Dirt. Rags. Blood. Boys who swaggered and swore and fought like grown men. Ink stains and a tarnished crown. That's all it was or ever would be and yet Spot had somehow managed to make it all seem like so much more. Tay had never given much thought to the city or to its people, with one very notable exception. She found other people exhausting, demanding, selfish, and eager to point out her flaws. What she hated above all else was their pity. Tay didn't need them, she didn't want them and she could have easily shown all of them that they were wrong. She could leave him. In a heartbeat she could leave him. Just like that. A snap of her fingers and she'd be gone.

Lies. There was no 'they'. She'd done her very best to drive away every single person in her life. For him. Because of him. It was pathetic. She was pathetic. Tay stared down at the plate of food in front of her, pushing it back and forth with her fork until she realized Spot's eyes were on her. She was so tired of being watched. It was no wonder some of the girls chose to dress in boys clothing. At least that way you could blend in with the rest. Tay knew that would do nothing to prevent him or any of his gang from keeping an eye on her.

"You finished or are we just gonna sit here all fucking day?" Spot asked. He struck a match against the rough surface of the table and lit the cigarette he held.

"I'm sorry," Tay replied quietly. She no longer even thought about it before she apologized, it was just her automatic response whenever he spoke to her. Her hand shook as she reached for the mug in front of her. The newly healed cut on her lip stung a little as she sipped at her coffee. There were a number of other injuries hidden under her blouse and skirt. Spot had put them there. It had been his response to her trying (and failing) to get five minutes to herself. Truth be told, it had really been punishment for bringing Race in to help when he'd explicitly ordered her not to. So when the stitches had healed and the opportunity arose, he had quickly taken his revenge.

"I didn't bring you down here so you could sulk."

"I'm not sulking." Another lie. She was beginning to think she could no longer tell the truth to anyone. She certainly hadn't told the truth to Race, at least not all of it. Did she even know what the truth was anymore? She set the mug down so hard that some of the liquid splashed over the rim.

"I tried telling you about Higgins before," Spot claimed. What he'd told her about Higgins was the same thing he'd told her about everyone. Trust no one. She remembered asking Spot if that meant she shouldn't trust him either but he'd left that unanswered.

"I remember," Tay mumbled. It wasn't as though she and Race had ever seen eye to eye on Spot but she'd been a little stunned when he went so far as to call her a whore. He'd never approved of her relationship with Spot but she'd believed that while he might disapprove, he still thought of her as a decent, if troubled, person. After that night she understood Race saw her the same way everyone else saw her. So much for friendship. But it wasn't as though she'd really expected anyone to stay by her side after what she'd done. If anything Race was probably better off without her. In fact, she knew Race was going to be better off without her. Everyone would be better off if it weren't for her.

"You told him you were going to kill yourself." Spot's eyes shifted away from hers for the first time since they'd sat down and Tay wasn't sure whether she'd actually heard or just imagined the slightest bit of resentment in his voice.

"I was," Tay admitted although she could have bitten her tongue in half for that. He already had plenty of ammunition so she failed to see why the hell she would have just given him more. But the fact that she'd told Race, instead of him, seemed to cause Spot some sort of pain and that was worth it. "You told me to tell him what happened so I did."

"First you tell Kelly, then you tell Higgins." The jealousy was beginning to shine through and Tay noticed that it was as though Spot was speaking more to himself than to her. "But when I ask what you was doing, I get the same old shit."

"Why would I tell you? You're the one I was trying to get away from."

A smile crossed Spot's face as she spoke but it wasn't the kind of smile she'd wanted to see. His smile was predatory and sent a chill right down her spine, causing her to draw back a little as he looked at her. "You still haven't figured it out yet, doll? You can't get away from me."

"Just so you know, I ain't talking to Race anymore," Tay explained, ignoring Spot's comment.

"For now."

"For good."

"That's why you met with him even after he called you a whore, right? 'Cause you're so upset about what he said that you just ain't gonna talk to him no more. I'm supposed to believe that bullshit?"

"I didn't meet with him. All I did was get him his money back."

"Sure, doll."

