Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The blood seeped over the cobblestones toward her feet. The slow trickle mixed with the ice and snow, creating a dark puddle alongside the body lying face down in the alley. Flakes of snow began to fall, covering everything in a thin white blanket.

The small group of boys began to turn and walk away. It was done. No sense in freezing to death or taking the chance of ending up like that poor bastard laying there. Money would be exchanged later, payment for those who had the foresight to bet on the scrawny 14 year old.

She looked up and saw his clear blue eyes gazing at her steadily. There was no fear or regret or sympathy. It was unnerving to see the look of calm on his face. Brooklyn was his.

"We have to go."

She pulled the patched jacket tighter around her body and recoiled from the sight of blood on his hand as he reached out for her. A flash of pain across his face before he crouched to the ground and scooped a handful of fresh snow to scrub away the stain. The air was still and all she could hear was her own heart beating. That couldn't be it. They couldn't leave him laying there. It was so cold.

The sound of a bull's whistle pierced the silence and he grabbed her arm, pulling her away as she stumbled through the piles of snow. All sense of direction was lost as they skirted behind buildings and through the maze of streets. She felt her coat rip as she scrambled through the broken basement window ahead of him. There was a sting of pain but she ignored it for the moment and followed him into the dark. She understood that tomorrow, when the sun came up, she would lose him. He was Brooklyn now, and there was no going back.

Tay swallowed hard as she tried not to think about the pitch black surroundings. The only faint light came from the end of Spot's cigarette as he sat smoking in brooding silence.

"Spot?"

"Not now."

"But…"

"Not now, okay?"

"Okay."

He sounded tired and she could feel him trembling ever so slightly. She wanted to wrap herself around him and protect him from what he had just done but it was too late and she knew he would resent her for it. There was no place for vulnerability in his new world. She wondered if that meant that there was also no place for her. She would end up alone again. She tried not to panic as the dark seemed to press down on her from all sides. Fears crept up from the back of her mind and she bit down on her tongue to keep from crying out. Just before the tears fell Spot reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly. His hands were rough, covered in calluses and old scars but his touch was gentle, reassuring.

"I'm right here."

What could she say? Should she say anything? The silence was heavy and uncomfortable and a thousand different thoughts bounced around but picking the appropriate thing to say or do seemed impossible. He'd killed someone. Tay shook her head. Not someone. The leader of Brooklyn. The boy she held responsible for the death of her brother. Tomorrow Spot would be the leader.

Her eyes were heavy with sleep but her mind would not allow her rest. Peace of mind had been elusive since Spot had come to her that freezing cold night and told her that her brother had been killed. She wondered if she would ever sleep again. She leaned her head on Spot's shoulder, unsure if he would allow it or if he would brush her off. He allowed it and Tay breathed a little bit easier. Maybe she wouldn't be forced to go it alone after all.

"Race is leaving."

"He ain't."

"You don't believe me? Go see for yourself."

"But he promised…"

"And now he's breaking it," Spot said, tearing the piece of bread he held and handing half over to where Tay sat shivering on a broken wagon axle, balancing a cup of cold coffee on her knee. The breakfast provided by the nuns was almost always dry and tasteless but it was better than nothing. Tay took the bread Spot offered without looking up and seeing the dismal look on her face Spot felt satisfied that his announcement had done its intended job. He couldn't help but add one last jab. "Told you."

After Tay's brother, Ciaran, had been killed over gambling debts, Racetrack had sworn to step into the role for Tay and he encouraged her to look at him as someone to turn to for help although Spot had warned her it wouldn't last long. Racetrack's departure wasn't much of a surprise to Spot as he had suspected once the guilt of Ciaran's death had worn off Race would realize the bitter reality he'd be facing if he attempted to help take care of his dead partner's teenage sister on top of trying to survive on the streets himself.

"Where's he going?"

"Manhattan."

"For how long?"

"What do I look like? His social secretary? I don't give a damn, doll."

"You brought him up," Tay muttered under her breath before taking a large sip of coffee. She wrinkled her nose in distaste before passing the cup to Spot.

"I thought you might appreciate me giving you a chance to say your goodbyes to him," Spot told her.

"He's only going to Manhattan, I could go visit him any time." It was a tentative statement and one that Spot saw right through. He knew Tay expected him to predict dire consequences for her if she tried to leave Brooklyn but he felt confident in his knowledge of how fearful she was about leaving the neighborhood she felt safe in and convinced himself it would never happen.

"Let me know the day, I'll go with you," Spot answered congenially, passing the cup back to her. Tay blinked a few times in surprise at his attitude but quickly recovered.

"Why is he leaving? What did you do?"

"Say that again?" Spot's voice became ice and Tay paled in the early morning sun, almost dropping the cup which started to tremble in her hand.

"I just…I don't understand…"

"What is it that you don't understand, doll? How could your supposed friend lie to you like that? Or maybe you're confused 'cause you thought he was gonna stick around when the truth is he's only ever been loyal to himself? He ain't interested in playing nursemaid to you when he could be off living the high life in Manhattan."

"He'll be back," Tay answered in a voice that wasn't at all confident.

A discussion between Spot and Race earlier had led to an arrangement that would indeed allow Racetrack access to Brooklyn but the older boy had made the mistake of using Tay as a bargaining chip which was something Spot intended to expose when the right opportunity appeared. Until then he planned on depicting Race as another fair weather friend that Tay should know better than to depend on.

"If he does come back, it won't be for you," Spot answered. "All he cares about are those nags of his."

"Maybe he's trying to make the best of us all being one city now," Tay suggested quietly and Spot immediately scoffed.

"Just 'cause some bigwigs decided Brooklyn was part of New York don't mean I gotta agree."

The changeover of Brooklyn from independent city to outside borough had been a thorn in Spot's side for some time and he had refused to even discuss it, stubbornly sticking to his belief that Brooklyn had always been independent and would continue to be regardless of what any idiot politician had to say about it. With the new year had come the consolidation of the boroughs and Spot had been purposefully ignoring the whole situation. Tay had taken the opposite attitude and considered the merging of the city to be a good thing. She had developed a habit of trying to needle Spot into granting his permission for her to visit the other boroughs even though he doubted she'd ever willingly cross the border on her own.

"I bet Race will like it," Tay mentioned softly, speaking more to her shoes than to Spot. "Everyone says they got everything you could ever want over there. Nell went with that whole group to Irving Hall last Tuesday. They had seats up in the balcony and she said the whole place sparkled so bright she got dizzy."

The glimmer of hope and excitement in Tay's eyes despite her reluctance to bring up what she knew was a sore subject caused Spot's stomach to flip flop. To invite her out, to take her hand and lead her into some grand setting was a dream but it would never be a reality. Acknowledging Tay's importance in his life would be the same as painting a target on her back and Spot knew full well the consequences of allowing his enemies to unearth his weak points. Keeping Tay isolated in Brooklyn was a vital step in Spot's selfish plan to keep her safe from his enemies and he relied on the trauma of her previous experiences to curtail any inclination she had to explore beyond Spot's territory.

"Pretty sure it wasn't the lights making her dizzy, doll." Drug use was prevalent among the runaways and orphans that populated the riverfront although Spot tried to keep a lid on it when it came to Tay. He watched as Tay finished her last bit of bread before handing her a thin stack of newspapers. "And since when do you care about where Nell or any of them girls go? It ain't like they'll start inviting you along."

"Even Mouse went," Tay continued, ignoring Spot's remark. "He said the lady keeps the theater open just for us some days and I–"

"Stick to this side of Fulton today," Spot interrupted, eyeing the gloomy sky above them and putting an end to the discussion. "I ain't gonna have you freeze to death in this weather 'cause you decided to go traipsing around the city hunting for trouble."

"Asking to go to one show ain't hunting for trouble," Tay argued.

"Whether it is or it ain't don't matter, doll. All you gotta worry about is keeping to what I said." Spot studied Tay's appearance as she stood there visibly shivering and he felt his heart twist at the hunger evident on her face and how the purple bruises under her eyes stood out against her pale skin. He pulled the ratty scarf he'd nabbed out of the charity bag from around his neck and started to wrap it around Tay's head and face. She opened her mouth to protest but Spot cut her off. "I ain't that cold and everyone knows gypsy blood is thin."

"Is he really leaving?" Spot's hands grew still when he heard the sorrow in Tay's voice while he finished looping the scarf around her.

"Yes."

"He'll be back, right?"

"I don't know, doll."

"It'll be just you and me. Again."

"Same as always. Like I told you."

Chapter Text

Tay felt the absence of Race the most whenever she was reminded of her brother, Ciaran and his demise only the year before. Racetrack had been his selling partner and closest confidant which Tay assumed meant he would be her best source for information about the mysterious circumstances of her brother’s death but the hope of discovering what really happened to Ciaran grew dim as Race made it clear Manhattan was his new home, visiting Brooklyn only to play the ponies and fleece the boys at the poker table. Tay knew that there had been some kind of argument between Ciaran and Rook, the boy who had led Brooklyn at the time, and when the night had come to a close, Ciaran was dead and Rook forbade anyone to speak of how it had happened. Rook's tenure as leader came to a close soon after when he and Spot fought for what most assumed was the position of leader but that Tay knew had more than a little to do with her and Ciaran's death as well.

Rook's death had prompted both a beginning and an ending within Spot and Tay had watched his transformation with guilty eyes. She blamed herself for the hard-heartedness that seemed to drive Spot down a path she worried she could not follow as he carried out one violent act after another. Tay felt she might drown in the guilt of knowing that none of it would have been destined to happen if it hadn't been for her.

By the following spring, Tay had found herself navigating a new world where Spot had become both an enemy and friend. The first time Spot had struck her, Tay had been stunned into a silence that had only ended after he had come to her later that same night, his eyes pleading with her for forgiveness while he examined the damage he'd done. There were a few times when Tay managed to strike first but most incidents ended heavily in Spot's favor. As he had drawn the boundaries more tightly around her, Tay had begun to rebel in what small ways she could but one of her most egregious transgressions was her relationship with a boy named Collins who promised her the answers that she had been searching for. 

According to Spot the older boy was an unscrupulous huckster but Collins had lent Tay a listening ear when Spot had refused to hear any more of her questions about Ciaran and so she had begun to rely on Collins as the only person willing to help.

Unfortunately, Spot had outright forbid her from seeing Collins as one of their first meetings had resulted in Tay experimenting with drugs for the first time. Tay shivered at the memory of the argument that had ensued after Spot discovered she was high. She had tried to point out that it had been her idea and that the reason she wanted to do such a thing in the first place was because of the pain he caused her but Spot’s rage had silenced her tongue. From that point on Tay was increasingly careful about the company she kept and tried to cut ties with Collins but found herself unable to turn down his offer to take her to the very place her brother had met his tragic end.

Tay pressed her back up against the soot-stained wall and peered up at the steady fall of rain that had begun to seep through the canopy above her head. The skies had been threatening all day and most had the good sense to stay close to home but Tay had been determined to attend the prearranged meeting and ended up caught out in the storm far from home. She watched as the rain washed over the detritus in the alley and failed to notice the approach of a rakish figure.

"Gotta say I didn’t think you’d make it.”

Tay looked up to see Collins standing a few feet away and felt instantly apprehensive. He didn’t look as though he had any particular trick up his sleeve but Spot’s warnings rang out from the back of her mind and she begrudgingly shifted to one side so that he could share what little shelter the awning provided while making sure not to appear too welcoming. 

"Rough bit of weather," Collins mentioned as he settled in while Tay was careful to avoid the merest brush against him. It was clear he’d been walking for awhile as his clothes were soaked through. He leaned forward and shook his head, spraying Tay with droplets of water from his hair. He gave her a sheepish smile, "Sorry."

"So where is this place?," Tay asked, feeling the need to get started as soon as possible. Spot had a multitude of ways of obtaining information and Tay knew the news of her meeting with Collins would spread fast.

“Relax, we’ve got time and I ain’t exactly looking forward to going back out in that,” Collins answered as he eyed the dismal gray sky above.

”You’re soaked already anyway,” Tay pointed out and she eyed the otherwise empty street for any sign of some loud-mouth kid looking to win points with Spot by reporting on them. 

"You didn’t tell him we was doing this,” Collins said with a knowing glance at Tay.

”He ain’t interested in anything to do with my brother.”

”You want to know why he tells you that?”

“Why?”

“‘Cause he was there the night Rook cut your brother down.”

”What? What do you mean?” Tay felt dizzy and her heart raced as though it wanted to leap out of her chest. It was a long moment before her senses returned and she noticed Collins looking at her with a sad expression.

"He never told you?"

"No," Tay mumbled. Of course Spot had never told her, he had never willingly discussed anything related to Ciaran from the very beginning. As far as she had ever known her brother and Spot had tread very different paths but shared an equal dislike of one another.

“I guess it makes sense,” Collins told her as he shrugged ambivalently. “He ain’t gonna admit that Ciaran might still be here if it weren’t for him.”

Tay felt as though she’d had the wind knocked out of her and every past conversation, every past action suddenly raced through her mind as she tried to deal with what Collins had just revealed. The suggestion that Spot’s silence about Ciaran had stemmed in part from his wanting to hide his part in all of it from her rankled under her skin.

“He would still be here?” Tay repeated as she stared unseeing out into the storm.

“I can’t say for sure but Spot has shown he can handle himself, I mean he even took Rook out, so it seems kind of odd that he was there that night but Ciaran still fell. I really shouldn’t say anything else.”

“You’re saying Spot just let Rook…” Tay’s voice trailed off as she considered the implication of what Collins had just told her and tears sprung up in her eyes. She turned her face away and forcefully wiped at her eyes with her damp sleeve. 

"We’re about two blocks away,” Collins interrupted after a long moment. He pointed toward the opposite end of the street. "Place is up ahead on the left."

The so-called pub was little more than a hole in the wall and the entrance was covered with a layer of grime that blended so well into the surrounding facade that Tay could have walked by it every day and never seen it. The outer building was non-descript and at first Tay wasn't sure it was still in business until the door opened and a flood of noise and light poured out into the street. Although it seemed inviting compared to the dismal scene outside, Tay hesitated as crowds had always troubled her and while she tried to work up the nerve to enter, a shadowy figure broke away from where they had been leaning on the wall and Tay felt a bitter cold spread through her as she realized who it was. Spot approached and casually flicked his spent cigarette to one side while eyeing both Collins and Tay in a manner that suggested disinterest but that Tay knew better than to fall for.

"Fancy meeting you here, Conlon. Don't see you around these parts too often," Collins said breezily and his lack of reaction caused Tay to suspect that he wasn’t at all surprised to be caught by Spot as though it was exactly what he had intended. 

"I could say the same about you," Spot replied while Tay tried desperately to read his expression but his face was guarded although a quiet anger radiated off of him.

"I wanted to be sure you got my message," Collins answered.

It was brief but Tay noticed Spot stiffened, clearly affected before he slipped the mask back down. "Them Western Union boys is doing wonders these days. Would have cost you less."

"Spot, I was only—" Tay attempted to explain but one icy look from Spot and the rest of her argument died on her tongue. She pressed her lips together and tried to quell her rising apprehension about the consequences she would face for defiance while also swallowing the frustration she felt seeing him once again shut her down without giving her a chance.

Collins shifted as though uneasy and gestured toward the grime covered door. "Shall we begin then?"

He turned to where Tay stood trembling and performed a little mock bow. "Ladies first."

"She ain't gonna be in attendance," Spot cut in quickly. As if on cue the pub door opened and a grim looking newsie stepped out. Tay recognized him as one of the many boys that hung around for those times when Spot needed extra muscle and knew he had a reputation for not taking any lip off of anyone.

Spot turned to Tay and she swore she felt his eyes bore a hole straight through to her soul and she knew that no matter what he said next there would be no argument.

"Go home. Now."

Tay balanced on the edge of the pier as the wind whipped around her, tearing at her hair and pulling it from her braid. Her shoulders slumped forward and she felt a stabbing pain as she wretched into the dark water below. The rain had ceased hours ago but the river was still choppy. Tay drew her sleeve across her mouth and remained kneeling, staring down into the churning depths.

"I hate you." She hated the river. She hated him. She hated herself. Would it really be so awful to just slip below the surface and allow herself to sink down into the peace and quiet…

"Tay."

She jumped slightly at the sound of his voice but didn't turn. She pressed her lips together, determined not to say a word. Once, she had treasured their talks together but that so rarely happened anymore.

"You shouldn't be out here."

She focused on the waves breaking against the pier and clenched her jaw tightly despite the pain. She had to escape. To be free instead of being trapped inside that small, windowless room with him and that unbearable silence. She couldn't take it any more. She needed to see the sky, the stars, the moon. "...I see the moon and the moon sees me…" Tay's heart ached as she recalled the sound of her father's voice before the memory slipped away.

"Look at me."

It wasn't a request. His eyes held a light that was unsettling to see. He traced each bruise, each mark as though admiring his own handiwork. Her skin turned to ice every place he touched her.

"I told you to stay away from him."

It wouldn't do any good to plead ignorance once again as Tay had done numerous times before when confronted about her rule-breaking. The entire thing had clearly been a set up from the beginning and Tay wasn't about to bother wasting her breath trying to argue her innocence.

