Chapter 12

Eddie propped his bike up against the side of a building before joining Fakir on the stoop in front of a rowhouse.

Watching the boy heave the large messenger bag over his shoulder, Fakir—taking a puff on a fresh cigarette—asked, "When did you start working as a telegraph boy?"

Eddie glowered at the inquisitive police man. "You're not planning to tell the headmaster about my job, are you?"

This kid… Fakir groused, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "No. I'm not a truant officer. My partner and I just came back from seeing your mother and sisters, and Angie mentioned you've found a job delivering telegrams."

To Fakir's relief, the boy's demeanor relaxed. "I started a few weeks ago. Ma needs help with rent, so I asked a couple shops in our area if they needed a hand."

Letting his messenger drop to the ground with a dull "plop", Eddie rotated his arm to relieve the strain the heavy load had inflicted on his shoulder and continued, "Robbie—he lives a floor below us—told me the telegraph office he worked at was looking to hire new messenger boys for the holiday season. I went to talk to Mr. Sibley*, the old man who runs the office, and he asked me if I knew how to ride a bike. I said yes, and he signed me up on the spot," he concluded with a shrug.

The boy then turned, and met Fakir's gaze. "What about you? Did you find him—the man with the lisp?"

Fakir started, the bemused expression on his face slipping away as Eddie stared expectantly at him. Clearing his throat, the detective paused to tap the ash off the tip of his cigarette before answering slowly, "Yes… and no."

"What?" Eddie's eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

Chewing on the end of his cigarette, Fakir considered his words and settled for, "We identified the man with the lisp as Anthony 'Worm Tongue' Vermi. Have you ever heard of him before?"

Looking away, Eddie took a moment to search through his memory, but at last he shook his head.

"He was a past associate of your father's, and he had an extensive criminal record," Fakir explained carefully, "According to people we talked to, Worm Tongue was looking to do a hit on someone, and for people to assist him. He approached your father, and while no one knows exactly what transpired, we suspect Marco refused and said or did something to anger Worm Tongue, who then shot him.

"After that, Worm Tongue went on the lam and tried to recruit a second person for his scheme. But that man also refused, and Worm Tongue tried to kill him as well. Luckily, that man got away. We were able to speak with him, and his testimony helped us piece together what had happened to Marco."

"Who was Worm Tongue trying to off?" Eddie wondered.

Though Fakir knew this question would likely come up, his throat tightened, and he said haltingly, "It was… someone in the police force."

"What did that copper do to him? Was he the one that put him in the slammer before?"

"We're still investigating…" Fakir answered with some hesitation, "but it appeared to have been a personal vendetta."

When Fakir offered no further information, Eddie looked down at the concrete steps. After a moment, he looked up again, his young face solemn and serious. "You haven't said if you arrested him or not, yet you kept saying he 'had' or 'was' something or some such. Is he dead?"

Fakir's eyes flitted to Eddie, taken aback by the boy's perceptiveness. Seeing no use dancing around the truth, Fakir confessed, "…Yes."

"How did he die?" the boy asked in a reserved voice that made Fakir meet his eyes.

"He was approached by a pair of officers in Linden, New Jersey, who thought he was a bootlegger," Fakir recounted. "Worm Tongue fired shots at them, and in the ensuing gunfight…" Here his voice faltered again as each word felt like another admission of failure. "…he killed himself."

Eddie huffed, his stolid expression turning to disgust. "Scumbag," the boy muttered under his breath.

Though Fakir knew Eddie's anger was directed at Worm Tongue, his heart pounded loudly in his chest, and his empty hand clasped his knee nervously. He had promised Eddie to bring his father's killer to justice. But with Worm Tongue's death, that promise stood unfulfilled.

As a detective, he should've known all too well that cases rarely wrapped up in neat, tidy packages. Now the weight of that broken promise—just like his promise to Duck—crushed down on his shoulders, forcing him to sit hunched over his knees as he took a puff on the cigarette.

I was a naïve fool, Fakir thought, eyes hooded.

He looked up again when Eddie rose and said, "As much as I wanted him to rot in prison, I guess letting him rot in Hell is the next best thing."

Fakir watched mutely as the boy slung the bag over his shoulder again.

When Eddie turned to grab his bike, Fakir's quiet voice made him pause. "I'm sorry."

Eddie glanced back towards the detective, who continued with a voice low and tentative, as though he was a penitent giving his confession. "I wasn't able to keep my promise to you, to have Worm Tongue tried and punished for his actions," Fakir murmured, his dark green eyes downcast and half-lidded.

When Eddie made no response, Fakir looked up tentatively and saw the boy with his brown eye fixed to the ground, a frown on his lips.

"Last week I told Ma I was going to give her a dollar towards rent by Sunday, so she, Eli, and Angie could take a day off from sewing," Eddie began, drawing a confused and curious frown from Fakir. "The telegraph office had been buzzing like a hornet's nest all week, so I thought I'd earn that dollar in no time. But when Thursday rolled around, we only received half the messages we usually do, and it was the same the day after. I asked Mr. Sibley why things got so slow all of a sudden, and he said there had been a storm somewhere in Upstate New York that had knocked down some telegraph lines, so a bunch of messages weren't coming through."

