MANHATTAN – JULY 1900

"I wanna die—"

Alexei leaned over and vomited again, feeling pain shoot through his body. The aching, the insomnia, the anxiety… It was all too much in too short of time.

But all that was to be expected. He'd experienced it before. He'd gotten used to it at one point – while he was in the Refuge. And then the detoxification process was interrupted upon discharge, as he fell back into old habits.

Now that he was on his own, things were a little better. He was out of the absolute decrepit pit of vice he'd shared with Muggs, found a cheaper than dirt flat, and moved in with Elena. She'd been all in a flurry about this new life they'd started for themselves, and Alexei tried to be happy about it. He did.

After he finally told her that he wanted the baby, that he'd give up opium as she'd done, that he'd grow up overnight. But those things were easier said than done. He didn't know how Marquette did it, or Grim for that matter.

But after holding his newborn baby for the first time, Alexei realized exactly why it was all worth it.

Doc gave him a cup of water, urging him to drink it. "You have to keep drinking. Stay hydrated. That's part of it."

"I'm in pain, Doc. I need to smoke. I don't need water!"

Alexei's voice was whiny, his eyes red-rimmed from the tears in the corners. He sounded intoxicated, though he was entirely sober.

"I know, but it'll help." Doc, in turn, was calm but forceful.

"What the hell do you know?" Alexei shouted, his frown deepening. "You've never had to suffer like this!"

Doc nodded a little, understanding where he was coming from. "You have to trust me." Doc again urged Alexei to drink the water. "Two sips."

Glowering, Alexei shakily gulped two mouthfuls of water, wincing as it hit the back of his throat. "Tastes disgusting."

Doc raised an eyebrow. "What should it taste like?"

Alexei didn't answer. Instead, he brought his knees to his chest, running a hand over his sweaty face and hair. "Months, this will take. Months." He shook his head with a horrified pout. "I won't make it. I barely made it that long in the Refuge. Took away my appetite."

Doc didn't have the heart to tell Alexei that it wouldn't be months. It would be years. The rest of his life.

"Yes, but you're not in the Refuge anymore," Doc reminded him. "You can go outside. Get fresh air. Go on walks. Get square meals."

"I don't care about all that," Alexei grumbled, wiping his eyes. "I want to smoke, Doc. I'm dying for it. It's been so long."

"Alexei, it's been two days."

"Feels like two weeks."

"Can't I just smoke a little?"

It was Doc's turn to frown. "No."

"Please, Doc?" Alexei's voice broke, suddenly pulling his hands away and giving Doc a desperate, wide-eyed look. "I can't do this."

"I can give you a little morphine, that's it. No opium," Doc compromised, watching Alexei's shoulders relax a bit. "Okay, that'll knock you out for a couple of hours."

"Can't be for too long. I'll be late for my shift."

"What time's your shift?"

"Four o'clock."

"Maybe you should hold off a little, huh?" Doc suggested. "Don't wanna be falling over on the job."

Alexei held his head, hating himself for letting Elena break his pipe and sell his entire stash. At the time, he seemed strong enough. But now he'd do anything to feel that high again. "Doc, just give me the morphine. I'll be fine, okay? Promise."

Doc shook his head. "I'll be back when you get done. It'll help you sleep."

"Why would you even offer it to me in the first place if you're not going to give it to me when I need it?" Alexei's voice rose, the rage evident behind his distraught eyes. "I need that morphine, Doc. Please."

"And you will. Not right now. You have to go to work first."

Doc felt like he was talking to a child. He watched Alexei slam his fist against the wall, groaning angrily.

"If you won't let me smoke, then give me the fucking morphine!" He yelled, reverting to the behavior he'd displayed in the Refuge. "I swear to God, Doc—" He hit the wall again. "I'm fucking dying, do you understand?"

Doc remained unfazed, though he flinched at the sudden shriek of Alexei's baby sleeping in the next room. The shriek turned into a fussing and then a wailing cry. Doc looked back at Alexei uneasily, watching the young man's face fall in that moment.

"I can't do it." Alexei shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as the baby continued to cry. "Make it stop."

Noticing Doc's pleading look, Alexei rolled his eyes and nudged past him. Finding his newborn in the makeshift crib – which was really a wicker basket with blankets – Alexei stared down at the little flailing fists and the open mouth.

"The fuck does he want?" Alexei asked Doc.

Doc shrugged, looking nervously at the infant. "Maybe he's hungry?"

Alexei groaned, picking his son up, careful to hold a hand to his head. "I'm sorry," he mumbled to the baby, bouncing him slightly. "I'm not your mama. I know she's your favorite. But I can't help you."

Then with a look of contemplation, he raised an eyebrow at Doc. "Can we give him a little morphine? To get him back to sleep?"

