Prologue

Spot felt his hands tremble ever so slightly as a frigid breeze blew harshly across the Brooklyn Lodging house roof, his threadbare coat doing little to shield him from the wintry weather that, within the last week, had taken an unapologetic hold of the city. He stared out into the dark cloudy sky, leaning exhaustedly against the roof's outside ledge while running his hands slowly over his face.

He could barely keep his eyes open, even in the midst of what they said would be one of the coldest nights on record for that time of year. But there was still so much left to do before he would dare lay his head on his pillow to rest.

Our pillow.

His chest tightened with a flash of pain as he immediately shook his body against the soft voice that had so easily intruded into his thoughts. It was a voice that he had come to know quite well over the last fifteen, mostly sleepless nights—a harsh mutation of a timbre he had long loved. It had relentlessly haunted both his waking and sleeping hours, cruelly reminding him of all his inadequacies with any quiet moment that passed. Most of the time he could force it into the back of his thoughts, pushing past the sickness that swelled within his stomach and the fogginess that grew within his vision. But tonight, it seemed near impossible to escape the torturous words reverberating so clearly within his troubled mind as well as the beautiful face that always accompanied their echo.

Her face.

He shuddered as a pair of terror-filled green eyes flashed across his vision, seeming to strangely materialize in the dark night sky above him.

You can't fix this.

"I can, Kate," he mumbled somewhat deliriously as he dug into his breast pocket for a cigarette, shakily bringing the unlit stub to his chapped lips.

"Who you talkin' to, boss?"

Spot physically jolted as a deep voice jarringly interrupted the silence around him. He turned irritably to meet the very concerned stare of his second in command before striking a match against the ledge and lighting his cigarette. Rummy stood there silently for several moments, his eyes seeming to perform a slow once over of Spot's state. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, taking several tentative steps nearer to Spot's form as he murmured, "When was the last time you slept, huh?"

Spot only inhaled aggressively from his smoke, turning to once again lean against the ledge before asking, "He talk?"

Rummy's sigh was heavy as he slowly meandered next to Spot, crossing his arms over his chest and softly replying, "Not yet."

"I don't have time for not yet, Rummy," Spot said sharply inhaling a final puff of smoke before irritably flicking the remains off of the roof.

He turned to face Rummy, his eyes taking short notice of what looked to be blood on Rummy's knuckles as the tall boy carefully asked, "So what doya want us ta do with 'im, then?"

Spot coldly met Rummy's stare as he said flatly, "Like I said, I don't got time for not yet. So I guess it's my turn to ask some questions."

Rummy appraised Spot momentarily, his dark eyes seeming to take in the seriousness of Spot's response. But as the Brooklyn leader turned to climb over the railing to leave, he felt a sturdy hand upon his shoulder, Rummy's voice echoing with purpose as he said, "You ain't goin' in there, boss."

Spot forcefully shrugged off Rummy's hand, glaring at the tall boy before he said in quiet warning, "You don't fuckin' tell me what to do, Rummy. Ever. You got that?" He paused intensifying his stern look before continuing, "Now let's go to the warehouse."

But Rummy again interceded in Spot's exit, muttering, "I can't let you go, Spot. Not when you're like this."

"Do you think this is a joke, Rummy? Are you fucking enjoying yourself? 'Cause I'm two seconds away from beating the everliving shit outa you!" Spot hissed, grasping the tip of his cane in his hand before he noted Rummy taking a step back. "Now, get outa my way. If you can't stomach what I'm about to do to this motherfuckin' Fiore underling, then I suggest you go inside with the rest of the little ones and wait for me to come back."

Rummy was silent, his eyes shining in uncharacteristic dismay. But Spot merely shook his head and ignored the large boy, turning and jumping onto the top of the fire escape and starting down the metal stairs.

"She wouldn't want you lowerin' yourself to their level, Conlon."

Spot froze, his brain and body seeming to both jerk to immovable standstills as Rummy's words settled more fully within him. And in the silent moments following, he felt a sickness begin to slowly grow once more in the pit of his stomach—a violent wave of pain and fear that threatened to completely overwhelm him right there on the metal steps.

But he swallowed back the bile rising in his throat, flashing a dangerous glare in Rummy's direction as he said, "And what the hell do you know about what she would or wouldn't want, Rummy?"

Rummy's eyes looked sad, his voice, however, remaining steady when he added, "Y'know, we had a relationship too—me an' her. We talked about a lot a' shit together. An' a long time ago she made me promise her that I'd look after you—that I'd keep you on the straight an' narrow if she ever wasn't able to." Rummy paused, his eyes looking distant for a short moment before he refocused his attention back upon Spot, continuing harshly, "An' you an' I both know what you're capable of, especially right now. You ain't slept in weeks, you ain't eaten in days, an' if I let you go in there like this, I'm almost certain you'll lose control."

He's right, Spot.

The Brooklyn leader shuddered at the corresponding voice that loudly corroborated Rummy's words, his jaw twitching with the slightest hint of emotion as he saw green eyes dancing radiatively above Rummy's head. He looked to them for a moment, feeling the bile again rise into his throat as he murmured, "Fine. I'm gonna go catch a few hours rest. But if it's still the same story by the time I'm up tomorrow morning, I'm goin' in there."

Rummy nodded once in affirmation, peering over the ledge at Spot's retreating form and then disappearing back into the darkness surrounding him. And after climbing in through the window of his room, Spot shook his head slowly, running his hands aggressively over his face before falling into his bed fully clothed.

You didn't keep me safe, Tom.

Spot clenched his eyes closed, pain radiating throughout every inch of his body as he murmured, "I know, Kate. But I'm gonna fix it."