The firelight glowed orange in the night sky as Tay lingered in the doorway and watched Race and Sarah head back to Manhattan. She remained in that position long after Race and Sarah's footsteps had faded. The irony of the Tay's refusal to speak with Race and Sarah while so focused on their presence in Brooklyn was not lost on Spot. It might have been different if Race had come by himself but he'd given her that chance to open up and she'd clearly continued to hold everything inside. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, allowing the haunting of images of Tay flicker through his mind. The sight of her laying in that bed, beaten and bloodied almost beyond recognition was like a wound that refused to heal. When he'd first heard the report from two of his boys about how they'd found Tay up near the Navy Yard he hadn't wanted to believe it was really her. He still hadn't gotten over the night she'd tried to kill herself and yet again he'd found himself in a situation that left him feeling hopeless and out of control.

Tay finally moved away from the door and began pacing the room around him, humming a familiar lullaby under her breath. Part of spending so much time together meant he didn't need her to say a word to know she was troubled by Sarah's intrusion and would no doubt begin a discussion he knew would inevitably end in an argument.

"Spit it out," Spot ordered while keeping his eyes closed.

"She shouldn't have come here."

"In English, doll," Spot answered. He was too exhausted to engage with her using the few pieces of traveller language that he could remember. When they'd first met Tay had taught Spot what she could recall from her own childhood as a means of communicating with him in secret. After Tay was attacked she stopped speaking to any one but Spot and only spoke to him in the same language her mother had once used.

A chair scraped across the floor and Spot felt Tay's fingers brush across his cheek and down along his jaw, tracing over the healed places where she'd drawn blood the night he'd tried to explain about the miscarriage. Spot tried to relax at her touch but he knew what she was searching for and he couldn't take the chance of showing any weakness. Everything that had happened that night he'd found Tay had torn him inside out but he still had her to think of. She'd refused to speak, to sleep, to eat, and her reliance on him and only him meant he'd be the only one there to pick up the pieces from when she shattered. It was only a matter of time.

"You look tired." Tay's fingertips grazed his arm before he felt her place an object in the palm of his hand. Her fingers curled around his and Spot finally looked down to find she'd handed him a small glass bottle filled with a clear liquid. He glanced over at her but Tay's eyes were downcast. "It helps."

Without a word Spot uncorked the bottle and poured the contents out onto the floor next to him while staring straight at Tay. He tossed the bottle away and listened to it strike the ground before rolling off into the dark. Questions flew through his mind but he knew he wouldn't get anywhere due to Tay's unwillingness to talk about her recent use of the drug to combat her own pain and misery. Tay didn't seem at all surprised that he dumped the morphine onto the floor which made him realize the supply he thought he'd destroyed earlier was clearly only the tip of the iceberg.

"That won't stop me from using it," Tay told him. It was almost amusing the way she'd always claimed he was the one who played games and yet she knew exactly how to twist the knife. She had learned to be careful, to openly defy him only when he wasn't in front of the others. She had an uncanny ability to draw out his weaknesses and yet he still allowed her closer than anyone else. It was infuriating. She was infuriating.

"Use it all you want," Spot answered in a calm voice. He was too used to her idle threats to be particularly concerned but he also had to throw in one little barb. "It ain't gonna change nothing."

Tay drew her hands back away from him and Spot tried hard to fight off the feeling of loss but couldn't quite grasp it. He clenched his fists in frustration at his inability to control his own feelings. That was what she had done to him. At first he'd tried to control her. Tried in the most cruel, vicious ways he could think of. Because if he could control her, he could control how he felt. That was what he told himself. But it was all a pack of lies.

"What'd Sarah have to say?" Tay asked quietly, unable to disguise the jealousy in her tone.

"If I wanted you to know, I would have let you keep listening," Spot told her.

"Why'd you even let them come here?"

"Maybe I wanted to save you a trip since you're always running off every other damn day to spread my business to all of Manhattan."

"I don't suppose you told her who did it?" Tay asked but she didn't wait for Spot to answer before continuing. "I forgot, you don't know anything."

"I don't," Spot answered. Tay had repeatedly accused him of withholding information but Spot had been pointedly evading her questions. He knew that, unlike Sarah, Tay was not about to give up on her determination to find the person responsible for that night. What she hadn't yet realized was how much trouble she'd created for herself and for Spot when she'd failed to heed his warning to stay out of Brighton.

"You're lying," Tay stated matter-of-factly.