Tay clasped her hands together under the table and clenched her jaw tightly to keep back the flood of words that threatened to burst forth. How could he have known that she'd stopped Race before he retreated back to Manhattan that night? Damn him and his little spy network. She should have never asked Race for help. She could have just left Spot there on the docks to bleed to death. That would have shown him. Tay instantly felt sick to her stomach at the idea. What kind of person was she becoming? Once, she might have been able to say she was nothing like Spot but there was a darkness that had slowly been consuming her since the day he'd told her that he loved her. Maybe the truth was that it had started before that night. How long had she been lying to herself about who she truly was? Under the table she counted on her fingers to try and keep track of what truths she did know. She'd killed someone, that was the first truth and the worst one of all. It was the only thing that mattered. The thing she struggled with was even though she knew the truth, she also tried to lay the blame on Spot rather than on her own shoulders.

Tay pushed back from the table and got to her feet. "I'm going to be late for work."

"You ain't been to work in three days and we ain't done. Sit down," Spot ordered. A smirk graced his lips as he watched Tay drop back down into her chair, defeated.

"Weren't you the one who just asked if I was done so we could leave?" Tay snapped. Without even appearing to move, Spot backhanded her from across the table, reopening the cut on her lip. She felt it with the tip of her tongue and recognized the metallic taste of her own blood. There wasn't a word from the other patrons. It was nothing new in that neighborhood. Once, she would have sat there feeling humiliated but it'd become so commonplace that she no longer even thought about anyone else's opinion.

"His name was Ryan," Spot mentioned, throwing Tay into confusion.

"What?"

"Race asked you for the man's name but you couldn't give it to him. Probably 'cause you never bothered to find out. You remember, right? The man you —"

"Don't you dare," Tay hissed, glancing from one patron to the next although none of them seemed to be paying any mind to the pair sitting at the corner table. Spot's smirk grew until Tay wanted to reach out and hit him.

"You was so interested in him the other day, I figured you might want to know his name. That way when you go running to Race, you can at least answer that question for him."

"I just told you I ain't talking to Race."

"Liar."

"What about the other man? The one who cut you?" The night Spot had been injured Tay had acted as a bystander, per his order beforehand that she not get involved no matter what the outcome turned out to be.

"Maybe he's dead, maybe he ain't. You want to know his name, too?" Spot asked. "Add him to your list of sins?"

"No." Tay quickly changed her mind and decided she needed to know more. "Why did he come after you?"

"He wasn't after me, doll." The implication was clear and Spot didn't expand upon his statement. There was an eerie silence between them and Tay found herself asking another question she wasn't really sure she wanted to put into words.

"What if—what if they can't find me?"

"You was the one who went in on that con with 'em in the first place and now you've gone and killed one of their boys so I don't think hiding down at the docks is gonna save you."

"I don't plan on hiding down at the docks."

"Where do you plan on hiding?" His tone was cool and collected but Tay picked up on the subtle hint that suggested Spot knew exactly what she had in mind. She did her best to try and evade answering his question by offering an alternative solution.

"Well if I can't hide from then, what if I go back and work for them again?"

"You really think pocketing a couple wallets and scamming some poor widows out of a few dimes is gonna make up for what you did?"

"I don't know," Tay admitted. "I don't know what's supposed to happen now."

"You never were much for planning things out."

"Why would I plan anything when you're right there controlling every thing I say or do?"

"Give it a rest. This is exactly who you want me to be, doll. You need me to be the person who cleans up your mess and takes care of things for you. Don't act like it's ever bothered you 'cause I ain't like the others. I know exactly who you are and what you've always been."

"I never asked you to do any of those things," Tay snapped. It was not how she had wanted things to go but she should have known better. Spot had never made anything easy and he certainly had no trouble pointing out the cold, hard truth. Tay had lost count of how often had she gone running to him, expecting him to take care of her. Of course each and every time she went to Spot for help, she almost instantly regretted it. More than once she'd watched with a mix of disgust and guilt as Spot beat some nameless kid to a pulp because of some perceived slight she'd received or watched a kid destroyed because he'd gotten too close to her. Eventually she learned and tried her very best to remain alone, untouched and without speaking to anyone just to keep Spot at bay.

