Jade stared at the tired disheveled young man in the doorway and grinned a little; he had the sleeves of his collared shirt rolled up to his elbows, and actual suspenders dangled loosely from his dark gray knit trousers. He looked like he had walked off a 1920's movie set. He was spent, but still oozed that sauve he carried so well.

"This is a nice surprise," he said as his eyes appreciated her.

"I did say 'first thing in the morning'," she said, smirking. She gestured to the bagged bottle in her hand. "And I couldn't arrive empty handed…Lord knows Tiff will need some hair of the –"

He reached for her, grabbing her by the breast of her coat, and pulled her to him. She stopped against his lean frame as their lips pressed together. He smelled dark and warm, the nice cologne he wore…same he was wearing the first night they met at the Diamond.

She exhaled the stress she'd been carrying as she tilted her head to his. She hadn't slept either; she waited two hours after returning home from work, and was too jumpy to even lie down…so she packed a bag with clothes from Honey and Tiffany's rooms, rode the subways in crazy criss-cross patterns (just in case), picked up a bottle of smooth Scotch, and came here. Came to Spot.

She remembered how concerned he'd sounded on the phone…there was somethin' 'bout him sweatin' over her that made her melt a little.

She laughed as he pulled her further inside but fell quiet when she looked around the dim apartment. Mush was sitting up on the couch and waved to her sleepily. Racetrack and David's heads were leaning around a doorframe to see her.

"Mornin'," David said, his small smile hinting at dark sarcasm.

The digital clocks on the appliances in the kitchen were the only lights on, and the faint light coming from the bedrooms…it was dark and grey outside, cold, and had started to snow. She heard the girls –

"So where did Cowboy run off to…" she wondered aloud.

She'd seen his face in the hall before knocking on their door: stone cold and pissed off.

"I'm about ta find out," Spot grumbled as he reached for his coat next to the door. "The girls are in the back."

Jade put the bottle on the kitchen counter. "She musta pissed him off, too."

"Nah, I'll go talk to 'im…Yo Mush, think you can stay awake?"

Mush sat back up, "Yeah! Yeah… I'll make more tea."

Spot looked back to Jade. "Don't go anywhere."

She gave him a wink. He went out the door, she went to the bathroom, and Mush shuffled like a zombie to the kitchen, refusing to turn on any lights. Racetrack took David's spot at the computer, his eyes glued to it, and David ran his hands over his face as he flopped onto Mush's bed.

In Jack and David's room, Jade heard Honey's voice before she opened the bathroom door –

"You know she wouldn't want this for you, K–"

Their heads snapped up as the door opened, eyes wide. Honey was standing in front of Tiffany, who was sitting on the vanity, both still wearing those ridiculous silk gowns. Jade's heartstrings were tugged by the fresh tears rising in Tiffany's puffy eyes. She went to the vanity and wrapped her arms around her.

"Hi darlin'," she said gently, stroking her long dark hair.

Tiffany held Jade tightly for a moment before releasing her with a sniff, leaning away and wiping her eye with the back of her hand. "I'm fine."

"Like Hell you are," Jade said with a hard laugh. "You look like shit."

Tiffany laughed a little. Honey still watched her with empathetic eyes.

Jade's smirk fell and she dropped the bag on her shoulder. She really wished she didn't always resort to dark humor when things were serious… "I'm sorry."

"Me too," Tiffany said, her tired gaze on her hands in her lap. It was strange to see her slouching, defeated. "I'm sorry for everything. I got you guys involved when I shouldn't have –"

"You are the one in danger," Honey pressed. "Babe, please, there must be a way out –"

"You heard Agent Martin," Tiffany sighed. Tired of the same conversation. "Nothing happens without tangible proof. Without it, what's any of this been for?"

"...But, that's not really why you got drunk tonight," Jade said, seeing through her friend. "...Is it?"

Tiffany's voice became bitter. "I wasn't thinking –"

"No one is thinking after seven drinks."

Tiffany leaned over her knees, her face twisting. "Please don't tell me the count."

"Oh, it wasn't seven," Jade chuckled.

Tiffany groaned. Honey rolled her eyes.

"It could've been a patron too," Honey added hopefully. "We really don't know if it was the club –"

"But we kinda do," Jade implied slowly.

"It doesn't matter who did it," Tiffany murmured. She wrapped her arms around herself.

Jade reached over to smooth Tiffany's hair, her nails grazing her back the way she liked. "Jazzi was still there when Kiki and I left…said she was trying to get you a 'lesser punishment', whatever that means."

Honey turned away and went to the tub to turn on the faucets. She sat on the edge and stared at the water.

Tiffany sighed. "I need to talk with her."

Jade waited a beat. "Well, you'll have your chance in a couple hours…she's comin' here ta getcha."