"She brought you clothes," Spot explained, nudging the bag Sarah had left behind closer to Tay with his foot. "Take 'em and go change. Leave my stuff in the room."

"No."

"I wasn't asking." He understood that dressing in boy's clothing had provided Tay a kind of comfort as she'd been able to disguise herself and pass through life the way she preferred, hidden and without drawing anyone's attention. But Spot knew time was growing short and by the spring she was going to need a job and a place to stay, both of which were going to be difficult to obtain anyway and he didn't need the added problem of Tay presenting herself in his spare clothing. Tay eyed the bag of clothing with disgust and Spot saw her wrap her feet around the bottom rungs of her chair, a tell tale sign she was frightened but also willing to stand her ground with him.

"I ain't wearing those clothes," Tay scowled as she directed her comments toward the floor.

"Then you're gonna get a hell of a rise outta the boys when you show up wearing nothing but a smile at the house tonight," Spot answered but Tay didn't even bat an eyelash at the suggestion.

"There's nothing wrong with my clothes," Tay argued.

"First of all, they're my clothes," Spot pointed out. "And second, you're sixteen and too old to be running around playing dress up."

"You're the same age as me," Tay told him.

"So?"

"So I'm not the only one playing at something I ain't," Tay said quietly.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Spot asked but Tay only shrugged. When he'd first met her, Tay had never seemed able to hold her tongue but since the night she'd been attacked Tay had retreated into a silence that would last for hours, if not days, and any attempt Spot made to get her to open up was instantly rebuffed.

"I want to leave," Tay admitted. She twisted her fingers together nervously and couldn't meet his gaze. The look of hesitation and worry on her face was so familiar to Spot, he'd seen it countless times but it didn't move him in the slightest.

"Then go," Spot told her. He had his doubts about her acceptance of his offer, after all she'd been the one to willingly return to Brooklyn. If he was honest, he'd admit that he'd manipulated that situation as well, but he remained silent.

"With you," Tay added so softly that he almost had to lean in closer just to catch on to what she'd said. She finally looked up at him, tears visible in her eyes. "Please, Spot. We could go somewhere else. It'll be different."

"How's it gonna be different, doll?" Spot asked harshly. "You think anywhere we go that we ain't gonna still be out in the streets, starving to death, freezing in the cold and fighting over scraps?"

"I just—" Tay began to murmur but Spot cut her off.

"And you might as well face it, that baby ain't coming back no matter where you go-" Tay's hand shot out reflexively and Spot just as easily caught it, twisting her wrist and arm until she cried out in pain. Anger burned brightly in her eyes and he held his grip, knowing the moment he released her she'd try to strike him again. He wasn't sure why he stopped her. He deserved it, he knew that.

"No wonder your mother killed herself," Tay snapped. "She knew you were nothing but a demon."

Spot drew Tay closer and leaned toward her, his mouth pressed up against her ear as he whispered, "Aithníonn ciaróg ciaróg eile."

"I am nothing like you," Tay argued just as she broke free of Spot's grasp. She snatched the bag of clothes off the floor before retreating to the bedroom. Spot remained seated for a moment, a sense of relief washing over him as Tay showed even the briefest sign of her temper. After she'd been attacked Tay had become a shell of her former self and Spot was forced to live in a new, muted world devoid of emotion.

He picked the lamp up off the table and made his way into the room where Tay stood with her back toward him in stormy silence. The air was thick with memories and Spot eyed the yellowing newspaper ads plastered to the walls with a hint of regret. If he'd just given in and let her go, would any of it be different? Spot placed the lamp on the shelf as he closed the door behind him. Tay was concentrating on an object in her hands but Spot couldn't tell what it was until she held the blood stained ribbon out to her side, leaving the tarnished key to swing gently in the air.

"You should take this back."

"I gave it to you," Spot reminded her.

"Why?" Her voice dropped down to barely above a whisper. She remained facing away from him and he kept his distance despite his desire to reach out to hold her.

"You know why," Spot answered. It was a mistake to admit that he loved her. He wasn't about to give in to his feelings yet again by giving her the answer he knew she needed. His telling Tay that he loved her had caused something inside him to splinter and he couldn't figure out how to deal with that.

"For Christ sake, Spot, there's no one here. No one to strut around in front of and act like some all-mighty fucking king. Do you know what you're the king of? Nothing."