Eddie's eyes looked up and held Fakir's gaze. "By Sunday I only had two quarters and a dime to give to Ma. And you know what she said?"

Still not sure where Eddie was going with his story, Fakir shook his head.

"Nothing," Eddie replied softly, looking away. "She just patted my head and told me to get ready for supper."

Fixing his gaze down at his worn leather shoes, Eddie did not see Fakir's wide-eyed gaze. "Ma, Eli, and Angie ended up having to make up for the shortfall by working through the night, finishing clothes. I was mad at myself. With Pops gone, I'm supposed to be the man in the family now." Here the young brunette swallowed, his hand clutching at the strap of his messenger bag. "But Eli said I can't stop a storm from toppling over telephone poles, or make people send more messages. I've done as much as I could with what I've got."

With a frown tugging at his lips, Eddie reflected, "When you first made that promise about catching my old man's killer, to tell you the truth, I had my doubts. I've seen a lot of people make promises that they can't keep. But sometimes, like Eli said, the situation ends up being out of your control, no matter how hard you try. And that's the same for you."

The boy met Fakir's eyes once again, and with a maturity that belied his age, he said, "I think you tried as hard as you could, but there's no way you could've prevented Worm Tongue from taking his own life the way he did, so don't beat yourself up over it."

Fakir blinked several times, letting those words sink in. Meanwhile, Eddie picked up his bike, and in his usual gruff tone, continued, "Anyway, I need to get going. If I don't finish delivering these before the shops close, I'm going to lose pay!"

"Ah," Fair gasped, as he too hurried stood from where he was seated. Rubbing out the spent and half-forgotten cigarette in his hand, Fakir said, "Hey, Eddie…"

The boy turned around. From the jumble of thoughts and emotions weaving through his head, Fakir picked up a thread and said, "Um… I forgot to tell your family earlier, but… there's a chance I might be transferring to another city soon. In case I'm gone, you can reach out to my partner, Alex, if you need anything."

"Oh," Eddie arched a brow. "But why a chance? You haven't decided yet?"

Fakir shook his head. Hesitantly, he said, "Well, there's someone I still have to talk to about this transfer…"

"Your girlfriend?"

"I—!" Fakir flinched, his mouth hanging open dumbly as Eddie put his foot onto the pedal of his bike.

"Well, you'd better ask her, then," the child said matter-of-factly, "and if I don't happen to see you again…"

Here Eddie turned back, and this time, instead of his usually petulant frown, he offered Fakir a small sincere smile, "…thanks, Detective Fakir Holmes."

With that, Eddie pushed off on his bike, leaving Fakir to watch him disappear down the street. Taking a deep breath, when he exhaled, Fakir realized his chest felt lighter than before.

Though he did not get the opportunity to deliver Marco Corioli's killer to justice as he had hoped and promised, Fakir was relieved and grateful as he walked to rejoin Alex. Eddie was able to achieve something that Fakir, for a very long time, could not obtain: closure. While the sorrow of losing his father would always remain with the boy, unlike Fakir, the specter of vengeance would not haunt his waking hours. He could begin, and had already begun, the process of moving forward with his life.

And what of himself? Fakir turned his thoughts inward as Alex's car appeared across the street.

Fakir paused at the crosswalk, one foot hovering over the edge of the sidewalk. He knew where he needed to go and what needed to be done in this immediate moment. But what of the future? Where would he be in a month's time?

Above him, the traffic light changed from green to amber, making Fakir recall the auburn hue of Duck's hair, shimmering like spun copper threads under the sunlight.

You'd better ask her…

The brief amber hue shifted to red, and in turn the crosswalk light turned green. Fakir knew what he needed to do. Though he dreaded the thought of adding to Duck's distress, the only way he could be at peace with his decision was with her blessing.

She'd told me she would accept my feelings, no matter what they were, Fakir thought as his foot left the jagged ledge of the crosswalk, the memory of Duck's confession and her warm cheek burning against his palm still fresh and raw on his mind.

She's placed her heart in my hands. The only fair thing to do is to let her decide where I will go from here…

Across town, it had been another slow, dull day at the Kotin Pointe Shoe Shop. The late afternoon sun drew long shadows from the girls' feet onto the wall. Lillie sighed loudly as she unceremoniously dropped the damp rag into the empty tin bucket in the cleaning supply cabinet.

"Not a single customer all day!" the blonde grumbled. "As much as I enjoy the thought of being paid to do nothing, in practice, it's a real bore!"

The broom in Duck's hand paused as she glanced up at her friend. It was hard to imagine her days at the Kotin Point Shoe Shop would become a monastic existence. Even Lillie, who was normally full of chatter and gossip, had lapsed into long stretches of silence as she spent the majority of the last few days scribbling into a notebook.

