A/n: Song suggestion: Nicest Thing by Kate Nash, then after the second paragraph line, Lies by Trifonic, listen to the lyrics of Lies, it's so perfect!

Chapter twenty-three – Nicest Thing

Patriot wandered into the one part of Harlem he tried to avoid. Hell Raiser's fraction. Harlem's leader made no effort to hide his dislike for Spot Conlon and his newsboys, only squelching any feelings during the kidnappings in an attempt to work together. Hell Raiser's boys shared in their leader's hatred and Patriot could feel it as he stepped past the boundary line and into their territory.

They were gathered in groups about the abandoned yard. At one time a successful textile factory had stood there, but after a raging fire and multiple deaths, the owner had to shut down. Now the gutted building served as shelter for the Harlem newsboys who held more terrain than their small borough. It was rumored Harlem did more than sell newspapers to receive their sinister reputation but there had never been any proof.

Now as Patriot moved cautiously through their home he saw enough validation. There were spun out junkies at every corner shooting opiates and drinking liquor, prostitutes hung drunkenly on newsies and leered at him as he passed. A few boys stuck crumpled bills into their pockets as they sold the drugs, and snickered at Patriot's horrified expression. As he neared their building he covered his nose as he passed a pile of decomposing bodies.

"Patriot," Hell Raiser called blocking his path at the entrance and leaned against the door jamb. "How can I help you?" his smug smile told Patriot he knew exactly what he was there for.

"I received a tip that I might find my leader here." Raiser laughed heartily.

"Conlon? Here?" he gestured at his domain. "I doubt it."

"I know you've made it obvious in the past how you feel about him, and I have no clue why you'd help him now, but I know he's here."

"You just said yourself you have no idea why I'd help, and frankly neither do I. Now go home before you can't walk." He turned to leave but Patriot snatched his arm. Fear surged through his veins as he registered what he had done.

"I guess you've picked life as a cripple."

"Please," Patriot begged. "Let me take him home." Hell Raiser leaned close.

"Why?" he sneered. "So that rich whore can torment him?"

"She's not a whore." He chuckled.

"I know what they think; those well off girls, that they can use us and leave us. That we're nothing to them. I know it, I've been through it." Suddenly Patriot understood. Hell Raiser related to Spot.

"Spot needs to come home."

"Conlon doesn't need to do anything."

"Hell Raiser," a slurred voice echoed from behind them. "Let 'em through." The Harlem leader stared him down before ripping his arm from Patriot's grip.

"Your choice." He snapped brushing past Spot who stumbled laughing into the wall. Patriot moved forward reaching for the whiskey bottle in his hand.

"Nuh uh, you ain't taking this!" he tried to dodge him but failed sprawling on the floor and dousing himself in alcohol. "Look what you made me do!" Patriot was surprised he could form sentences. Silently he lifted his leader from the ground kicking the bottle away. "What are you doing?"

"Taking you home." Abruptly his demeanor changed and the drunkard was fighting. His limbs were flailing; a fist formed and punches surprisingly landed. Patriot released him as he gripped his eye.

"I'm not going home!" Spot screeched. "I can't go back! There isn't a home for me!"

"Spot you're a leader, people rely on you!" Patriot yelled back realizing his eye was swollen. "Brooklyn is in disarray!"

"I'm in disarray! I've spent my life taking care of people, and I put myself in someone else's hands, once, and now look!" he scrambled to get away from Patriot who was starting to advance. "She left me, she lied to me! She lied, she lied, she lied." Spot's tears mixed in with his sweat but his momentum slowed. "Hell Raiser, another bottle!"

"No!" Patriot searched frantically until he found the whiskey bottle he had previously kicked. Grabbing it he took a deep breath and broke it across Spot's head. As his body crumpled to the floor he knew he'd regret it later. Carefully he slung Spot over his shoulders and stood to see Hell Raiser's smug grin.

"Nice."

"I do what I have to."

"No doubt, you have safe passage."

Her gowns had just been starched and ironed making it nearly impossible to navigate the streets. Shaun had ditched her maid and driver at the tailor's and was currently hurrying her way toward the shipyards. As the docks revealed themselves she smirked. Last time she had passed through the gate before her she had been barley sober and upset.

"Excuse me Ma'am," the man at the entrance cleared his throat. "No disrespect, but you can't come in here. It's very dangerous." She forced a smile tipping the brim of her hat upwards to expose her face. Recognition sparkled in his dark eyes as he furrowed his brow. No doubt it seemed unbelievable that the drunken woman claiming to be Shaun's daughter was really high society.

