"Aw, that's nothing. Tell him what happened with that kid up at the bar near Queens." The kid with the rust-colored hair was back and seated across from Race wearing an expression that could be described as a mix between pride and a bit of fear. Almost as though he knew the topic was forbidden but he still wanted to discuss it. It had been a long night, which had turned into three days and before he knew it Race had spent a week in Brooklyn. That night was the first time since he'd left St. Paul's that he'd managed to get any shred of confirmation about the rumors he'd heard. The only thing he'd been able to pin down thus far was that the poor kid in charge of safeguarding Tay during her visit with Sarah had been stripped of his belongings, beaten within an inch of his life, and told to never show his face in Brooklyn again unless he wanted to see the river from the bottom up.

"Why you always gotta ruin a good time?" A stocky blonde kid sat to the right and tapped one of his cards against the table impatiently. The red-haired kid didn't seem as focused on the game and was allowing his cards to show plainly. "C'mon, pick up your cards."

"Conlon catches this kid kissing her and so he had him tossed outta Brooklyn but that ain't all—"

"—I ain't gonna tell you again, pick up your damn cards—"

"—had his tongue cut out—"

"—that's it—-"

The amount of money that Race lost when the inevitable violence finally erupted hadn't really concerned him much as he stepped back away from the overturned table while the two boys fought it out between themselves. The Brooklyn newsies were notoriously secretive and Race had spent nearly every penny he had trying to bribe, cajole, and charm his way into their good graces. Normally it wouldn't take much more than a few dice or poker games but it was clear from the start that the word had gone out not to buy anything Racetrack had to sell. He was somewhat taken aback by the story the red-haired kid had spurted out about Tay getting caught kissing a boy that wasn't Spot and the violent aftermath. Something had gone quite wrong but he still felt the need to speak with Tay despite Spot's warning earlier to stay away from her. Tay had never been much for telling the truth when it came to Spot but Race had learned to read her well enough to know that if he could get to her, he could get to the bottom of things.

The night air felt cool and Race took a moment to drink in the silence that existed outside the raucous, crowded warehouse he'd just left. He gazed up at the cloudy night sky and reached into his vest pocket, expecting to find a cigar but instead discovered a rumpled piece of paper. He unfolded it and noticed an address scrawled across the top of the jagged edge of the note. It wasn't any place he recognized and the handwriting was unfamiliar as well. Race tried to think back over the day and figure out who had slipped the paper into his pocket but it could have been anyone although he had his suspicions.


Race carefully made his way down the unfamiliar street, peering up at each building as he passed until he found the right place. It was a nondescript building that blended in well and that Race still didn't recognize even as he knocked at the side-door along the alley-way entrance.

"Looking for company?" A heavily made-up woman answered his knock wearing an outfit Race could have only described as belonging exclusively to the Tenderloin district. Race plastered a charming smile on his face and tried to think quickly.

"Just a room," Race answered. "I'm afraid my pockets aren't quite deep enough to afford the pleasure of your company."

"Suit yourself," the woman shrugged as she opened the door wider and led Race inside. He couldn't help but notice that she seemed slightly pleased by his comment as she proceeded up a narrow set of stairs.

Race dropped his last few coins into the woman's hand and accepted a key to the last room. He had no clue how to proceed from that point and there was an awkward moment as he waited for the woman to head back to the entrance but she didn't move.

"The girl send for you?" The woman asked, startling Race out of his thought process.

"G-girl? Um, I don't really know any girls from here," Race stammered, washing away any charm he had managed to conjure up earlier. The woman narrowed her eyes and examined Race closely, as though trying to file away his identity for future reference. She let out an exasperated breath and took Race by the hand, leading him over to the closed off room next to the one he'd paid for. She rapped three times and left Race standing by himself, completely confused and still holding the key to a room he didn't need but had already paid for.

The door was opened, Race was pulled inside quickly, and he heard the door lock again behind him as he stared in shock at his surroundings.

"What the—"

"Took you long enough. I sent that note for you three hours ago," Tay scorned as she stepped around him. There were deep brown colored stains across the front of her blouse and he could see smudges of dried blood on her hands and arms where she had pushed the sleeves up to her elbows.

"Get him the fuck out of here," Spot cursed from where he lay on the bed, holding his side and grimacing in pain as he spoke. His shirt also had a wide streak of blood across the front of it, precisely under where he held his hand.

"I need his help, your majesty," Tay answered. Race could see the way her eyes betrayed the worry she felt as she snapped at Spot. It was clear to Race that Spot was not himself because if he had been, Tay would have been on the ground. The fact was it looked like she had already faced off with him earlier given the bruised skin along the left side of her face. But Race could only focus on one crisis at a time and he was still trying to sort out what had happened.

"It's a damn scratch. Now get him the hell outta here," Spot demanded. His breathing was labored and his skin paled as he tried to get up.