Squeezing the wooden shaft in her hands, Duck ordered herself back to her task and turned her half-lidded eyes back to the floor. Since Miss Belyky's visit, the foreboding in Duck's chest had tightened until it was as tense as a drawn bow string. Duck tried to turn her mind to something else, but what rose to the surface were memories of Pique and Miss Edel, and those thoughts only served to draw the taut string back even further.

"Psss, Duck," Lillie's voice made Duck whip around. Seeing the redhead's startled expression, the blonde grinned, "I just finished the first draft of my story! Do you want to have a look at it?"

"Oh," Duck mouthed, realizing this must be what Lillie had been silently pouring her hours into lately. Despite the unease gripping her spirit, Duck pushed as much of a smile as she could manage to her lips. "Um, sure… what's the story about?"

This was the response Lillie had hoped for, and she quipped, "I'm glad you asked! Well, you see, it's about a girl who's really an heiress, but she doesn't know that—"

"Wait, how come she doesn't know she's an heiress?"

"It's a plot twist! You'll know why when you read it! Anyway, one day, a dark and handsome man visits the millinery shop where she works, and…"

Before Lillie could reveal much more of her story, the door of Mr. Kotin's office, which had been shut nearly continuously for the past few days, creaked open. The girls turned towards the office and found their employer walking onto the shop floor.

"Ladies, are you nearly finished?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Mr. Kotin. I just need to sweep the dust into the pan and put the broom back," Duck answered.

"Very well. Once you are done, Miss Duck, could I see you in my office, please?"

The hand pulling on the string in Duck's chest drew back sharply and Duck felt her heart in her throat.

"Um… yes, sir…" she dithered. Behind Duck, Lillie's excited expression had given way to concern, but before she could say anything, Mr. Kotin said to her, "Miss Lillie, you may leave for the day. I'll close up the shop."

Put out by Mr. Kotin's response, Lillie pouted, but after another moment of hesitation, she picked up her purse and notebook from behind the counter.

Putting on her coat, she waited until Duck came to discard her sweeping into the dustbin by the door, then touched the redhead's arm. "I'll show you the story next week," Lillie said with confidence. With a wink, she turned, her bobbed hair bouncing as she stepped out, and the door separating her and Duck closed between them with a "clink".

Watching Lillie through the window, Duck numbly placed the broom in its cabinet before ushering herself with leaden feet into Mr. Kotin's office.

Seeing Duck at the door, Mr. Kotin motioned for her to sit. On his desk were piles of documents, and the phone that usually sat neatly on a corner of the desk was now resting directly in front of Mr. Kotin's chair.

Once Duck was seated, Mr. Kotin sighed tiredly. "I've been talking to our landlord the past two days. He's decided that, since both the pointe shoe shop and Ms. Stein's shop will be closing, to sell the two buildings. He wants to bring prospective buyers to see the property, so Anna and I have decided to start moving the shop to the new location a bit sooner than expected."

"How soon?" Duck asked faintly.

"The landlord wants to start showing the property before Thanksgiving. We would like to try to move out before then, by the first week of November," Mr. Kotin answered.

Shifting uneasily in his chair, he clasped his hands and with head bowed, said to Duck, "In order to meet this timeline, Anna and I were forced to make a few decisions rather sooner than expected. You have been with us for quite a few years, Miss Duck. Both you, and your mother before you, worked here, and have been such hardworking and dedicated employees. I… I really cannot express to you how grateful I am to have had the pleasure and good fortune of having you here at Kotin Pointe Shoe."

Duck's gaze fell onto her lap fell as Mr. Kotin spoke, her hands clenching the fabric of her dress. She knew what was coming, had known what was coming for days now. But when the moment she dreaded was finally upon her, instead of sadness, worry, or indignation, she felt nothing. It was as if the wound-up string her heart was nock on had wrung out any remaining emotion, and what was left was a terrible emptiness.

In this hazy state, she barely registered the words coming from Mr. Kotin as he continued, "Many of the dance schools who engage with us for toeshoes for their students are struggling, as enrollments have dropped precipitously. On top of that, a number of professional dancers whom we've had the fortune of serving are approaching retirement age, and won't have a need for a steady supply of toeshoes once the curtains close on their careers. The new shop needs to attract new clients, especially young dancers with the big dance companies on the East Coast."

With his interlaced hands resting on the table, he considered his words before continuing, "Though Miss Lillie can be rather… precocious at times, her gregarious energy will help the shop attract younger customers. In your case, I… I do know a few shops that might be hiring. They don't sell pointe shoes, but I can nonetheless introduce you to them and give them my best recommendations for you as your former employer, if you are interested…?"

Here, Mr. Kotin's voice trailed off, and he watched Duck with concern. But Duck did not look up. After a long tense silence, Duck's figure shifted and she rose from her seat. "Thank you, Mr. Kotin. I…I'll think about it…"

Mr. Kotin gave an encouraging nod. "Of course," he answered softly.