"I'm Shaun's daughter, remember?" he nodded slowly. "I understand you're hesitant in allowing me into the yards, but please, I really need to speak with him." Her manor most likely stunned him and without complaint gestured her in. To her amazement she found it incredibly simple to pick him from the crowd. He was crouched over a net working diligently on fixing the ropes. She moved quietly pausing just beside him.

"I didn't think you'd come back." He sighed leaning back on his heels and glancing up at her. "I thought I told you everything you wanted."

"Did you not want me to come back?" dropping the net he stood cracking his back and grunting, probably attempting to find the right words.

"No, I didn't want you to come back." Or not, she cringed. "Try and understand. I'm done with everything that happened eighteen years ago, and everyone…" he trailed off.

"I'll try, but no promises I'll get it. You are my father, and I'm not responsible for Beth's mistakes." He tensed at her name and crossed his arms. She sighed exasperated. "Let's make a deal, I'll try and understand your side, and you try to understand mine. And if I get it I won't see you again, and if you get it,"

"I'll find you." He finished. "Now what can I do for you today?"

"How long have you been sailing?" he raised his eyebrows.

"You want to ask about my job?"

"Dad, come on," he winced. "Sorry." His arms fell to his sides and he turned.

"For as long as I can remember. Ireland is surrounded by water ya know. You can always hear the sound of the waves against the cliffs." She heard the yearning in his voice and wished she could see what he remembered.

"Did you ever jump off the cliffs?" she inquired trying to keep her voice light.

"Yes, many times. Cliff diving was quite the recreation." He chuckled returning to his net.

"What's the furthest up you ever jumped?" he shrugged.

"Far. Almost a near death experience. My mother was far scarier than dying of course." His smile was warm and Shaun wished she could find a way to keep it there. "Why?" Shaun crouched so she was level with her father.

"I'm going to tell you something, Dad, and you can't tell anyone." His smile vanished.

"You have my word." She grinned.

"We would have really gotten along you know." He laughed.

By the time she left the shipyards she felt ten times lighter. Her father's intense expressions and undivided attention had helped as she explained her plans. Shaun had been thoroughly impressed with his self control, his calculated responses, and ultimately his advice. As she slowly made her way back to the tailors she realized just how much alike they were. Beth's decision to name her Shaun had been one of the smartest ones she had ever made.

Smiling she glanced up at the signs to make sure she was heading in the right direction. It wasn't the street signs that caught Shaun's gaze but a young man. He was struggling to keep the individual on his back from falling as he weaved through the gawking crowds.

Gasping Shaun dashed across the road ignoring the angry shouts as carriages clattered to an abrupt stop. "Patriot!" she called. Patriot's head jerked up his eyes wide in terror.

"Shaun," the blood drained from his face. Every building on the street could have been lit on fire but Shaun would not have noticed. Instead she reached for Spot gripping his face to lift his head. She saw the blood and smelled the liquor. It took only moments for the tears to stain her cheeks.

"What happened?" she croaked.

"It's none of your concern." Patriot's statement lacked conviction. She began to shift Spot from Patriot's shoulders to her own. "What are you doing?" he shouted in alarm raising his hand to stop her.

"I don't know what happened, but I'm taking him to the hospital."

"Let go!" he screamed stumbling backward. "Why do you care Shaun? You're the one responsible for this!" she stared at him in disbelief. "It took me days to find him, and I'm not letting you come and take him away! Now leave before he wakes up!" she gritted her teeth.

"I'm not leaving, not until I know he'll be fine." Patriot's eyes reflected disgust.

"Really? Because if you honestly cared why did you marry that Bennett guy? Why did you leave Spot to drown himself in misery? Because last time I checked Shaun, it was easy for you to leave." Her purse fell to the cobblestone as she launched herself at Patriot. Fists balled around his shirt collar and he stared at her in surprise.

"You know nothing," she seethed. Shaun's self hatred, her self anger creating fiery adrenaline. "Do not let my choices affect his health, his well being." The adrenaline reached its peak and plummeted as her eyes flickered to Spot's pallid face and lifeless body. "Patriot," she breathed. "Just let me help."

Reluctantly he nodded and she slumped in relief releasing his shirt. Quickly she retrieved her purse, surprised it remained, and hurried him through the streets. Her maid practically died of a heart attack when Shaun returned, after more than an hour absence, with the ragged boys.

"Miss Bennett," she gasped unable to help haul Spot into the carriage.