"You sure about that, doll? 'Cause we both know who decided Rook had to be taken out—"

"That was years ago and it ain't like you needed me to come up with—"

"—and when things went sideways in Manhattan, you came running right back. Not to mention this little situation—"

"You know what? If I'm some kind of horrible monster, then why don't you just get rid of me? You could just turn me in and all your little problems would be solved. Then you could go back to being whatever kind of saint you imagine yourself to be without me." She'd never understood how he always managed to make her feel so childish, lashing out at him with stupid words and a frustration that bubbled up inside to the point she wanted to stomp her feet and scream at him.

"Why would I want to do that, doll? I already told you, I ain't gonna turn you in."

"I don't believe you," Tay told him.

"And yet here you are, just like always."

"What about you?" Her own death no longer frightened her but the idea of losing Spot still haunted her day and night. It was what made her decision so difficult and she could practically hear the sound of her soul tearing itself apart.

"What about me?"

"You're the one who said no to their offer," Tay pointed out. "It's pretty clear they ain't too happy about that."

"Well, you killing the messenger kind of made it a little more difficult to make a deal. But I'm sure you had your reasons."

"You said he deserved it," Tay reminded him. "You said he was the one who caused all of this. You said he was the one who almost killed me that night—-"

"Did I?" Spot cocked his head as he looked across the table at her. "I don't remember saying much of anything about him."

"Don't do that," Tay said in a weak voice. She could feel the numbness closing in like a blanket around her, weighing her down until she felt like she couldn't draw breath. He was toying with her, again. Her head was in a fog and she could feel the dark swirl of emotions begin to flow in around her. She bit at the fingernails of her left hand without even noticing what she was doing.

"What's the matter? Don't like me making you face the fact that your hands are just as dirty as mine? You want me to act like everyone else and pretend you're some perfect little angel who just got caught up in this shit? You played a good game for awhile, doll, but it's over now. You killed a man. I didn't force you to take that gun out and shoot somebody. You made your own choice that night. Hell, I even told you not to go looking for revenge. You're the only one who can't seem to face facts."

"Enough," Tay said quietly. "Please."

Spot didn't follow up his remark and just continued to sit there, smoking that damn cigarette with a impassive look. Tay leaned her elbows on the table and placed her head in her hands as she closed her eyes. There was clearly nothing good left in either one of them and Tay felt utterly spent as she realized what would have to happen next. The whole plan wasn't ready yet but it would have to do. It was not how she wanted to end things but it was clear that in order to save them both, she had to get as far away from him as possible.

"Can I go now?" Tay opened her eyes and kept her focus on Spot's hand as it lay on the table, inches from her own. She wanted to reach out and touch him but knew he wouldn't allow it.

"Depends on where you're going," Spot answered. Her heartbeat faster in her chest but she tried to remain outwardly calm. Even if he had figured it out, there was no way to stop her. There was a flash of malice behind his eyes that struck at her core, causing her to shudder even as she tried to remain determined.

"To confession," Tay answered truthfully.

"Thought you already did that." The week after he'd finally let her out of that godforsaken room Tay had been allowed to visit one of the local churches but Spot did not seem to buy in to her newly found faith.

"Maybe I got something I want to get off my chest."

"I'm sure you do, doll." The hint was subtle and Tay couldn't tell if she'd just imagined the meaning behind his words as Spot didn't even blink as she stared at him. Tay tried to ignore the aching in her heart and get some sort of control over herself. She needed to go while the hurt was still fresh and before she allowed him to slither back under her skin and wrap himself around her heart until he bled her dry. But the look on Spot's face made her pause and wonder if she was about to make the right choice. She wouldn't have said it was regret but there was something in his whole demeanor that made her uncomfortable. It drove her to bring up a subject she knew was taboo and would only cause him to become even more suspicious.

"We could still leave and find some other city," Tay said quietly. She stared down at her lap and twisted her fingers together nervously. There was no point in bringing it up other than she was clearly unable to stray very far from her usual path of self-destruction.

"Ain't in the cards," Spot told her as he crushed his cigarette against the edge of the plate in front of Tay and sat back in his chair. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking and Tay was torn between staying there with him and heading out the door. She hadn't planned on even mentioning leaving the city and she sure as hell hadn't planned on suggesting leaving together. Feelings of anger and frustration coursed through her as she struggled to find a balance between what she thought she wanted and what she knew would have to happen.