Honey and Tiffany's wide eyes flew to Jade's face and she gave them an understanding smirk. "Came to give you the heads up…and bring you warmer clothes."

Honey groaned, Tiffany grimaced, and Jade laughed softly, understanding.

"No sense in tryin' to dodge it, she'll be here when you're good 'n deep asleep 'cause that's jus' her timin'. Should be a fun ride home."

"I'd rather eat nails," Honey muttered.

"It won't be fun for her either," Tiffany said, defiant.

"Sorry, sugar," Jade gave her a small hopeful smile. "If it helps, we'll be right there with ya. Jus' don't tell her to 'fuck off' in front of the men folk again."

"Oh God," Tiffany dropped her head into her hands.

Jade stuck out her tongue at Honey and they laughed as Tiffany rubbed her eyes, a growl in her throat.

Jade huffed a laugh, "I do know this much: practice is gonna suck for you tomorrow." She took the bottle out of the brown bag, shaking it a little in front of her friend before placing it on the vanity. "Brought you a little sneaky peak to help the blow."

Honey snickered and Tiffany held up her middle finger. They laughed harder, and Tiffany even cracked a grin.

Jade rubbed her arms and pulled her down off the vanity. "And before ya get all relaxed in the tub and forget your troubles – jus' what was it you said to Jack?"

Tiffany looked away. Remembered heartbreak came back to her face. The laughter left her.

"Or…did he say something to you?" Jade felt a prickling on the back of her neck. Maybe she should've clothes-lined him in the hall –

But Tiffany shook her head. "He wasn't wrong."

Jade touched Tiffany's chin, lifting her head. Her beautiful eyes were as deep as an ocean, swimming in guilt and shame.

"He's seen it before," Honey murmured, looking up from her perch on the tub. Steam slowly gathered around them. "That's what Mush said, earlier…why didn't you tell us?"

Tiffany closed her eyes and a tear fell onto Jade's fingers.

"Because I'm a fool for thinking I could do this… and have him too."


The wind threw open the door to the roof and snowflakes danced about in a fury as Spot stepped outside, his breath clouding his face. He winced against the wind and looked 'round, seeing a dark figure. He knew he'd be there.

"Shit, I hope you're dressed warm enough, asshole," Spot called as he forced the door closed.

Jack sat on the slant of the concrete barrier wall with a leg dangling over the edge, staring out at the city across the river. Snowflakes stuck to his black coat. He didn't turn around or even move.

Spot sighed and went to his side with his hands stuffed into his pockets. Jack's cheeks were slightly red – from his anger or the cold Spot couldn't tell. But his breathing was even and his eyes were dark and flat.

"Sounded like a champagne bottle popping off back there, Jackie boy."

"She didn't deserve that," he said huskily.

Spot's eyebrows rose. He waited.

Jack's face stayed cold as stone. But he dropped his gaze, his voice softened. "She wasn't who I was talkin' to."

Spot sighed, understanding. "I know, Cowboy." He hopped up onto the wall next to him. "But maybe she needed ta hear it all the same."

Jack's mind was far away as he looked out to the lights across the river, the Brooklyn bridge like a beacon. "When she…when Ira disappeared for good, I didn't see the choices I was makin' – I was deliberately throwing my life away, like Medda said…. Not ta mention the danger I put you an' the others in. I shoulda…protected you better."

Spot's blue eyes narrowed on Jack's face. He could see the shame beneath his hard exterior. "That wasn't your doin', Jack."

"Wasn't it?" he challenged, his eyes hollow as he looked at him.

Spot watched him quietly. How long has he blamed himself for that? More than likely…ever since the night they found out what had happened. He read his friend's face over and over, his brow furrowing in scrutiny. Their daily lives moved so fast just like the city, all of it mixing into an indiscernible blur; wake up, shit, eat, work, eat, drink, go to sleep, do it all over again. Numb to anything else outside your hamster wheel.

But now he saw lines that hadn't been there before, one just over Jack's brow from his constant intense focus. There were faint dark shadows under his eyes. He remembered what David said, Jack's lack of peaceful sleep. Hell, all of them had nightmares. But how many, and how maddening, were Jack's?

"Can't change any of that now, my friend," he said as snow fell between them, gathering on the concrete. "It's only here and now. A second chance –"

"What good's a second chance when the person you're tryin' ta help is just as stubborn and running head long into a fire like before?"

Jack's voice had risen hotly, carrying between the buildings. A dog started barking from one of the apartments. He huffed out his breath as he pulled his phone from his pocket. Spot spied Medda's name on the screen – Meadowlark. Jack read her text. His eyes fell in disappointment, and his voice dropped, soft as the falling snow.

"I'm scared she's blinded by it, whatever it is she's thinkin' of…or who."