"If you would just listen to me."

She never listened. Wasn't that what he was always telling her? It was true. She hadn't listened when Ciaran had told her to return home, to forget all about trying to survive on the streets of Brooklyn as a newsie. She hadn't listened when Spot told her that she had picked the wrong mark and was in over her head. She hadn't listened in the Refuge when he had told her to keep her head down. The heaviest sin on her mind was when she had gone to Spot, inconsolable over Ciaran's death and seeking vengeance with her heart hardened against any attempt Spot had made to dissuade her. How many more strikes would she need against her before she could admit that he was right? He was always right.

"No smart remarks this time?"

A flood of words sat on the tip of her tongue but she bit them back. She wanted to scream at him, curse him, strike at him until she finally collapsed, limp with exhaustion and having spent every ounce of anger she kept locked inside. Collins spilling the beans about Spot's presence the night Ciaran died dominated every thought Tay had and she wanted to shout at him that she knew he had been there that night and that he had done nothing to help her brother. But prior arguments with Spot had taught Tay not to approach him with anything less than the irrefutable facts of the matter or be prepared to pay a heavy price and so she held her tongue for the moment, determined to find out the truth.

"I told you what happened with your brother was an accident. There ain't no mystery to solve. There was a fight, he fell, end of story."

Her heart ached as she listened to him toss out the same tired story he'd always offered and she closed her eyes, the tears stinging a bit as they slid down her cheeks. Since Ciaran's death Tay had felt as though she was adrift in a deep, black sea of bitterness with Spot as her only life line for information that was never forthcoming. He'd throw her a crumb or two every once in a while but any time Tay questioned that version of events, Spot was only too quick to turn the tables and remind her of what happened with Rook when she'd found out about his involvement in Ciaran's death and Tay was immediately subdued.

The touch of his hand was freezing against her skin as he cupped her chin, turning her face gently toward him as he examined the fresh gash along her cheek with eyes that shone like mercury in the moonlight. His look of concern puzzled Tay and she felt her stomach flip flop at his touch as he just barely brushed his thumb over her skin and she tried to mesh the care and concern he was showing with the fact that he had been the one who had shoved her and caused the injury in the first place.

"I'm sorry."

He wasn't. He was never sorry. She was surprised he didn't choke on the words. But she wouldn't tell him that. Not anymore. A little voice inside told her to run but she ignored it. It was too late. He had slowly, methodically taken everything from her until she no longer knew where she left off and he began.

Tay turned her face away, angry at herself for letting him in. Again. She felt dizzy as the memories of whispered promises that were never meant to be kept bubbled to the surface. No matter how she tried, she could not keep him from reaching her. And he knew it. She had learned long ago he had infinite patience when it came to getting what he wanted. She had never been meant to win anyway. The game was rigged and had been from the very moment he had decided that what he wanted was her.

"Why?" It was a whisper. Nothing more.

"Why what?" Spot sighed irritably.

"Why was there a fight? Between Ciaran and Rook. Why did they fight?"

"I've told you I don't know how many times I wasn't there. I don't know."

"Collins told me that you–"

"Who told you?" His voice sliced through the night air and Tay snapped her mouth shut, feeling her split lip sting sharply. "What's it gonna take to get it through to you, doll? I don't want to hear his name come outta your mouth ever again, you understand me?"

Tay froze but knowing he was expecting an answer she swallowed hard and managed to whisper, "Yes."

"Maybe instead of listening to that fraud and going off on some wild goose chase, you might want to think for a change about how that's turned out for you in the past," Spot advised coldly.

"It wasn't a wild goose chase," Tay protested although her voice was weak. "He took me to a real–"

"In a neighborhood that is nowhere near where your brother always stayed and within spitting distance of Queens and my biggest rival. Quite a coincidence, don't you think?"

She hated how Spot always managed to turn things around, making it all seem so obvious and trapping her into conceding that he had been right all along.

"You need to leave it alone, doll. Ciaran is gone and he ain't coming back. That ain't gonna change and there ain't no use in dragging yourself around the city looking for ghosts."

Eventually, the echoes of violence began to fade and she caught herself leaning up against him, her head dropping down onto his shoulder as he studied the horizon and kept his thoughts to himself. It had always been his way. Her world was small and there were places for him that simply didn't exist for her.

The sun began to creep above the horizon and he held out his hand which she took without thinking. The bruised places on her body protested as she got to her feet and she felt her stomach roil but managed to keep from vomiting again. A chill in the air left her trembling slightly as Spot strode along in front of her, giving nothing away as usual. She was exhausted and her heart felt heavy in her chest and she followed along silently, vowing to herself that the next time would be different.

Chapter Text

"What are you doing?"

"Shhhh!" Tay yanked at Mouse's shirtsleeve and dragged him down next to her out of sight of the handful of Brooklyn boys who were clustered around a younger boy prone in the dirt. Just moments before the kid had been knocked out cold and lay motionless while the boys argued over what to do next. Tay had previously learned from word of mouth that the kid's name was Boots and he had shown up that morning with Racetrack in order to spend the day at Sheepshead. Unfortunately, it hadn't been long before the usual crew had gotten word of his visit and treated him to the traditional Brooklyn welcome reserved for outsiders who dared trespass. Racetrack was off limits but any companions who accompanied him were considered fair game.

"You know if they catch us here, there'll be hell to pay," Mouse told her nervously as he watched the boys rifle through Boots' pockets, fighting over what little they could find.

"They ain't bothered about us right now," Tay answered, pushing her hair out of her eyes irritably. As she watched, one of the older boys slipped the shoes off of Boots' feet to place them on his own. Stepping in to try and stop them would only lead to more trouble and Tay decided to wait until the group left before investigating whether Boots was alive or dead. If he was alive, she would try to help. Maybe. But if he was dead…well, it wouldn't help to think about it.

"What's his name?"

"Boots."

"How'd he get here?"

"Got lost, I guess. You know how Race is."

The last of the stragglers finally disappeared around the corner and Tay crept closer to where Boots was still out cold with her heartbeat pounding in her ears. The rules had always been clear. Don't interfere. Don't be seen. Considering that she'd never even set foot outside of Brooklyn it had always seemed odd to Tay that Spot had always been so particular about keeping her hidden even amongst those who were under his thumb.

"Is he dead?"

"Don't think so." Tay managed to get close enough to see the slight rise and fall of the boy's chest before her courage gave out and she knelt on the ground a couple of feet away. After a few minutes, Mouse crept up alongside her.

"What if they come back?"

"Why are you acting like such a scaredy-cat all of a sudden?"

"I ain't scared, it's just that…." Mouse's eyes darted around the secluded space as if suspecting someone was listening which Tay had to admit was pretty likely given the usual habits of their fellow newsies. After all, the only reason she knew about Boots and his present situation was because she had been eavesdropping herself.

"Well, spit it out."

"You know how they talk around here. Spot is gonna hear about this and then you'll be right back to being under lock and key."

Tay's mistake with Collines had resulted in Spot confining her to the riverfront and to their small room in particular for what had seemed like weeks. There were a few times when Tay wasn't sure Spot would ever relent but eventually he'd seemed convinced that any urge Tay had once had to seek out information about her brother had been extinguished and released her. However, her freedom had come with a price and even more conditions had been added to the list of rules Spot expected her to abide by.

The truth was, Tay was not at all satisfied with the bits and pieces she had and the conversation with Collins had only left her with many more questions than answers. In particular, Tay was hung up on the mystery of whether Spot had been present the night her brother had been killed. Since she had been forbidden from asking anyone from Brooklyn about it, Tay knew there was only one person who might be willing to tell her the truth despite Spot and that person wouldn't take kindly to seeing a friend of his left for dead in some foul smelling back alley. Racetrack wasn't exactly reliant but he might be more forthcoming if Tay could manage to rescue his friend and thereby put in a good word for herself.

"I ain't doing anything wrong," Tay answered although she wasn't at all confident.

"You know you ain't even supposed to be here."

"It's a free country," Tay huffed as she pulled a twist of licorice from a crumpled paper bag and bit at it while she thought about her options. Mouse was right, as usual. It was a trait Tay held dear for his willingness to tell her the truth but that she also resented as she hated being reminded of her reality. The territory she was allowed to roam freely didn't extend much beyond the docks and shanties along the river where she stayed with Spot and the back lot where she and Mouse were keeping watch was well beyond that boundary. It was a fact that fueled her apprehension about staying much longer. Word would soon spread and Tay knew that the time she had before Spot discovered her was severely limited.

"You do what you want but I ain't sticking around," Mouse told her while he got to his feet, brushing the dust and debris from his clothing.

"If he croaks, you know Kelly will blow his lid. I'm gonna stay until he comes to. Don't say nothing about it."

"Never even saw you today," Mouse replied, sticking his hands into his pockets before ambling down around the corner and back toward the street.

Tay studied Boots' injuries while she waited for him to regain consciousness. The gash on his forehead had stopped bleeding but still looked pretty bad and there were some other scratches and marks that Tay noted on his face and arms. He looked to be a few years younger than she was but it was always difficult to tell.

Ever since Racetrack had left Brooklyn, Tay had developed a curiosity about the borough just across the river where the newsies seemed to live a life of freedom that Tay envied. Although Jack visited from time to time most of the other newsies visited only once before they were scared away for good. Tay had come to rely on Mouse for most of her information about Manhattan and she hoped that she'd be able to get a bit more out of Boots before Spot interfered.

For most of the newsies in Brooklyn, the borough across the river was just an afternoon's stroll away but for Tay it may as well have been on the moon. There had been a few times when she'd managed to work her courage up to the point of asking Spot to take her with him when he went to visit but the answer had always been a resounding no.

Long moments passed and Tay picked nervously at the frayed cuff of her blouse. Her mind was torn between wanting to run off before anyone found her there and her desire to help. An enormous sense of relief washed over her as Boots began to stir. He opened his eyes and blinked slowly up at the sky for a few moments trying to orient himself.

Tay watched silently as he gingerly raised himself up onto his elbows and looked around. He seemed relieved to find himself alone until he spied Tay and adopted a surprised expression.

"I'm glad you're awake. I thought maybe they killed you," Tay told him.

"I think they almost did," Boots answered, reaching up to inspect the wound on his head with his right hand. He frowned at a bit of blood on his fingertips and Tay reached down to rip a small bit of material from her underskirt before handing it to him. He pressed it against the gash and winced. "Must have hit me with something."

"It's likely." Tay watched while Boots gathered himself, eventually getting to his feet although his knees were shaky and she thought of advising him to sit back down. He appeared utterly lost and Tay felt a twinge of sympathy but she knew that any kindness she displayed would only come back to bite her in the end as Spot took every opportunity to twist any act of mercy into a weakness.

Boots reached into his pockets but frowned when he found them empty. He shook his head and remarked, "Should have listened to Jack."

"How'd you end up here anyway? You lose Race?"

"You know Racetrack?"

"Everyone knows Racetrack," Tay answered and rolled her eyes. She got to her feet and brushed the dust off of her clothes. "Lemme guess, he went off to place a bet on some hot tip and never came back."

"I waited for an hour and this kid comes along claiming that Race sent him. Tells me Race gave him two bits to see me safe to the bridge and next thing you know I'm waking up in this lot with you." Boots spit out the story quickly and his frustration was evident. "I'm Boots by the way."

"I know."

"You got a name or something?"

"You stay on Duane Street, right?" Tay asked, ignoring his question.

"That's right."

"There's a place near there with a lady singer. Irving Hall. You ever been?"

Boots blinked a few times in surprise before answering. "Yeah, a few times."

"Is it true she has shows just for newsies?"

"Only some nights," Boots answered.

"Can any kid see a show there?"

"As long as they got five cents." Boots seemed perplexed by Tay's abrupt questions but continued. "Next time, you should come along. I've seen Brooklyn kids there before."

"We should get going," Tay answered, instantly soured on the whole idea. His easy manner only seemed to draw attention to the barriers before her and she felt angry. "Those guys won't be back but others might come sniffing around to see what's left of you,"

"Did you not just hear what I said earlier? Following one of you is exactly how I ended up here getting my skull cracked open in the first place. For all I know, you're with them and they're waiting around the corner to finish what they started ," Boots said before he crossed his arms and scowled at Tay.

"Look, I ain't trying to tie you up. I ain't got nothing to do with them," Tay told him irritably.

"I'm just supposed to trust you? You won't even tell me your name."

"'Cause my name ain't important. What is important is that you need to understand that if you stick around here, those boys might not come back but someone will. Now you can try to get back to Kelly on your own but I'll warn you, he knows you're here."

"Who's that?"

"Spot." Boots' eyes widened in panic and Tay regretted bringing Spot up so soon. She hadn't meant to terrify the kid but wanted him to understand the danger he was in. Boots paced for a few minutes while Tay watched and thought about what it would take to convince him if the fear of Spot wasn't enough.

After a long moment Boots turned toward Tay, "So you ain't with them?"

"Nope."

"Who are you then?"

"I ain't important and this ain't gonna get you back home any faster."

"So you're saying you would help me get back to Manhattan?"

"I can't get you all the way home, kid," Tay admitted hesitantly. The bridge was strictly off limits to Tay and it was one of the most heavily monitored locations amongst the network of spies Spot relied on for vital information about the goings on in Brooklyn. "The fact is, you're already in Spot's sights and I can't do anything about that but I can get you to Race and he might be able to help smooth things over with Spot. Or at least get you back to Duane Street in one piece."

"And you know where Race is?"

"You ask a lot of questions. Yes, I know where Race is." Tay began to unlace her shoes and remove them before she tossed them toward Boots. He faltered for a moment and Tay sighed at the look of distaste on his face. "Just put 'em on. You ain't gonna be able to walk all that way in your stocking feet."

"What are you gonna wear?"

"Don't worry about me. I'm used to it." Tay waited until he had knotted up the bits of string she'd been using for laces before heading toward the broken fence that led into the next lot. She turned when she didn't hear Boots and found him still standing in the empty lot looking concerned.

"Will you at least tell me where we're going?" Boots said slowly, clearly unwilling to completely trust Tay but left with no better alternative.

"Down to the waterfront. Race plays a few hands there most nights after he's been to the track. Unfortunately for you, it happens to be right in the damn heart of Spot's territory so stick close and don't say nothing to no one. "

"And you swear this ain't a trick?"

"I swear," Tay said tersely before lifting a board up out of the way for Boots to slip through. Any number of newsies in Brooklyn would have gladly told him Tay's word was worthless but she wasn't about to let him in on that particular report.

"Shouldn't we–" Boots began and gestured lamely to the crowded street but stopped himself when Tay sent him a withering look.

"Go that way and Spot will be waiting on you before you hit the end of the block," Tay explained before slipping through the gap in the fence and Boots eventually followed.

Tay led him along a complicated route of dim backlots and cramped alleyways that she had learned would keep her out of the view of prying eyes looking to report her to Spot. Tay knew there was no way of avoiding the 'birds' entirely but she had developed a few tricks that she hoped would at least buy her and Boots and little time. He followed along quietly for a number of blocks before Tay realized he'd fallen behind and turned to see him with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

"I gotta ask," Boots called out. "Why are you helping me?"

"I told you that we ain't got time for questions," Tay answered.

"You gotta have some reason for sticking your neck out for me–"

"I ain't sticking my neck out for no one," Tay interrupted. She clenched her fists down by her sides. "Don't act like this is some big deal, kid. All I'm doing is taking a walk out to the shipyards which is what I'd be doing anyway 'cause I stay there so if you happen to follow me home, swell but I ain't doing anyone any favors."

"You stay by the river?" Boots asked and Tay felt immediate regret at letting that pivotal detail slip. She hadn't even meant to say anything to Boots in the first place and there she was running off at the mouth and getting herself into trouble. 

"Sometimes," Tay answered. "Can we get going now?"

"I know," Boots said, the realization dawning on his face. "You're one of those birds, right? One of those spies Spot has?"

"It ain't like that," Tay told him. "I ain't a bird or spy or none of that. I'm nothing, kid. All you need to worry about is getting back to Race and forget you even met me."

"Fine," Boots replied while looking decidedly put out that he hadn't been correct. He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Lead the way."

Tay stood frozen in place, her eyes fixed on Spot as he sat on their bunk fixing a new band to his slingshot, a very familiar pair of boots sat on the floor by his feet and Tay knew the jig was up. The sounds of carousing from the outer room seemed to fade and she waited with baited breath for Spot to speak.

"Close the door."

She offered no argument and silently turned to do as he had said. It wasn't as though Spot had ever held back due to an audience but closing the door had often meant he'd unleash a viciousness that Tay both loathed and feared. Her body began to tremble in anticipation of the inevitable battle as she stood waiting to see what his first move would be.

"Cat got your tongue?"

Her tongue was wedged to the roof on her mouth and she doubted her prying it loose would do nothing to help her out of the situation. Spot kept his head bowed over his work and seemed entirely at ease but Tay remained wary.

Every interaction had become a minefield and she had learned to carefully consider each and every word, every gesture in the hopes of avoiding the terrible consequences. Revealing anything willingly only allowed him to delve deeper and cause more damage and so she stayed silent.

"That's funny." It clearly wasn't funny at all. "You've been so chatty lately."