"Um…I don't think that's a good idea." Doc tilted his head, watching the baby scream endlessly in Alexei's limp arms. Alexei himself looked ready to collapse. The dark undereye circles, the reddened eyes from crying, the gaunt cheeks from malnutrition. "My mother was always against that. For babies, that is."

Alexei kept giving him that desperate look, as if he were out of options. "Then give me morphine. Either I get it or he does. I can't take him screaming anymore. It's every other hour."

"Well, he's a baby," Doc reminded Alexei. "He's supposed to."

"Jesus Christ," Alexei winced as the baby howled louder. Doc's stomach dropped as Alexei looked ready to throw the child away from him.

Stepping in quickly, Doc took the infant from Alexei's loose grip, cradling him safely. "Alex, I know you're going through something right now. Trust me, I know. But you can't neglect Misha. He needs you."

Alexei crumpled onto the bed that he and Elena shared. "Now I understand."

"You understand what?"

"What my father must've felt like."

"Your father left," Doc said firmly, managing to calm Misha down a little with a few sways and bounces. "You're still here, ain't you?"

Alexei didn't reply.

The door opened, and Elena walked in, having finished work for the day. She looked from Alexei molting into himself to Doc holding her wailing baby.

"Misha, what's wrong, baby?" She asked the child, taking him from Doc's arms with a grateful smile. "You hungry, hm? Your papa not change you?"

She gave Alexei a sharp look which went unnoticed by him. Instead, he stood up with a sigh, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I'm going out," he announced.

"Out? Where?" Elena asked over Misha's cries, struggling to hold him in one arm and fetch a clean napkin with the other hand. "You do not work yet. Not for one hour."

Alexei mumbled something in Russian, sounding annoyed. He shot Doc a look before storming out of the flat, slamming the door behind him. Elena flinched at the door slam, staring in disbelief. She looked to Doc, who now seemed extremely uncomfortable.

"I'm…I'm sorry," Doc apologized, gathering up his things in his medical bag. "I should go, too."

Elena shook her head, finishing putting the clean napkin on Misha. "No. S'okay." She offered a sheepish smile. "You stay with me. Please. Help with Misha."

Reluctantly, Doc nodded, looking around the dark flat. "Does he do that a lot?" He asked, gesturing behind him to where Alexei stood.

"Oh, Lyosha?" Elena asked, using the shortened form of his name. "Yes. All the time."

"I'm sorry."

"For why?" Elena brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she picked up Misha again. "He do not hit me. He just leave for walks." At Doc's unchanging look of apprehension, she sighed, giving him a strained, tight-lipped frown. "Maybe he don't want Misha and me anymore."

Jack had been looking for Sophie for over an hour.

He finally found her in a Brooklyn cemetery. At Colleen's grave.

He knew she was the only one who visited it. Leah and Bella came every once and a while. Muggs had never gone.

"She would've been sixteen last April," Sophie said, seeing Jack's shadow behind her as she knelt in front of the grave. "She's two months older than me. But for the rest of my life, I'll always be older than her."

Jack exhaled slowly, sitting beside Sophie. He pulled his knees up, feeling Sophie rest her head against his shoulder.

"How's your wife?" Sophie asked absently, staring off beyond the grave. She felt Jack shifting, stretching out his legs.

He still wasn't used to hearing that term. Husband and wife. It sounded entirely foreign, but that didn't make it any less true. After they'd been married last March, Jack had given up his dream of Santa Fe. For now, anyway. Until they'd saved up enough.

"Grim and Henry are coming over for dinner," Jack said, watching his sister extend the toe of her smaller boot to click playfully against his larger boot. "You and Bella are welcome to join, if you'd like."

"Hmm, tempting," Sophie said. "But I've got plans. Though I do want to see Henry again. He's getting so old."

"Five years old," Jack said with a nod. "He's so funny. The other week when I saw him, he said, 'Uncle Jack, I think I'd like to sell newspapers like you did.'"

Sophie laughed at that. "Do you think Grim would let him?"

"No way."

"Grim's got another thing coming if he thinks he can protect Henry his whole life," Sophie said.

"He can try," Jack said quietly.

They were quiet for a moment, listening the hot July breeze rustle the grass around them.

Suddenly, Jack spoke up. "It's just…too bad that Calico doesn't have a grave like this. A place to visit him."

Sophie frowned, looking up at her brother. "I'm sorry, Jack."

"I'm sorry for Calico," Jack mumbled. "He won't ever rest so long as he's on that damn island."

"He doesn't have a grave there?"

"He's in with all the others. Some unmarked plot," Jack said, closing his eyes. "I just remember him telling me how much he hated being alone. That we were the only family he had left. And now he's alone and lost forever."

Sophie nestled back into his shoulder again, this time being accepted in Jack's arms. He pulled her close and let the rest of his regrets go unsaid.