Midnight awoke with a start. She glanced at the clocks hanging in the clock worker's shop across the street, and discovered that it had only been twenty minutes since she fell asleep. "Why do I even try?" she asked herself out loud.
She huddled in closer to Red, trying to keep the boy warm with her own body heat. In response, he was attacked by another fit of coughs, causing him to wake up. It was the beginning of December, and things were getting worse every day for the two of them. During the day, they had to be dangerously careful of where they went in the city, steering clear of Manhattan where they were likely to be recognized. For most of the days, they camped out on the Brooklyn side of the river. Red would tell stories, at first telling her of his childhood and his family, small at first, but eventually the same stories would evolve and become huge extravaganzas. Midnight just smiled as he acted various scenes out, all the while lamenting the fact that he was with her in the first place. It was hard to be responsible for someone besides yourself.
Every so often, Red would pause one of his performances long enough for the two of them to just sit and talk. He often spoke of how much he loved the river, how beautiful it was, and how he hoped that he would live in New York all his life just so that he could see the river every day. After their talks, he would stand up and start the act all over again, adding and changing the story once again.
It was during one such performances that Red didn't notice the river behind him, and as he was impersonating his older brother wrestle a lion back in Ireland, he slipped in. The mud underneath was just mucky enough that the more Red tried to pull himself out of the already freezing water, the further under he slid, the currant catching him and pulling him into the river. Quickly, Midnight threw her arms around the boy, and pulled him out of the river before he was in any deeper. He was in up to his waist, but since neither of them had winter clothes, it was difficult to warm him up.
The next night the fits started. Red would wake up shivering, even if they were lying next to a spare heater in a homeless shelter, a place Midnight's pride would have never let her go until just a few days earlier, and the shivers would be joined by coughing spells that would last as long as an hour, during which Midnight did her best to hold on to him as tightly as he could and stroke his hair the way her mother did before- well, when she was still Brittany.
But tonight was different. As Red sat there coughing into her shoulder as she caressed him, Midnight began to feel a dampness that had never been there before. She moved his head just slightly, and noticed that there was a dark spot on her shirt. It took a moment to register with Midnight what was happening. That was blood that was on her shirt, and that means it must have come from Red. He was coughing up blood!
She looked over at him, where he had momentarily stopped coughing. His eyes had rolled back into his head, and as she sat there calling his name, he fainted. Tears started streaming down her face, and she tried looking for help, but she was afraid to go too far, as she was scared as to what might happen to him if she ventured too far. She was restless, and she kept checking for a pulse, but only a faint one was to be found. At least it's something, she told herself.
She found rest finally in the early morning hours, but when she woke up, that faint heartbeat was no longer present. Red had died on the morning of December 11th, 1893, only a month after breaking out of the Refuge. It would have been Midnight's twelfth birthday.
Midnight wasted no time. She stole once more, this time not caring who noticed or who saw or whether or not she got caught. She stole a lot, ending up with ten dollars, which she took to a crematorium in Brooklyn to hassle with the clerk, who eventually agreed to Midnight's request. Going to the exact spot where Red fell into the water, Midnight dropped in half of Red's ashes. She took the other half and dumped it into the ocean, keeping only a little for herself. Cremations were generally frowned upon in New York, but they were practiced. Midnight didn't care what society would have thought of her decision for Red; she wasn't about to let his body lay in the streets. And this way, Red was finally a part of the river.
Three days later, she walked into the police station in Manhattan, head held high, and demanded to speak with Detective Andrew Kline.