Tay kept her eyes on Spot's fingers as he knotted the band into place and tested the strength. She'd always been drawn to his hands. She'd sit tracing the lines that criss crossed his hardened palms for as long as his patience allowed but she never found any answers. He was a puzzle made up of broken pieces and no matter how hard Tay tried, she could not make him whole.

"Spending your time with all sorts of folks. Become quite the social butterfly, haven't you?"

It wasn't a question he expected an answer to and so Tay remained silent but vigilant. Each comment was weighted and Tay knew better than to let her tongue run wild in response. It was clear he knew all about how she had spent the evening and the blade finally fell with his next comment.

"What happened to your boots, doll?"

Whether she told the truth or she lied would make no difference since they both knew that her shoes were set by his feet at that very moment.

"Lost 'em."

"Shame," Spot answered smoothly. "How'd that happen?"

"It don't matter. I'll just get a new pair from the rag bag."

"That ain't what I asked you."

"I took 'em off earlier 'cause it's hot and a kid swiped 'em."

"I heard the same thing happened to some new kid passing through. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"No," Tay answered, lifting her chin defiantly. She knew that surrender was her only option but a small piece of her felt driven to play the game. "It happens all the time. Maybe you oughta keep better control over those–"

Spot's eyes flashed a dangerous warning which caused Tay's next words to die on her tongue and she tracked every move as Spot set the slingshot down on the quilt before he reached down and tossed Tay's boots over toward her feet.

"Lucky for you I found those then," Spot told her as he stood. The hint of amusement that played at his lips did nothing to quell Tay's discomfort as he stepped closer, caging her into the corner. Tay had been well acquainted with the way the cloudless look in his blue eyes would change into a tempest in a heartbeat if she wasn't careful and she couldn't help but flinch back as he leaned in closer.

"Say thank you."

The tiny flame of ire that always seemed to burn deep within Tay blazed at the idea of thanking him for giving her her own shoes and she gritted her teeth together hard enough to hear her jaw crack. "Thank you."

"Guess that's another favor you'll owe me," Spot grinned mischievously.

Tay found herself unable to look him in the face and dropped her eyes to focus on the key that hung from around his neck. It was a constant reminder of all he'd sacrificed for her. Everything she owed him including her life. She was trapped and it was all her own doing.

"No one even saw us," Tay said

"Finn, Lark, Anders, most of the Fulton crew–"

Tay seethed at his arrogant tone. "Then why ain't you doing this out there? Don't wanna prove to the boys that you was right again?"

The sheets of newspaper plastered over the wall behind Tay hid a multitude of Spot's sins and as his fist struck the space just beside her head, Tay made a note to paper over that damage as well. Despite his outburst Spot's breathing was even and his face was set like stone as he pressed his lips against her ear.

"Maybe I don't want anyone to see what I'm about to do."

Considering she had watched him commit murder in front of a dozen witnesses, those were perhaps the most frightening words Spot could have said and Tay blanched, feeling ice cold water run through her veins.

"I only wanted to help him," Tay said quietly, stammering over every word.

"I told you to stay out of my business."

"So that's your business now? Letting those mugs beat on some innocent kid?"

"Whether it is or it ain't don't concern you," Spot answered coldly. "And maybe it's slipped your mind but you ain't got a great record when it comes to helping people, do you, doll? Never did your brother much good anyway."

Tay's hand flew up to strike him before she could stop herself but Spot was quicker, grabbing her wrist and twisting it until she cried out in pain. She immediately made an attempt with her other hand but found herself pinned to the wall with Spot pressed against her so tightly she struggled to breathe. Tay jerked her arms in vain and tried to kick him but Spot had the advantage and Tay was left trembling with indignation as she cussed him in every language she knew.

"Tsk, tsk, what if the nuns heard you?" Spot tilted his head to one side and studied her with mock concern. "I don't know why you're getting so upset with me, doll. I mean, I'm sure if Ciaran weren't dead, he'd have—"

"Stop it."

Tay had never been in charge and Spot had always made it clear that he would determine when he was finished with her, not the other way around but sometimes if she dared push back against his cruelty she'd see the slightest flicker of leniency before his eyes returned to bone-chilling emptiness. Maybe it was the pain in her voice, or the fact that he enjoyed pushing her to that point that made him pause before his face twisted into something bitter.

"I forgot, you do want to talk about your brother. Just not with me." His voice chilled her to the bone and Tay grew still as he continued. "Maybe you'd rather talk about him with your dear friend Racetrack but he's been kind of hard to find lately, hasn't he? Didn't take him long to start flaunting his new life right in front of you, did it?"

"I don't own Race," Tay muttered darkly. "He can spend time with whoever he wants."

"How generous," Spot scoffed. "Too bad he was never that generous to you in return. In fact, he just wagered more for that Manhattan kid than he ever did for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I made him an offer. Safe passage for half his winnings. Higgins turned his dough over without a word of protest. Seems like he's pretty attached to that kid if he's willing to make a sacrifice like that. You know how he usually is with his winnings but this time he actually told me he was happy to pay. It's a shame ain't it that he wasn't that keen on helping you out like that."

"That ain't true. Racetrack is my friend."

"Not only is it true but he sacrificed you for the sake of his beloved nags. That's how little he thinks of you, doll."

Tay's mind was reeling as she tried to fend off the waves of hurt and shame that crashed over her. She had never truly considered going to Manhattan with him when he had left as she was far too attached to Spot for that but to discover that Race hadn't even bothered to think of bringing her at all was dismaying.

"You would have never let me go with him," Tay attempted to counter as a heavy feeling came over her. She'd wrapped herself in so many sins that she was beginning to fear she would suffocate under the weight of them all and where she once thought Spot might be her salvation she'd quickly realized he would be her damnation.

"Guess we'll never know, huh?" He slowly released his hold on her wrists and Tay just allowed them to hang limply by her sides as Spot cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. He waited until Tay met his eyes before he continued in a low voice. "Nobody out there is gonna care about you, Anna. You're just another street rat to them."

"What am I to you then?" Her voice was so timid she assumed he hadn't heard her but he drew back and it was clear Tay had caught him off guard. She was mesmerized as she watched the conflict rage within him and stood trembling in anticipation of his answer. When he pressed forward and kissed her Tay was lost, unable to fight the tide of feelings that swept her into the pitch black depths that made her forget that he had never given her an answer.

Chapter Text

Tay eyed the door as it swung open to admit another body into the room she already felt was more than full. The heat of the day wafted in but barely stirred the stale air which was heavy with the scent of sweat and alcohol. It wasn't the type of place to ask questions and Tay surveyed the crowd of workaday folks, street kids, and other neer-do-wells before a high pitched giggle caught her attention. Tay turned her eyes toward the corner table where Spot reigned while a young woman with chestnut hair tittered in his ear. Tay glared at the pretty brunette before turning to scowl at the empty glass on the table in front of her. The beer had left a bitter taste in her mouth that only added to the resentment Tay already felt at being forced to participate in her own humiliating punishment for having dared help a kid.

Tay crossed her arms and thought back on her earlier protest about being forced to attend an evening's entertainment that she had no desire to be a part of. She had known from the start what it would be as she'd seen it all before. Requiring Tay to bear witness to the bevy of girls Spot stepped out with was Spot's most effective and twisted way of torturing her and that night was no different. Although she had thought the consequences of her helping Boots would stay private, it was clear that Spot was once again willing to shame her in public. Every Brooklyn newsie in the room knew what had happened and Tay had had enough of the gloating looks from those who noticed her shooting daggers at Spot's newest fling.

It was no comfort to Tay that the girls never lasted very long or that Spot never took them to the narrow bed he shared with her. The whispered rumors, bold questions, and flat out accusations made life nearly unbearable for Tay and she was a pariah within Brooklyn amongst both sexes. Spot's seemingly unquenchable appetite for the opposite sex meant Tay had spent many nights huddled in the shadows outside a variety of hovels, opium dens, and joy houses while she waited for Spot to wrestle whatever demons he was dealing with. Sometimes on the rare occasions when Spot thought he was alone, Tay had been able to see the mask slip away entirely and it was for those moments that she'd follow him to the ends of the earth. He would stand with his head bowed, his shoulders slumped and an expression so despondent that Tay's heart threatened to break. It showed her a vulnerability within Spot that she clung to even in the darkest of times because it was the closest she had come to being able to see the boy he had been before all of it fell apart.

"Yikes, kid. You're gonna turn someone to ash with those eyes." Tay looked up to see a familiar figure but she didn't return Racetrack's cheerful smile. He turned to see what Tay was scowling about and took note of Spot and the brunette. "I see."

"Everybody fucking sees, Racetrack," Tay muttered bitterly. "That's his point. Now what the hell do you want anyway?"

"I'm hurt," Race kidded, placing his hand over his heart. "I thought we were friends and I–"

"Friends?" Tay interrupted in an icy voice. Spot's account of Race's betrayal still rang in her ears and she was in no mood to be generous. "Friends don't just show up when there's money to be won."

"I was gonna say that I came to say thank you for what you did for Boots."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Tay shifted uncomfortably and several long moments ticked by before she quietly asked, "How is he?"

"None the worse," Race answered as he slid into a chair opposite. "Had a pretty bad headache for a couple of days but he's right as rain now."

"You shouldn't have brought him. You know what they're like."

"What can I say? The kid wanted to see Brooklyn. Not that he's keen on seeing it again though."

"No one ever sticks around," Tay mumbled. Without looking up she could feel Race studying her and it was entirely unwelcome. "You'd know all about that, wouldn't you? Leaving without so much as a thought to what would happen. But them damn ponies is just so important, ain't they? He was right when he said you'd sell your own mother if it meant getting ahead. 'Course you'd have to know who she is first."

"Is that so?," Race replied thoughtfully. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a cigar stub. "Spot has been telling stories again."

"It ain't stories, Racetrack. He told me all about you and Sheepshead and—"

"Would you have come with me? 'Cause if I remember correctly, any time I even tried to talk with you I got an earful for my troubles."

The wind was instantly taken out of Tay's sails as she was reminded of the argument she and Race had had the day he'd departed for Manhattan and how she had refused Race's invitation without a single thought. It had been impossible then and remained impossible for her to imagine leaving Spot's side because even as she had rebelled against and struggled with the black-hearted soul he'd become, Tay remained inextricably attached to the boy Spot had once been and she believed was still there underneath the maelstrom of discontent.

"You weren't there in the Refuge, Race. You ain't gonna ever understand what he's done for me."

"That don't give him the right to beat–"

"I don't want to talk about Spot," Tay cut in irritably. She hated when people drew attention to Spot's abuse and always cut off any reference to it.

Race's speaking about his earlier attempts to persuade Tay to leave Spot reminded her of her brother making similar arguments and renewed her interest in finding answers about the night he had been killed. As far as she was aware, Race had not been there but she imagined with his kind of connections and the way he had been so close to Ciaran meant that he had at least a few of the answers she was looking for.

"Was Spot there the night my brother was killed?" Tay asked. She swiped her index finger around the rim of the glass in an attempt to look casual knowing that any conversation she was having would be under scrutiny.

Although not nearly as difficult to read as Spot, Racetrack had always managed to maintain a decent poker face but Tay's question seemed to stun him for a moment and he let out an uncomfortable cough. Tay took this as a sign she was on the right track and pressed forward with her questions. "Why was he there? Did you talk to Ciaran that night? Why'd he want to meet with Rook?"

"Hang on, kid," Race interrupted, holding a hand up. “You just said you don’t want to talk about Spot and now you’re asking me if he was there?”

"Just tell me, Racetrack. Was he there or not?" Tay caught on to the way Race's hand shook ever so slightly before he tipped the cigar ash onto the floor and she determined that whatever he said next would be a lie.

"I can't really say."

"You was his selling partner, you must know something about it."

"Kid it's been almost two years. You've never asked me about any of this before so who put the bug in your ear? That Collins kid?"

"How am I supposed to talk to you about things when you ain't been here in months?" Tay answered, still sore over his bringing up her refusal to leave Brooklyn. Race didn't respond other than to raise an eyebrow at her non-answer and Tay hung her head while she explained. "Collins was the first one who offered to talk about my brother. Spot had always told me to stay away from him and now I know why 'cause he knew Collins would tell me his dirty little secret."

"Which is?"

"That he was there that night," Tay snapped, feeling exasperated. There wasn't time to keep circling around to the same dead ends. "So are you gonna tell me what was going on or are you just gonna sit there and smoke that cheap cigar?"

"I'm being truthful, kid. I don't know–"

"That ain't good enough," Tay interrupted, fighting back tears of frustration. She depended on Race as the only one willing to skirt the line when it came to Spot's prohibitions while everyone else in Brooklyn seemed determined to keep her permanently in the dark. "You had to have at least heard something. You know everyone and you're always chatting people up so–"

"Well, ain't this nice." Tay's heart dropped like a stone as Spot approached, his steely expression shifting between Race and Tay while he settled into the seat to her left. Spot took a sip from the bottle of beer he held before remarking, "You look a little outta sorts, doll. What's the matter? Having a lover's quarrel?"

"Speaking of lovers, won't your little floozy get lonely? Won't be getting your nickel's worth outta her if you're wasting time jawing at me and Race," Tay shot back.

"She'll keep," Spot shrugged. "And if she don't, there's plenty more where she came from."

Two pinpoints of deep red appeared and spread across Tay's cheeks and she squeezed her fists together under the table while Spot just sat there with a wry smile on his face. Race seemed unperturbed by the pointed remarks but cut in with an attempt to ease the tension.

"As a matter of fact, I was just telling Tay about Medda's latest performance. I heard from a friend of mine that she was invited to the next show."

"That's touching but she ain't going," Spot answered coldly.

Tay knew that would be the answer the moment the idea had left Race's lips but she still appreciated his attempt to fib for her about their conversation.

"Wouldn't want her going and getting ideas now, would you?" Race said acidly.

"You got something to say, Higgins?" Spot asked and Tay felt her skin grow cold when she heard a tone that she'd become very familiar with and it had never signified anything good.

"I got a lot of things to say," Race answered evenly.

There was a long, tense silence as Race glared at Spot who appeared unperturbed as he took another drink before telling Race, "Go on then. Might as well get it over with."

Race turned to where Tay sat frozen, overwhelmed by her fear of where the conversation would lead. She was suddenly unsure she really wanted answers when she noticed the flicker of apprehension in Spot's eyes as he waited for Race to speak.

"Did I ever tell you that Spot was the first one to bring me the news about Ciaran that morning? Hadn't heard a single whisper about it until he," Race said, gesturing toward Spot, "showed up with all the nitty gritty details. Interesting bit of business, if you think about it, how he managed to be so quick with that information if he wasn't there."

"I figured you'd want to be one of the first to know so you'd have a chance to start thinking up a story to cover your tracks considering why Ciaran was there in the first place," Spot explained smoothly.

"I had nothing to do with that night," Race protested. "If anyone is covering their tracks, it's you."

"So you keep saying but you were the one to introduce him to Dolan," Spot told him.

"That was long before Ciaran ever–"

"-which led to Keyes and all sorts of issues but you settled up with those boys just fine, didn't you? Let Ciaran do all the heavy lifting and then you can just sidle in clear and easy–"

"That ain't how it went down. I'd made some introductions, that's it. Ciaran managed the rest of that business on his own."

"With you skimming off the top every time his back was turned. Well, until things started going downhill and then it was the same old story wasn't it?"

Race opened his mouth to offer a counter but closed it again before turning to where Tay sat mesmerized by the back and forth conversation. "He's gonna twist it all around no matter what I say so I might as well go ahead and tell you. The reason I wasn't there that night was Ciaran and I had an argument–"

Spot interjected sharply, "That's enough, Higgins."

"Ciaran was drunk out of his mind and came to me with a proposal to make up some of the money he owed. He'd somehow come across a little organization known for paying a premium to those bringing new girls into the business and he planned on taking you to—"

The world tilted on its axis and Tay was lost as an avalanche of emotions swept over her. Her vision zeroed in on a knot in the wooden surface of the table while question after question tumbled through her mind. By the time she was able to recover she looked up to find herself alone at the table with Spot wearing a dark expression that suggested Race's departure had not ended well.

"What was he talking about?"

"It don't matter."

"I want to know."

"All you need to know is Ciaran was exactly where he wanted to be that night and he got what he deserved."

Tay's hand shot out faster than she could think but Spot caught her by the wrist and pulled her closer, his voice was deadly as he leaned in to offer a warning.

"You better think long and hard about whether you really want to know, Anna. Think about what it's gonna feel like to know what your brother had planned for you 'cause it ain't good." A glimmer of pain in his eyes caused Tay's breath to catch in her throat but it was gone again in a moment. He released her arm and Tay fell back against her chair feeling shaken and more confused than ever.

"Was Race there that night?" Tay asked quietly after several minutes.

"No."

"Were you?"

Before answering, Spot swallowed the remainder of the beer and set the bottle on the table. He ran his hand through his hair and muttered a few brief swear words before turning to her with a look that Tay might have called remorseful if she hadn't known better than to expect such a thing from Spot.

"I never meant for you to know." There was a pause and Tay almost spoke up when he finally told her, "I went there to stop him but by the time I got there, it was too late. Your brother was dead."

