MANHATTAN – OCTOBER 1899

By October of that year, life started moving a little too quickly for Jack's liking.

Things were happening. Times were changing. Life was going on as normally as ever, but at much greater speed.

The first change in the chain reaction of events was Sophie's departure from Irving Hall. For keeps. At first, Jack wondered if Medda had kicked Sophie out of the theater for refusing to work. Sarah disagreed, reassuring Jack that Sophie would sooner leave by her own choice than allow Medda to toss her to the curb.

After two weeks of living with Muggs and Alexei, Colleen had enough of their ways and moved out. With the help of Elena, she found a nice women's boarding house in which to live. From there, she convinced her three friends at Irving Hall to leave Medda's and join her there, where they could be independent from any Madame claiming most of their profit. And within three days, Sophie and Bella had left, coming to stay in the boarding house with Colleen. Leah was harder to persuade, as she believed her current job was her best way of making money. If anything, she wanted to seek employment in a higher end brothel with wealthier clients. And no amount of pleading from her friends could change her mind.

So, for now, Leah was staying on. But Sophie and Bella were relieved to be out, and Colleen was eager to live with her friends again.

They weren't the only ones striking out on their own. In that same month, Jack met Sarah's parents halfway and proposed. He told himself he was going to do it at some point, and now was as good a time as ever, if it meant she could live with him. Mrs. Jacobs was overjoyed, but Mr. Jacobs remained somewhat apprehensive to the idea, though the ring eased his worries a little. He worried whether Sarah was sure about Jack being the right one. After all, they'd only known each other for four months.

But Sarah was desperate to move out of her family's flat and even more excited about marrying Jack. After endless conversations, she and Jack made the decision in consultation with her parents and their synagogue's rabbi. The rabbi asked the two openly if they were prepared to manage careers and a home by themselves, and Jack and Sarah promised him they were. For her parents' part, they only prayed the responsibilities of the outside world would help the young couple grow up. With the rabbi's blessing, Sarah and Jack leased an inexpensive flat on the other side of the city, and the two of them took off in a carriage with their belongings from both the Jacobs' apartment and the lodging house, full of extra furniture, kitchen tools, and a few baskets of groceries – courtesy of Mrs. Jacobs. Kloppman even snuck an engagement gift of champagne in the mix.

David couldn't wait to move into Sarah's old space, which meant he and Les no longer had to share a bed.

Sarah stayed involved in their lives after she moved out. They saw her and Jack for dinner at least once or twice a week.

But Sarah still worried about Jack. She never quite knew what was going on his head, despite the easy-going smile he often displayed.

She thought the secrets he kept hidden as they stood out on the fire escape of their flat. That evening, they'd held what started out as a small gathering at their place for Jack's birthday. But the intimate celebration quickly turned into a bustling party when the word spread. In fact, the place got so cramped, they had to move the party to the large, flat roof where people could spread out and not disturb the neighbors. After the last guest left, the two had snuck back down to their flat for much needed sleep. But somehow, they'd both been drawn to the fire escape, looking up at the stars, talking quietly.

"I thought you said it would just be a few people…" Jack said with a coy grin as he gazed out over the city.

"It escalated without my permission," Sarah laughed with a small shrug. "Not my fault you have so many friends. Besides, it's the least I can do for my fiancé's birthday."

Jack returned the laugh, his cheeks rouged from the alcohol he'd consumed. He wished she hadn't spelled it out like that. The mention of his birthday made him flinch at their youth. Both just eighteen and engaged. And he'd called Marquette insane for getting married at eighteen, and then having a kid. Jack didn't understand the rush. Maybe it was because Marquette was anxious to move on and forget about the Refuge. Okay, on second thought, Jack understood that.

But now that it was happening to him (save for the baby), he felt a sudden surge of fear. Fear of letting Sarah down, letting her parents down. Fear of never leaving the city. Marriage wasn't really what he had in mind…at least not yet. It wasn't about Sarah. He loved her, or at least he thought he did. But freedom was what he wanted most. A change of scene. A place where no one knew his name. A place to start over.

But that didn't mean he wanted to be alone forever.

Sarah nestled her head against Jack's chest.

His arms tightened around her possessively. "Fiancé, huh?" He tried to smile back, turning the word over in his mind. "Soon it'll be husband." He said the last part in a whisper, scared that if he said it too loudly, it might come true all too quickly.