"Docker's hook," Tay told Race as she ignored Spot's attempt to get up out of the bed. "This is as far as I could get him without anyone seeing but I gotta get him to Ms. Kirby, she'll be able to stitch him up."

"Jesus," Race muttered.

"I told you to just do it yourself," Spot gritted through his teeth. Tay spun on her heel but Race noticed she was careful to stay out of Spot's reach.

"And I told you, I can't," Tay retorted. "I don't know how to stitch people up. I ain't a fucking nurse."

"Really? You ain't ever had to—" Race's voice faded as Tay turned back to him with an icy look. "You're right. Wrong time to ask. Next question is, what do you want me to do?"

Tay's brow furrowed and Race could almost see the wheels in motion as they both were disinclined to get within arm's reach of Spot. There had never been a time in his life when Racetrack Higgins had ever heard Spot Conlon ask for help. Of course, if he was being particular he might note that it was Tay, not Spot, who had asked for assistance. And she'd clearly done that without thinking of what Spot's reaction would be which just went to show just how thoroughly worried she was about him.

"Both of you can go to hell. I don't need his help, or yours," Spot grimaced. The blood had begun to soak through the ripped cloth Tay had managed to apply and the worry in her eyes only grew as she watched Spot fall back onto the bed, exhausted and letting one curse word escape before he closed his eyes.

"Race, please," Tay implored. She lifted a cloth purse from under her blouse and dumped the contents out into her hand. Her hands shook as she counted out the few coins and crumpled paper until she finally gave up and just pushed the whole amount into Race's hands. "Find someone, it don't matter who. Just hurry, please."

"Find someone? I don't even know this neighborhood," Race protested. "You gotta come with me."

"No," Spot spoke up from the bed, without bothering to open his eyes. "She ain't going anywhere."

"Go down to Sands Street. You'll be able to find someone there. Please, Race," Tay begged as she pushed him toward the door. What the hell was going on? Before he could even process everything that had happened so far he found himself outside the building with a handful of money and no clue about how to locate someone willing and able to stitch up Spot. The decision to follow his gut instinct and stay in Brooklyn seemed delusional at that point but he decided it would just be best to persevere and see the whole thing through.


"So." Race ran his hand through his hair and rubbed at the back of his neck as words failed him. He was so used to having a joke, a wisecrack, a smart remark for every situation but it wasn't the time. Tay was so close that he could catch the ever-present scent of cloves that swirled in the air around her but one look at her eyes told him she was a million miles away. Tay's focus zeroed in on Spot's chest as it rose and fell lightly while he slept. Her hands still shook even though the procedure had been quick and the outcome positive. Race knew that life with Spot had left her constantly on edge and he wanted to comfort her but Tay had always been sharp edges and rough words with him.

"He'll be okay." The words echoed around the room and bounced off the rose patterned wallpaper before everything went still and silent again.

"For now," Tay said quietly while she rubbed absent-mindedly at the blood stains along her hands. "You said it yourself. He's gonna destroy himself and take every single one of us with him."

"I was angry," Race told her. He cringed at the memory of that particular conversation held out in the open for the whole world to see. The insults and crude remarks flew back and forth between the two until Race pointed out what he'd thought at the time was the truth. He hadn't realized how that one little comment would constantly follow Tay around, eating away at her inside and causing her to bring it back up on more than one occasion.

"You're not anymore?" There was a hint of disbelief and Race felt as though she was watching him out of the corner of her eye, trying to figure out if he was about to lie to her again. If he was going to lie to her like everyone else in her life.

"I am," Race admitted. "I'm angry that he's still got you mixed up in business you ain't got any reason to be a part of and I'm angry that you're sitting there with your face busted up, watching him like he's your whole world—" He saw Tay open her mouth to protest but cut her off. "—I know, kid. I know. But it still don't make any sense to me and maybe it never will. I don't get why you're always protecting him but I also don't get why I'm sitting here in this room, on this cold, hard floor, trying to make you feel better about some situation I don't think you should even be in."

The faintest glimmer of a smile followed his remark and gave Race the courage to try and find someway to the heart of the matter. He noticed Tay toying with the key and decided to start with the most obvious point. "Funny how interested Sarah was in that key, ain't it?"

Tay kept her eyes on Spot but her demeanor was instantly frigid at the mention of Sarah's name. "She's interested in a lot of things that ain't her business."

Race cleared his throat and decided to approach from a different angle. "Do you want to tell me what's really been going on or should I just go with what they've been telling me about you?"

"Sort of seems like you already made up your mind about what I've done," Tay told him. She tore her eyes away from Spot and let her head drop down into her hands. She curled her knees up against her chest and Race began to regret his decision. Tay's shoulders bowed in defeat and she seemed so fragile but he knew she was secretly made of steel.