Leaving the office, Duck walked to the cabinet and retrieved her belongings. With mechanical movements, she pulled on her jacket and hat and walked out onto the cold evening air. Her mind numb, for a moment Duck did not know which way to turn her feet.

Home… it's the only place I have left to return to, her mind whispered, and guided by muscle memory, her feet pointed in the direction of Lake Avenue.

Inside the Stein Jewelry Store, Zurab sat on a stool, reading a picture book on his knees. A flash of copper-hued hair by the window drew the boy's attention from the cartoonish images of animals to Duck's passing figure.

"Oh! It's Duck, zura!" the child smiled. Setting aside his book, he quickly toddled over to the door, jiggled the knob open, and peered outside.

To Duck's figure down the street, Zurab yelled, "Hi Duck, zura!"

Expecting a greeting in turn, Zurab was disappointed when Duck failed to stop and wave back. Did Duck not hear Zurab, zura? The boy pondered. As he was about to close the door, the child paused.

When Duck brought Zurab back to Deida, Deida said Zurab and Deida will go stay with Deda soon. But how soon is soon? Zurab wondered. What if it's tomorrow? Then Zurab won't get a chance to see Duck again!

At this thought, Zurab made up his mind. Pursing his lips, he pushed back against the door and slipped out onto the street. By now, Duck was far away enough that Zurab, at his diminutive height, could barely make out the top of Duck's hat in the distance. Running towards the distant figure, the little boy disappeared into the crowd.

Meanwhile, Duck, unaware of Zurab's presence or anyone else walking past her, stopped at a crosswalk. Ahead, her apartment building came into view. Looking out at the familiar reddish-brown building, Duck thought of her mother who had worked at the Kotin Pointe Shoe Shop before her.

How will I tell Ma that I've been dismissed? Duck wondered despondently. Though she would only have a silent picture to speak to, the thought of acknowledging her dismissal sent a wave of sorrow intermingled with panic through her mind, and rather than wait for the crosswalk before her, Duck followed the flow of foot traffic and took a sharp right.

Letting her feet carry her aimlessly into the approaching night, Duck did not know how long or how far she walked, only that she wanted, needed, to keep walking. The repetitive action afforded her a welcome distraction from the grim reality waiting for her. And so, adrift on the current of pedestrian traffic, Duck kept walking, and walking, and walking.

Then, after traveling what seemed like miles and miles, two looming white structures drew her eyes upward.

When Duck looked around her, she found herself on an avenue flanked by two marble pillars, their white polished surfaces illuminated by amber streetlight. It was the entrance of Bronx Park, and though Duck had no idea how she ended up here, in spite of the cold evening breeze nipping at her fingers, she walked towards that beacon of amber lights and stepped past the marble pillars.

Across the street behind her, Zurab slipped through the crowd. Out of breath, his small chest heaved as he breathed, the mint-haired child watched as Duck entered the park. By now, Zurab was very confused, and very worried. Why was Duck not going home and instead walking in the dark? Something wasn't right.

Where is Duck going? If she walks around at night, she could get sick, just like Deda did! Zurab frowned, remembering how his mother had grown weak and sick after walking for a long, long time, traveling both night and day. Zurab has to get Duck home!

Zurab waited until there was a break in the flow of cars, then dashed across the street, earning a few honks from startled drivers before his feet touched the other side.

By the time he'd reached the park entrance, Duck was nowhere to be found. Luckily for Zurab, there was only one paved path for pedestrians to follow, and Zurab followed this path into the park. Walking past trees and bushes faintly illuminated by the gas lamps interspersed in the park, Zurab paused every once in a while to look for Duck.

But there was no sign of the girl, and a dilemma presented itself when a split in the path appeared. Zurab looked to his left, then to his right. Though he didn't remember which path Duck had gone down, as Zurab looked to and fro, he recognized this intersection as one he had crossed when he visited the park with Duck during the day some time ago.

Choosing the vaguely more familiar route, Zurab made a left turn and after walking past some tall bushes, the gentle bubbling noise of a stream could be heard in the distance. Continuing to follow the path, the intermittent street lamps stood like sentries, guiding the little boy forward whilst standing guard over him.

Then, at a bend by the river, Zurab caught sight of a familiar figure sitting underneath a cypress tree. It was Duck, and the sight of the girl hastened Zurab's footsteps.

"Duck! Zurab found you, zura!" the child huffed, breathing quickly from what was—for a toddler—a long and arduous trek. He tugged on Duck's coat, whose eyes were hidden behind the shadow of her bangs, and then the girl looked up slowly.

"Zurab? What are you doing here?" she said, her voice a bare murmur above the sound of the brook by their feet.

"Zurab saw Duck walk off, zura! Deida said Zurab will go see Deda soon, but Zurab wanted to see Duck before that. So Zurab followed you, zura!"

"That's right…" Duck whispered and her hands squeezed the purse in her lap. "You're leaving, too… but you have to… you have to go back to your mama, Zurab…"

Zurab's short brows pinched together, confused by Duck's sullen response. He'd never seen Duck act this way… except for that time the bad man had hurt Duck. Zurab doesn't want Duck to be sad again! And she'll be cold here, sitting all alone! The child thought frantically.