Husband. The title should have sent tremors of joy down Sarah's spine. But the reference to it made her shiver with nervousness.

Jack ducked his head and brought his lips against her neck. His mouth was warm and smooth, particularly in the October wind and chill that had picked up into the evening. The dryness of the air brought out the strong smell of whiskey on his breath, as well as the smoke from the chimneys above them.

She angled her body to escape the alcohol scent, convincing herself she was only giving him more permission to continue. At the same time, she pinched her eyes shut and tried to invoke happiness at the attention she was receiving from him. She'd liked Jack's kisses and his cuddles on other occasions. So why was that evening so different? She only needed to be persistent and the fondness would come.

After all, he was Jack Kelly, the strike leader, the escapee, the dreamer. She still couldn't believe that of all the girls who competed for Jack's interest, he'd chosen her. He was enchanted the moment he first saw her.

Sarah hadn't paid much attention to other boys. Before she met Jack, she wasn't all sure she wanted to settle down with someone – not for a long time, anyway. She always felt like an outsider in the city. When she was little, she dreamed of traveling to Europe, painting on the side of some ancient street with an easel and a breathtaking view, meeting all kinds of people. People who would accept her, appreciate her.

But now she had a different dream. She was Jack Kelly's fiancée. He wanted her, loved her for who she was without apology.

"You're so pretty," Jack murmured hoarsely.

With her wavy brown hair and soft dark eyes, she was used to getting starry looks from young men.

Jack's mouth followed a trail to her clavicle, and his fingers on her waist crept lower, under her skirts, past layers of fabric—lower than he'd ever dared go before, not without her encouragement.

"Jack…you're drunk." Sarah put her hand on his chest, attempting to keep her tone soft and teasing.

"You're going to be my wife," he said, catching his breath. "I love you."

I love you. That echoed in Sarah's mind and created a hot flutter in her soul. As mad as he was about her, he saved those words for rare moments.

She eased within Jack's embrace. She shouldn't feel guilty, especially if he was initiating it. That meant he was okay, in some capacity, with more intimate touching. Granted he'd had liquid courage, but then again, so had she.

She pushed down the apprehension. She'd become adept at confining anxiety, burying it deep in her heart. But Jack's feverish petting and caressing scared her. She was worried he'd have another sudden switch in temperament like he'd had in the past.

During the party, he'd been lively and playful, catching up with friends and taking shots here and there.

Sophie had been sealed in the arms of Bella, both girls laughing at some wild story Lion was telling them, involving him and Racetrack losing money at the tracks.

Grim, meanwhile, had been kindly chatting with a very tipsy Colleen, painfully aware of her little crush on him. Exchanging a trapped look with Tide across the way, he smiled a bit uncomfortably down at her as she stroked his arm. Out of nowhere, she bluntly asked in crass terms if he wanted to go to bed with her.

Grim raised his eyebrows, mentally cursing Muggs for his less than adequate job as her guardian. Politely, he took her hand off his arm and patted it in his larger ones, declining her offer. He shook his head, rolling his eyes, saying, "You're out of your mind, kindelah," making her laugh as he tapped her nose, walking away.

She folded her arms, giving a mock sigh in disappointment. "You're loss. There are plenty of men in this city who wouldn't think twice about being with me."

"Boys," Grim corrected her, giving her a pointed look.

Colleen shot him the same look back. "Not the ones who used to visit me at Medda's."

Grim's expression now became of mixture of half-playful, half-uneased. "You give me their names, and I'll soak 'em."

She seemed satisfied with that. "You would?"

"Cross my heart. And then I'll kick your brother's ass for putting you there," he teased, this time meeting Tide and Crazy a few feet away.

"Twice," Tide said.

"Sober," Crazy added.

Puffed up with pride at the thought of them protecting her, Colleen tossed her hair and sauntered off to join Bella and Sophie's conversation.

At the other end of the flat roof, Camille had sat on Marquette's lap as he drank and played cards with River, Shakespeare, Atlas, Z, and of course, Cards. Henry was playing peek-a-boo with Amelie, and she squealed and clapped with delight every time he pulled his hands away from his eyes.

"Daddy, can we take her home?" Henry asked Grim, giving Amelie a gentle hug. "She can be my little sister."

"No, Henry," Grim said with a laugh. "She has her own mommy and daddy."

Henry sighed. "Okay." He turned to Amelie. "I'm sorry, Amie. Daddy said no."

