MANHATTAN - SEPTEMBER 1899

"Why do you smell like…like bitter ashes?"

Jack brought his collar to his nose, inhaling. "Oh, that? I stopped by Water Street. Saw Alexei."

"You weren't smoking, were you?"

"Come on, Sarah," Jack said with a laugh. "I ain't that stupid."

Sarah was waiting at a table in the main dining room at Tibby's, one that looked out onto City Hall Park and was as isolated from the other guests in the restaurants as possible. She expressed both worry for Jack's wellbeing—the unfamiliar scent made her nervous—and then, once she saw that Jack was in good spirits, great interest about where he'd been. Her way with him, even before he offered her an apology, was quite easygoing, despite him being late for their dinner reservation. Sarah wasn't exactly the type to hold a grudge, but she knew better than to be a sucker for those who'd take her kindness for granted. Jack tried hard to ignore the odd strain between them and kept his attention on what she wanted to discuss.

His face was haggard as he sat wordlessly at the table and ate, listening to Sarah recount the argument she'd had that afternoon. The Jacobs' were leaving for Poughkeepsie to visit Esther's sister and her family for a week. Sarah had convinced her mother to let her stay behind and look after the flat, and that had taken a lot of persuading and buttering up. Her father didn't seem to mind all that much.

When she'd asked if she and Jack could get a place together soon, both her parents had thrown a conniption. Mrs. Jacobs had fretted over her baby growing up and leaving the nest, and she worried what she would do without Sarah around the house. Mr. Jacobs didn't like the idea of Jack and Sarah living together before getting married, and he wanted to make sure Jack had a stable career so he could take care of them.

Mrs. Jacobs was willing to compromise if the two got engaged, at the very least. And as Sarah relayed this to Jack, he simply stared off in thought. As they departed, Jack said he'd come by to spend the night, but he needed to grab a few things from the lodging house beforehand.

After the long day and with newfound pressure to propose, Jack wanted nothing more than to go back to the lodging house and fall asleep. And as much as Sarah wanted to fall in bed herself, her worry over how Jack was processing all this kept her vigilant.

Long after the sun had set, Sarah heard the door to her family's three-room flat creak open, and she glided into the darkness from her bed. The place was cloaked in silhouettes.

It took a minute for her eyes to adapt to the darkness, and when they did, she found Jack sitting at the table, bent over in a chair, his head resting on his arms. Sadness exuded from his body.

She inched up behind him and paused only for a moment before putting the quilt she'd brought with her around his back and shoulders. He didn't move, and for a flash she wondered if he was so depleted that he'd fallen asleep. At a sudden uneven breath, she realized he wasn't asleep. She couldn't be sure, but she thought perhaps the sound had been a cry.

"Hey," she said, trying to sound cheerful. "You didn't have to walk all the way here if you were too tired."

Jack couldn't bring himself to match her tone. "How is it that I'm so exhausted, and it ain't even midnight? I feel a million years old."

At the thought of this tough and kind-hearted young man having a nervous breakdown over something like getting old, Sarah felt a cry build up in her own chest. It just wasn't worth getting upset about. She knew there must be something else on his mind. She'd watched Jack over the past week. She'd seen his warmth and empathy toward Sophie, his playfulness with Les, his comradery with David and the other newsies. He was diligent in his attempts to spread love and unending in his effort to make sure everyone around him was happy.

Jack Kelly was a good person. Sarah felt it deep in her belly. He was someone she was proud to be with.

"I don't know," Sarah mused. "It's…it's been a rough day."

Jack nodded. "Rough three years, more like."

With a sigh, Sarah added, "Well, I think hardships are one of those things that makes me strong."

"You make me strong. Without you, I don't know where I'd be…" Jack replied with a broken edge, trailing off.

She draped the quilt tightly around his shoulders, massaging a strained muscle in his back as she did so. When he released another jolting breath, she shoved aside rationale and held the cozy quilt more securely until she'd twisted her arms around his chest and was hugging him from behind.

She tried to keep her soft grip somewhat appropriate and noninvasive, but at the gloom stemming from his frame, she couldn't avoid tilting toward him, pushing her body against his back, and resting her face on his slightly sweat-drenched hair.

The pain in her heart worsened, and quite a few hot tears fell on to her cheeks at the memory of his nightmare. She felt his ambivalence, his anguish, his exasperation, and his regret in the tension of his muscles and in the rigidity of his backbone. She wondered if there was something more she could do to alleviate his agony, but she knew of nothing but her presence, cradling him, and in some way trying to assure him she worried about his suffering.

Hugging him closer, she planted a kiss against his head and shifted her hands to his upper arms. Above the quilt, she dragged her nails up and down his biceps, hoping to soothe him and calm him down. But when he braced himself underneath her fingers, she thought perhaps she'd overstepped a boundary. She began to drag herself away, but his hands stretched out and caught hers. He pulled her hands to his chest, making her bend her body toward him.

"Don't leave me," he muttered, his voice raspy.

She set her head onto his hair again. She told herself this was an innocent act of comfort, that nothing wrong would come of this.

But when his arms crumpled over hers, she shut her eyes and enjoyed the strong feel of his body much more than she thought she should. Sarah held him that way for an indefinite moment. She didn't want to let go, but she was sure he'd think she was being clingy if she held on for too long. So, she kissed his head and unraveled her arms from across him.