Tugging harder on Duck's coat, he implored, "Let's go home, Duck. It's late, zura." But Duck jerked away suddenly, her face now buried in her hand.

"No… you go back, Zurab. Just let me be… please!"

The last word came out in a strangled plea, and Zurab could only look on, torn and worried in equal measures. Then he remembered something.

Deida… Deida will know what to do! Zurab will go find Deida and she'll bring Duck home!

Wasting no time, Zurab sharply turned around and dashed off the way he'd came. Racing through the park, his presence drew looks, both curious and concerned, from the few visitors in the park at this late hour.

"Little boy, where are you going? Are you lost?" a worried middle-aged woman out with her pet dog called out.

But Zurab paid her no mind, and made a beeline for the Stein Jewelry Store. Guided by his memories of landmarks along the way, he crossed streets and intersections, weaving between people and taking care to avoid the lumbering trams and speeding cars.

Zurab has to find someone to help Duck! The child told himself, and thoughts of him and his mother on their transcontinental journey floated up from the boy's mind.

In his memories, Deda always managed a smile for Zurab no matter where they were or how dark or cold it was. But after they finally came across the ocean on the big boat, Deda couldn't smile anymore. Instead, she was constantly coughing, and although she had been able to carry Zurab all night while walking across the dark countryside, by then she could barely lift her arms around him for a hug. The man in the white coat said it was because Deda had spent so much time in the cold, and was also so tired and worried, that she got sick.

Now Duck was sitting outside in the cold. Duck had smiled and played with him, just like Deda had, and Zurab could not stand the thought of Duck becoming sick, too, just like his Deda. With that thought propelling him forward, the child continued his journey even as he grew increasingly winded, his small lungs not able to keep up with the exertion, eventually forcing him to a stop.

Inhaling deep, heavy breaths, Zurab looked around him, and found himself on the same block as Ebine's Bakery. Even though Zurab knew he was nearly home, a sudden thought came to him and he toddled towards the bakery. To Zurab's delight and relief, a figure standing in front of the store came into sight, and it was none other than Fakir.

"Fakir!"

The detective turned around sharply at the sound of his name, but did not see anyone he recognized. It wasn't until he caught sight of Zurab running towards him that the bewildered expression on Fakir's face turned to one of surprise.

"Zurab? What are you doing here?"

"Duck, zura!" Zurab piped between large gulps of air. "Duck walked—walked far away, zura!"

"What?" Fakir exclaimed, a surge of fear and trepidation filling his veins at those words. "Why? What happened?" he asked, picking up Zurab.

Still panting heavily, Zurab pointed toward the way he had come. "Zurab saw Duck walk away after leaving the pointy shoe shop, zura. But she didn't go home and went to the park instead. Zurab followed her to the park, and asked her to come home, but Duck said no. Duck will catch cold if she sits in the cold, zura, so Zurab came back to get Deida to bring Duck home, zura."

Fakir frowned. His initial fear that a remnant of the Corvos had shown themselves again dissipated, but Duck's odd behavior, in addition to her recent morose behavior, alarmed Fakir.

"Which park did she go to? And where is she?" Fakir asked, but Zurab, tired and cold, was growing drowsy in Fakir's arms.

With sleep-heavy eyes, the little boy mumbled, "It was the park Duck took Zurab to… Bronx Park. Duck was sitting below a tall, pointy tree next to a stream, zura…"

Though hoping the boy could give him more information, or better yet, guide him to where Duck was located, Fakir felt Zurab shudder and nestle his face against the front of his jacket, and Fakir forced himself to make a hard, full stop. Realizing that the child was not only exhausted, but also cold, Fakir could not bring himself to ask that of Zurab. Instead, he tucked Zurab under his jacket, who then drifted off to sleep against Fakir's chest.

As much as he wanted to dash off towards Bronx Park at this moment, Fakir turned his feet towards C Street. The light inside the Stein Jewelry Store was aglow, and he rapped quickly on the door. Scarcely a second later, Edel appeared and breathed a visible sigh of relief at the sight of the sleeping Zurab in Fakir's arm.

"Thank you, Fakir," Edel said as Fakir handed the sleeping child to her. "I couldn't find Zurab anywhere after stepping upstairs for a few minutes. I thought I hear him say Duck's name and that he had perhaps gone with her, but it's unlike Duck to not let me know she had taken Zurab with her. Where did you find him?"

Pointing with his chin, Fakir replied, "By Ebine's Bakery. You were right, though; he did go with Duck, but she's not acting herself. Zurab actually followed her to the park and ran into me on his way back."

Edel's expression grew concerned again. "To the park at this hour? This is odd for her…" Shifting the sleeping boy in her arms, she looked back at Fakir with alarm. "I wonder if Vaslav had said something to her…"

"Maybe," Fakir grimaced, recalling Duck's despondency when she told him about her possible dismissal. "Whatever the reason might be, I'm going to look for her. If I don't come back in three hours, go to the police station and file a missing person report!" As he spoke, Fakir turned around and didn't wait for Edel's response before he ran off headlong into the night.