"Why did he go to Rook?"

"Ciaran needed to get his foot in the door, find out how things worked so he could negotiate," Spot began and Tay noticed that his voice while frigid also shook slightly as though what he was saying troubled him. "Rook happened to have connections that Ciaran found out about and was hoping to exploit but things went south."

"What happened?"

"Hard to say but if I had to guess I'd say one person might have been asking for more than the other person wanted to give."

There was something off about his answers but Tay could not quite put her finger on what it was although that was nothing new. She'd learned to read Spot better than almost anyone but he'd twisted and turned things around so many times before that she constantly struggled to know the truth from fiction.

"What are you not telling me?"

"That ain't enough for you, doll? To know that your brother was willing to shanghai you to pay off his debts? What the hell else do you want to know? You really want me to explain the nitty-gritty details of the life he had planned for you? Being drugged and passed from man to man for the rest of your days? You wouldn't have survived, Anna."

There were so many things she wanted to say, so many thoughts that spun through her mind but not one word was issued. Tay felt numb with the truth of her brother's death finally laid out before her. Spot signaled to a barmaid for a whiskey and when it arrived he set it in front of Tay, waiting until after she had taken a sip to take her hand in his, tracing the lines along her palm in the same way she had always done to him.

"Do you remember that place near the tracks where we used to stay?" Spot asked, waiting until Tay nodded in confirmation before continuing. "Do you also remember how it came to be that you ended up there with me?"

"That ain't fair," Tay said quietly, knowing where Spot was headed with his questions.

"If I remember correctly it was 'cause your brother tossed you out after you tried to tell him what happened in the Refuge." Spot's eyes searched her own as Tay recalled the brutal way Ciaran had reacted that night and the pain of that memory combined with the few but significant details Spot had just shared caused tears to form and slide silently down her cheeks. Spot reached over and brushed his thumb over her cheek. "He's dead and you ain't. It's enough now. Stop acting like your brother was some kind of saint that you need to avenge."

Chapter Text

In order to keep Tay from coming to harm, Spot had played the role of both hero and villain from the day they had met with varying results. Because of his existence in her life, Tay had faced danger from all sides but most often from Spot himself despite his desire to keep her safe. His inability to control himself around her drove Spot to spend many a sleepless night staring into the dark and wrestling his demons.

The low flame of the lantern cast a weak circle of light around Spot that did little to hold back the ghosts of his past leering at him from the shadows. He kept his eyes focused on the flame while his skin crawled as the memories of hands grasping, pulling, tearing him apart rushed to the forefront of his mind. Visions of his life before Tay swam before him, rising from the ashes and forcing him to revisit people and places he had not thought about in years.

At a very young age, Spot had learned the importance of assessing each situation so that any weakness in his opponent could be analyzed, cataloged, and exploited. His father had been his first lesson in self-defense and over time Spot had suffered along a long, hard road that had left him transformed and determined to keep his past locked up tight.

Despite his best efforts, fragments of conversations echoed in his head. Shameful secrets. Humiliation. Pain. Rage.

"...Da, I'll be good, I promise! Da, please…"

"...dry your eyes, kid. It'll go worse if they see they can make you cry…"

"...keep still, boy…"

The haunting visions of the past faded as Spot shook his head and forced himself to reassert command over his emotions. He shoved the horrors back into the hidden depths of his mind and heart where they belonged.

He was in control.

He'd made sure that the door to the past was locked. Sealed up tight. Abandoned.

And then there was Tay.

"...and then he..h-he held his h-hand over m-my mouth…I'm so c-cold, Spot…"

"...you don't care about me, all you care about is this stupid city…."

"...please, I don't want to do this anymore...we don't have to do this…"

Spot glanced back over his shoulder at Tay as she slept, or pretended to, with her back turned toward him just as she had done every night since Higgins had brazenly revealed the nefarious plans that Spot had hoped to keep Tay from ever learning about. Given her obsession with finding out the truth about Ciaran's death, Spot had expected tears or outrage followed by many more discussions and questions but Tay had fallen back on old ways instead and retreated into a thorny silence instead.

Spot knew she was awake. It was the way she held her body rigid as she avoided touching him. Most nights it was a different story. The nightmares would take hold of her and she would reach out, unknowingly. Those were the nights he would awaken to find her arm draped across his chest or feel her hand clinging to his. He never failed to see the irony of knowing he caused her nightmares but he was also the one she turned to for comfort. But he knew that, more often than not, he could no longer relieve her pain. He only caused her more.

Each long, quiet night since Race's outburst had passed slowly with Spot staring up at the ceiling, his hands crossed under his head as he listened to Tay's even breathing and struggled with his need to pull apart the stone walls she was determined to hide behind. He hadn't ever wanted her to discover the bleak future her brother had planned out for her but Higgins had blown that plan all to hell with his big mouth. Racetrack's few details had barely scratched the surface when it came to Spot's real involvement in the whole affair but there was no way Spot was going to let Tay know that.

"Tay?" He waited for any sign that she would answer but there was nothing.

Spot pushed up off the bed, taking the lantern and leaving the door ajar in case Tay called out for him before he headed out to the wharves. The night air was still and cool with the moon brightly reflecting off the water as Spot hooked the lantern onto a nail and settled back against a piling. He plucked a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket and lit it before tossing the spent match away into the water. His ears picked up the sound of footsteps and he looked over to see his second, Anders, leading a familiar looking figure forward to where Spot stood.

"If you're looking for a bed, Kelly, I'm afraid we're full up," Spot said, nodding once at Anders before the stocky blonde headed back to his post. Spot had been expecting a visit from the Manhattan leader given what had happened with Race but he hadn't expected to see Jack so soon. Spot had assumed it would have taken at least a week, if not more, for Racetrack to light enough of a fire under the lackadaisical cowboy for Jack to cross the bridge and initiate a meeting.

"We need to talk."

"Now, Jack, why so gruff? Ain't you Manhattan boys known for your fine manners?"

"I'm serious, Conlon."

"As am I, Jacky-boy."

"Race claims you welshed on the deal you had with him."

"Is that so?"

"Are you saying you didn't?"

"I'm saying that any time he feels like wasting his time on those nags, have at it. No skin off my nose."

"So Sheepshead is his?"

"That was and is the deal," Spot answered. He took a drag off the cigarette and watched the swirls of smoke dissipate before he turned his eyes back to where Jack stood frowning, clearly having expected more of a fight. "Something else troubling you, Kelly?"

"If that's the case then why'd Race get the impression from a few of your boys that he wasn't welcome in Brooklyn the other day when he tried visiting."

"He ain't."

"You just said–" Jack began but didn't finish as he carded his hand through his hair, exasperated.

"I said he has Sheepshead. That was our deal. In fact, I can promise that not one of the boys will touch a hair on his head inside those gates."

"You're a real son of a bitch, you know that, Conlon?"

"I've heard."

"You know there ain't no way for him to get out there without crossing through your territory. How do you expect him to get out there without getting soaked every day?"

"That ain't my problem now is it? He should have thought of that before opening his big mouth."

There was a long moment of silence as Jack turned away and Spot briefly thought the conversation might be completely over but Jack suddenly turned back with a curious expression. He began to study the surrounding wharf intently as though he was looking for something in particular. Jack eventually turned his gaze back to where Spot stood wondering what the hell he was looking for.

"She must be really something," Jack said with a small shake of his head.

"Who's that?" Spot asked although he had a pretty good idea of who Jack meant.

"The girl. The one Race says has you all twisted up," Jack continued, settling himself on top of a discarded nail keg.

"You're gonna watch what you say next, Kelly." Spot tossed the remains of his cigarette to one side and straightened up but didn't yet approach Jack.

"Well that's what this is all about, ain't it? Guess I shouldn't say 'some girl'. One very particular girl, am I right?"

"If Higgins wants to know why he ain't welcome no more, then he oughta take a good hard look in the mirror and not blame some skirt."

"I'll admit, I didn't think much of her at first. Another girl warming Conlon's bed? That's old news but Race explained that this girl is different. He told me she's been in the picture since before you claimed all this," Jack told him with a half-hearted wave of his hand toward the surrounding area.

"Sharing a bed with a girl more than once don't mean she's any different than any other."

"Apparently this is more of a permanent arrangement and if what Race said is true," Jack said, his eyes roving around the wharf, "then there's a good chance she's here somewhere."

Spot narrowed his eyes as Jack trailed off and stared past him into the darkened warehouse. His fists were clenched down by his sides and every fiber of his being longed to pummel Jack Kelly into dust when a devious idea came to mind. No doubt Kelly expected him to deny Tay's existence as he so often had with just about everyone outside of Brooklyn but Spot decided to turn the tables. Jack was under the mistaken impression that Tay was the one calling the shots and Spot intended on proving that she was just another puppet on strings. Instead of protesting, he turned his head to the side and whistled two short notes, one high and one low.

Spot waited patiently until he heard the soft shuffle of her bare feet as Tay approached to answer his summons. It was taking a risk to expose her but it would not only prove to Jack just how wrong he was when it came to Tay's importance, it would give Spot an opportunity to break Tay's silence by antagonizing her into speaking with him.

"Well, there she is, Kelly. Before we get started you oughta know it'll be two bits," Spot said with a mischievous grin.

"Two bits?" Jack asked, tearing his eyes away from Tay for the moment while she stared down at the warped boards, wringing her hands together nervously.

"To fuck her. That's what you wanted her for, right?"

A deep flush spread across Tay's face and the storm clouds that flashed in her dark eyes stirred a sense of satisfaction in Spot since that was the first spark he'd seen in her since that night with Race but the feeling was short lived. Spot noted the deep purple shadows that ringed Tay's eyes, the hollows of her thin cheeks and he was suddenly ashamed of himself. Yet again he was humiliating her for his own selfish ends and exposing her to Jack Kelly's prying gaze instead of protecting her.

"...I'm so cold, Spot…"

Spot crossed his arms tightly across his chest to prevent himself from reaching out to her. Of the few things in the world that he loved, he hated loving her the most.

"I ain't here for anything like that," Jack explained.

"Sure about that, Jacky-boy? You was just asking about who I share my bed with, right?"

"That ain't why I wanted to speak with her," Jack glared darkly at Spot before he stood and turned toward Tay with his hand out and a benign smile. "I oughta properly introduce myself. I'm Jack."

"She knows who you are, don't you, doll?" Spot was well aware of Tay's interest in Manhattan and the newsies who lived there but until that meeting, he'd forbidden her from befriending or even associating with anyone outside of Brooklyn. He'd drilled it into her head that outsiders were never to be trusted and any hopes she had of leaving were always quickly doused. Despite his attempts, he knew Tay had developed a habit of spying on any meeting she wasn't invited to and so while she had never spoken to another borough's leader, she knew them each by sight.

"Now don't be rude," Spot said, seeing Tay refuse Jack's handshake by placing her own hands behind her back. "Jack came all this way after all. At least say hello."

Tay appealed to Spot for aid but he only shrugged and she turned to Jack with trepidation. "Hello, Jack."

"So you can talk," Jack kidded but his expression changed to concern when he saw Tay continue to stare down at the ground in front of her feet. "Race told me you're a friend of his."

"Some friend," Spot cut in and rolled his eyes but Jack continued as though he hadn't spoken.

"He wanted me to tell you he was sorry. He didn't mean for it to get this outta hand," Jack admitted to Tay but she didn't appear to be moved and only turned away to stare out at the lights shining brightly across the river.

"I suppose he told you that she'd forgive him nice and easy and that she'd talk me into letting this all blow over, right?" Spot asked Jack. "Problem is, Jacky-boy, Higgins has broken her heart one too many times."

"What do you mean?"

"Always abandoning her and then showing up only to pull the rug out from under her. It's why she won't talk to you. She's been sulking for days now but I guess it is kinda tough finding out that your supposed friend was behind your brother's untimely death."

"That ain't how Race tells it."

"I'm sure he tells a real fine tale. Just like the fairy tale he told her after Ciaran died when he said he'd be a second brother for her. Told her she didn't need to be scared, that he'd take care of things. Next thing you know he's slumming it with your lot on Duane Street and she's left picking up the pieces."

"Spot tried stop my brother that night," Tay said softly before she turned her face toward Jack. "But it was too late. Ciaran was gone. The only reason my brother ended up dead was because of Racetrack. He's the one who started Ciaran on placing bets he couldn't cover and then he came up with that awful idea…"

Tay's voice broke and Spot walked over to her, reaching out to tug gently at the blue ribbon tied around the end of her braided hair, choosing not to notice her flinch at his touch. Jack was visibly uncomfortable and shuffled from one foot to the other.

"It seems like Higgins' little errand was a waste of shoe leather if you ask me," Spot smirked at Jack as he stepped around Tay to stand by her side instead.

"I didn't ask you," Jack snapped. "And as it happens, Race also told me a few more things about her."

Spot adopted a bored look but his insides went cold at the insinuation that he would be once again forced to deal with the ghosts of his past. There were any number of things that Racetrack might have brought up considering that their past truce was clearly broken and any hesitancy the errant gambler had shown in the past to keep Spot's secrets was long gone.

"You two were in the Refuge together. You got nicked for theft, right?" Jack asked, looking to Tay for confirmation but she'd returned her gaze to the horizon.

"Such fond memories," Spot said contemptuously. "I'm not sure what you and Race are trying to do here but bringing up two of the worst times in her life ain't exactly gonna loosen her tongue."

"Rumors suggest you're the worst thing to ever happen to her, Conlon," Jack responded heatedly.

"In what way, Kelly?" Spot smirked. "Saving her from a life of being passed from man to man? Helping her survive the horrors of life under Snyder's thumb? Keeping her safe after your dear friend Race abandoned her?"

"You expect me to believe you did any of that out of the goodness of your heart?"

"I expect you to believe me when I tell you that Race made his own bed and you doing his dirty work by coming here to try and butter her up," Spot replied, jerking his head in Tay's direction, "is pretty low even for you, Kelly."

Jack was silent for a moment, his gaze switching between Spot and Tay before he opened his mouth and threw one last match onto the fire that Spot had been attempting to keep contained. He angled his body as though he intended to speak only to Tay which alarmed her further. She looked to Spot for advice but he was busy trying to work out what Jack planned on revealing.

"In the Refuge, there was a matron in the girls dormitory named Clara. Do you remember her?"

"Do not answer him," Spot told Tay immediately, switching to Irish and stepping in between her and Jack before he went back to English. "One more word out of you, Kelly, and they'll be singing a dirge for you in the morning. You've had your fun so get the hell out."

As though he had sensed the impending confrontation, Anders appeared out of the shadows with two others and Jack noted their presence with a look of defeat knowing that he was outnumbered. The boys slipped in behind Jack as he stalked off into the night back to Manhattan.

Spot felt exhausted but also on edge as though he was made of strings that had begun to fray and snap. He still couldn't imagine what had been going through Racetrack's mind but it was clear the errant gambler was intent on digging up the past no matter the consequences. Jack's final barb proved that Racetrack had been running his mouth about more than just Ciaran but Spot wasn't sure if it was Race or Jack who was behind the comment about Clara.

Given that Jack had been confined in the Refuge at the same time as Spot and Tay and although he had never interacted with the latter, Spot suspected it was Jack who had put two and two together about Clara. She had been one of the matrons overseeing the girls dormitory and had also been head of the laundry where Tay had been forced to toil from sun up to sun down each day. In the male dormitory Clara had developed a sordid reputation for providing favors for those boys who were willing to share her bed and Spot, acting on Tay's behalf, had often been yet another victim of her game of cat and mouse. It wouldn't have taken much for Jack to figure out why Spot had sought out favors from Clara, leading him to try and reveal to Tay that which Spot had always kept secret from her as revenge for banishing Race.

"I remember her," Tay said softly.

"Oh, so now you wanna talk?" Spot spun on his heel to glare at her but Tay continued undaunted.

"She was in charge of us girls in the laundry and sometimes she'd walk the floor but why does she matter?"

"She don't. Leave it alone." Spot ground his teeth together and tried to keep his composure even as images of his past floated to the surface, irritating him further. He cringed at the memory of Clara's shapely hands roving over his skin. She had always been so vain about her hands. Always careful to keep them clear of the lye and hard water the girls had to deal with. Spot remembered Tay coming to him more than once with tears in her eyes, her hands burning after she'd been forced to spend hours transferring sopping wet clothes from one tub of boiling water to the next. Spot remembered the barely contained rage he had felt watching Clara fuss over a chipped nail knowing that she had caused Tay to suffer but he was in too deep by that point to do anything but acquiesce to Clara's demands and hope that somehow he and Tay would survive.

"But why would Jack ask if she–"

"Am I supposed to give a shit why Kelly does anything?"

"I just don't understand–"

"There ain't nothing for you to understand," Spot scorned. "I would stop telling you to stop looking for something that ain't there but you ain't real good at listening to me about that are you, doll? Just wouldn't quit digging up dirt when it came to your brother. I told you to stop looking for ghosts but you couldn't help yourself, could you? Hope you're fucking pleased with yourself now finding out he figured you for a whore. Maybe that's why Ciaran was so upset with you telling him what happened in the Refuge. There he was set on getting top dollar for a virgin only to find out you was spoiled by some night guard with—""

"I thought you didn't want to talk about my brother no more." Spot lashed out before he could stop himself, striking Tay across the cheek and causing her to tumble to the ground. A tempest swirled within her dark eyes as she looked up at him and his heart wrenched as tears formed and rolled slowly down her cheeks. Spot found himself desperately wishing he could take it back. He wanted to take it all back, every bit of it but it was far too late for that and he was too afraid of her discovering his shameful secret to do anything but stand there, continuing to play the villain.

