Author's Note

.｡｡*ﾟi hope you're staying safe and being kind to yourself! .｡｡*ﾟ

Warning: mentions of drug use

Love youuu 💗

𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 ️

HOUSE OF REFUGE, 1897

Colleen Tracey's fingers were trembling so bad she could hardly hold the small tin of white powdered cocaine. There were a great many more vials and tins of various narcotics, along with alcohol and cigarettes and other bottles of colorful tablets. How in hell had Snyder managed to rake in this much contraband?

She dropped the tin at the sound of a door slamming in the distance, but she saw no one in the hallway. With a shaky breath, she waited a minute before continuing her search. It had only been a month since she'd been shipped to the Refuge. She couldn't risk getting caught sifting through the Warden Snyder's private office for cocaine.

She blamed her older brother. He was the reason she even needed this stuff in the first place. He'd done so much to not deserve it. But he'd also been the reason she hadn't starved on the streets, and she supposed she owed him for that. All the times he could've left her for dead or abandoned her at an orphanage. He never let her forget that fact.

So here she was, quickly trying to salvage the powder that had spilled out of the tin on the floor.

After the noise in the hallway, Colleen kept waiting for a few moments until it was silent again. Exhaling slowly, she turned back to the mess, trying to sweep it back into the tin. This would probably be her only opportunity to scrounge, as the door of Snyder's office was usually locked, safekeeping supplies and records.

Another closing door echoed, this time closer, and Colleen tensed up. When the shuffling of footsteps came to a halt outside the door, she felt her heart sink out of her chest. She pressed the toe of her shoe to the drawer, ready to nudge it closed.

A knock at the door, and Colleen froze before ducking into the utility closet at the back of the office, wall-to-wall with shelves of paperwork. She barely had time to situate herself before the office door swung open.

Colleen bit her lip and closed her eyes, melting into the darkness of the shallow closet.

The closet door was open enough that anyone who walked next to the desk could clearly see in, so she hoped whoever it was would leave soon.

The sound of footsteps drawing closer made her palms sweat. She covered her mouth with her hand, willing the person to go away.

The footsteps stopped just to the side of the closet door, and Colleen held her breath. What if it was Snyder? She was positive she'd seen him leave for the city that evening, but maybe he'd come back early.

Someone cleared his throat, making her flinch. The silence made the noises of children in the courtyard below become amplified. For a second, she thought the person had gone, but she could still see the shadow he cast through the crack in the door.

"Hey," came a reluctant voice. Colleen's heart pounded, knowing her hiding spot had been compromised. "Everything okay in there?"

That wasn't Warden Snyder. He sounded friendlier than any guard, not to mention younger.

Colleen thought maybe if she stayed quiet, he would give up and walk away. Then again, even if he weren't a guard, he would likely alert one that she'd been in Snyder's office.

Instead, Colleen tried to keep her voice business-like, determined to make it seem like she was supposed to be in there. "Oh, I'm just looking for a broom," she lied, and then realized how dumb that sounded given that she was in the record stacks.

"In the dark?" The voice replied.

"Lightbulb burnt out." She said quickly. Before she could do anything else the stranger appeared in the closet doorway, opening it wide.

She braced herself for a reprimand, but all he did was reach over and tug the chain under the Nernst lamp, switching it on brightly. "There," he said with a shrug. "Seems to be working alright now."

"Thanks," she muttered through flushed cheeks.

"Ain't no trouble," he replied.

No matter how badly Colleen wanted to flee from the office, she couldn't help but stare up at the older boy in a bit of moonstruck awe. His boyishly handsome face was molded into an expression of amusement, which brought a tiny smile to her lips despite her embarrassment.

"I'm Colleen," she said, holding out her hand.

"Oh," he looked down at it, taking it in his larger hand. "Formal handshake. How proper."

Colleen met his gaze quickly enough for a bashful smile to creep up on her face.

He returned the smile with a soft grin of his own, the corners of his mouth wrinkling in a most adorable way. "I'm Miles Krause, but everyone calls me Grim."

"Miles—"

"Grim."