Spot crossed his arms and leaned his head back, thinking. "Guess it's difficult to focus on a second chance when it mirrors the past too closely."

"An' your dreams," Jack murmured as he put up his phone.

"Havin' nightmares still?"

Jack shrugged. Spot didn't push him further.

He followed Jack's gaze out over Brooklyn. He could faintly hear the voices from their pub on the corner.

"I don't know how you ain't completely bat shit crazy, Cowboy."

Jack laughed, really laughed, the sound cutting through the air. More dogs barked. Spot smiled, chuckling with him.

"Who says I'm not?" Jack said with a sigh as he bent his knee and propped his elbow on it. "I don' think we'll ever know what 'normal' is. So why miss it?"

Spot looked at him, the way the city lights blurred behind him far away. Still a newsie, always perched where the best views are.

"It all jus' seems like one big sick joke from the universe," Spot murmured. "Jus' know…ya can always come to me, Jackie Boy. I'll always have an ear for ya."

The smirk faded from Jack's mouth, the spark in his eye dimmed. "At leas' ya don' wake up sweatin' in the wint'ah."

"So what are ya gonna do while you're awake?"

Jack met his eyes and Spot raised his eyebrows.

"Would ya do it again?" Spot asked, leveling with him. "Would ya give your all, your freedom, your life, all over again for her?"

Jack was quiet for a moment, his eyes reading the buildings in the distance like reading a book, looking for answers. As he searched, his breath quickened and Spot saw the fresh redness in his cheeks.

"Who ya thinkin' 'bout? Right now?"

Jack turned back to his friend.

"Ira or Tiffany?"

For a moment, disappointment dance across Jack's demeanor before their eyes flashed to the roof door as it flew open – Honey stepped out, her arms wrapped around her as she kicked the door closed.

Spot watched her through the falling snow as she approached them and Jack turned back to the city, the dark serious shadow falling over him again.

She'd finally ditched the dress for maroon sweat pants and hoodie with converses on her feet, and Spot recognized the coat she wore as Mush's. The air around her face clouded as she huffed a sigh, and she locked eyes with Spot. Snowflakes clung to the bun of curls on her head.

"Jazzi will be here soon," she said. Her eyes tired but apprehensive. "We…probably won't be able to see you guys for a while." She dropped her gaze to hide her own disappointment. "It's…probably the safest course to take. But not permanent." She looked back up, her expression hopeful as if asking forgiveness.

Spot could read anyone within the first few seconds of meeting them. And if he knew them, he could see their angle, what they wanted, within a moment. Their body language, their eyes. He always knew when someone was lying – to save their skins, to save their friends, to get close. He gave everyone their fair chance to pitch their intentions, but when it came to his own crew, he would have boys beat up for it if he knew they were even thinking about lying to him.

Since seeing the way Honey had with Mush and, more importantly, the way she cared for Tiffany… Spot felt he could trust the sincerity that shown now in her glassy hazel eyes. They were like his – seeing beyond the surface.

But he felt Jack's energy bristle at her words, like a cage closing around him.

"However," Honey continued, "Campus is neutral territory…and her birthday is coming up."

She waited, and Spot watched her silently. He suddenly felt like a buffer between his friend and reality.

"Jack…I can't…begin to understand the – emotions you're feeling."

Jack leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Completely drained.

Spot's fists tightened in his pockets – the cruel irony of the whole fuckin' thing. He almost wished Honey would stop talking.

"It's…one thing to help her do what she's trying to do, but I can't imagine losing someone the same way –"

Jack's voice cut across her fast and echoed in the alley below, "Have ya ever done readin's for past lives?"

Honey froze, her eyes flashing to Spot in surprise. Spot was surprised to, eyeing Jack curiously.

Jack turned to look at her; his face was like stone, that look he got when he was serious.

Spot figured he was just trying to change the subject, but something in Jack's expression told him he'd been wanting to ask her some questions…they were lined up in his eyes as he read her face, waiting.

She watched them both carefully, "...yes."

"How does it work?"

Honey gauged him for a moment. None of them seemed to shiver as the snow began to fall faster.

"There's… a couple ways to do it. Guided sleep or meditation usually – "

"Have ya ever contacted –"

She held up a hand, her eyes changing darkly. Jack's words hung incomplete between them as they stared at each other. Spot wondered what Jack was trying to get at –

"Yes, I have," Honey's words were controlled and measured, her face understanding. "I know where you're going. And no, I won't."

The wind whipped over them but Jack kept his focus on her, seeing the guarded expression bloom on her face. She almost looked peeved.

"It won't change the present."

"Then what will?" Jack asked evenly.

"Talking with her," Honey answered gently. "The girl who's here, alive."

"Have you ever done a past life meditation for her?"