As his feet took him down the dark streets, a flood of déjà vu washed over Fakir. He had gone in search of Duck not once, but twice before. Now, unlike the shadowy menace posed by the mobsters, a far more insidious and shapeless darkness had engulfed Duck, that of despair and helplessness. Fakir had no way to physically fend off enemies such as these, but just as he once told Edel, he would never stop trying.

By the time he finally reached the park some time later, the panting detective found the grounds nearly empty. Fakir had been to Bronx Park a small handful of times before, but never at night, and the disorientation that darkness brought made it impossible to orient himself. Frustrated, Fakir scanned the park, his restless feet forced to a halt.

Then, out of the gloom, a small wooden structure caught his eyes, and an idea came to Fakir. Hurrying over, Fakir recognized the structure to be a map posted on a sheltered wooden sign.

Tracing his finger along the dusty glass pane covering the map, he quickly found the red triangle that marked his current location. With that determined, it took barely a second before his eye found the other feature he sought: the thin line snaking through the park that stood for the Bronx River. Somewhere along that sinuous line was Duck, or at least, where Zurab last saw the redhead. With the possibility in his mind that Duck might've moved on since Zurab left her side, Fakir took one last look at the map, and jogged towards the direction of the river.

After passing stolid lampposts and weeping willows on his path, Fakir heard the faint trickling of flowing water. Knowing he was on the right track, Fakir slowed his pace, looking for the tree and bench Zurab had described. He saw the outline of the tall cypress tree, its spear-shaped silhouette backlit by streetlights, before he recognized Duck's familiar figure sitting at its feet.

His shoes crunching softly on the pavement, Fakir approached Duck, but the girl did not look up. It wasn't until Fakir quietly lowered himself to sit next to her on the bench that Duck seemed to register his presence.

"…Fakir? What, er… how did you find me?"

Fakir took off his hat and set it aside on the cold wooden bench. Duck's face was ashen, and her disoriented expression filled Fakir with worry. He answered slowly, "I came across Zurab while I was in front of the bakery. He told me you'd come here."

Duck rubbed her face with her hands and realized how cold and numb her fingertips were. Sniffing, she mumbled, "I-I'm so sorry… I completely forgot…"

"What happened at the shop?" Fakir asked gently, though he had a strong inkling what the answer is.

His suspicion was confirmed when Duck took a shuddering breath and, her voice wavering, whispered, "Mr. Kotin asked to see me today. He… he didn't say it explicitly, but… I've been let go from the shop."

The corner of Fakir's lips dipped. Neither of them said a word for a long minute when Duck suddenly said, "I mean… I'm not entirely surprised; after all, ever since Mr. Kotin announced the shop would be moving we'd all known people were going to be let go. With Pique gone, it was between Lillie or me, but…" As she inhaled, Duck's already tired shoulders shrunk even lower. "I just… don't really know what to do now…"

The dejection in Duck's voice and body pulled at Fakir's heart, and his clasped hands yearned to reach out for Duck's. But with his own news to deliver, Fakir's fingers twisted together and wrung themselves for words to put on his tongue.

"I… um, there's actually something I need to talk to you about as well," he managed in a whisper.

Duck turned her unsteady gaze to Fakir, her eyes drawing wide. Seeing her trembling eyes, Fakir nearly swallowed the words on his lips. But he could not tarry on this matter forever. Leaning forward to sit with his elbows on his knees, Fakir turned his eyes to the ground and pushed forward.

"When we got back from Chicago, Commissioner Enright offered me a transfer to Rochester out of concern that there may be retaliation from Corvo remnants. The Rochester Police Chief is a friend of his, and Commissioner Enright had asked Charon to pass the message to me. I… I'd turned him down back then. But the other day, Charon told me the offer was still open." Fakir grimaced. "I have to give them an answer by the end of the week, as they can't guarantee the position will be available next year…"

Working up the courage to look up, he found the girl staring silently at him. Her voice trembling, Duck murmured, "Does that mean… that you're leaving too?"

"No!" Fakir said firmly, reaching out and clutching Duck's shoulder. He could feel Duck shudder underneath his fingers and saw the lamplight reflected on beads of tears forming at the corners of her eyes. More gently, he repeated, "…No, I haven't given them an answer yet. But I do think Charon and Commissioner Enright have a point, especially in light of what recently transpired."