This time he freed her. But as she began to move away, he spun in his chair, wound an arm around her stomach, and hauled her down onto his lap. Before she could fight, he draped his arms around her and entombed his face into her hair. Although she was still dressed in the shirtwaist and skirt she'd worn that day, Sarah had previously unpinned and combed her hair so that it hung down her shoulders in soft brown waves.

"I'm so fed up, Sarah," Jack said, his lips close to her ear lobe, "Of all this. Of my life. I don't even know how I'm still alive."

Sarah nodded, acutely mindful of their closeness, of the reality that she was on his lap with his solid arms all around her. She would be mortified if her parents came home early to find them like this. And yet she didn't care in that moment. Jack certainly didn't.

I don't even know how I'm still alive. That sentence fell over in her brain like a demonic incantation. When had Jack ever expressed a sentiment like that? Even after all he'd been through, he never questioned his survival or even spoke about anything remotely existential around her.

But now, here, in this instant, Jack was falling into an abyss. Sarah put away her doubts, surrendered to his hold on her, and relaxed her head against his, getting a wobbly breath at the joy of realizing she was special to him. Special enough to be confided in, to be trusted. For a time, Jack simply held her, and she was happy to listen to his heartbeat slowly dim its tempo.

"It's my fault…for everything," Jack eventually said. "Once I ran away…from the Refuge…I should've done something to get the rest of them out. But I hid. Like a coward. Meanwhile, they kept on suffering. Tide and Grim got sent to Sing Sing. No Name was dragged to an asylum. Calico wouldn't even be dead if I hadn't given him that damn rabbit."

"It's no one's fault," Sarah replied, moving back so she could look at his face. In the darkness, his features were eclipsed but still as attractive and charming as usual. "You did all you could."

"But it wasn't enough," he murmured. "At the very least I could have gotten Kloppman to check up on them."

"Sometimes, even when we try our best, we still fail to keep the ones we love safe. It's part of being human."

"I guess." Jack's tone was mixed with skepticism. "Sophie scares me. She's getting farther and farther away. Soon, I won't be able to reach her."

Sarah raised her hands to each side of his face, confining him, making him stare at her. "Jack Kelly, you are the best friend anyone could ask for. You're a wonderful, wonderful person, and those boys' lives will be better for having known you. And Sophie is lucky to have you as a brother." Sarah's voice softened. "She could have it a lot worse."

Sarah couldn't tell his expression, but she could sense him shudder somewhat at her remark. When he traced her jaw in return, she nearly beamed. But before she could move, his lips arrived at hers, catching her off guard. Jack always let her initiate things like that, but in this moment, he took the lead. The warmth and friction of his mouth on hers was so surprising she felt her heart skip a beat. When Jack pressed against her, he gave her no option but to press against him, too.

She immediately became giddy and gasping for breath. She still wasn't used to kissing like that, even after their rather public intimate moment after the strike victory, although she'd thought about that moment many times. It made her stomach flutter and her toes tingle.

His hands raked her hair, pulling at the roots ever so slightly, making Sarah wince. He'd never done anything to physically hurt her before, not that he'd meant to in this instance.

When his fingers slipped down onto the buttons of her blouse, twisting a few open, and drifting to her corset, an alarm in her mind told her to be cautious. His lips pulled away from hers and discovered her neck. At the initial contact, she shut her eyes, thinking she could faint from the overwhelming sensation of his lips brushing against her skin.

But the intensity of the moment terrified her. Where was all this coming from? This poignant pull to her—it seemed to come out of nowhere for Jack. Was he pushing his pain aside again? He'd already brought plenty upon himself in the past. He needed to talk about it more. And Sarah was willing to listen.

"Jack?" she sighed.

His lips and hands paused. For a second he didn't do anything. Then he moved away with a groan. "Shit, I didn't mean to…" Jack said, shaking his head in disorientation and exhaustion. "Was that too much, Sarah?"

"It's okay," she said as she removed herself from his lap. She felt bad that he was asking for forgiveness. She didn't want him to feel guilty about kissing her, of all things. She hoped he wanted to and enjoyed it as much as she had.

"You're tired," he said hurriedly, "and I'm tired, and I shouldn't have forced you—"

"No, you weren't forcing me. Not at all."

Jack was grieving, completely put in his feelings. Sarah could tell he needed comforting. She wondered why he hadn't gone to Medda. Or even Sophie. However, he'd come to her in the late evening, let her wrap him in a quilt, and allowed her to put her arms around him without flinching. Sarah suddenly felt like she might've confused him.

Jack nodded and ran his hands through his sweaty hair, evidently disappointed in himself.

"Come with me," she said, searching for his hands. She had to mend the uncomfortable situation. "We need sleep. Let's go to bed, and we'll talk in the morning. We'll talk all about it."

Jack accepted her outstretched hand, helping him to his feet. "So, you're not angry with me?"

"How could you even ask such a silly thing?"

He was quiet as he followed behind Sarah to her bed. His hand connected with hers, and her heart exploded at the gentle touch. "I love you," he whispered.

His smile was as short-lived as that phrase – as if he hadn't said anything at all.