"Do not ask me about Clara again. Got it?" Spot said coldly.

"Yes."

Chapter Text

Tay stared morosely at the lump of cold porridge on the tin plate in front of her while the chaplain droned on from his place at the podium at the front of the room. She wondered how many more platefuls she would have to choke down before she would be able to escape that wretched place. Not eating was always an option but if the matrons discovered a girl had refused to eat, her rations would be cut off completely until she learned to better appreciate the food put in front of her.

"...that we may face despair and death with the hope of resurrection…"

A red-headed girl shifted on the bench, crowding Tay and causing her to jerk away. Her mind flashed back to the memory of the guard's hot breath on her skin as he pawed at her nightshirt and her stomach tightened into knots. It had been barely two weeks and she'd already suffered numerous humiliations during her initiation into the horrors of life in the Refuge. She tried to bring her focus back to what the chaplain was saying but found herself thinking how foolish it was to believe God was at all interested in the fate of any of those wayward youths.

Tay lifted her head to search for Spot amongst the rows of boys along the opposite side of the room and found him third from the end at the second table. His shoulders were bent as he leaned forward and she noticed the rigid way he held himself but understood. There was no ease or peace to be found under the watchful eye of Warden Snyder and Tay had quickly grown accustomed to the feeling of waiting for the next blow to strike.

"Neglecting your prayers again, Ms. Murphy?" A cold hand clamped onto Tay's shoulder and her heart sank into the bottom of her worn boots when she realized which of the matrons had caught her unaware. Up until that point, Tay had managed to avoid Clara at the behest of Spot who had warned her about the young woman. He'd explained that she was known for drawing girls in using trinkets or preferential treatment before viciously turning the tables the moment she was displeased. Tay had done her best to keep her head down but it was difficult to hide anything from the prying eyes of the matrons and guards who seemed to relish any opportunity to manipulate and abuse the juvenile population.

"No, miss," Tay mumbled, bowing her head. She hoped that might be the end of it but it was clear Clara had other intentions.

"I heard from Ms. Larson that you also struggle with keeping your mind on your tasks during kitchen duties? Is that true?"

Tay knew she could answer neither yes or no since both would result in the same punishment and so she held her tongue, waiting to hear what Clara would say next.

"I spoke with Warden Snyder about your behavior and we've agreed that a transfer to the laundry will help curb that nasty rebellious streak. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, miss." It wasn't until well after Clara had finally walked away that Tay had dared to raise her head and was startled to find a pair of blue eyes staring daggers at her from across the room. She shuddered at the look of loathing on Spot's face and couldn't understand what she had done to merit such a reaction.

One of the first things Tay had learned during her incarceration was that the Refuge changed people and that the Spot Conlon who had sacrificed himself for her sake had become an entirely different person within those stone walls. Outside he had been capable of warmth, he smiled and spoke to her kindly. Inside the Refuge, Spot was violent, morose, taciturn and angry. There had been a handful of incidents where she had been stung by his venom and left reeling, unsure of how to navigate that strange new world where even Spot was a potential enemy.

"There you are! I been looking for you."

Tay turned to find Mouse crouched down behind where she had hidden herself amongst the broken shipping crates and rusted bits of machinery scattered over the wharves. Her hiding place was tightly cramped but it provided her a clear view of the docks while keeping her concealed from Spot's penetrating gaze as he spoke with the entourage from Manhattan. Unfortunately, Mouse's interruption had seemingly drawn Spot's attention and Tay froze, daring to not even breath as Spot's eyes zeroed in on her hiding space for a terrifyingly long moment before he turned back to his conversation with the trio from Manhattan.

"You think he heard me?" Mouse whispered before squeezing himself in between Tay and an old cask of sugar.

"Probably, now pipe down 'cause I can't hear."

"Think this is about the strike?"

"'Course it is. Shut it."

"Who's that new kid with Kelly?

"Hell if I know, Mouse. You know they'll take just about anyone over there, even ones as green as him. Now you got anything else you wanna gab about or can I get back to hearing about this strike?" When he didn't answer, Tay turned to see he was fidgeting with his hands and looking as though what he was about to say pained him. "What is it?"

"I ain't real sure I should say anything. I heard–I mean, I'm not sure…there's just some rumors, whispers really…"

"Just spit it out quick and get it over with," Tay told him while she glanced back over at the meeting. It didn't appear to be going very well and her hopes to speak with Jack and perhaps get answers about Clara were growing dim. It was the first chance she had to ask about anything since the night Spot had called her out to meet Jack face to face, a meeting she still didn't understand but she just added it to the growing collection of mysteries about Spot.

"There's some saying that Spot got a girl…I ain't sure who…" Mouse paused and took a deep breath before the last few words came out in a rush as he blushed fiercely. "...inthefamilyway."

Tay closed her eyes and her heart sank like a stone. All thoughts of Clara vanished as she realized how futile it had been to believe that the girl she'd given one week's pay for keeping her secret would actually ensure that the situation remained exactly that, a secret. It had only been a moment of sheer desperation that had led Tay to turn to the girl in the first place after weeks of single-handedly trying to navigate the unknown with little success.

Tay watched from her seat on the edge of the cot while the older, sallow faced girl washed her hands in the basin and tried to read her profile as the girl wrung her hands dry on the towel. The scent of a floral perfume hung heavy and the dim lighting only added to the headache that throbbed with every breath Tay took as she awaited the inevitable news.

"You know who he is?" The girl turned to look at Tay with her lips pressed together. She'd used a coral color to paint them but it had worn off and it left her mouth looking garish.

Tay nodded silently and stared down at her hands clasped in her lap.

"He the marrying type?"

Tay shook her head and felt her heartbeat in her throat. The room had begun to spin around her and she squeezed her hands tightly together, trying to draw in breath but struggling to get enough air into her lungs.

"That's too bad. Ain't easy for girls out here on their own and a bastard don't–"

"It ain't gonna be a bastard," Tay spat between her gritted teeth before she rose and left without another word.

Tay opened her eyes to find Mouse staring at her, his mouth hanging wide open. "It's you."

"Of course it ain't me," Tay scorned, frowning at the younger boy before she turned away and settled her gaze on Spot. Tay had kept her hopes pinned on her belief that if she could just get to Spot first and explain, then she could get him to see it would all be fine but if it had already trickled down to Mouse, her chance of getting to Spot first was gone and her head spun as she tried to come up with a new plan.

"He's gonna kill you," Mouse said in a low voice.

"He's got other fish to fry than me right now," Tay answered, thinking perhaps that this foolish idea of Kelly's might have come at just the right time. News of the strike had kept the community buzzing all morning and Tay doubted Spot would have time to deal with her given how much of his time and focus was being spent on keeping a lid on the much more important situation. She had no idea just how wrong she would turn out to be.

Tay watched in silence as Spot beat his knuckles against the wall, blow after blow until the blood ran down between his fingers and dripped onto the ground. All she could think was how it was better that he took it out on the wall than on her.

The brick was stained bright red when he finally stopped, let his hands drop down to his sides and she cringed at the sight of the open wounds. The instinct to protect, to care for him caused her to mistakenly reach out to touch him.

"Don't."

His voice was low but the threat behind it was loud and clear. Tay let her hands fall back to her sides and waited. There had been so many times when she had ignored his warnings. The times when she had willingly reached out knowing the result would be painful.

"How long?"

The last whisper of hope Tay had that his outburst had to do with anything other than her died with that question and she understood there would be no turning back. The problem was that she had no idea how to answer him given that the situation was so new and unexpected that it had been a number of weeks before she'd realized the new reality she'd be facing.

"Answer me."

Tay bit at a hangnail, feeling the skin rip and relishing the slight sting of pain. She stared past him toward a heap of refuse in the corner of the alley but quickly turned her eyes away when she felt her stomach start to turn. That had been one of the first physical symptoms she had desperately tried to keep anyone from noticing although she clearly hadn't been as successful as she had hoped. Spot stepped into her line of vision as she concentrated on keeping her dinner down and tried to ignore the way her heart beat faster when he moved closer.

He waited, stone faced, for her to answer his question and Tay knew that no matter how long she thought she could hold out for, his patience was infinite when it came to getting the information he wanted out of her. She sometimes wondered why he bothered asking her considering there had been so many times when he'd had all the information he'd needed before even speaking to her.

"I'm not sure," Tay finally told him in a voice much weaker than she had intended. Her throat was dry and she swallowed thickly, trying to push down the feeling of butterflies in her stomach. Dealing with him had never been easy and as he glared at her she realized his eyes were colder than she'd seen in a long time.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

Realistically, she shouldn't have been surprised. It was Brooklyn and nothing happened there that Spot Conlon didn't know about. With the news of the strike, she thought she'd at least have a day before Spot caught on to those same rumors Mouse had warned her about. Unfortunately, once the Manhattan entourage had been sent packing, Spot had turned up that evening, seething with rage, and Tay understood without his saying a word that he'd found out about the pregnancy. She had never tried to keep anything from him before but with her eyes on his bloodied knuckles she came to the decision that the pregnancy would be hers to deal with alone.

The problem was she was terrified of what lay in front of her and even at his most frightening and vicious, Tay still found herself turning toward Spot despite knowing there was little chance he would console her.

She reached out for the key that hung around his neck but Spot caught her and wrapped his thin fingers around her wrist, holding her so tightly that she almost cried out. He pulled her toward him and she was suddenly lost, drowning in the memory of their last tryst. The way his hands had felt on her skin, the way he'd left a trail of kisses down her neck, searing her skin until she no longer cared about the longing and emptiness that was always the inevitable result of her giving in to him.

"You think that," he told her, gesturing toward her midsection, "means anything to me?"

Among the many scenarios Tay had mulled over when she thought about Spot discovering she was pregnant she had never made the mistake of picturing him as happy about the situation. It was the fact that he smirked as he said it that drove Tay to make a crucial mistake.

"It don't have to mean nothing to you. It's mine," Tay practically spat and in the same moment wished she had held her tongue.

"Everything in this city is mine," Spot hissed, inches away from her face. "Especially you."

Tears sprung up in her eyes but she blinked hard to keep them from falling. The fact was she couldn't hide her hurt from him, but she could at least try. She refused to let him take control of her, again.

"Not this," Tay said quietly. She repeated herself as though saying it again might convince him of her determination. "This is mine. You ain't gonna have nothing to do with it."

"Oh, Anna," Spot scorned. "Did you really think that I was going to let you keep it?"

Spot's smile was razor-sharp and did nothing to thaw the icy look in his eyes as Tay struggled to comprehend what he was saying.

"I-I don't understand," Tay said in a faltering voice. Her mind was spinning and she was swallowed up by the flood of emotions that hit her as she heard what Spot told her next.

"It's simple," Spot told her. "You get rid of it now, or I'll take it from you when it's born."

"No," Tay pleaded with a low breath of air. The tears that she'd managed to hold back came flooding down her cheeks and she folded her arms over her stomach, clutching herself tightly to try and maintain control. For a split second she thought she saw Spot reach his hand out but before he could touch her, Tay turned and stormed off down the street.

It wasn't until she was halfway across the bridge that she realized two things; one, she'd never been that far from Brooklyn before and two, she had no place to go.

"Is he dead?" Race asked coldly.

Tay shook her head and stared at the worn step of the Duane Street lodge house with her heart in her throat. She hadn't even managed to cross the threshold and she already knew it had been a mistake to show up there.

"Well he obviously ain't here with you so what are you doing here?"

"I need help," Tay said quietly.

"When don't you need help," Race responded with a roll of his eyes. He turned at the sound of someone approaching and Tay looked up to see Jack join Race in the doorway.

"Well, fancy seeing you again, Tay," Jack joked with a small smile. "Lemme guess, he changed his mind about the strike."

"Even if he had, he wouldn't send her," Race pointed out before Tay could respond. "So I'll ask you again, kid. What are you doing here?"

At the memory of the confrontation that had led to her running off to Manhattan, Tay began to tremble despite the warm summer air and Jack frowned. "At least invite her in before you start with all the questions, Race. Kloppman will have our heads if he finds out we let some girl stand out on the stoop at this time of night."

Tay swallowed hard and took a long look around before following Race and Jack into the lodging house. The interior was similar to the lodging house in Brooklyn but Tay still felt out of place and foreign. She assumed the others had already gone to bed as the lobby was deserted other than herself, Race, and Jack. It made her feel slightly better to know that there wouldn't be anyone staring at or whispering about her. She took the seat Jack offered in a worn armchair by the stove while Jack and Race took seats opposite of her.

"You hungry? I'm sure we got something left from supper tonight," Jack said but Tay shook her head. "No? Well if you change your mind–"

"So where's Spot?" Race asked, ignoring Jack glaring at him.

"I don't know," Tay admitted. "I-I left."

"You left him? Sure, kid."

"Race, how about you go get Tay some water. Seems like she's had a long walk," Jack suggested. A look was exchanged between the two that Tay didn't quite understand before Race stalked away, muttering under his breath. Jack sat back and studied Tay with a neutral gaze but it still made her feel ill at ease. His hazel eyes were much kinder than Spot's icy blue but she still felt like Jack Kelly could see right through her. Tay fidgeted with her skirt, plucking at the material nervously and avoided making eye contact with the older boy.

"Spot Conlon's most prized possession," Jack murmured and Tay was startled. Kelly was mistaken, that's all it was. Every chance he had, Spot had made sure that Tay understood she meant very little to him and his threat just hours before proved she was right and Jack was wrong. She was a burden for Spot to bear, nothing more. She needed to distract him from the real reason she was there and so she broached a subject that she'd been forbidden from asking Spot about.

"Why did you ask me about remembering Clara?" Tay asked, her eyes focused on the scuffed wooden floor. "I do, by the way, remember her."

"I'm not sure it's a story for tonight," Jack told her, although not unkindly. "Plus, I don't think you came all this way to reminisce about old times in the Refuge so let's talk about why you really decided to pay us a visit instead. I'm guessing you don't make it to Manhattan too often."

"I ain't here to make trouble, if that's what you think."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Jack kidded.

"Race said I could come to him if I–if I ever…" Tay stammered, unable to get the words out without risking another flood of tears.

"If you left Spot," Jack finished. He tapped his index finger against the frayed arm of his chair and seemed lost in thought for a brief moment. "Does he know that you came here?"

"I didn't tell him," Tay admitted. The truth was the lodging house was the one place she knew of in Manhattan so once she'd realized what she had done it was the only choice she had.

"She don't need to. He knows," Race cut in, handing a tin mug half filled with water to Tay before taking a seat in the corner with a dark look on his face. "She don't know a single person outside of Brooklyn except me. He's probably already on his way which is why we need to stop pussy-footing around and you tell us why the hell you're here, kid."

"You said you would help me if I ever left Brooklyn," Tay reminded Race but he only scoffed.

"The way you helped me when he threw me out and barred me from my own damn turf?"

"You did that on your own!" Tay countered heatedly, half-rising from her seat. "I knew I shouldn't have come here."

"Please sit," Jack told her kindly, putting his hand out. "You ain't gonna walk them streets at this hour."

Tay glanced back and forth at both Jack and Race before taking a seat on the edge of her chair so she could still bolt if she needed to. "All right but I ain't taking no more of his lip."

"You got some nerve, kid–" Racetrack began but Jack shot him an angry look and he went silent, plucking a cigar stub from his vest pocket before lighting it and smoking sullenly.

"So you said that you've left but do you want to tell me what happened that made you run off?" Jack inquired.

Tay thought back to only a few hours before when Spot had effortlessly destroyed the tiny shred of hope she once had that he would be reasonable or willing to hear her pleas. She recalled the hardened look on his face, the way his voice had chilled as he promised to put an end to her dreams and she shivered. Explaining any of it to Jack seemed impossible and she wasn't sure she wanted to try.

"I just needed to leave. It don't matter why. All I need is a bed. Please, Jack," Tay said, clasping her hands together tightly in her lap.

"All right," Jack conceded. "I ain't sure where we're gonna be able to put you for tonight but in the morning I'll take you over to the girls home and you—"

"I can't stay here?" Tay interrupted. Her heart raced at the thought of a dorm full of strangers prying and snooping into her affairs. Things had never gone particularly well for Tay when she'd been forced to cohabitate with the other girls during the long winter months in Brooklyn and most of the time she'd end up finding shelter elsewhere or attempting to sneak into Spot's lodgehouse on Poplar Street.

"I'm afraid not. Kloppman might be willing to overlook one night but any more than that and he's asking for trouble from the CAS," Jack explained although it didn't do much to ease Tay's anxiety. "They ain't a bad bunch over there. You'll be all right."