"If that was the case I wouldn't have bothered asking you to tell me," Race answered.

Tay drew a deep breath in and seemed to be debating whether she wanted to answer Race. Her gaze returned to where Spot still lay unconscious in the bed. "He told me you was here, asking around about me. He also told me not to talk to you."

"Kind of past that point, kid," Race joked but Tay was clearly uneasy. It was not going to be simple or straightforward to get Tay to open up, Race had known that from the start. He'd learned that everything with Tay took time and he recalled how it had taken two months away from Spot before she'd let on that he read to her at night to help her sleep. Two months and all he'd been able to get out of her was one little detail. It wasn't much to any outsider but it was the most insight Race ever had into their relationship.

"He loves me," Tay whispered and Race had to duck his head to pick up on those three words. The idea was absurd and as much as he wanted to point it out, Race swallowed his scorn and waited for Tay to continue. "The night I came back to Brooklyn, he told me that he loves me. But I didn't believe him. I thought it was just another lie."

Long minutes ticked by as Tay fidgeted and seemed to struggle with find the words to explain what had happened. Her expression was pained and Race felt a tug at his heart as he realized how much effort she was putting in to answering his simple question. She had always been closed off and defensive, even when he'd been living in Brooklyn, so Race understood breaking down those barriers would not be easy.

"He was going to take everything from me, again. But I couldn't do it, Race. I went to the river and stood there for hours but I couldn't do it. It was supposed to be easy and I was so angry with him that I thought killing myself would be the only way to pay him back. Turns out he won anyway but that ain't a surprise. He always wins."

"You think he set you up?" Race asked.

"No," Tay told him vehemently. There was a spark of anger in her eyes and Race got the feeling it was something she'd been mulling over. "It was my fault, Race. I shouldn't have been out there that night and I knew it."

"You can't believe that any of this is your fault," Race told her.

"Spot didn't pull that trigger, Race. I did. I was the one who went to Brighton in the first damn place. I got all mixed up in that gypsy business even after he told me not to and what'd I do when he tried to send me away, tried to keep me safe? I came right back here. But it don't matter anyway 'cause it's done. I killed someone and there ain't no way to take any of it back."

Race pressed his back against the wall and tried to gather the bits and pieces of the puzzle together but it was nearly impossible given his state of shock. Part of him had always expected that there would be some kind of explanation, or that the truth would come out that Tay had been a mere bystander. Question after question tumbled through his mind but the words were stuck in his throat.

"So you was right after all, Race. I can't save him. I couldn't even save myself." Tay allowed a brief sad smile to appear before she returned to watching Spot with an unreadable expression.

"When did it—when did you…"

"After he sent me to see Sarah, that same night." Tay didn't need him to finish the question to understand what he was asking and he was grateful for that much at least. The rabbit hole was much deeper than he'd ever thought and he wasn't sure how to align what he'd always seen in Tay with the girl sitting next to him who had just admitted to cold-blooded murder.

"Why?"

"He was going to kill Spot." The words came out in one breath, clearly rehearsed and so familiar that he wondered how many times she had said them before. It was difficult to tell if she truly believed in her reasoning as he looked at her carefully but Tay gave nothing away.

"Who was he?"

"It don't matter. He's dead." The conversation balanced on the edge of a knife and Race knew that Tay was beginning to pull away and withdraw back inside herself.

"Does this all have something to do with that night?" Race asked as he gestured vaguely from Tay's bruised face to where Spot lay in the bed.

"Yes."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"So lemme get this straight. You'll admit to killing someone but when I ask what the hell happened to him, you want to play the same old damn games?"

"I'm not the one playing games here, Racetrack."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" He couldn't even keep it together for one full conversation before she'd already managed to get under his skin. He knew it was a defensive tactic but he always seemed to fall for it. Spot had taught her well. Bring people down to your level and twist things around until you're the one holding all the cards.

"Face it, you came here 'cause your darling Sarah wanted to know what was going on and you ain't ever been happy if you ain't the one who knows all the gossip. You're wasting your time as a runner. Why don't you go write a society column or something?"

"You're the one who asked me to come here, to help you try and save that bastard's life, and this is the kind of shit you want to pull?"

Tay's face crumpled into a mixture of sadness and exasperation before she turned away from Race. The two seemed incapable of having a simple conversation that didn't devolve into insults and biting remarks. The problem was he'd never approve of her relationship with Spot and she'd always defend Spot no matter what he said or did. Tay guarded Spot so fiercely and Race had never understood, probably never would understand, why she would do such a thing.

"Isn't that what you're always trying to do? To help me? To save me?" Tay asked. The venom in her voice stung but didn't dissuade him from telling her the truth.

"Because you deserve better and you said it yourself, you don't believe he loves you. The problem is you love him more than he could ever even care about you."