Amelie, too little to understand, clapped again and babbled something unintelligible.

"Besides," Marquette said from the card game next to the two children, "I'll need her around to look after her new little brother or sister."

Henry looked wide-eyed from Amelie to Marquette. "How come she's getting one?"

Marquette laughed softly, looking at the cards in his hands. "Ask Camille."

Upon hearing her name, Camille elbowed Marquette, mumbling something in French, to which Marquette quickly replied by kissing the side of her head.

And now, on the fire escape below, Sarah's breathing grew louder. Shrouded in darkness, Jack reached around to put his hand to her mouth to quiet her, his fingers brushing against her agape mouth. She bit down on his middle finger ever so slightly, the wind billowing her skirts up, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the railing, feeling his lips on her neck.

"Jack…" Sarah repeated, trying to find the strength to pull herself away. "We should get some sleep."

"Mm," Jack hummed in response, taking her hand as he moved back. "That sounds nice."

Sarah turned around to face him. She couldn't gauge his expression. He looked sedated – his lips parted, his eyes glazed, his breathing slow and heavy. They looked at each other for a few quiet moments, thinking, waiting for the other to say something. It felt like an eternity.

Sarah didn't even realize Jack was pulling her inside the flat until they were on the bed, collapsed beside one another, disintegrating into the shadows of the room. Before she could give it another thought, Sarah had taken Jack's hand and moved it to the buttons of her slightly askew shirtwaist, and his fingers automatically began undoing the buttons. Sarah's mind was whirring, igniting, detonating as she trembled and chilled at the contact.

She didn't want it to end.

"Promise you won't get me in trouble?" Sarah asked him. "Mama told me told me…what happens. But the girls at work said if you're careful…" She blushed, not entirely sure where she was going with those words, hoping Jack knew what she meant. He was wiser to those sort of things.

"Are you sure?" Jack asked, kissing her forehead. "We can stop."

"Do you want to stop?" She asked, more worried for him than herself, especially given all that he'd told her.

His hand was on the belly of her corset, and he was shaking his head, looking surer than ever. Sarah reached up and kissed his clean-shaven jaw, trying to reassure him, settle him down. Slowly, she guided his hand under her skirts again.

The world sort of stopped at the feeling of Jack's lips pressing against hers, both their hands exploring, her long hair cascading over his collar and shoulders, his eyelashes brushing against her cheek, making her laugh quietly. The feeling of her lips on his jaw, then his neck, tickling him until he wriggled away with a laugh of his own. The feeling of his tapered fingers – warm and slightly calloused – unlacing her corset, and his hands tracing over her chest and ribcage. The dizzy blur of switching angles, arching backs, lying still. The sound of blankets rustling. The pulling at Jack's suspenders, and Jack momentarily forgetting how to take them off. The undoing of his trousers, the discarding of her skirts' layers. The feeling of his lips, again, creating a path along her waist, and then her hips. The feeling of the October air blowing in through the open window on Sarah's thighs as her stockings joined her skirt on the floor in a flutter. The twist and tangle of her fingers in his hair as she braced herself, prompting Jack to exhale a soft laugh, his breath hitting her thigh.

"I'll go slow. Just one." He said, moving his fingers, taking her nod as a signal. A moment later, he asked, "Are you okay?"

Sarah winced but replied with, "Keep going."

The cold feeling of him pulling away, snaking his fingers back to her hip, and giving her an inquisitive look. Sarah nodded again, prompting Jack to crawl back toward her, his mouth hovering over hers. The entombment of his hands on either side of her head, his arms tensed, as if waiting.

"Just…be gentle," Sarah reminded him.

Then there were more foreign sensations, more pressure, more repositioning. Slowing down. Assuring, and then reassuring. Speeding up. The biting of lips, the dragging of nails. The faint squeak of the mattress. Sarah suddenly wondering if Jack had remembered to lock the door. Then realizing it didn't matter. They were alone.

"Am I hurting you? Is that—"

Sarah interrupted Jack, urging him not to stop.

The whirlwind of butterflies in her stomach, the dizzy spin of her head. Over and over. The gasping. The groaning. The sighing. The myriad of currents and vibrations and fleeting glances and exhales and inhales and shaking and unraveling. The biting kisses at Sarah's neck. The pain of the past, the worries of the present, the uncertainty of the future flying out the open window into the night, even if only for a little while. Now there was only the two of them.