Tay stood, her knees trembling and on the verge of tears. She was exhausted and felt like she had aged ten years since that morning when Mouse had let slip that her condition was no longer a secret. She looked from where Race sat smoking his cigar in sullen silence to where Jack sat calmly, apparently unaffected by the evening's circumstances. Spot had always said outsiders were not to be trusted but Tay still had a request to make. "Please don't tell him anything. I'll stay wherever you need me to and I won't be no trouble, I promise. I just need a little bit of time. Please."

"We ain't gonna blab to Conlon," Race spoke up gruffly before he turned to Jack. "But know this, Jack, when he comes for her and he will, there's gonna be hell to pay."

"There's plenty of time to go over it all in the morning," Jack said as he yawned, stretching his arms over his head before getting to his feet. He smiled kindly at Tay. "For now, let's just find a place for you to rest your head."

It wasn't entirely unexpected as Spot had been well-versed in how to prevent such things but with Tay he often acted without thinking. What had surprised Spot was the avalanche of emotions he'd felt once the suspicions he'd had about Tay's erratic behavior had been confirmed. For days, Spot had watched as Tay had grown moody and mysterious, had heard her fervent whispered prayers when she thought he'd been asleep, had been aware of her desperate inquiries and yet he still hadn't wanted to believe what was right in front of him until he could no longer ignore it and had been forced to confront her with the truth.

silence. there was nothing but silence in the whole house. no baby crying. no raised voices. just heartbreaking, unending silence. one might have thought it was just grief but it was so many things. sadness and pain and desperation and rage and confusion all contained in one small boy.

"...maybe if you had spent less time in the looking glass the wean would still be alive…"

The sounds of revelry drifted up to where Spot stood silently waiting on the roof of the Duane Street lodge house for Jack to make an appearance. That afternoon had been cause for celebration but Spot was not in a particularly jubilant mood as the evening sun set and he was no closer to finding Tay. He had been waiting almost half an hour when Jack finally stumbled out the door, clearly intoxicated and looking for a place to smoke without Kloppman's interference.

"Watch your step, Kelly," Spot sneered.

Jack's head shot up, surprised and he turned toward the corner where Spot stood. His hair was disheveled and he swayed as he tried to focus. "What are you doing moping up here, Conlon, when there's a celebration going on?"

"Where is she?" Spot bit out, unamused by Jack's jovial attitude.

"She?" Jack asked, his brow furrowed. He frowned down at the cigarette he held in his hand as though it would tell him the answer before he looked back over at Spot. "You gotta be more specific, Spot. I know a lot of girls."

"This one is mine," Spot told him coldly. "I know you ain't so soused that you forgot about Tay so I'll ask again. Where is she?"

"Oh, you mean your little doll," Jack grinned insolently. He lurched toward Spot and put a hand on the younger boy's shoulder. He leaned in conspiratorially and hiccupped, "Don't tell anyone but she's gonna have a kid."

It didn't surprise Spot that Jack had worked out Tay's secret given the Manhattan leader's knack for reading people.

"She is a fucking kid," Spot seethed, removing Jack's hand from his shoulder and taking a step back. The scent of cheap liquor emanated off of the older boy. "Christ, how much have you had to drink?"

"Not enough," Jack answered and Spot picked up on the hint of melancholy in his voice but it didn't sway him from his determination to find Tay and return home with her.

"Let me make this easy on you then. You tell me where the hell Tay is hiding and you can go back to your little party to drink your sorrows away," Spot said coldly.

"Can't do it," Jack told him with a small hiccup. "Told her I wouldn't."

"I ain't fucking around, Kelly."

"This is the same girl you offered to sell to me for two bits not so long ago, ain't it?" Jack asked. "You're suddenly so worried about her?"

"It was a damn joke," Spot answered irritably. Jack appeared to be waiting for him to say something more until Spot finally grit his teeth, knowing Kelly would barely remember the conversation and told him, "Fine, I'm fucking worried about her, okay? Hope you're satisfied, Jack."

"Not quite. First, you gotta tell me why she's trying to hide from you," Jack replied, swaying on his feet.

"All I'm trying to do is protect her. You think keeping her from me is gonna stop her from getting hurt? Wait until the first do-gooder gets wind of her situation and off she'll go to rot in whatever hell they send her to."

"The Refuge?" Jack asked, his lively mood dissipating into something more serious.

"Could be," Spot shrugged. "Might be Good Shepherd instead or even Blackwell's. It ain't like they're gonna ask her where she wants to go. Either way, it ain't gonna end well. We've all heard the stories. If that's what you want for her, Kelly, by all means keep playing this game."

"She's why you went along with Clara, ain't she?" Jack asked. He shook his head slowly before he turned to stare out over the horizon. "I always wondered about that."

"Well keep wondering 'cause I ain't got all night to go over old shit," Spot answered, unwilling to venture down memory lane when it came to Clara, the Refuge, or anything he'd done back then to survive and to ensure that Tay pulled through as well.

"You know the others will find out about Tay," Jack warned, his tone losing any of the aloofness he'd exhibited earlier as he turned back to face Spot. "There's already rumors–"

"Which is why you're gonna help me keep a lid on it," Spot cut in fiercely. "The way I figure it, you owe me for not only saving your ass but this whole damn strike today. 'Cause it didn't look like you was too on top of things when me and the boys showed up. So, you tell me where Tay is, I bring her home safe and sound, and if any of them other bummers turn up with questions, you act like you never even heard of her. As for your own crew, I expect Higgins has already run his mouth but all they need to know is she went back to Brooklyn and ain't a concern of theirs no more."

"Seems like no matter what, she ends up in some kind of prison," Jack responded.

"Don't we all," Spot muttered. He sent Jack a hard look. "You know what I said is true. She won't make it on her own and I ain't about to let them get their hands on her again. Me taking her back to Brooklyn is the only way."

"What are you planning on doing? Dragging her back kicking and screaming 'cause I don't think she wants to go back. "

"If that's what it takes now we're wasting time so get on with it."

The two stared at one another with neither giving anything away for a long moment until Jack finally sighed, "Over on Mott they got one of those settlement houses. Tay is rooming there with the other girls. You plan on storming into the place at this time of night and kidnapping her?"

"Like I said, Kelly, it ain't your concern no more." With that, Spot stalked past Jack and back downstairs while composing a plan to catch Tay unaware and end her foolish endeavor before he ended up losing her for good.

Chapter Text

Spot read through the notice advertising a list of classes available at the settlement house while he waited for Tay to appear. After deciding it wouldn’t do any good to invade her dorm in the middle of the night and cause an uproar, Spot had waited on the rooftop of the building across the street and kept an eye out in case Kelly had attempted to warn her until the next morning. He wasn’t anticipating a joyful reunion no matter what time he arrived and after sending word with one of the other girls that he was waiting to speak with her, Spot wasn’t positive Tay would show up.  

“Planning on learning how to sew so you can stitch yourself up for a change?” 

At the sound of Tay’s voice, Spot turned and was almost overcome by his urge to wrap his arms around her and refuse to let go after not having seen her for over a week. She looked exhausted but resigned and the way her dark gray cotton uniform hung off her shoulders broke Spot’s heart. There was no outward sign of her pregnancy but Spot recognized the same mask of pain that his mother had worn and he struggled to remember that he had a mission that he’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t be swayed from. 

“Why would I need to when I’ve got you?”

“So Jack told you,” Tay sighed. 

“How do you know it wasn’t Race?” Spot grinned.

“‘Cause he knows better than to fall for whatever lies you was peddling.” 

“Turns out Kelly was interested in the same thing I am, doll, and that’s seeing you back where you belong,” Spot answered, choosing to ignore the pointed remark about lying.

“I ain’t going back.” The resolve in her voice was weak and he noticed how she shifted uneasily as she spoke. He knew she was likely scared out of her wits but she also had a tendency to be stubborn and so Spot decided to see how it played out rather than just force her to leave with him right off the bat.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” 

Spot smirked, “You really want to hash this out here, doll?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Tay countered but he noticed the way she eyed the handful of individuals lingering about in the entryway. 

“Fine, I don’t mind an audience,” Spot told her. “I just didn’t think you’d want everyone to hear about how you’re kno–”

“Don’t,” Tay hissed, a deep flush spreading across her cheeks. “I ain’t gonna be here that long anyway. I’m gonna find my own place.”

“Oh, Tay,” Spot scorned. “Your own place? The only place they plan on putting you is right back in the Refuge or worse.” 

 “Worse?” Tay whispered, her pale lips trembling. 

“Snyder makes sure any girl who gets into trouble ends up with a one way ticket to the asylum. The first sign of it and they’ll have you on the ferry over quicker than you can blink.” 

Spot felt the sharp sting of regret seeing Tay’s alarmed expression but told himself that she needed to understand what was at stake. She was far too young, too naive with no friends or family to lean on. No one to teach her how to be a mother or to take care of her if, god forbid, something happened. That he could lose her wasn’t even a possibility, he refused to consider it. While he had steeled himself against the cruelty and pain of their way of life, Tay had always held out hope that things could change and even as Spot had repeatedly tried to curb her flights of fancy, he admired her ability to see the good despite the gloom. But believing she had any chance at a fate other than the dire one he predicted was something Spot could not allow. 

“Let’s go, doll.” Spot took a step toward her, intending to take her by the hand but Tay backed away. 

“I told you, I’m not going with you.” She hugged herself tightly and kept her eyes down while Spot glared at her, his blood beginning to boil. “I want to keep it.”

“Did you not hear me? That ain’t happening, doll.”

“If I stay here, they might–”

“You want to see what they’ll do?” Spot asked, looking around for the nearest matron. “Let’s find out shall we? Might as well tell them now and get it over with, right? I’m sure they’ll have no trouble letting you and your little b—”

“Wait,” Tay pleaded, placing her hand on his chest as he went to move past her. “I just need more time.”

“Time ain’t gonna change anything,” Spot answered coldly. Tay twisted her hands together frantically and Spot could practically see her thoughts spinning as she tried to come up with a way to reason with him. Spot hardened his heart against any arguments she might use as he knew there was only one solution. “In fact, you might as well know that the longer this goes on, the tougher it’s gonna get for you. And don’t go thinking these goody two shoes will let you keep it either. It’ll go out on one of those trains out west or hell, it might not make it past the incinerator.”

“Please, stop,” Tay begged, looking tormented. He watched a few tears slip down her cheeks and yearned to wipe them away but buried the feeling. He couldn’t afford to be kind because he knew what he was about to ask of her might very well destroy her and he needed to stay resilient.

“Now let’s you and me take a walk,” Spot said, taking her gently by the elbow and steering her toward the door. He leaned in close to her just as they crossed the threshold. “And if you ever try to leave Brooklyn again, I’ll kill you.”

Don't do this.

It was the last thing she had said to him before he had opened the door and ushered her into a nightmare so fearsome and familiar that Spot ended up fleeing from the room. Coward. The word echoed through his mind as he stood uneasily, staring at the marred wooden door and trying to work up the nerve to knock. Before he could raise his hand, the door was wrenched open and the old crone who haunted Spot's dreams appeared, wiping her hands against the filthy apron tied around her waist. She closed the door behind her and turned to Spot with an expectant look.

"It's done, boy. You'll be paying now, then?"

Spot reached into his pocket and the midwife snatched the few bills it had taken him nearly two weeks to scrounge together before counting them eagerly.

She pocketed the money and eyed him knowingly, "Next time the price goes up."

"Won't be a next time," Spot said curtly.

"That old chestnut? Still haven't learned I see," the woman chuckled. "Well, I wouldn't expect Will Conlon's son–"

"Do not mention that man to me," Spot cut in with venom on his tongue. "You have your money so our business here is over. I'll be taking her home now."

"Mark my words, this won't be the last time I see you," the woman grinned, showing the gaps in her teeth and Spot was repulsed. It had been his desperation about the possibility of losing Tay that had driven him to seek the midwife out after he'd spent years trying to erase her from his memory. A victim of his father's cruel schemes, Spot had initially met the older woman at a very young age as she had established herself as a bit of a healer for those who fell prey to the city's sexual predators. Spot now relied on her reputation as a woman who could heal as well as one who could keep secrets.

Spot ignored her remark and sidled past her, shoving the door open before his wariness over what he would find on the other side could stop him. He pushed it closed behind him as he took in the dismal room and meager furnishings. A shabby wooden table holding an untouched cup of tea and a plate of soda crackers sat next to the narrow cot which was the only other item in the room.

Tay sat perched on the mattress edge, holding on to the moth-eaten sheet with a white knuckle grip and Spot realized the last time he'd seen such pain in her eyes had been the day he'd delivered the news about her brother dying. For the first time that he could remember, Spot felt uneasy about what he had done. Regret was something foreign and weak. Spot felt the old resentment rise at the fact that Tay was able to make him feel anything at all and rather than offer her a simple measure of kindness, he lashed out instead.

"Quit looking at me like that," Spot sneered. "It ain't like you didn't know exactly what would happen."

Even in the dim light Spot could see the way Tay's eyes blazed but she kept her lips pressed together and Spot tried again to get a rise out of her. He had always hated her silences and over time had learned which buttons to push to get a reaction.

"Always get your nose bent outta shape 'cause you don't like facing what you've done. Just like with your brother. Making me do the dirty work yet again."

"You left me." Tay's voice was barely more than a whisper but her words sent an icy shot right through Spot's chest. It was the truth and he felt his heart plummet. He'd meant to stay but the procedure, the pure terror in Tay's eyes as she had looked up at him, everything about what he was forcing her to go through had driven him from the room. "It was terrible and you weren't even there. H-how could you do that to me?"

Spot swallowed hard, clenching his hands into fists down by his sides. "I told you, it needed to be done. There wasn't any other choice, Anna."

"How many others are there?"

"What?"

"How many girls have you done this to?"

"I ain't kept count," Spot lied. He knew exactly how many girls he had coerced; one. The girl sitting in front of him wearing a shapeless gray dress with her shoulders slumped and utter despair written across her features.

"That woman out there," Tay began hesitantly, "do you work–is-is she like Clara?"

He was struck dumb for a moment by her suddenly bringing that subject up again. In all the chaos, Spot had completely forgotten about the cunning young matron and Tay's sudden interest in his history with Clara after Jack had spilled the beans. He should have known Tay would pester Jack for the rest of the story the moment she was free of Spot's shadow. He assumed Jack had filled Tay's head with stories that would only open old wounds and the mere mention of the woman's name sent Spot spiraling into rage. Any intentions he had to remain compassionate flew out the window.

"No, it ain't like that. I don't have to bed her to keep you outta trouble," Spot answered bitterly. Tay's eyes widened and Spot smirked, "What's the matter, doll? You thought the guards just skipped your bed 'cause they had some change of heart?"

"Sometimes they–"

"I told you to keep your head down, to not talk back but you're so damn stubborn," Spot said scornfully. Having his past actions cast up to his face left him feeling on edge and he tried to cut it off before it went any further. "Let me remind you, doll, before you start in with any more questions, that you was the one who said you was done talking about the Refuge way back when Ciaran–"

"He wouldn't have let you do this," Tay muttered and Spot couldn't hold back a snicker.

"That's rich," he jeered. "You think your brother, who called you a whore and tossed you out on your ear, would have done anything different? He planned to have you tied to a fucking bed for the rest of your days, being tortured and drugged until you finally died so don't try that shit with me, Anna."

"I hate you." He could practically taste the bitterness as the words rolled easily off her tongue but he'd heard it so many times before that it no longer affected him.

"Now, now, doll. Don't go saying things you don't mean." Spot stepped forward and attempted to reach out to help her up but Tay drew back, clinging more tightly to the edge of the mattress and staring resolutely at the floor by her feet. Spot clenched his jaw tightly, "Get up. We're leaving."

"No," Tay whispered as she shook her head slightly.

"You planning on staying here in a cat house?" Spot scoffed.

"It's better than going back with you," Tay answered. She lifted her eyes to meet his and Spot was dismayed at the quiet resolve he saw within. He grew increasingly alarmed as he wondered for the first time if he had perhaps pushed her too far. Spot swallowed hard but it did nothing to subdue his anxiety. "That's all I'm good for anyway, right? My brother wanted to sell me, you tried to sell me–"

"That was a joke," Spot cut in and Tay considered him for a moment before continuing.

"You said the other day I had no choice but I do have a choice and I'm choosing this."

"Then you choose death."

"Better to die on my own terms than under your thumb," Tay told him, her eyes blazing with the heat of her anger and Spot's wariness grew into something dark and twisted. Tay's acceptance of death was eerily reminiscent of his mother's behavior before he lost her and Spot lashed out before he could stop himself.

"I guess gypsies are known for their stories," Spot sneered. "Is that what you've been telling yourself, doll? Some fairy story about how rich and wonderful your life is gonna be when you're spreading your legs for every bummer who has an extra nickel? Or are you thinking it's gonna be an easy death 'cause I'll tell you, that ain't happening. You might as well get a real good look at that woman out there 'cause she's the one who will be keeping you just this side of death's door, taking care of any more little mistakes, and making sure that they get every cent they can outta you. You remember how the guards treated you? These people are worse and capable of indecencies you can't imagine, Anna but you go on thinking that life with me is so awful 'cause I ask you to stay outta trouble every once in a while. You want to stay here? Fine."