It was obvious she meant to drive that particular barb straight into his heart but Spot was too used to her venom to be bothered by it. It was almost to be expected as he was the only one she'd still communicate with and so he knew he was going to end up bearing the brunt of her rage. But that didn't mean he was going to be happy about putting up with it.

"You're right, there's no one here but don't pretend that's why you're wanting to talk about what happened 'cause I know you don't really want to talk, or even think, about that shit. If you really wanted to talk about it, I wouldn't have found you in that den so fucking high you didn't know your own goddamn name." It was although they had switched places and Spot didn't know how to deal with the feelings he could only describe as chaotic.

"All I want is the answer to one question and you won't give it to me. Why?"

"I told you, I don't know who did this," Spot lied easily. It was the only thing he still knew how to do. Lying to her had always come easy. Simple little white lies knotted together with complete fabrications that were meant to protect her but only caused more harm.

"Tell me something, Liam, when everything that goes on around here only happens 'cause of your say-so, how am I supposed to believe that you don't know nothing about this? Or maybe it was you and you're just mad 'cause it didn't work out."

"Why would I try to kill you? You ain't ever had a problem taking care of that yourself," Spot replied without thinking. Despite a hidden determination to try and remain calm he could feel himself losing his grip. Why else would he bring up the one thing that frightened him more than anything?

"Race was—" Tay began.

"Do not bring Higgins up to me right now," Spot warned. "I gave you every chance to stay with that bum and you blew it. Hell, I even sent you out there thinking you might at least open up to him and you sent him packing just like everyone else."

"Because I'm not a fucking zoo animal," Tay scorned. "But there you was just letting them trot on over here like they had engraved invitations."

"What the hell else am I supposed to do?" Spot paced in front of the door and crossed his arms tightly over his chest to keep from giving in to the violence he was accustomed to using. "I try to keep tabs on you, you curse at me to leave you alone. I try to talk to you, you ignore me or accuse me of lying. So maybe I figured you'd talk to him instead but that was clearly a mistake."

"Well look at that," Tay said with condescension dripping from every word. "Spot Conlon was wrong about something."

"What were you doing out there that night?"

"Considering you'd sent me off to Manhattan like I was some-"

"I asked you a question," Spot cut her off sharply.

"What the hell does it matter? You know who did it and it ain't like me telling you what I was doing that night is gonna change anything." Spot stood waiting in silence until Tay began to fidget nervously. She wound and unwound the ribbon around her fingers repeatedly. "I needed air, all right? I can't think around you. Especially after you told me—it don't matter. None of that shit matters, Spot."

"So you left 'cause I told you that I love you?" Spot asked, hoping to prompt her to continue but Tay glared at him fiercely.

"Why wouldn't I? After all, you sent me packing just because you pretended to care about me for half a second so what was I supposed to think would happen when it turned out you loving me was just another lie? You're the one always trying your best to hurt me every way possible so I decided to beat you at your own game."

"I didn't tell you that to hurt you, I told you that because it's the truth."

"Like I said, it's a little late for that," Tay scorned. "'Cause look at where we are, right back where we started. This is all your fault."

"My fault? I'd love to hear how this is my fault, doll."

"'Cause it was your goddamn idea to force me to get rid of it the first time and don't even try to tell me that you ain't at least a little bit happy about this mess," Tay seethed. "After all, it's what you're so scared of, ain't it? You thought I'd try tying you down with some bastard kid and you'd end up like every other bummer out on the streets."

"I am getting real tired of telling you that I had nothing to do with this and that I ain't happy about it. I tried to protect you."

"You did one hell of a job." He could have strangled her and for a moment he thought briefly of actually going through with it but stopped himself. It was the longest conversation they'd had since the night before she'd been assaulted and somehow he needed to hear every cutting remark. She'd been so careful about keeping herself contained that Spot was almost mesmerized by the force of her anger as she stood in front of him, unleashing every drop of bitterness and hurt.

"What were you doing in Brighton yesterday?" One question and the room went still. For the first time that night Spot had gained the upper hand and he knew it the moment he saw Tay's eyes widen with surprise. He'd turned a blind eye to her questioning the other newsies repeatedly as he'd given orders to each one not to discuss anything that had happened but he couldn't ignore the issue any longer. Tay had taken it upon herself to find answers and was clearly under the impression that Spot knew little to nothing about her path to revenge.

"None of your damn business." Tay tried her best to sound self-assured but Spot knew her too well and picked up on the slight tremble in her voice. He'd caught her off-guard and he wasn't planning on letting her off the hook.