"Don't ask questions, help!" she demanded rattling off directions to Joel's family doctor's home.

It was best to keep the matter private. If anyone had seen her directing the boys previously it would make it much worse for her rumored to be at Spot's side in the hospital. If she asked it, Dr. Behm would not breathe a word to Joel or his parents.

The half hour it took to reach his home seemed endless. Shaun's hand never left Spot's as she clasped his cold fingers with every shred of strength she possessed. Only moving to check his pulse.

"Dr. Behm!" Shaun's maid leapt out of the cab and dashed towards the house once the carriage stopped. Patriot helped Spot into her driver's arms and followed numbly behind as she led the way into the mansion. Dr. Behm met them at the entrance his bag in hand and her maid behind him.

"What happened?" he was breathless.

"He was hit over the head." Patriot spoke his voice weak. "With a glass bottle."

"Anything else I need to know?" his tone was gruff as he instructed Spot to be laid out on the table.

"He was drunk." Dr. Behm nodded and shooed everyone from the room, everyone except Shaun. She stood anxious at Spot's side watching as he prodded his motionless limbs.

"This isn't the time to ask this," she began cringing as he found the source of blood. "But please don't tell anyone, not even Joel, about this." Dr. Behm was silent for a few moments as he turned Spot's face to the side.

"I figured you would ask that." He pulled a needle and thread from his supplies. Shaun instinctively took Spot's hand, even if he knew nothing of what was happening. "And I won't."

"Thank you." She whispered wishing her tears ducts would just dry up. It took an hour for Dr. Behm to finish stitching Spot's wound and to clean him up. "Will he be alright?" Shaun whispered gently tracing designs on Spot's palm.

"Yes, he may wake up with a headache, but his wound should heal in a couple of weeks, and I can prescribe some pain medicine of course." He shifted in his bag producing a glass bottle of pills. "I would like to examine him when he's awake. It would be best to make sure there's no concussion."

"I'll talk to Patriot."

"Mrs. Bennett?"

"Yes?"

"Joel is like a second son to me and his family my family. The last thing I want to see is him hurt beyond repair. You are his wife, and despite all the rumors about you, he is in love with you. Do not jeopardize him for whatever selfish reason." Shaun released Spot's hand begrudgingly and lifted her chin in defiance.

"I appreciate your concern Dr. Behm, and you're correct in everything you said. But do understand that my selfish reasons are my own, and my choices are for something ultimately not selfish. You can think and say whatever you want about me, but do believe one thing. Joel Bennett is important to me, and I love him, and the last thing I would ever want to do would be to hurt him. However, sometimes, we need to do what we have to."

Dr. Behm said nothing except medical directions before exiting the room. Slowly Shaun moved towards the study where her maid, driver, and Patriot were waiting.

"How is he?" Patriot exclaimed jumping from the sofa. Shaun smiled and nodded her head encouragingly.

"He should be fine, but Dr. Behm would like for him to remain here until he wakes up. Just to make sure there's no concussion or lasting effects." Patriot clenched his fists and reluctantly nodded his agreement.

"I suppose that's okay."

"It's more than okay Patriot; Spot will be staying here until Dr. Behm gives him the okay to leave."

"You're the last person who should be giving me orders." He spat narrowing his eyes. "The only reason I allowed you to take him was because I was just as concerned as you."

"Good, I'm glad we were on the same page."

"Don't get smart with me!" he yelled lunging toward her. "Everything that's happened to Spot is your fault!" Shaun closed her eyes as she accepted the truth of that statement.

"And I won't deny that. You can blame me Patriot, all you want, but it won't change anything, especially how I feel."

"And what's that?" he growled.

"I'm in love with Spot Conlon. More in love than I wanted to be, so in love it's hard to breathe without him, so in love I can barely keep this façade from falling to my feet. I'm doing everything in my power to save someone, and I hope in the end I can get what I want, and that's Spot. It will always be Spot, I will want no one else but him, and you can think I'm lying, and if that's so, then you don't know me."

"Mrs. Bennett…" her maid whispered.

"We're leaving." Shaun gestured for her staff to follow her. She secured her hat and gloves before turning back to Patriot. "I do have one favor, when Spot's back to his old self, please have him visit me? Thank you Patriot."

It wasn't until Shaun was in her room and waiting for Joel to return home that she cried. The tears were endless as they slipped down her cheeks and into her pillow. It was time to finish everything, and once Spot visited her she would tell Joel the truth. All she wanted was to see if Spot would still love her, if he still felt anything for her, and by his reaction to her wedding there seemed to be hope.