"No," she said definitively. But her eyes were curious. "Only if she wants to."

Jack waited a beat. "Did she ever ask you to contact her mother?"

Honey's eyes narrowed. The sounds of the city played all around them but sounded so far away. She took a breath, reading both of the young men. Spot's eyes analyzed her; she wanted to trust them.

"Yes," she said flatly. "It didn't change anything…except the weight of her pain. That's all I'll say about it."

Jack looked away.

Spot felt like he was on a dizzying merry-go-round; he wasn't sure what Jack's angle was, it was harder to tell with him. A newsie who'd learned to perfect his poker face. But Honey…she thought he wanted to contact his dead girlfriend. She wasn't too far off…

Her expression softened. "I know you don't want the night to end like this. Just, hear her out?"

Jack's head dropped, his frustration returning. "On what? She's already told me what she's after. And I can't compete with it – I won't."

"You don't have to," Honey pressed, almost pleading. "Please, just talk with her."


Honey went to Mush's side on the couch – he had fallen asleep again. Spot went to Jade in the kitchen; she was sitting on the counter with a mug in her hands, the bottle of scotch next to her. Spot stood between her legs, murmuring to her as she passed him a mug. She giggled.

The door to Mush and Race's room was still open – David snored from Mush's bed, Race was still at his computer, David's glasses on his face as he read something intently.

Jack closed his bedroom door and sat on his bed. Spot's questions buzzed in his head like a drunk bumble bee.

Who ya thinkin' 'bout?

He heard her moving in the tub, water splashing gently.

Right now?

He flopped back on his bed and huffed a sigh, closing his eyes to close out the world.

He sat up when he heard the bathroom door click, and she watched him apprehensively as she came out, dressed in leggings and a hoodie that had a sun and "California" printed across it. It looked like she'd had it for a while.

Jack leaned his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor, the elephant between them growing bigger with their silence.

"Where did 'Jack' come from?"

He looked up at her as she sat on David's bed. Her big blue eyes were tired and swollen. She'd been crying. She pulled her wet hair over her shoulder, almost black. She looked like a mermaid, a siren able to lure him with no more than a look.

He thought about her question, his memories coaxing him back to a time he knew and understood.

"'s what my moth'ah called me," he answered huskily. His throat was tight.

She blinked, looking down at her hands in her hair. "It suits you."

She hesitated and he hated the uncomfortable unsureness between them.

"Jack, I –"

"I'm sorry, Tiffany."

She looked up at him, her eyes swimming in an emotion he couldn't read. It broke his heart all the same.

"I shouldn't 'ave said what I said." His throat felt tight. "You're doin' more than most, tryin' to make this world bett'ah."

She dropped her eyes again. "It doesn't undo the pain I've caused."

He couldn't take it – he leaned forward and took her wrist, pulling her to his bed. She hesitated but sat close, their thighs pressing together. He couldn't stand the shame in her eyes, no matter how angry he had felt.

"You were right." Her voice shook a little. "I don't know when to stop. I never had that instinct, only to give my everything in anything I do. And i can't afford to do that with these people -"

She sniffed, her throat tightened around her words. "I just…don't want to say goodbye. It's selfish. But –"

"Don't," he said quickly.

She looked up, her clear blue eyes seeing through him.

He swallowed. He hated that he wanted her so badly. For selfish reasons, unselfish reasons…one minute he wanted her all to himself, the next he wanted to watch her bravery and beauty shine for all the world to see, like a shooting star streaking across the sky. A star he'd never be able to hold.

He knew in that moment – something clicked as they looked at each other. He could suddenly feel time moving around them, a moment he was afraid of losing. It felt like an unspoken death sentence. Hers or his, he wasn't sure. All he could feel was the need to be with her. His selfish needs flared inside him like a fire.

Her eyes brimmed again as she read his face. "I don't know when I'll see you again."

"How does November twelfth sound?"

She laughed in spite of herself and he grinned a little. She wiped her tired eyes.

"I gotta surprise for ya," he murmured.

She smiled at him tiredly.

Medda had secured him tickets, her personal box, for the ballet at the Lincoln Center. Medda told him it was the best, that they would have plenty of privacy (she said with a wink), and he was to take her backstage afterwards and introduce them. His heart beat faster at the thought – maybe something would happen when they meet. He wasn't sure how to feel about it.

He pulled her closer until they were lying down, her back pressed to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and the stress eased out of her, her hands on his.

"Jack," she said sweetly.

"Sleep," he said into her hair.

But he couldn't. His thoughts twisted and turned, ran rampant in his head as he held her and watched the snow fall outside the window. Time passed too quickly, the street lamps cut off, the sky lightened a little. He didn't have time to dream – David came in to wake them. Jazzi was downstairs.