"You're going to kill a man, Anna? Is that the kind of person you are now? Guess you're more like me than you want to admit, doll."

"Stop it," Tay told him. She shook her head as though trying to rid herself of the violent thoughts that plagued her. "We ain't talking about this."

"Like hell we ain't," Spot said sharply. "You're not going down that fucking road, you hear me? I know all about your little visit out there and I swear if I have to lock you up to keep you from that place, I will."

"So you're gonna punish me for doing something you're too much of a coward—" Tay stopped herself and took a step back even though Spot hadn't moved. He simply looked at her as she stood opposite him. His nerves were frayed and it was clear Tay was also at the end of her rope, exhaustion evident on her every feature.

"I wasn't going to kill anyone."

"Who's the liar now, doll?" Spot scoffed.

Tay hesitated for a moment before tossing the key down onto the bed and reaching up to undo the first few buttons of her shirt. Spot cringed inwardly as Tay slid her shirt off, revealing a set of bandages wrapped tightly around her chest and ribcage. Deep purple bruises were scattered across her shoulders and arms. Spot's eyes traveled from her bruised skin to the stain on the wooden floor. He thought of how she'd once asked him how much blood he was willing to shed for his city and realized it was nothing compared to the blood she'd already shed for him. Blood she had shed because of him.

A small hiss escaped Tay as she tried to maneuver a camisole over her head and Spot was by her side in a moment. Her movements were clumsy and she fumbled a bit before Spot took the garment out of her hands.

"I don't need your help." Her pained expression suggested otherwise and Spot ignored her remark as he guided the material over her body. Without realizing he traced each of the bruises along her arms and neck, ending with the thin scar along her cheek. He'd spent years breaking down her walls, rebuilding the pieces, and sending her crashing to the ground all over again. He was the one who was meant to sacrifice for that kingdom of dirt and rags with nothing more to show for it than a bloody crown but she'd ended up paying the price for his mistakes.

"You can't go through with it," Spot said quietly as he brushed his thumb down the curve of her neck. "I know you think it will help and that somehow you'll feel better, but you won't."

"How do you know how I feel about any of this?" Tay scorned although Spot noted there was a hint of resignation in her voice.

"Because I know you, Anna and I ain't blind. You spend every day trying to drug yourself stupid just so you ain't gotta think about it no more and every night I listen to you cry out in your sleep."

"Why won't you just tell me who did this?" Tay asked while she reached up and toyed with the collar of his shirt. Her touch was fleeting and he found himself curling his hand around hers and kept it pressed against him. "You used to tell me things, you know. You used to tell me everything."

"That ain't gonna work, doll," Spot smirked. It was almost admirable to see her try to twist things and bring up the past in a way he hadn't expected. The truth was he had been more open with her but that was before. Before he became the leader of Brooklyn, before he'd realized that everything Rook had predicted would come true, and before he'd even realized how desperately he needed her.

"Then admit it was a lie," Tay told him. "You don't love me, you never did."

"What is so hard for you to understand about this? You keep telling me I'm a monster, that I'm some kind of demon but how do you think I got that way? You think it was easy taking a man's life, Anna? You think I want that for you? It'll destroy you—"

"Like you haven't?" Tay interjected quietly. She tried to pull away from Spot but he drew her closer until they were only inches apart. It was the most honest they had ever been with one another and Spot felt at a loss as to how to soothe her pain.

"I'm sorry." He's asked for forgiveness so many times that the words sound hollow and he understood there was no forgiving what he had done to her. The words wouldn't change anything. The scars would heal, the walls would be rebuilt, and all that would be left was the mutual promise to pretend it never happened.


When the boy kissed her Tay tasted whiskey and something sweet that reminded her of Christmas. Oranges, that was it. She was suddenly overwhelmed with heart breaking memories and ended the kiss abruptly. The boy seemed surprised and Tay noticed flecks of yellow in the deep caramel color of his eyes. One of the reasons she'd chosen him was because of the warmth of his eyes and he also seemed to be the only boy in the room who had no idea who she was. The fact was she'd had to travel almost to Queens just to find an escape and she gulped down what was left of her drink while she thought of how she'd been mistaken. That sweet boy with his warm eyes and whiskey scented kisses would not thaw the ice that had grown around her heart. He signaled for two more drinks and Tay swallowed the next shot just as quickly as she'd downed the first three. Her eyes watered and her throat burned but she still felt that same bitter cold through her entire being.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Tay turned to see the sweet, simple boy had been replaced. Spot stood in his place, one hand covering her glass and his eyes were as cold as the ice Tay had just been thinking about. In her drunken state she thought for a moment that she might have actually willed him into her presence but then smiled to herself as she thought about the absurdity of the idea that Spot could be willed into doing anything or going anyplace.