"He cares about me."

"Sure, kid. He cares about keeping you around so you'll spread your legs for him just like every other whore in this city—"

"Get out." Race was startled to hear Spot's voice break into the conversation and looked over to see Spot struggling to sit up in bed, his face grimaced in pain but his voice was as cold as ice. "You heard me, Higgins. Get the fuck out."

"Gladly," Race huffed as he got to his feet. They deserved each other and as far as he was concerned, a hangman's knot might have been too good for either one of them. Of course that wasn't how the world saw it. Tay needed to be saved and the only way to save her was to take her from him. He needed to be taught a lesson, put down, destroyed and the only way to seemed possible was to take her from him. Every other means had already been tried. Spot had been forced to fight and bleed and faced death more times than he could count but still came out on top. Race felt a sharp pang of regret as he looked down and saw Tay's shoulders shaking as she cried quietly.

"Don't bother showing your face around here, either." That part was a surprise and Race could only stand there, blinking in shock with one hand on the door. "You ain't welcome in Brooklyn any more, Higgins."

Race took advantage of the fact that Spot couldn't get out of bed and bust his head open and decided to address the issue before he left. "You breaking our deal?"

"Anna, go find something to eat," Spot addressed himself to Tay but his eyes never left Race. It was strange hearing Spot call Tay by her given name. Race moved out of the way so Tay could leave the room. The tension between the two boys was almost suffocating and Race had a feeling Spot was about to ignore all medical advice and beat him to a pulp even if it meant injuring himself further.

"See, the problem with the deal you made, Higgins, is that you thought you had something to hold over me at the time. But you showed your hand and I don't really see how calling her a whore and ignoring me when I told you to stay the fuck away from her is gonna help you get what you want. Seems to me that if anyone is breaking our deal, it's you."

"I don't really think you're in a position to negotiate. I ain't a newsie no more and I ain't gotta bow down to your fucking rules."

"Is that so?" The amusement in his voice only aggravated Race further and he watched as Spot lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply before exhaling and watching the smoke linger with a bored expression.

"Yeah, that's so and from what I've heard you got enough on your plate without worrying about keeping me outta Brooklyn. The men I work for might not be too keen if I don't show up for work—"

"How touching," Spot interrupted, "but face it, Higgins, you're a low-level messenger boy. Easily replaced by any other warm body willing to follow orders. Have you told them that you're cheating 'em, yet?"

Race felt a knot in his stomach and all the color drained from his face as Spot revealed information that no one should have been privy to. It was just a few pennies taken here or there but Race knew he'd be out on his ass the minute anyone even suspected him of skimming any money off the bosses he worked for.

"A-are you threatening me?" Race managed to spit the words out from around the lump in his throat.

"I'm making conversation," Spot answered coolly. "Just like the one you just had with Tay. That was a pretty long talk between the two of you but I guess that's always been the problem with her. She talks too much."

Race began to wonder just how long Spot had been listening while he and Tay conversed and he realized he should have suspected from the start that Spot had only been feigning sleep. It was so obvious when he looked back but he hadn't put two and two together. Of course Tay was so out of her mind with worry that it probably hadn't occurred to her that Spot was listening to every word she'd said.

"I guess the good thing is you just showed her exactly what I've been telling her all along. She trusted you and you repaid her by calling her a whore. Well done, Higgins."

"You son of a bitch." It'd been a set-up from the start. That smug, arrogant bastard had planned it all out from the beginning.

"Not sure your girl would approve of that kind of language," Spot smirked.

Race nearly ripped his cap in two as he twisted it fiercely between his hands. He needed that job and Spot damn well knew it. He didn't doubt Spot had the manpower to keep him out of Brooklyn even with the trouble in Brighton.

"Look, I shouldn't have said that to Tay," Race choked out the closest thing to an apology he could muster in that moment.

"Nice try."

"I'm sorry," Race muttered, trying to sound sincere but he actually felt like spitting nails he was so angry.

"Better," Spot told him. It was clear Spot was having the time of his life holding all the cards although he affected an attitude of indifference. "Now I'm gonna need a little insurance."

"It's always something—-" Race swallowed the rest of the sentence as he caught Spot's eye. It would be better not to push his luck any further.

"Tay might trust you, but I don't. So I'll make it simple. You tell anyone about her and you'll end up just like the last poor bastard who tried to take her from me. Are we clear?"

Race didn't need the gory details to understand that it was not an idle threat and he should consider himself lucky that he was going to make it back to his bunk that night with all his organs still intact. He nodded once and decided it would be best to get out of there as quickly as possible. He had no plans on telling anyone about what Tay had done, it was more for his own sake that he'd investigated the matter at all. The worst part was that he'd basically destroyed any shred of friendship that had existed between himself and Tay to find answers. She deserved so much better and yet again, he had failed her.