Author's Note: Well, I meant to write more at Christmas and I did...I just didn't write as much as I wanted and it turned out kind of 'eh'. Basically, the story has split into numerous parts and I'm not even sure if it's worth keeping anymore but oh well. It's an excellent stress reliever! Thank you to any and all readers! I hope you enjoy!


It was probably the only decent view in Brooklyn. From the hill Spot could see across the tops of the buildings below to the harbor. He could see why Tay would be drawn to such a place. The idea that she preferred to spend time in a graveyard for the company was just too morbid to consider.

He watched her wander from one place to the next, stopping every so often to read the names of the dead. Only those whose families could afford to bribe the church into thinking the dearly departed was a fine, upstanding citizen were buried there. Everyone else ended up in some unmarked grave in a potter's field.

"Dead people don't buy many papes, doll," Spot joked as he approached Tay. She glanced at him but continued on her silent walk. He meandered along behind her until they reached the building that housed the cemetery chapel.

The votives glowed dimly, barely illuminating the statue of Mary in the alcove above. There was no sign of anyone inside and the church was still and quiet. Spot stood at the end of the aisle and watched Tay as she lit one of the candles. He couldn't understand why she wasted her time, stubbornly clinging to a religion that had turned its back on her. In Spot's opinion all you had to do was look around to tell there was no one looking out for them.

"Lighting candles won't change anything," Spot said as Tay finished.

"It might," Tay murmured. Spot followed her into a pew and took a seat next to her. At least they were free of prying eyes and people who were constantly eavesdropping. But Spot had forgotten how much he hated church.

"My ma used to drag me to a place like this every Sunday," Spot admitted. It was one of the few times he felt willing to even mention that he'd once had a family. The rumors about his upbringing were entertaining to say the least and most of the time he was perfectly happy to let people believe whatever they wanted about his family, or lack thereof. He'd never quite understood Tay's fascination with family and her constant desire to belong to one. In the silence Spot rummaged through his shirt pocket until he found a cigarette.

Tay wrinkled her nose. "You can't smoke in here."

Spot gestured to the otherwise empty room before lighting the cigarette and blowing smoke up at the ceiling. "Ain't no one around."

He was slightly startled when Tay took his left hand and examined the newly healed cuts from where he'd split his knuckles open in a fight.

"Shoulda let me take care of that," she mentioned before letting his hand drop onto her lap. She traced her finger over the lines on his palm and Spot didn't bother to pull away. It was rare for Tay to touch him first and he figured her breaking her own unwritten rule must have had to do with whatever had been on her mind the past few weeks. "How much longer do you really think this is gonna last?"

He understood what she was asking. From the moment he had taken over as leader he knew he was on his way out. It happened to each and every street kid. The shipyards and factories were full of kids who had once hawked papers, shined shoes, or otherwise made their living on the streets. Being leader meant there was the added benefit of knowing there was always a next in line just waiting for him to slip up.

"Ain't really thought about it," Spot lied. He expected to hear an argument from Tay as she knew how much time he had spent contemplating the end of his 'reign' but she just continued staring ahead as the candlelight flickered over the walls. "You got plans or something?"

"No," Tay answered quietly as a distant expression came over her face. "I don't have any plans. Not anymore."

"Please tell me that you ain't still worked up about that shit," Spot scorned. Tay had been moping about the pregnancy for days and Spot had tried being patient but it had only lasted for about five minutes. Since that point Tay had been carefully avoiding him, only returning to the riverside when forced and Spot had had enough. The problem was he'd let his frustration get the better of him and he knew it.

"What do you want from me?" Tay asked as she flung his hand away from her in disgust. "You said stay in Brooklyn, I stayed. But that ain't good enough for you, is it? No matter what I do or don't do, it ain't enough for you. I wouldn't have ever even asked you for anything ever again if you had just let me…" Tay's voice broke and she turned her head away from Spot but he could tell she was crying. He let her be for the moment, unsure of what to do or say. Tay straightened her shoulders a bit as she looked at him. "I hate you." It was simple, direct and he was surprised by the lack of emotion as she said it. The hard truth of her statement brought him back to reality and he reacted badly.

"Keep telling yourself that, doll. Just remember that you was the one who waited for me that night. You could have stayed away, or tried to hide but you didn't. So face it, you made your own decision," Spot replied. Tay got to her feet and made sure to knock into him as aggressively as possible as she made her way to the door. "Where are you going?" Spot asked, following her but keeping just out of arm's reach in case she decided to take a swing at him. It wasn't her usual way of doing things but he wasn't sure what to expect at that point.

"Out. Away from you." Her voice was ice-cold and she already had one hand on the door, pushing it open when Spot reached out to stop her. He could feel her tense up at his touch and he knew the pained expression on her face had nothing to do with the hold he had on her arm. There was a long moment of silence as Tay studied his face and for the first time Spot was unsure about her feelings. Normally, he could read Tay better than anyone but there was something off about her and he had a feeling what he needed to do was keep her there by his side for as long as possible.

Spot tried to dismiss the look Tay gave him as she slipped her arm out of his grasp and walked out the door but it haunted him for the rest of the day. He thought briefly of following her but he'd already put his foot in his mouth once and he wasn't willing to take the chance of making things any worse than they already were. By the time he discovered his knife was missing it was almost too late. Spot was never able to forget the sight of Tay laying in a pool of blood as he entered their room that night. It turned out that Tay had finally managed to find a way to pay him back for everything he'd done to her.