"Having fun," Tay answered. She glanced around to try and find the boy from earlier but he was long gone. He'd just been a pawn anyway. Tay tried to slide her glass out from under Spot's hand but he wouldn't budge. Tay wrinkled her nose as she looked at Spot. "Did your whore kick you out? I can smell that cheap perfume she loves so much."

"I'm surprised you noticed since you smell like you fell in a brewery," Spot shot back. A white hot spark of anger burned inside of Tay as Spot ordered more drinks, perfectly unconcerned about her accusations. One of the other patrons jostled Tay from behind and she suddenly felt overwhelmed by the heat and the noise in the room.

"Maybe you wasn't even with that blonde, maybe you was with Kelly's girl, instead."

"Maybe I was," Spot answered in that same cool tone of voice that Tay hated because she'd heard him use it so many times before when he'd dismissed her. Like she was nothing, she meant nothing and never would have any meaning in his life. Tay had never been foolish enough to think that she was the only one who shared Spot's bed but for some reason imagining him putting his hands on Sarah Jacobs drove her mad. The alcohol only fueled her jealousy and she relished the thought of how she'd burned each and every piece of clothing Sarah had brought that night she'd spoken with Spot. Tay tried to block the memory searching in vain for her old dress, only to have Spot explain that it had been ruined the night she'd lost the baby. The clothes Sarah had offered Tay only reminded her of everything she wasn't and so she'd burned them, trading them for a replacement skirt and blouse she'd snagged off a nearby wash line. It wasn't Sarah's fault, she knew that, but Tay had found herself unable to contain the vicious feelings and thoughts that ran rampant through her. She knew who was to blame and he was standing right next to her but aiming her torrent of abuse in Spot's direction had only ever left her damaged and broken-hearted. He had always known exactly what to say or do to silence Tay and had no difficulty in wounding her.

"Go away," Tay told Spot and immediately realized she sounded like a petulant child. Spot ignored her and took a sip of his drink. "You ruin everything, you know that?"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, doll," Spot shrugged.

"Don't call me that," Tay snapped. She tried to slide off of the bar stool but her legs were like jelly so she held tight to the edge of the bar instead and remained seated. She peered past Spot but there was no sign of the boy who'd been standing with her only moments before. She caught a glimpse of two of the boys Spot generally kept around for protection standing over by the door and the realization dawned on her. "What'd you do with him?"

"Who?"

"Who?" Tay repeated scornfully. "The boy…that one with the…the one I was-"

"Making a fool of yourself with?" Spot supplied with a smirk. The alcohol had loosed Tay's tongue and words tumbled out without her even thinking.

"He was a better kisser than you."

Spot's shoulder brushed up against hers and Tay felt heat radiate through her body. The drinks had softened some of his sharp edges but his eyes remained steely as he fixed them on her and Tay found herself concentrating on the way the corner of his mouth turned up, even when he was in the most serious of moods. Spot's fingers pressed against her as he curled his arm around her waist and pulled her in close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath.

"If that's true, then why do you always end up right back in my bed?" Spot murmured before letting Tay go and gesturing for two more drinks. Tay hadn't remembered drinking hers but the empty glass in front of her suggested otherwise.

"Maybe 'cause I'd rather not freeze to death on the streets," Tay scoffed as new glasses were slung down on the bar. Her eyes followed Spot's hand as he lifted the glass to his lips and shivered as cold quickly replaced the heat she'd felt with his arm around her. Spot kept his eyes straight ahead and for all she knew he was memorizing the label on each bottle behind the bar.

"Looks to me like a little bird trying out her wings and playing games with some sweet, stupid boy. That's what you want, right? Some poor kid who'll be kind and nice to you? Until he sees what you really are. 'Cause you're not the kind of girl they want, doll. They want the girl who is pretty or sweet or the one that comes from a good home. Then there's you. The girl who only reminds them of everything they ain't. They can't save you, Tay."

"Why do you hate me so much?"

"I think we've established that I don't hate you."