Remembering the sight of the green and blue bruise on Duck's forearm, Fakir scowled. "There's no guarantee there aren't others like Worm Tongue out there. If I continue to stay in New York… if we continue to see each other, history may end up repeating itself again, and who knows how things will end the second time around? I want you to be safe, Duck, and if we're together here, my presence alone may continue to put you in danger, but even then…"

Lowering his hand, Fakir clasped Duck's frigid fingers. "…I've made a promise to you," his green eyes fliting downward momentarily before regaining the courage to meet Duck's gaze once again. "I promised to stay with you, for as long as you will let me. And… I want—more than anything—to keep that promise to you!" he declared earnestly. "That is why, I've decided, you should be the one to decide whether I should stay or go. If the former, through Hell or high water, I swear I will do everything I can to protect you and keep you safe! If the latter…" Fakir paused and swallowed. "…I will honor your wish and go… if that is what you want."

Duck took in a shallow breath as Fakir's voice faded into the night. The sudden weight of the decision that had been placed on her left Duck speechless. Part of her felt indignant from being saddled with such a critical decision. Yet she also knew Fakir did so out of love and his commitment to his promise, and she could not be angry at him for that. But no matter how she felt about it, at the end of the day a decision still needed to be made.

Fakir wasn't the first to have entrusted his fate to someone else…

Duck recalled the scene of her, Fakir, Rue and Mytho on the bank of the Calumet River. Fakir had demanded to know why Mytho had set up such an elaborate ruse, all to guide him to Chicago, to the faceoff against Domenico Corvo. But it was Mytho's answer that shocked all of them.

Mytho had asked Fakir to decide if he ought to continue living, or should die in atonement for his deed. He had placed his fate in Fakir's hands because Fakir had suffered so much at the hands of the Corvos, he felt Fakir should get to have the final say…

Duck clenched her jaw, her heart and mind at odds with one another.

In the end, Fakir wanted Mytho to live, to be free. I also want Fakir to be free. The only reason for him to stay in New York is for me, and I don't want to weigh him down. At the same time, I also don't want him to leave me, like everyone else! Duck's agitated mind deplored that those were the only two choices she had.

If Fakir felt trapped, I would feel trapped, too, Duck thought woefully. Isn't there some way for both of us to be free—

Duck's hooded eyes suddenly went wide. Fakir grew worried when he saw her expression, but before he could ask her what was wrong, Duck turned sharply to him.

"Fakir, wait! What if I went with you to Rochester?"

Now it was Fakir's turn for his eyes to grow wide. "A-Are you sure? You've lived here practically your whole life…"

At this, Duck's confidence deflated a little, and she admitted, "You're right; going somewhere new, doing something different… those are all things I've thought about, but never really tried…"

Duck thought of the travel agency, and how it was so much easier to admire the pretty places on the ads rather than work out how she could hope to visit them with her limited budget. Each day, she was content to sit half hidden behind the counter of the Pointe Shoe Shop, comfortable in her cozy shell.

Yet, should a chick stay within its egg forever? What was once a comfortable, protected existence would become a prison if the chick never pipped through its shell. It would never see the wide, wonderful world that awaited beyond the nest…

Duck exhaled. "When I had to leave home last year, it made me treasure the life I had here more than ever. After that, before I knew it, the world around me began to change, and people began moving away. First it was Pique, then Miss Edel… then, even Lillie and Mr. Kotin and the shop. I felt so lost, that everything I knew was leaving me behind."

Duck lifted her head. "But now, I realize it's given me a chance—by losing the life that I had, it gives me the freedom to move on to a new life…"

Here, Duck sought Fakir's eyes, "…and I want to start that new life with you! You make me feel safe, and even though we get on each other's nerves sometimes, I'm the happiest when I'm with you, Fakir."

Reaching out tentatively to grasp Fakir's sleeve, Duck whispered, "Just as you want to stay with me, I also want to be with you, forever, if you would let me. So, please… can I come with you?"

Around them, the crickets hidden in the bushes and grass struck up a chorus. For a long moment, neither of the two spoke. At last, Fakir stirred, and Duck watched him as he rose and her hand fell away from his arm. Then, to Duck's surprise, a rare sight greeted her: a wide, unabashed smile on Fakir's face.

"I never thought…" Fakir began, then shook his head, as though still in disbelief, and muttered to himself, "I tell myself I needn't rush, but when you say that to me…"

Feeling Duck's quizzical gaze, he turned to her. With the gentlest gaze Duck had even seen, he said, "I never thought you would be the one to ask first. Had I known, I would've been more prepared…"

Duck watched as Fakir gentle took her hand. Her eyes grew wide as saucers when he knelt down in front of her and said, "Yes, Duck Stannus. If that is your wish… let's get married."

A flummoxed Duck blinked before blurting out, "Huh?"

Not expecting that as her response, Fakir's face began to blush. Sheepishly, he stammered, "Um, when you said you wanted to stay with me forever… you meant you wanted to marry me… right?"

"W-What?! No!" Duck shouted, waving her free hand in a flustered panic as her cheeks rapidly took on a ruddy tone. "No! Th-That wasn't what I meant!"

Fakir's heart sank into the very pit of his stomach. Realizing he had made another awkward misinterpretation of Duck's intent—this time one that was far more egregious than the last—he hastily let go of Duck's hand as his ears burned red hot against the cool night air.