"So that's it? You expect me to just sit around and wait for them to kill me?"

"I'm sure you'll think of something. You said it yourself. You're smarter than I give you credit for." The sarcasm dripped from each word and drove Tay to regret not having left earlier.

"Do you always have to be such a jerk?"

"Maybe it's my way of making things easier for you," Spot pointed out and Tay would have had to have been a fool to miss the meaning behind his words. Her thoughts were still clouded but one thing was crystal clear, Spot knew she was planning something and he didn't seem the slightest bit interested in stopping her. It was his seeming ambivalence to her leaving that caused her to feel a sharp ache in her heart.

"That's rich. When have you ever cared about making my life easier? I guess that's what the beatings were for, right? To make things easier on me?" The words spilled out and she cursed herself for allowing him to drag her back into his mess, again.

"I thought you had somewhere to be," Spot reminded her but his ignoring what she'd said only irritated Tay further. Spot seemed to be under the impression the conversation was over and made his way to the door. Tay briefly considered staying right where she was but ended up following behind him. Her feet felt like clay and she let her boots scuff against the ground as she walked alongside Spot. She was surprised when Spot reached down and held her hand. It wasn't in his usual possessive way with the intention to hurt, but lighter and for a second she almost imagined that she felt a warmth that had never been there before. Her instinctive response was to try and pull away but Spot held tight and Tay tried to let her hand relax in his as they continued down the street.

Fear had always been a part of her life but Tay hadn't felt such an overwhelming sense of panic for some time before that afternoon. Part of her wanted Spot to tell her to stay, to admit that he knew all about her leaving and that he wasn't going to allow it. There were so many questions Tay wanted to ask and so many things she wanted to say but she pushed her feelings down inside. There was nothing either one could say that would make things any easier. Something needed to be done. They'd both lost enough and if leaving him was the only way to stop things from getting worse, then so be it.

"You know, you never answered my question." Spot dropped her hand and paused just inside the narrow side street alongside the church. She held back the urge to grab at his hand and regretted losing the small measure of comfort his holding onto her had provided.

"What question?"

There was a devilish glint in Spot's eyes as he looked her up and down before reminding her, "I asked you once if you was ever gonna forgive me, remember?"

Tay vaguely remembered that particular conversation but she was no closer to an answer than she had been the first time he'd asked. It had seemed like an eternity ago and while so many things had changed, it seemed that in some ways nothing had changed at all.

"Maybe I have," Tay murmured and stared down at the street. "But maybe I haven't."

"I had nothing to do with that night."

"I know."

Spot reached up and lifted the worn leather string from its hiding place under the collar of her shirt before toying with the key for a moment. "I meant it when I told you…"

Tay wrapped her hand around his as he held the key in his fist. "I love you too."

There was a moment when Tay briefly considered throwing it all away and just let everything go back to the way it was and always would be but there was no easy way out. The key fell back against her chest and it felt so heavy she almost couldn't bear the weight of it all.

"I'll find you," Spot told her. "Whatever it is you're planning, I'll find out, you know."

"I know." She would leave him. A snap of her fingers and she would be gone. Just like that.


Since the moment the young Brooklyn boy had delivered the messenger bag to Sarah she had tried not to open it. At first she'd kept it in the bottom drawer of her dresser and tried to believe the idea of out of sight, out of mind. But it didn't take long before curiosity got the better of her and she ended up taking the bag from its hiding place and secreted it up to the rooftop where she could explore the contents in peace. The first thing she'd found was the letter. It was the reason she'd sent for the one person she'd imagined could answer her questions about the bag, its owner, and the contents within. A cool morning breeze rustled the sheets and her heart jumped up into her throat as she noticed Spot standing there in almost the same exact place Jack had once stood. Clearly Spot had intended on taking her by surprise even though she had technically invited him there that day. He leaned against the wall dividing their building from the others and focused his attention toward the horizon. Sarah would have never described Spot as friendly or warm but there was something particularly stand-offish about him that made Sarah regret her decision to invite him. She was used to Spot's usual arrogant demeanor but that seemed to have been replaced by a fierce, almost feral quality that revealed itself in the tense way he held himself and the tumultuous look in his eyes as he stared off into the distance.