Tay twisted her head away and glared down at the glass in front of her. "Well, I hate you."

"You've told me," Spot answered in a bland voice. Tay seriously considered hauling off and punching him straight in the mouth but she decided instead to try and leave. Her legs brushed against Spot as she slid off the barstool, wondering for a brief moment how the floor had managed to move so far away. Spot grabbed her by the shoulders and placed her roughly back onto the seat next to him. "Sit down before you break something."

"Are you trying to be funny?" Tay asked. It was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate and she had a feeling Spot was laughing in his sleeve at her. She reached into his shirt pocket and found a hand-rolled cigarette she'd known would be there. As she lit it she studied Spot's expression closely but he gave nothing away.

"Where'd you get the gun?" Any impression Tay had that Spot was in a joking mood vanished the moment she heard his question. She involuntarily pulled the strap of her bag tighter against her shoulder with her free hand as she stared at him in shock. He hadn't even bothered to turn his head to look at her and Tay's thoughts were so addled she couldn't even comprehend how he had figured out what she'd had tried to keep hidden from him.

"I don't know what you're-"

"I've told you before not to lie to me," Spot reminded her coldly. "You're gonna hand it over to me or-"

"Or what?" Tay scorned. It seemed like an eternity before Spot set his drink down carefully and leaned closer to Tay. Spot's hand wandered down her side and his thumb brushed up against her ribcage before his hand came to rest on her hip. Even through the bandages that still wound tightly around her bruised ribs she could feel the warmth of his touch. Every fiber of Tay's being was concentrated on the point where Spot's hand came to rest.

"Or you might just find out that all the time you've been thinking there ain't anything else he can do to me has been a huge mistake 'cause I promise you, Anna, I will make your life hell if I have to. I've heard there's plenty of space available in the Refuge so do not fuck with me 'cause all it would take is one little word and you'd be right back behind bars."

It was a truly terrifying threat and Tay shuddered at the thought of ever returning to that horrible place. The fact that he'd brought up that specific location caused Tay to realize there was no bluff behind his words that time. Tay's face flushed in anger and she began to cuss him under her breath. Arrogant, smug bastard. He already knew everything, every little fucking thing, about her. God, she wanted to hate him. It really shouldn't have been that difficult. He'd given her every reason to hate him, but she had failed miserably. She'd been under the impression that he, of all people, would understand her fury but he only seemed intent upon keeping her from finding some sort of release.

"If you wanted it so bad, you should have just stolen it while I slept," Tay muttered. She tried shifting away from his touch but Spot's hand remained glued to her side no matter which way she turned.

"You don't sleep," Spot pointed out. "And you still ain't answered my question."

"I bought it off one of the girls and it took me a week's pay so I better not see it end up in that fucking river, Spot." Tay tilted her glass back and let the few remaining drops drain into her mouth before nearly slamming the empty glass onto the bar. She didn't even try to hold back the venom in her words as she glared at Spot. "You know, I heard her that night. I heard Sarah ask you about what happened and was you gonna tell me that you knew who did it. I also heard a funny little story about how you was acting that night. Ranting on about Brighton and how I should have never got involved with trash like that. So I put it together myself. Now you want to act like it was nothing and tell me that if I put a toe outta line you're gonna send me back to the Refuge."

"Give it a rest, Tay," Spot told her, wiping a hand over his face as he stared down at the bar. "You don't understand what'll happen-"

"I understand more than you and Higgins seem to think, Conlon," Tay shot back. "I've seen you put plenty of people down for lesser crimes than…" The words were stuck in her throat and Tay found herself unable to continue. She stared blankly at the grimy wooden surface in front of her and was unsure of how much time had passed when she heard Spot's voice in her ear and the feeling of his breath against her neck made her head spin.

"Let's go, doll."

Something was wrong. Tay drew back away and narrowed her eyes while she tried to focus on Spot's face. His voice was too gentle, too kind and edged with something she wasn't quite familiar with. It was true, he knew everything about her, but Tay had spent so much time watching him, learning his every move, that she had learned how to recognize any little change within him. It seemed impossible to believe but she began to wonder if he wasn't also grieving. Not in the same way that she was, of course, but there was something about him that gave her the impression that Spot was not taking the matter as lightly as she'd originally thought. As she followed him out of the bar she considered the idea that Spot was playing an entirely different game than the one she'd been used to. It seemed the new game would have much more dire consequences than she'd ever imagined.