Yet, mortified with embarrassment as he was, the detective needed to be sure of something. Still on one knee, his eyes flitted to Duck. "But you said you wanted to come with me," he whispered tentatively. "You do mean that… right?"

"Yes!" Duck answered immediately and the sureness of her response settled some of the butterflies in Fakir's stomach.

"But for us to live together, we would have to be married," he explained haltingly, then added quickly, "though, I can look for two apartments next to one another! That way we can keep the same arrangement we have now, and…"

As Fakir continued to blather, Duck chewed on her lower lip. Even though the idea of marrying Fakir had been raised before—mostly in jest, courtesy of Lillie and Pique—Duck had truly not expected Fakir to interpret her suggestion in such a manner. But their current situation meant that what was once an idea far in the future had been brought to the forefront, and it left Duck to wonder: could she see herself living her life with Fakir instead of just alongside him?

The answer came as a series of images, of them sharing meals together, asking after how each other's day went, then, once the dishes were put away, swaying slowly in time to the music in a small but cozy living room. Next to the Victrola, Fakir's old detective novels and Elsa's old pointe shoes and photos would share a pride of place on a polished wood cabinet. There would be laughter, and sometimes anger as well as sorrow, but the thought of his loving hand around hers, his reassuring and comforting presence next to her, forever and ever…

"I'd like that," Duck said quietly, making Fakir's eyes dart up.

"What?"

"Sharing a home with you…" Duck clarified, and for the first time that day, a genuine smile crept onto Duck's lips. "I would be okay with living side-by-side, as we are now. But after thinking about it…" she touched the cool, smooth pendant at her breast, "I love you, and I… I really like the thought of us living together, under the same roof, where we can have our own home."

Inhaling deeply, Duck gazed hopefully at the young man before her. "So, if it's alright with you, can we do that instead?"

Letting Duck's words sink in, Fakir's mouth gaped open and he gasped, "Ah… of course!"

Tentatively offering his hand to her, this time he asked quietly, "So… is that a yes? Will you marry me?" he whispered.

This time, Duck nodded, and the beads of tears that had been sitting at the edge of her eyelids flowed down her cheeks as she closed her eyes. Instead of taking Fakir's hand, she opened her arms and wrapped them around his shoulders.

"Yes!" she said, her voice muffled by the fabric of Fakir's jacket.

Fakir shut his eyes, and with intense silent joy, drew his arms around her back, pulling the petite young woman against him.

As the two newly betrothed lovers held each other under the dark velvet night sky, their engagement witnessed only by the owls and other small creatures of the night, across the city, Zurab blinked and rubbed his groggy eyes.

With his short arms, he pushed back the blankets that had been tucked around him and sat up in his bed. As he rose, Edel, who had been gazing out the window, turned and walked over to the bed.

"Deida! Duck! Fakir! Duck is in the park, zura!" the child exclaimed, recalling the last thing he remembered before falling asleep.

"Shh," Edel hushed soothingly, sitting down on the mattress and patting the boy's hair. "Do not worry. I'm sure Fakir has found Duck and that all will be alright."

"How does Deida know, zura?" Zurab wondered, to which Edel smiled enigmatically.

"There is a saying among our kin, Zurab. 'May those who accept their fate be granted happiness; may those who defy it be granted glory.' One fate had already been defied, and a glorious ending came to pass." The tall woman looked back out the window to the twinkling night sky, at a world of infinite possibilities.

"Now it is time for them to accept another fate, so they may find, at the end of that path, happiness."

Outside, a song began to play, its gentle melody wafting through the air. Though it was impossible to tell if it was from a radio or a phonograph, or from which opened window the music came from, the faint lyrics reached the occupants of the small bedroom above the Stein Jewelry Store.

Why do I do, just as you say

Why must I just, give you your way

Why do I sigh, why don't I try to forget

It must have been,

That something lovers call fate

Kept me saying, "I have to wait"

I saw them all,

Just couldn't fall 'til we met

It had to be you, it had to be you

I wandered around, and finally found

The somebody who

Could make me be true,

And could make me be blue

And even be glad, just to be sad

Thinking of you

Some others I've seen,

Might never be mean

Might never be cross,

Or try to be boss

But they wouldn't do

For nobody else, gave me a thrill

With all your faults, I

Love you still

It had to be you, wonderful you

It had to be you*

A/N

*Mr. Sibley is named after Hiram Sibley, one of the founders and first president of Western Union Telegraph Company. In addition to his role in spreading the use of the telegraph, Sibley also made considerable donations to the University of Rochester and Cornell University.

*The lyrics are from the popular 1924 song, "It Had to Be You". The lyrics were written by Gus Kahn, and the song was written by Isham Jones. This song had been covered by a number of singers, including Frank Sinatra, Harry Connick Jr. (for the movie "When Harry Met Sally"), and more recently by Michael Bublé and Barbra Streisand in 2014.

Thank you once again to my beta-reader, Tomoyo Ichijouji! The story is drawing to a close, but I hope you enjoyed this title drop chapter and I wish everyone a happy holiday!