A deadly silence filled the room as Tay and Spot engaged in a battle of wills, staring at one another intently. A toxic blend of rage and fear coursed through Spot's veins and he was at a loss about how to remedy the situation. The idea of leaving her alone to face her fate in the brothel soothed his anger but Spot knew he could never allow such a thing. Despite her brave words, Spot had seen the way the assaults by guards in the Refuge had broken her spirit and he knew that while he'd been a coward before, he could never leave her alone to face such evil. While he struggled to come up with an argument that might persuade her to leave with him, Tay broke the silence first.

"You asked for too much this time." Her voice broke and tears began to roll down Tay's cheeks. She wiped at them forcefully with the cuff of her dress. Spot was struck by how small she seemed, how vulnerable and he was reminded of why he had always tried so hard to keep her safe and sound but also remembered his struggles to do so without injuring her.

"It wasn't ever gonna work out the way you thought, Anna," Spot offered, attempting to be gentle but unsure if she wouldn't hear it as his being cruel again. "I'm sorry but it's done and there ain't no use in thinking it could have gone any other way. That just ain't how it is."

He stepped toward her, holding his hand out in order to help her up. "Time to go home."

Spot's heart was in his throat as he waited for a long moment to see if Tay would reach out to take his hand and when she finally did he had to fight his desire to grasp her tightly and run as far as possible from that wretched room until they'd left the whole world behind.

"You're wasting your time."

Tay's lips continued to move silently as she kept her eyes on the alcove holding a statue of Mary. Candlelight flickered over the walls giving the whole place an eerie feel and Spot recalled the few times he had attended mass with his mother before he'd turned away from the church entirely convinced that no benevolent god was watching out for any of them. Tay had never been particularly religious but since their return to the riverfront, Spot had discovered her on numerous occasions praying in a small chapel nearby.

Deep purple shadows under her eyes suggested she wasn't finding any peace and her appetite was so poor Spot worried she would waste away into nothing. He had tried everything he could think of to try and draw her out of her sorrow, even allowing Racetrack to visit but Tay had refused to see him. It seemed that God was the only one Tay willingly spoke to any more as she'd not said more than a few words to Spot and completely shunned everyone else.

Spot was surprised when Tay reached for his hand, placing it in her own lap and tracing the lines along his palm with the tip of her index finger. She had not reached out to him since before her attempt to escape to Manhattan and Spot had found himself grieving the loss of her touch. As he watched her, he tried to recall what she had once taught him about the meaning of each line. It was a skill passed down from her mother and one of the few things Tay had shared about her family.

"Not sure you should be performing gypsy magic inside a church, doll," Spot joked, hoping to spark a reaction given how sensitive Tay had been in the past when Spot had poked fun at her upbringing but Tay made no response. Instead, she rose and approached the stand of small candles under the alcove, lighting one before returning to her seat next to Spot.

"So what's with the sudden devotion, doll? You plan on joining the convent or something?" Spot tried instead.

"I don't have any plans," Tay answered softly after a long moment. "Not anymore."

Her despondent expression and bitter words reignited the gnawing fear Spot had been trying to ignore since he'd first discovered she was pregnant. He shifted uneasily as the small voice in the back of his mind reminded him of just how close he had come to losing her. He suddenly felt the need to keep her as close as possible but understood it wouldn't be easy given how she'd reacted to his ultimatums in the past.

"There's a meeting tonight. In Manhattan," he informed her, not pausing before dropping the hammer. "You're coming with me."

Spot kept his eyes on the candle she had just lit, watching the flame dance and heard Tay's sharp intake of breath.

"No."

"I ain't asking."

"You can't make me."

"We both know I can and I will."

"You said if I tried to leave–"

"And I meant it but you're spending one evening over there," Spot explained as he turned to look at her. "Ain't you always pestering me about taking you out? Now you get to go."

"Take one of those other girls," Tay answered bitterly. "You prefer their company anyway."

"Maybe I need a change from looking at your sour puss," Spot shot back. "It's about time for you to quit moping over this shit."

"I don't understand you," Tay told him. "You said stay in Brooklyn, I stayed but that ain't good enough for you. Now you expect me to trot over to Manhattan with a smile on my face like you didn't take everything from me."

"Everything?" Spot scoffed. "All I did was fix a mistake you made, doll. And let me just remind you that you came back by choice 'cause you knew there was no other way. You didn't want it any more than I did, Anna."

"Don't do this," Tay said quietly and Spot was thrown back to the night he'd taken her to see that vile woman and Tay had spoken those same words just before they had entered the room. He was sure he'd never forget that moment or the way she had looked at him.

"It's over and you're going," Spot answered sharply, not knowing at the time just how much he would regret that decision.

As it turned out, Spot never made it to the meeting that night. Instead, he found himself pounding his fist against the same wooden door he'd sworn he would never darken again demanding entrance. To her credit, the midwife had the decency to hold her tongue as Spot pushed past her, issuing a variety of pleas and commands before he placed Tay's limp body on the bed.

Belongings were always washing up along the shoreline and at first Spot had barely given the small heap of fabric drifting about in the shallows a second glance. It wasn't until he'd found their shared room empty that he even connected it to the sick feeling in his gut and by then it was almost too late. Tay had collapsed half in, half out of the chilly water with the small glass bottle still clutched in her hand, emptied of its contents. As Spot leaned in to lift her up out of the silt, he realized that Tay had managed to pay him back for everything he had ever done to her.

Chapter Text

The coin spun across the table, flashing quickly in the dim light of the pub as both boys watched it until it slowly stopped revolving and came to rest. Spot looked across to the rakish older boy, noting the frayed edges of his well-pressed suit and the hints of dinginess that revealed business wasn't booming. Pity.

Collins picked up the coin and spun it again before sitting back and smirking at Spot. "Not that I don't appreciate the honor of an audience with your highness but perhaps you could explain why you've decided to grace me with your presence?"

Spot reached forward and set a cloth wrapped item on the table, flipping the material back to reveal a small glass bottle and teaspoon. Collins glanced at the empty laudanum vial before shrugging, seemingly indifferent to the seriousness of the situation.

Spot knew Tay had been deeply hurt by his forcing her to terminate the pregnancy but he'd never expected her to take such drastic measures. Figuring out where she had obtained the laudanum had been easy enough given that there was only one person who would be willing to sell to her but he was frustrated considering Tay still refused to admit it had been Collins.

"Very popular choice in my neck of the woods. Turns the girls into kittens instead of hellcats–"

"I recall telling you that if you even set one–"

"Easy now, Conlon," Collins interrupted. "I haven't broken our little agreement. I've minded my p's and q's but while I've been forbidden to leave I can't be blamed for offering my hospitality to those who come to visit. Especially old friends like her."

"So you admit you sold this to her?"

"She gave me no choice. Practically begged me for something to take away the pain. I would keep a close eye on her, if I were you."

"Spare me your concern for her well-being," Spot said sardonically. "It's your own neck you should be worried about. That's twice now you've defied me by trying to hook her."

"Speaking of defiance, I heard your little bird showed up on Kelly's doorstep not too long ago. Alone."

"Ain't exactly news," Spot said calmly although he was raging inside. It was impossible to miss the emphasis on that last word and the implication that Spot's enemies, Collins included, would not hesitate to exploit Tay's defiance in order to attack him. Part of the reason why he'd always been loath to allow her to explore beyond the confines of the territory he ruled was because he feared she'd be exposed to dangers he could not control. The late night visit from Jack had alerted Spot to the rumors that swirled about Tay and he knew the other leaders would have no problem hurting her to get to him.

"And yet it seemed like news to you that she'd been out here to see me," Collins pointed out smugly. "Turning up in all sorts of strange corners, isn't she?"

"I was just surprised to hear you would risk selling to her given it was part of our deal that you have nothing to do with her."

"As I said," Collins reminded him, "she came to see me so I hardly think I can be accused of wrongdoing."

"Speaking of visitors, Graves came to see me not too long ago. He told me there's been some rumblings about a few of the changes being made around here. Some of the boys–"

"They'll adjust," Collins interrupted.

"Perhaps," Spot answered congenially. "Though it would be a shame for you to end up pushed out after all the effort you put in to get here."

Anger flashed across Collins' face. "Is that a threat?"

"Just an observation."

"Need I remind you that we both have cards to play, Conlon."

After he had used Tay by baiting her with information about her brother, Collins and Spot had brokered a deal that had left neither party particularly happy. Initially, Spot had no intention of hearing what Collins had to say but once the older boy had threatened to reveal Spot's real involvement the night of Ciaran's death to Tay, he'd been forced to concede and allowed Collins to take his coveted position on the condition he never leave Brighton or have anything to do with Tay. But after Racetrack had exposed the truth, Spot had quickly realized that he had the upper hand with Collins and had been relishing the chance to break him.

"I'm afraid Higgins beat you to the punch," Spot informed him and sat back, grinning at the way Collins stiffened, clearly stunned by the reveal that his leverage over Spot was gone. "Told her everything."

"If that's true, I'm guessing the only reason I'm still sitting here breathing is 'cause you want something from me," Collins said morosely after a long, tense moment of silence.

"You always was clever," Spot sneered before he pushed his chair back and stood. "For now, steer clear of Tay, keep your nose clean, and I might think about letting you stick around."

Just as Spot moved to leave, Collins' haunting words stopped him dead.

"Finding out about her brother must have hurt. Maybe that's why she's taken to moping around churchyards. I'd keep a close eye on her if I were you. She's a clever girl, I'm sure she'll find another way."

Spot's heart leapt into his throat and he briefly froze before recovering. He straightened his shoulders and walked off without dignifying Collins' cruel remark with a response. It was clear Collins had suspected Tay's intentions when she had purchased the drug and meant to insinuate to Spot that Tay would likely make another attempt at ending her life. The thought shook Spot to his core and Collins' words haunted him long after he had returned to the wharves that night.

"...I need you…"

Damn it.

"...don't do this…why did you do this…"

Damn him.

"...come back to me…"

Damn. Damn. Damn.

"...please…"

The water was choppy and dashed up against the pier, spraying Tay with a light mist as she sat contemplating the night sky. The lights of the city glittered and twinkled but she paid them no mind due to Spot's haunting words echoing through her mind. Her memories of the night she'd attempted suicide were all such a fog that she couldn't be sure if he'd really said those things or if she had imagined it all. It wasn't as though she could ask Spot as he'd made it abundantly clear that the topic was strictly off-limits and so she just replayed the brief snippets over and over in an attempt to sort it out on her own.

Spot hadn't said a word when she'd stepped back out into the world but once they returned to the wharves he implemented a series of restrictions that made Tay envious of her previous freedom. He seemed intent on making Tay's life as miserable as possible and she understood that he wanted to punish her in the same way her overdose had been meant to punish him. Her entire world had shrunk down to the wharves and the narrow room she shared with Spot. He'd become nearly impossible to live with and nearly every discussion they'd had ended with venomous words and mayhem.

"...goddamnit Anna...wake up..."

"I know you're there," Tay said quietly, feeling his presence intuitively but not turning to confirm. Spot approached her after a long moment and dropped down to sit beside her without saying a word. His face was hidden in shadow but Tay picked up on the strong scent of whiskey, indicating he was likely drunk which had never ended well for her. She wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged herself tighter before asking, "Did you kill him?"

"Not yet but you ever go near him again and I will," Spot threatened.

Tay had known very well what the consequences would be for giving him a name, even a false one and since she already had enough on her conscience she had attempted to put off Spot's incessant questioning about who had supplied her with laudanum by remaining silent. She had no doubt he'd figure it out on his own since there were only a handful of suppliers that were willing to sell to someone like her and amongst those was one name that stuck out like a sore thumb. Tay wasn't surprised when it had been reported earlier that night that Spot had paid a visit to the Brighton neighborhood where Collins been banished.

"There's others–" Tay began but Spot turned swiftly, reaching out to grasp her tightly by the chin and forcing her to look at him. Light and dark clashed as their eyes met and for a moment it seemed that neither was willing to be the first to break. Before she could stop herself, Tay asked the question that had been on the tip of her tongue since the incident in the river.

"Why couldn't you just let me die?"

It was too much, it was too far and the dark intensity of his gaze showed she'd crossed a line. A muscle in his jaw visibly ticked as he clenched his jaw together tightly and Tay held her tongue, expecting violent words or actions. For a long moment, Tay watched as Spot seethed but he didn't say a word and Tay wasn't sure what to think of that. There was something different about him and had been since she'd returned home but she'd been unable to put her finger on it.

As they continued to stare at one another, something unfamiliar flickered across Spot's face and he dropped his hand abruptly. If it had been anyone else, Tay would have said it was fear but she knew Spot Conlon did not feel fear. Not ever. He turned to face the horizon and she studied his profile, realizing that she had never seen him look so lost.Tay was reminded of that dark night after Rook had been killed, their last night before it had all changed, and the desire she'd felt then to wrap herself around him to try to keep the demons at bay. The same longing returned but she worried that the wrong word, the wrong touch and it would all crumble so she just waited.

"My ma went in the river," Spot began and Tay's breath stilled in her chest. Spot had never told her a single thing about his family and while there were many rumors about Spot's origins in Brooklyn, Tay had never paid much heed to them. She waited to see if Spot would say anything else and was stunned when he continued.

"I looked for her for days. When I couldn't find her, I thought maybe they'd been wrong. That she hadn't…that maybe she was…" He had a faraway look in his eye and his voice was hollow. "She'd used rocks to hold her down. Washed up a week later."

He picked her hand up and absent-mindedly rubbed the tips of her fingers between his own. The storm swirling inside Tay began to dissipate and a familiar heat ran from her chest to her hand and back again. No matter how many times she had tried, Tay had never been able to stay angry with Spot as he always managed to know just what to do or say to lure her back. A simple gesture, a kind word, a concerned look and she'd be lost. She was so eager to collect those shards of him, to hold them in her heart and hoard them away from prying eyes that she often neglected to hold him as accountable as she should have. She hated that it was so easy for him to switch between cruelty and caring as though the wounds he healed weren't the very same that he inflicted on her. 

"I can't–" Spot cut himself off and Tay watched while he struggled to find his words. "I just can't lose you."

Tay was so startled that she found herself unable to do anything but stare down at where Spot held her hand in his own. It had to be a trick. He had never said anything remotely similar in the time she had known him and in fact, he had often made it a point to tell her how little she mattered to him. She found that the more she mulled over his words, the more they rankled. How dare he claim such a thing when he was the one who delighted in pushing her away at every opportunity.

"I'm sorry," Spot said, reaching over to brush a lock of Tay's hair out of her face. She closed her eyes and tried desperately to keep in mind the terrible things he had done but it was futile. Spot had played the game far too well and for too long for Tay to even have a chance. Even though she'd heard those words too many times before Tay had never built up a solid defense and just as she worked up the nerve to tell him that she wasn't stupid, that she didn't believe a word he said anymore he leaned forward and kissed her. Gentle, loving, another contradiction meant to fool Tay into reaching for the carrot he held above her head while ignoring the trap door he'd set below her feet.

"Are you ever gonna forgive me?"

He didn't want forgiveness. He didn't need her to forgive him or to make amends because she'd let him get too close and there were no more walls to keep him out. She wanted to tell him no, that she wasn't ever going to forgive him. That she was going to hold on to every bit of hurt that was curled up inside her just waiting to get out. How was she supposed to forgive him? Just thinking about it infuriated her and she suddenly felt very cold inside.

"Forgive you for what, Spot? Do you want me to forgive you for lying to me every day since my brother died? Or maybe you want me to forgive you for taking me to some whorehouse in East Brooklyn and then leaving me there alone while some horrible woman destroyed everything, is that it? What exactly is it that you want forgiveness for, Spot?"

"Nothing." Spot's features hardened and his eyes glittered with such malice that Tay felt her breath catch in her throat. There was something else, a flicker of pain that she was barely able to register before it was gone and so was Spot.

Chapter Text

"For what it's worth, this wasn't my idea," Jack explained with a resigned look as he and Sarah Jacobs approached the point where Spot stood waiting for their arrival. Sarah appeared determined but Spot noticed the way she tightened her grip on her skirt as she passed by the small crowd of newsies carousing along the docks. The report of their visit had quickly spread and Spot himself was curious as to why Jack's girl would want to step foot in Brooklyn or why Jack would allow it.

"Hello, Spot," Sarah said kindly, stepping up to stand next to Jack. She perused the surrounding area with an inquisitive look before turning back to Spot. "I was hoping Tay might be here."

"As you can see, she ain't," Spot answered shortly. Until that point, he hadn't been able to confirm that Tay had met Sarah during her brief stay in Manhattan. He had assumed their paths had crossed given that the settlement house had hardly seemed like a solution Kelly would have come up with on his own but hearing Sarah ask for Tay specifically rankled under Spot's skin. It suggested a relationship that Spot was not privy to and he hated being kept on the outside of anything that had to do with Tay.

"But I explained to the young man that met us that I would like to speak with her and–" Sarah began.

"Sarah, we been over this," Jack cut in. "That ain't how it works."

"So you've said at least three times since we left Manhattan," Sarah huffed.

"And yet here we are," Jack sighed, taking a seat on an empty nail keg seemingly resigned to his fate.