Shaun was attempting to pay attention to what her fellow Charity members were saying. Unfortunately the budget for the coming year was unimportant to her. Instead she was contemplating the night she found Spot being carried by Patriot, bleeding and unconscious.

Joel had been concerned when he found her crying alone in her bedroom, but he thankfully did not press the reason. He merely changed clothes and crawled into bed with her stroking her hair soothingly until she finished.

A small smile formed as she weighed the wonderful traits Joel possessed, and then disappeared when she realized that didn't matter. Shaun was going to hurt him, betray him, and do everything she vowed at the altar not to in a matter of days.

"Mrs. Bennett?" she looked up to find five pairs of cynical eyes on her. Laughing light heartedly she placed a hand to her head.

"I'm sorry; I'm a little out of it today."

"Should we meet another time?" Begonia Peters inquired forcing a fake smile. Shaun returned the phony grin and shook her head.

"Of course not, I'm all yours from here out." Coincidence shattered her statement as the doorbell echoed into the parlor. "Or maybe not." She mumbled to herself tearing her eyes from Begonia's piercing gaze and reaching for the budget papers.

"Oh, if you say so Mrs. Bennett," her forged politeness grated on Shaun's nerves. Everyone knew Begonia had her sights set on marrying Joel, and suddenly the laughing stock of the upper crust had stolen him from her grasp. It was obvious in her mannerism that she despised everything about Shaun, and hated it even more she now was required to respect and take orders from her.

Joel had commanded the charity organizations under his mother's control now be Shaun's responsibility. Resentfully Shaun had obliged feeling obligated to do whatever Joel wanted of her for the time being. Everything but be a loving wife. Her shoulders shagged as her inner conscious reminded her just how awful a person she was.

"I would like half of the proceedings from the charity ball next month to go to the Newsboys." Shaun decreed chucking the papers on the table before her.

"What?" Begonia protested standing suddenly. Shaun could tell the others were not pleased with her declaration but left the outrage to Begonia.

If Miss Peters displeased Shaun she could easily have her out casted, make her a social pariah and laugh at her discomfort for the next few months, and everyone knew it. That was the power that came with being the richest man in New York's wife, the same man that invested and owned half the companies that made those that sat before her wealthy.

"Look Begonia," Shaun began leaning back and folding her hands calmly. "Don't think I'm oblivious to how these organizations worked before I came on board. I know Ginny was way too busy to keep an eye on any of you, and don't deny that most of the money you all pocketed when no one was looking. Half the purses and clothes you wear came out of the donations of your husbands' colleagues." There was uncomfortable shifting about the room.

"Don't be absurd." Begonia snapped.

"Don't be selfish," Shaun countered smirking smugly. "If none of you agree the city finally deserves some giving back then I can gladly inform Ginny and Joel of the mishaps that have been going on for these past few years. I'm sure they'd love to hear where their money really has been going. As if none of you have enough already."

There was a light knock, nearly unheard; if no one had been aware the door chime had rung a few minutes ago. "Come in!" Shaun called turning her body towards the door.

"I apologize for interrupting," her maid murmured. "But there's a guest here for you Mrs. Bennett."

"Thank you, Ursula," Shaun stood elegantly curtsying to her company. "If you'll excuse me a moment ladies, there's some business I must attend to." She gracefully exited the room, and once the door was closed released a sigh.

"Mrs. Bennett?" she smiled at her maid.

"If I'm not done in five minutes Ursula, please escort everyone out?"

"Actually Mrs. Bennett, we weren't sure if you actually called this gentleman here, so he's in the hall." She fidgeted nervously and by her concerned glances Shaun knew exactly who waited for her.

"No," she whispered the color draining from her face. "No, I did ask him to come." Jill, the maid who accompanied her the day she found Spot, was currently out ill, and the driver was with Joel. No wonder Ursula looked horrified at the idea that a ragged street kid was ringing the bell.

She stared in disbelief. "Escort him to Joel's study, and then get us tea, I'll be there in a moment." Shaun supported her self against the wall waiting for Ursula's voice to reach her. Once it did she closed her eyes as she willed her heart to slow down.

What would Spot do when he saw her? Would he hit her? Yell at her? Tell her he hated her? Everything that had happened rushed back to her. The necklace, Viola and Dr. Behm's warnings, Joel's confusion, everything. Slowly she started for the study smoothing out her dress and fixing her hair. Ursula hurried from the room sliding the door shut behind her.

"He's very…" she trailed off and Shaun smiled.