"I have a letter for you," Sarah began, holding out the envelope with Spot's name scrawled across the front. Spot snatched it out of her hand and stuffed it into his back pocket without even appearing to look at it.

"You're not even going to read it? At least find out who it's from?"

"Don't play dumb, Jacobs," Spot said tersely.

Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat and blushed at having her bluff called so easily. She knew the bag and its belongings were from Tay but the problem was she had no idea what she was supposed to do with the rest of the items. Seeing Spot's reaction to the letter made her doubt her original assumption that Tay had meant for the bag to be given back to Spot at some point. One of the main problems was that Tay hadn't sent any instructions. She hadn't even delivered the bag herself but had given it over to one of the younger Brooklyn newsies with no further word about what to do with it.

"What about the rest of these things?"

"Get rid of 'em."

"Are you sure? There must have been some reason Tay had it sent here."

There was the slightest flicker as Spot unclenched his jaw just long enough to turn toward her and eye the bag with a look of loathing before telling her, "Go ahead. Open it."

The tips of Sarah's fingers felt cold as she followed Spot's instructions and tipped the handful of items out onto the table in front of her. Sarah felt a mix of curiosity and disappointment as she surveyed the objects in front of her. There was nothing of significance that she could see and there was no obvious clue about why the bag had been delivered to Sarah.

"I don't understand," Sarah admitted. "Why would she have sent this stuff to me?"

"'Cause you ain't Brooklyn."

"But the letter was for you so why not just leave it all with you?" It made absolutely no sense for Tay to have gone through the trouble of sending her personal items all the way to Sarah just for her to turn around and give them to Spot.

Spot clenched his hands into fists and leaned heavily on the half-wall dividing the two buildings. His shoulders were stiff, unyielding and Sarah got the impression he was fighting against some enormous burden that threatened to crush him under its weight. Each word, each movement seemed to have been carefully considered and she was reminded of the night she and Race had visited Brooklyn. There was that same crackle of electricity and danger in the air surrounding Spot.

"Maybe you oughta ask Tay. That is if you can find her."

"She left?"

The slightest smirk cracked through the stone-faced facade Spot kept in place. "You're surprised? Weren't you the one who told her to?"

"I-I just-I mean…" Sarah's voice was strained as she tried to face the stormy look in Spot's eyes as he gazed at her evenly, as though daring her to admit the truth. But Sarah could only concentrate on one thing. Tay had left and it was fairly clear Spot was at a loss about how to deal with that.

"Forget it, Jacobs. It ain't like I didn't know you helped her along. She was right about you. Always sticking your nose in someone else's business."

"Look, I'm not going to sit here and listen to you blame me for whatever mess you caused with her," Sarah told him heatedly. There was a brief moment where Sarah thought Spot was going to give in to his temperamental nature and take his aggression out on her but he only stood there watching her with a placid look.

"So then I guess you can just hand her stuff over and I'll be on my way," Spot told her.

"You told me to throw it away," Sarah reminded him.

"That's 'cause it don't mean nothing to you."

"It doesn't seem like it means anything to you, either." It was obvious the items meant something to Spot but Sarah knew it wasn't going to be easy to get him to open up. After all, he wouldn't have come all the way from Brooklyn just to collect a letter he didn't intend to read and a bag of items he planned on throwing in the garbage. Sarah picked up one of the items, a medium sized rock that had a scrap piece of paper held to it with a piece of string wrapped several times around the outside. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Spot moved toward her impulsively before stopping himself.

"I recall you like to make deals," Sarah began, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. "So I'll return one item for each question that you answer."

Spot crossed his arms tightly across his chest and eyed the assorted belongings before returning his gaze to Sarah as she sat waiting for his decision. She could almost feel the hatred emanating off of Spot and wished she had thought to invite a third person along who might have at least held Spot back for a second if he decided to just take everything by force.

"What the hell do you care anyway? She ain't coming back so you're gonna have to find a new little project," Spot told her. Sarah noticed he hadn't taken his eyes off the item she held and as she drew the note out from under the string it seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back. "Fine, all right?"