"Nice to meet you," Colleen replied, feeling a bit trapped. She tried to compose herself, feeling his eyes on hers.

"Colleen," Grim said slowly, trying it out.
"Yes, that's right," she said quietly.

"Very pretty name," he said, backing away so she could step out. He was speaking to her the way one would speak to a frightened kitten, and she didn't mind. It was a welcomed comfort. "How long you been in here for?"

"Oh, just a minute or so."

"No," Grim laughed softly, "I meant the Refuge."

Colleen blushed. "Sorry. Um, just about a month now."

"That yours?" he asked.

"What?"

Grim nodded to the half-spilled tin on the floor, visible on the other side of the desk.

"I came in here to talk to the warden. But he was gone when I got here," she lied, and then mentally cringed at how unbelievable she sounded. "I guess someone knocked the tin off the table."

He nodded despite his doubt, that understanding smile reappearing.

"I mean, I wouldn't know," she corrected herself quickly, realizing the tin had originally been in the drawer. "I'm just looking for a broom. I thought I'd clean it up, I don't want to get blamed for it."

Grim tilted his head, looking back at the desk. "I'm no gambler, but I bet a broom is likely to be in the cleaning closet," he said, nodding to a larger closet on the opposite wall, and giving her a wink.

Colleen tried to head for the door, stumbling on her way past him, feeling his gaze never leave her. "Thanks, Grim, but I think I should be on my way. I've been gone for too long anyway. The matron will wonder where I am."

"Why don't I help you clean that up?" He asked, looking at the spill. "Especially since you went through all that trouble, sneaking around in here."

Colleen raised an eyebrow, wondering what game he was playing. Giving him another subtle stare, trying to gage his angle, she watched as he flashed her another adorably smug grin. The little flash in his eyes made it more obvious that he enjoyed making her flustered.
"Thank you," she answered, very matter of fact.

She and Grim got down on the floor, salvaging what they could back into the tin and brushing the remaining powder under the rug. Colleen attempted to flip the attention onto him. "What are you doing in here anyway?"

She hadn't seen him around the Refuge, so she knew he was likely to be a more dangerous inmate. Snyder kept them locked up in the dormitory most of the time, or in the factory, or worse yet in solitary. The dormitory happened to be right next to the one she was in, and on many occasions – especially at night – she'd heard fights and shouting through the thin walls.

She placed her hands on her hips, trying to appear threatening, but that only seemed to amuse him further.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. One of my friends is sick upstairs, and he needs some chloral to help him sleep. When I saw the door was unlocked, I decided to try my luck," he said, all the while keeping his distance. "So, I guess the two of us were on the same kind of mission, huh?"

For a second Colleen relaxed, but then she realized he'd seen past her previous lie. Without another word, she reached into the drawer and handed him a bottle of chloral hydrate, throwing in a bottle of paregoric as well.

"You're an angel, Colleen, ya really are," he said.

"Hey Grim, come on, you've been gone for so long, Marquette became fluent in English," came a teasing voice from the doorway. The two turned to see a friendly looking boy with folded arms and shaggy dark hair. "Let's go. You wanna get thrown back in solitary?"

"Easy, Tide, I'm coming," Grim said without looking at him, giving her another calming smile. "She's just helping me with the supplies."

"Yeah?" Tide shook his head. "Keep on looking at her like that, and your eyes will pop out of your head."

Colleen blushed and ducked her head. Grim rolled his eyes. "That's enough, Tide. Can't you see you've got her all embarrassed now?"

With a light tap on Colleen's shoulder and one last reassuring nod, Grim moved away to join Tide at the door.

He paused and looked back at her, nodding to the tin in her hands. "You be careful with that stuff."

Colleen raised an eyebrow.

"And don't get caught," he said.

From the hallway, she could hear Tide lecturing Grim. "What, are you stupid?" Tide laughed. "You just helped Muggs Tracey get cocaine."

Grim gave him a look of confusion.

Tide smirked, his voice fading as they disappeared down the hall. "That's his little sister."

Colleen just shook her head and tucked the tin into her apron pocket, sure to close the door behind her when she left.