"I would have managed just fine on my own. You were welcome to stay back in Manhattan with David," Sarah pointed out. She turned to where Spot stood smirking as he watched the two go back and forth. "Speaking of my brother, he told me that you enjoy making deals, Spot, so what will it take for me to get to see Tay?"

"Not sure you'd want to sully that sterling reputation by making deals with the likes of me, Jacobs," Spot answered with a dangerous glint in his eye. "I might ask for something you ain't willing to give."

"Conlon–" Jack warned, half-rising from his seat but Sarah held up her hand and he sat back down.

"I don't believe your heart to be quite that black, Spot," Sarah told him with a kind smile that surprised him. "As for my reputation, I assure you that it's been in tatters for some time now."

Sarah looked pleased with that fact and considering the rumors Spot had heard about her involvement in the woman's suffrage movement, it seemed likely that she had purposefully sabotaged her own reputation. She was obviously a tougher customer than her brother and Spot respected her willingness to stand toe to toe with him.

"Looks like you got the backbone in that family," Spot remarked with a wicked grin. "I don't suppose you'd say no to taking a walk with me while we negotiate our terms?"

"Just you and I?" Sarah asked, a drop of apprehension in her words.

Spot nodded. "You did just say you'd be able to manage on your own, right?"

"I ain't so sure about this idea," Jack interjected.

"Relax, Jacky-boy, no one would dream of touching a hair on her head while she's with me," Spot assured him.

"It ain't the others that I'm worried about," Jack said pointedly.

"I'm well aware of the dangers, Jack," Sarah cut in. "But I came here with the purpose of speaking to Tay and that's what I plan on doing. Now, if you'll excuse us, Spot and I have some matters to attend to."

Keeping a quick pace, Spot led Sarah away from the hustle and bustle of the warehouses in the direction of a luncheon counter he knew of that was reputable enough that Sarah wouldn't object to being seen there and private enough that Spot felt more at ease about talking about Tay without the risk of being overheard.

"You never give up, do you?" Sarah kidded, watching Spot follow the waitress across the room with his eyes after she'd taken their order.

"What can I say?" Spot smirked. "I've got a reputation to uphold."

"Yes, I've heard but I don't think you brought me here to watch you add to it," Sarah answered. "Perhaps we should discuss more important matters instead."

"Agreed. So how about you start with explaining why you got a bee in your bonnet about Tay." Spot plucked a cigarette from his pocket and lit it before continuing. "For you to come all this way, I'd think you was best friends but Tay hasn't said a word about you. Of course she never did get along with other girls."

"I wonder why that is," Sarah said with a small smile. She folded her hands on top of the table. "I'll admit, we met only once during her stay and she was rather…quiet."

That was no surprise to Spot given that ever since he'd first met Tay she had been reserved and shy of strangers. He certainly hadn't helped her break out of her shell but instead would constantly dwell on the untrustworthiness of her fellow human beings to drive Tay further into isolation. Her loneliness had never really bothered him. What mattered to him was that she remained hidden and safe, so hearing that Sarah had only managed to meet with Tay once eased his anxiety a bit.

"I was surprised when Tay left so suddenly," Sarah continued, "and after what I had heard from a few sources about you I grew even more alarmed when I discovered she'd returned to Brooklyn. I came to see how she has been doing." She raised an eyebrow in his direction. "I don't suppose you would like to enlighten me about the reason behind her swift departure?"

"Tay makes her own choices," Spot answered. "If she decided she'd had enough of etiquette lessons and sewing class, who was I to stop her from leaving?"

"Perhaps someone helped push her out the door," Sarah remarked mildly. She took a sip of coffee, studying Spot over the rim of the cup but he maintained his mask of cool neutrality.

"Or perhaps she finally had to face the truth," Spot told her. "Either way, she's back where she belongs."

"Where she belongs?" Sarah repeated with a small cough, setting the cup down rather forcefully.

"Stirred up the suffragette in you, did I?" Spot smirked but his expression swiftly turned to ice as he stared across the table. "I'll tell you like I told Kelly, she wouldn't have made it on her own and I'll die before I let any of them get their hands on her again so yes, Jacobs, she is exactly where she belongs."

Sarah didn't appear offended or frightened but instead studied him thoughtfully and Spot worried that his threat had come across as a vulnerability.

"Jack mentioned that you and Tay were sent to the Refuge together. He also told me that it was likely Tay could be sent back there again given her…condition," Sarah stumbled over the word and blushed fiercely.

"Christ, was there anything Kelly didn't tell you?" Spot asked.

"When I met her, I had my own suspicions," Sarah told him. "I had a friend in..similar circumstances."

"Hard to believe a fine upstanding girl like you would keep such low company," Spot grinned cheekily.

"My friend ended up needing a place to stay and so she was the one who originally found that house," Sarah explained, ignoring Spot's comment but he was enjoying the way the topic had thrown Sarah off-kilter and interrupted.

"Why'd she need a new place? Any friend of yours must have come from a decent family."

"They threw her out," Sarah admitted.

"Ain't you and your family always taking in strays?" Spot asked. "She couldn't stay with you and your folks?"

There was a long pause following his question and Sarah looked pained as she answered softly, "Papa put his foot down and said no girl like that would stay under his roof."

"I don't suppose the fella was anywhere to be found?"

"He claimed she was deranged and had picked him out at random. He would have nothing to do with her."

"Of course," Spot said, sitting back in his chair with a satisfied look. "So where is this friend now? Still at the settlement house?"

"No, not exactly," Sarah answered hesitantly. "I'm afraid we lost touch after she left–"

"Left or was tossed out?" Spot interjected, knowing the answer but wanting to hear her say it.

"It's complicated. These places have certain rules that have to be adhered to or they could be closed down–"

"It's a tale as old as time, Jacobs. You ain't gotta waste your breath telling me how the world works." It was what he had tried to explain to Tay from the beginning. Society did not welcome pregnant girls with open arms but instead shunned and abused them, believing the girls deserved to be punished for their supposed crime.

"I actually have a second reason why I wanted to see Tay," Sarah stated. "It's about…well, I spoke with a woman and she gave me an address for a home. It's a place for unwed mothers. It's run by the–"

"No. I've already told you, she ain't going anywhere and besides, she don't need a place like that anymore."

"What are you saying?"

"I think you know what I'm saying," Spot answered, steadily gazing across the table at Sarah. He allowed the silence to stretch until Sarah finally looked away, her eyes troubled. "Tay was like you at first, trying to paint a rosy portrait when her future was destined to be as bleak as your friend's but eventually she came to her senses."

"Yes, Race told me all about how you usually convince her to see things your way," Sarah remarked acidly.

"No need to stick your claws in me, Jacobs," Spot replied evenly. "You may not agree with my methods but at least Tay ain't out there alone in the world, friendless and penniless toting around some bastard kid like your dear friend."

Sarah pressed her lips together tightly, her face flushed and her eyes blazing with anger as she fumed in silence. Spot sat back in his chair with a satisfied smirk, having gotten under her skin. He appreciated that her heart might have been in the right place but he had enough trouble keeping Tay's feet on the ground without Sarah filling her head with pretty words and foolish ideas.

"I get that you're on some sort of crusade but Tay ain't gonna be one of your pet projects, Jacobs. Just 'cause you're slumming it with Kelly doesn't mean you got any idea what Tay's life is like so I suggest you trot on back to Manhattan and leave taking care of Tay to me."

There was a long moment of silence and Spot wished for something much stronger than coffee, feeling a headache build as he tried to maintain his aloof manner. Her anger seemingly having dissipated, Sarah studied him with a look of sympathy which only seemed to aggravate him more.

"You know, Tay did tell me one thing." Sarah's eyes were soft and Spot suddenly felt unsure about the direction they could be heading. He figured that whatever detail Tay had divulged was likely to be something Spot was not keen on anyone knowing.

"What's that?" Spot asked.

"She told me that you read to her. At night sometimes."

"That's it?" Spot asked derisively, swallowing the panic rising in his throat. He felt trapped under Sarah's knowing gaze and shifted uncomfortably. "Ain't exactly newsworthy, Jacobs, given most of the girls I see go telling tales about me and there are some that are much more colorful than me reading a damn book."

"Racetrack would have me believe you're gone before most can learn your name," Sarah told him and he was surprised by the way she spoke so easily of such things. Given the prim way David often behaved, Spot had assumed Sarah would behave likewise but she seemed to be the black sheep of the family.

"I'm sure Higgins painted quite the portrait," Spot said sarcastically.

"As you said yourself, you have a reputation," Sarah pointed out. "But I don't think that bothers you in the slightest. I think you prefer people to think of you that way. However, you and I both know that Tay is different."

It wasn't said in malice but the comment burrowed under Spot's skin and sparked a feeling of resentment. It was clear Sarah had a great many thoughts tucked away behind that placid demeanor and Spot could feel himself losing his footing. Tay meant nothing to him, absolutely nothing. She was just a toy, something to play with and then easily discard when he grew bored or restless or distracted. Something so easily broken, shattering into pieces and just as quickly mended with a few simple words or a touch of his hand. At least that was what he had believed before he'd found her in the shallows and had the painful realization that she was the only person he would have willingly given up Brooklyn for. Damn her.

"You're too smart for Jack," Spot remarked, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. He narrowed his eyes and fixed Sarah with a lethal stare. "You want to know why I read to her, Jacobs? Why she can't sleep most nights? Because one freezing cold night in the Refuge a guard decided to steal her virtue and most nights she wakes up in a cold sweat, still feeling his hands on her body so I read to her and for a brief moment she forgets. Like I said, you can leave taking care of Tay to me. She ain't going anywhere."

"Taking her away from you is not what I'm doing here, Spot."

"Isn't it? After she left, you're telling me you didn't go snooping around to Jack and Race for all the nitty gritty details about Tay and me? Then at one of your suffragette meetings, no doubt, you started getting all worked up about women's rights and felt inspired to come marching onto my turf to rescue some guttersnipe who I assure you does not want to be subjected to a life of corsets and high teas."

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a few coins and tossed them onto the table before getting to his feet. "I'll take you back to Kelly now."

"Just be careful, Spot. You may not be able to keep your bird caged forever."

Patrons in the pub jostled one another for space along the bar as the heavy rain drove people indoors in search of refuge from the storm. It had been building all afternoon and finally broke just as the evening crowd was headed home. Spot had managed to secure a table in the corner where he sat nursing a headache with a whisky, Sarah's parting words still ringing in his ears. The statement about Tay being different still stuck out and he hated that he had been forced to talk about her with a stranger. He blamed Tay for the whole predicament as it was her fault for running off to Jack in the first place although Spot knew very well it was his own stubbornness that had driven Tay away.

A familiar laugh reached his ears and Spot scanned the room until he was able to pinpoint Tay standing at the end of the bar, smiling up at an unfamiliar boy who had his arm draped around Tay's waist. She wore a wine colored dress he neither recognized nor approved of and her telltale blue ribbon was gone. Spot's blood boiled as he watched the boy lean in, whispering something to Tay before she tipped back a bottle of ale and took a long drink. Not only had the kid dared to touch her but he'd also managed to make her laugh. Spot hadn't even been able to make her smile in weeks.

He stood abruptly, jostling the blonde who had been leaning on his arm and attempting to cajole him into buying her a drink. He made a beeline for Tay and grasped the boy's arm, wrenching it away before drawing in close to threaten, "You touch her again and you'll pull back a bloody stump."

The boy's eyes widened and he quickly slunk out of sight, leaving Spot alone with Tay. She watched the young man go with a look of resignation before turning back to face the bar.

"You didn't have to do that," Tay said quietly, swallowing the last bit of ale. "I would have got your two bits for you. He was good for it."

"Well, you certainly fit the part flouncing around in a dress like that. Where'd you get it?"

"From nobody you know. Now if you don't mind, I'm trying to enjoy my evening."

"Your date seems to have gotten cold feet, doll."

"You might have scared him off but there's plenty here to choose from," Tay countered.

"Be my guest," Spot said coolly.

Tay turned to scan the crowd of patrons, her dark eyes were hard and angry and for a moment Spot believed she would call his bluff. His gut twisted as he watched her but Tay eventually turned back to the bar and Spot was relieved.

"You ruin everything," Tay muttered.

"You're right, doll, I should have just let you keep making a fool of yourself," Spot remarked before he signaled to the barkeep for two shots of whiskey in celebration of his winning that first little battle. He pushed one in front of Tay when they arrived and was slightly alarmed when Tay not only quickly tipped back the shot he'd slid in front of her but his own as well.

"Two more," Tay hiccuped, lifting a finger toward the bartender.

"Tay," Spot said seriously, grabbing hold of her hand but Tay yanked it away.

"Don't," she snapped. She jabbed at his chest with her finger and narrowed her eyes. "Let me tell you something, Spot Conlon. You can threaten every boy in this city and tie me to your bedpost for the rest of my days but you'll still lose me."

"Your brother was the one who wanted that for you, not me," Spot pointed out. "I'm trying to protect you."

"Protect me," Tay muttered resentfully, dropping her hand back down by her side. "The only person you've ever cared about is yourself–"

"Who gave you a place to stay when your brother turned you out? Who keeps you from ending up back in the Refuge? Who takes care of all the dirty little messes you get yourself into? Need I remind you, doll, that you came to me about Rook, not the other way around."

"You wanted Brooklyn, that's all you've ever wanted," Tay challenged. She turned to face Spot, her normally pale cheeks glowing pink as she leaned unsteadily against him. A storm flashed in her eyes and Spot was captivated. Since her return from Manhattan Tay had wandered about listlessly, her eyes devoid of emotion no matter how he had tried to rouse her so seeing the fire in her eyes return had him bewitched. So much so that he stood perfectly still as Tay reached up to the leather cord around his neck and lifted the key he wore everyday into view. She turned it over in her hand, studying it briefly before gently pressing it back against Spot's chest.

Her eyes lifted to his and then away and she spoke in a small voice as though to herself more than to him. "The king of Brooklyn. That's the most important thing, right? No matter what else happens, you can't be anyone else."

"Who do you want me to be?" He didn't mean to ask the question but something had broken open in him the night he'd found her in the shallows and he'd been struggling to contain it ever since.

"What were you doing with Sarah Jacobs today?" Tay asked, turning back toward the bar and seemingly not interested in providing an answer.

"If it was any of your business, I would have invited you along," Spot grinned, satisfied that his plan had succeeded. He'd known perfectly well that a report of his outing with Sarah would reach Tay and stir up her jealousy. He was also relieved that he could use it as a segue to turn the conversation away from a question he had not wanted to an answer to. 

"You should know she's all pie-eyed about Kelly so it won't work."

"Might be more trouble in paradise than you think." Tay went to reach for the untouched whisky in front of him but Spot covered it with his hand. "You've had enough."

"Do you have to take every fucking thing from me?" Tay spat bitterly, turning her head away but not before Spot saw the tear that trickled down her cheek. She wiped fiercely at her face with the cuff of her blouse and Spot considered trying to comfort her but couldn't risk it in such a mixed crowd.

Instead, he reached down and grabbed hold of Tay's wrist. "Let's go, doll."

At first, Tay pulled back but Spot tightened his grip until she winced and gave in, following him through the crowd and out onto the rain-soaked sidewalk. He led her underneath a nearby awning before releasing her. Tay rubbed at her sore wrist and glared at him while Spot fished a cigarette out of his pocket, hoping it was still dry enough to light.

"You didn't have to go dragging me out here for that," Tay groused, watching Spot toss a spent match away after lighting the cigarette. "You could have at least let me finish my damn drink."

"Didn't seem like you was in a celebrating mood any more," Spot commented, pressing his back against the wall to keep as far from the rain as possible.

"I was having a fine time before you showed up," Tay informed him. "He was much better company than you."

"Is that so? And where is he now, doll?" He was irritated by the comparison and reminded of her earlier comment about losing her no matter what he did.

"Knowing you? He's probably dead."

"Where'd you even find him?" Spot asked, grinning in satisfaction while Tay narrowed her eyes and glared at him. He knew that it must have been difficult to find a boy willing to go along with her little game considering the way he'd made Tay into a social pariah.

"Same place you found that blonde," Tay answered, crossing her arms tightly.

"I'm surprised you noticed her with the way you was hanging off that kid."

"Guess even if I had died, it wouldn't have stopped you from bed-hopping–"

Spot's hand was on her throat before Tay could finish and he pressed her backwards, her eyes nearly black with rage as she looked up at him.

"Do it," she hissed and Spot froze, feeling her pulse flutter against his skin. "I'm not scared."

Spot struggled between wanting to wring her neck and wanting to give up everything if it meant she'd stay there with him. He hated that he had told her about his mother, that he had admitted that he couldn't lose her because now she had something to hold over him. To threaten him with. At first, Spot had intended on trying to right some of his wrongs but then she'd had the nerve to turn around and jeer at him after he'd asked for forgiveness, leading Spot to slam his defenses back down to try to shut her out.

But that had always been the problem with Tay, she'd always manage to sneak right back in. Spot flexed his hand and couldn't tear his eyes away from the twin pools of pain staring back as Tay waited for him to decide.

"Liar," he whispered, releasing his hold on her. She was right, he had asked her for too much and he was paying for it because when she told him that she wasn't scared, two little words flashed through his mind.

I am.