ain't it. Some PR got hit by a car and she went and helped," Action interjected.
"What was I supposed to do? Let him lay there?" she retorted, her voice trembling in rage.
"Exactly that."
"Look, I don't agree with the way you guys do things. Whatever you think about the Puerto Ricans, that's not my fight."
"It is if you're on our side," Diesel suddenly said, and she turned around to see him watching the scene with calculated interest.
"I'm on everybody's side!" she cried out. "I'm a nurse, I have a duty to help people. You guys wouldn't understand."
"Hey, if she wants to help out some old guy, what's it to us?" Baby John asked, growing annoyed now.
"Stay outta this," Ice ordered.
"It's everythin' to us!" Action argued. He raised a pointed finger in Vivienne's face. "I didn't agree with bringin' in someone else in the first place, now look."
"Hey easy, Action," Riff said, his voice low and loaded. He pushed Action's arm out of the way. "That ain't your call."
"Look, I help you guys out when you need me. That was the deal. But there's no exclusivity there," Vivienne explained, feeling the heat of the situation rise.
For a moment, everyone grew quiet. Only Action after a moment threw his arms into the air and let out a pained laugh.
"So nobody's gonna say nothin', huh?" he asked, turning to the others.
"Just drop it, goddammit," Riff spat. "And you-" He turned to Vivienne then. "...No more PR territory. No talkin', no helpin."
"But-"
"Enough. We'll talk about it later."
"No, we'll talk about it now. Just cause you're the big man around here, doesn't mean you can push me around."
Riff stepped forward, talking to her in a quiet but fierce voice, "Look, quit runnin' your mouth okay?"
Vivienne laughed. "Why? You gonna kiss me to shut me up like you always do?"
A couple of the Jets, she wasn't sure who, let out some amused whispers and she could see Riff's face change - from assured and in control to threatened and almost embarrassed. It then turned to anger.
"Okay, you're done for tonight," he said, taking her by the shoulder and leading her away.
"I-"
"We'll finish this later," he cut through, shooting her a glare that made her grow quiet. When they reached the end of the road, he went to speak, but instead shook his head and walked away, leaving her to walk home alone.
The walk did nothing to calm her shaking nerves. She was pissed. So mad that her hands trembled and her throat quivered. After all she had done for them, she was upset that they had reacted so badly to something she had to do, especially Riff. Especially now, when everything she had worked for had been turned upside down and she wasn't sure where she stood with anything, let alone the Jets. She felt bitter and resentful towards them.
She waited in her apartment for almost an hour, wondering what discussions were going on back at the docks. Would they decide to leave her be? Perhaps she was more trouble than she was worth. Or maybe they would decide to keep her tied to them, but any warmth and resemblance of respect that was there would be lost. If she was honest, she wasn't sure which sounded worse.
After a while, her door swung open and Riff was there - his expression inscrutable.
"What the hell was that?" he asked, his voice raised loud as he stepped inside and forcibly shut the door behind him.
"Do not yell at me."
"I've told you before I don't want you mouthin' off at me in front of them. It's not right."
"Why, because you don't like being called out?"
"No, because there's a way to do things around here."
"I don't want you telling me what to do," she spat, standing from her seat and walking towards him. She raised her hand to point in his face.
"Well, tough shit," he barked, grabbing her hand in his. She yanked it away, for once not wanting to be touched by him. "Like it or not girly-girl, I'm in charge 'round here."
She turned away, feeling hot tears fall down her cheeks. The frustration and sadness overwhelmed her and for a moment, neither said anything.
"Look," he sighed. "Don't worry about Action, he just ain't himself lately. Stuff with the Sharks and...They know you're on our side, alright? And if they don't know, I'll make 'em know."
"I failed," she said, her voice hoarse.
"You ain't failed nothin' or nobody."
"No, I failed," she repeated, and he seemed to understand then. "I failed and now I don't know what to do."
After a moment, she felt his arms wrap around her from behind. She could feel his warm breath against her neck as she spoke.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "But...maybe it doesn't matter all that much."
Her body seized up then. Removing herself slowly from his arms, she turned around and watched him in disbelief.
"Doesn't matter?" she repeated.
"I just mean...you already know everythin'," he explained. "Anyone can see that."
She seemed to miss his last few words for all the sudden thoughts running through her head. How could he understand? He never would have been able to. The bitterness she felt turned into anger, and into rage. Suddenly, it clicked into place for her just how much she had sacrificed for the Jets. The realisation caused her heart to pound and her vision to go red.
"This is...your fault," she stammered, stepping back from him.
"What?"
"You're the reason. You and them." Her hands came to her face as she let out a cruel laugh - at herself or Riff, she wasn't sure. "Oh my god. I can't believe I let this happen."
"Hey, take it easy. How's it my fault?" he asked, sounding genuinely confused.
"I was doing just fine before I met you. Now all the time I've spent on you the past few months...coming into my place, dragging me to dances...it's no wonder it all went wrong."
Riff blinked, processing her words. "I-"
"It's all ruined. Months and years of hard work and punishing myself and all for nothing. Because of you."
Riff watched her, his eyes running wildly, searching for thoughts or things to say.
"I didn't mean t-" he started, losing the words as they came out.
"Just go," she said, sitting herself down at the kitchen table. She rubbed her temple with her fingers.
Riff sighed before growing stoic. "Y'know...you're the one who said helpin' us out made you feel useful. You can't blame me because you made a mistake."
"You're so selfish," she hissed. "This has all been such a waste of time."
"Waste of time?" he echoed, his voice heavy.
"Yeah, a waste of time. Is this what you do? Pick a girl to swing her up and throw her world upside down so you can get your kicks? Is breaking hearts how you get off?"
Riff shook his head in disbelief, and if she didn't know any better she would have said he looked a little hurt. He then locked eyes with her again, ready to aim fire with his words.
"I thought we were just havin' fun?" he asked, cruelly.
Vivienne swallowed. "Maybe we are. So I guess you won't mind if I find other fun?"
Riff stood still. "...Do what you want, what do I care? Not that you'll be able find it, anyway. You're lucky to have my attention."
When it looked like he was moving to leave, she stood from her seat.
"What now?" she asked harshly. "Am I still your hostage or am I finally free?"
"That's for me to decide," Riff bit back. He thought for a moment before speaking, "After all, if your test is anythin' to go on then maybe we're better off without you."
Vivienne felt knocked back. Riff looked unsure.
"That's a shitty thing to say," she breathed.
Riff said nothing else, but broke their stare and watched the ground as he took a breath. He then moved towards the door, quickly leaving her behind in the room loaded with their heavy words.