She was used to people being afraid of her because of who her brother was. Oh, how different she was from him. If only they knew.

When she returned to the girls' dormitory that night, she found Leah Kessler, etching a small mark into the wall next to her bed with a nail that had fallen out of the bedframe.

"How many does that make?" Colleen teased.

"Night forty-fucking-one," Leah grumbled.

"What are you going to do when Mrs. Anderson sees those tally marks on the wall?"

"I'll blame it on the Polack," Leah shrugged, nodding to the bed next to her where a pretty, Polish girl – Hanna – slept. "She ain't gonna talk."

Hanna understood enough English to shoot Leah a hard glare. "Niemiecka suka," the girl mumbled, turning over in bed.

Leah looked surprised, shaking her head.

Colleen rolled her eyes. "And when she denies it?"

"Then I'll blame you," she said, putting on a show of mock-innocence. "It wasn't me, Mrs. Anderson. Colleen's the one who couldn't wait to go back to the streets. Me, I've learned from my time here."

"You should've been on the stage."

"Thank you," Leah smirked, joining her friend on her cot. "So, you get the stuff?"

Colleen laid down, staring at the ceiling, and nodded. "Now I just have to find a way to get it to him. I swear, he makes me do everything."

"Why do you even bother?" Leah scoffed. "It's not like he'd do the same for you."

Colleen's wide eyes were grave, ignoring the stifled cries of loneliness and dread from some of the other beds surrounding her.

Leah huddled close to her on the cot. She opened her hand, showing Colleen a glimpse of what she was clutching: half of a wrapped chocolate bar.

"Is that real?" Colleen gasped, her green eyes widening. "Let me have some!"

Leah put a finger to her lips, hiding the chocolate again and hushing her. "No! The others will try to take it. Wait until they fall asleep."

"Okay," Colleen whispered. "Where did you get that anyway?"

Leah grinned a dimpled smile. "One of Snyder's lackeys. Mr. Whalen? I don't know."

"Really? How?"

"He was eating the other half in the school room while I was scrubbing the floor," Leah continued. "I said I'd show him some of the things that got me sent here, if he'd give me the other half."

"You're either stupid or incredibly brave," Colleen laughed.

"I got the chocolate, didn't I?"

"Jesus Christ. I hope it was worth it," Colleen grimaced.

"Oh, it didn't take long, believe me," Leah replied off-handedly. "Easiest job I ever had."

Colleen bit her lip, her stomach rumbling. "Do you think he'd let me do it, too? For more cocaine if Muggs needed it?"

Leah shot her friend a look. "Muggs can get his own cocaine. He can work for it, not you."

"He had to raise me, Leah. He did so much to keep me from—"

"From what? Starving to death? Spare me," Leah rolled her eyes. "He did the bare minimum. Making you live with all those lowlifes in that basement on Mulberry. Dragging you around like a ragdoll from dive to dive. I wouldn't call that raising you."

"But he protected me—"

"And you still ended up in here. What does that tell you?" Leah interrupted her. "Has he ever hugged you? Told you he loved you? Even once."

Colleen didn't say anything. She remembered her run-in with her brother just a few days ago in the hallway. You gotta get me cocaine, Leeny, he'd said as he grabbed her arm. Do this for me. Be a good girl.

Leah softened, realizing she'd struck a powerful chord. "I guess he's more than I had," she whispered. "When they found Papa's body in the Hudson, I had no one."

"I'm sorry," Colleen replied, reaching over to take Leah's hand comfortingly.

"Yeah, well, my point is, I'm sure…deep down…Muggs kind of cares," Leah said, trying to back-peddle for Colleen's sake, even if she didn't believe it herself. "But you shouldn't put yourself in danger for him."

Colleen nodded, knowing she was right. Maybe she should've taken that advice. Maybe it was best she didn't.

A few hours later, at the cries from the dormitory next door, Colleen shot up in bed, nudging Leah who'd fallen asleep next to her. Before Leah could say anything, Colleen looked uneasily toward the door, scrunching up her face in a mixture of confusion and alarm. "Smells like something's burning."