The paper had been worn thin and many of the pencil marks were smudged but there were a few words and sketches that Sarah could make out. The writing seemed disjointed and was more a set of phrases and single words rather than sentences. Hurt. Yes. Three days. Broke. Murphy. Last night. I can't. Still here. She looked up at Spot with a raised eyebrow and he muttered a few curse words before turning away with a dark look.

"We used it to send messages to one another in the Refuge. There was a wall that separated the girls from the boys and so we used to tie the paper to that damn rock and toss it over when the guards weren't looking. It was the only way I knew…it's how she'd tell me she was okay. I don't know why she kept it."

The same question occurred to Sarah and she returned the note to its original place feeling slightly sick to her stomach as she felt she'd opened a door on something she really wished had never come to light. Part of her wanted to just pile the rest of the things into the bag and hand it over to Spot but she was determined to continue.

"I'm guessing the penny is from selling papers," Sarah said.

"That one's boring," Spot told her. "Sure you want to waste one of your questions on that?"

"I haven't asked a question yet," Sarah pointed out with a small smile. "But since you brought it up, is she back in the Refuge?"

"No."

"Do you know where she is?"

"It belonged to Higgins," Spot told her, barely glancing at the coin Sarah held in her palm. "The first time the two of them went to the races they spun a coin and she ended up winning. He had to buy her papes for a week and she always claimed it was lucky."

"You didn't answer my question," Sarah said as she placed the coin down next to the note.

"You're wasting your time, most of that stuff is junk she just picked up or stole," Spot explained but Sarah couldn't help but notice a deck of cards wrapped in several varying shades of blue hair ribbons. She picked the pack of cards up and began to pick at the knots before Spot placed his hand over hers.

"Don't." He didn't pull the cards out of Sarah's hand and she heeded the warning in his voice before she placed them down on the table. Instead of forcing the issue she sorted through the rest of the items, setting aside a handful of marbles, a pair of dice, a few damaged seashells, and pausing to pick up a knife that was spotted with what she hoped was rust.

"Is this…did she use this when…that night when she killed that man?" Sarah stammered before dropping the knife.

"No. She shot him." Spot's gaze returned to the horizon as Sarah tried to process what he'd just told her. Jack and Race had both given her a few sparse details about Tay's fatal decision but she hadn't really thought it was true until that moment. "And no, I don't know where she is."

"Maybe that's what the letter is about," Sarah suggested, half-hoping it might encourage Spot to finally open the letter and read it right there. It was hard to imagine that Spot was telling the truth given that every other moment she'd ever spent with Spot he'd known exactly where Tay was and what she was doing. The idea that she'd somehow managed to take off without his knowing seemed like a terribly difficult idea to swallow. If she was honest, she would have said it was easier to picture Spot turning her in just so he could continue to control her every movement.

"Could be." Spot didn't bother turning back to face her. "You got any other questions?"

"I remember you gave her a ribbon like this once," Sarah stated as she ran her fingers over the deck of cards.

"Is that a question?"

"She was always wearing one in her hair when I saw her. Did you buy them for her?"

"Yes."

"What about these?" Sarah asked while pointing to the tangled strips of cloth wrapped around the playing cards.

"Yeah," Spot muttered. "I bought her the ribbons but the cards belonged to her brother."

"Racetrack told me he was killed a few years back."

There was no answer and Sarah placed the cards back in the bag. She flipped through the pages of a dime novel that was still inside and found an empty coin purse before she tucked everything back into place. She lifted the lip of the bag just to make sure she hadn't missed anything.

"It isn't there," Spot said suddenly, startling Sarah.

"What?"

"The key," Spot told her. It was the first time that day she'd seen Spot look like his usual self. A slight smirk graced his lips as he saw the defeated look on Sarah's face. "Sorry to disappoint but that key is one thing you're just gonna have to keep wondering about."

Sarah couldn't help but sit there in shock as Spot gathered the bag together and slung it across his chest. Her cheeks grew red as she felt a mix of exasperation and embarrassment that she'd been so found out.

"I know what it means, you know," Sarah called out as Spot headed for the ladder back down to the street.

"Oh, yeah?" Spot asked with a wicked grin.

"You love her," Sarah stated, feeling slightly satisfied as she fired her parting shot.

"Could be," Spot answered and with that last statement, he was gone.