"Yes, thank you." She waited until Ursula was out of sight before entering.

Spot stood his back facing her, his hands shoved in his pockets. His wound seemed to be healing and she was grateful for that. "Spot?" she whispered.

He whipped around his blue eyes in slits, his hat tilted on his head and strands of his brown hair falling into his face. His clothes were wrinkled and dirty, but he looked amazing. She almost burst into tears at the sight of him in front of her his body radiating life. How she longed to fall into his arms and press her lips against his, to beg for his forgiveness, to make love to him right here, but she didn't.

"What do you want?" he screamed. She wondered if her charity visitors heard. "What the fuck could you possibly want?" he repeated stepping closer to her. His voice alone nearly sent her over the edge. Shaun merely studied him. Traced his features with her eyes and imagined touching him. Her silence caused him to grab her shoulders. She closed her eyes at the feel of his grip releasing a sigh of relief. Spot she thought. He shook her violently shaking her from her revere. "I'm talking to you!"

"I want to be friends." She responded keeping her eyes closed. His laughter bubbled out of his throat and sounded hysteric. He was so close to insanity, she could hear it.

"Friends, did you seriously just tell me you wanted to be friends?"

"Yes. I'm one hundred percent serious." Finally she allowed herself to look at him. "One hundred percent." She repeated. Spot flung his arms in the air turning his attention to a frame on Joel's desk.

"I thought we were lovers Shaun, I thought we didn't lie to each other." He snatched it from its place and pointed at the photograph of her and Joel on their wedding day. "And look! You're married, here's proof! Married women can't be friends with anyone!"

"And why not? I'm sorry Spot, I," in a sudden rage he flung the frame to the ground, the glass shattering across the carpet. Shaun flinched at his anger, at his hatred.

"You're sorry? Oh this is just wonderful, good line Shaun, keep 'em coming, you're spouting some winners."

"What do you want me to do Spot? Write my apologies in blood?" how was she continuing to speak? And coherently for that matter.

"That would be a start. I'd love to see you bleed. It would prove you're still human."

"Spot, I made a mistake please don't let it ruin what we have."

"And what is that?" he screeched. "We have nothing! There is nothing between us!" he spun to show her the expanse of the room. "I have nothing, and you have everything!" he began ripping books off the shelves, pictures from the desks, trashing the room thoroughly.

But Shaun would not stop him, his anger, no matter how passionate, proved that he still loved her. "You just got everything you ever wanted Princess, and you lied to me, used me, abandoned me in the process."

"Oh Spot," she muttered stepping toward him. He backed away.

"Don't look at me like that Princess; don't ever look at me like that." His back hit the bookcase and she saw the tears fall. It was too much for her. To see Spot so venerable, so lost, in so much pain.

She wrapped him in her arms cradling his head against her chest. He didn't pull away; he only reached up and grasped her dress holding onto her for dear life, as if she was a ghost.

Shaun inhaled his scent reveling in her favorite smells, missing the mornings she woke up tangled up with him. Missing everything about him. Her own tears threatened to fall, but she couldn't allow it. No, Shaun had an act to put on. The show must go on.

"Spot," she began, "You have every right to be mad at me, but listen to me, I still care about you. And all I want is for you to forgive me." He yanked himself away from her staring at her with disgust.

"I don't know if I can." Her heart almost broke.

"Please try." She pleaded. "I never used you, and I never abandoned you. It just feels that way. I want you in my life Spot, forever." She wished he could read between the lines. Understand. But to tell him her plans now would ruin everything, and she couldn't risk it. Not with another life in the balance.

The minutes passed by painfully as she waited for his response. Instead of anger, instead of words, His fingers gently caressed her cheek as he stared at her, as she stared at him, and slowly moved to her lips.

He ran his thumb over her bottom lip his gaze intent. It was as if they were both entranced with each other, with every feeling and emotion surging through their bodies, and carefully Spot leaned in.

His lips were inches from hers, his breath warm on her face. Shaun closed her eyes eager to feel the pressure of his lips on hers. Eager to feel the sparks that were sure to ignite, eager to feel what she always felt when he kissed her, eager for the hunger and desire that would begin in the pit of her stomach.

"There is no more forever Shaun." He whispered, his arms falling to his sides. "Not anymore."

His shoes crunched across the glass as he left the room. When she heard the front door shut her knees buckled and she collapsed into a sea of broken glass and torn books. No more...

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I edited real fast so I hope its alright. I should update fairly soon but again, no promises. Thank you thank you thank you for continuing to read and review.