*trigger warning later on in the chapter. But I hope you like it. It's meaty and lots of good info on our characters here. I'm super pumped. Please review. I wanna know what you think!

Chapter 10

Brooklyn, October 1901

Julia looked anything but pleased to see Katherine walking up to their tenement with Spot Conlon in tow. And once Katherine had noticed her blonde friend's stony presence on the steps above her, her smile slowly faded to an expression of mild discomfort. Spot Conlon, however, looked completely bewildered by the sight of the two women together.

"Julia, I didn't know you'd be home so early today," Katherine started, feeling even worse for how devious her phrasing sounded. So, calming herself she added, "Spot just wanted to make sure I got back okay."

"How very thoughtful," Julia stated evenly, turning fully towards the pair, her eyebrows raised, and her gaze directed at Spot.

Katherine smiled appreciatively toward her friend for the somewhat civil tone she had used, but the older, formidable girl was unfortunately still staring daggers at the confused man beside Katherine. She knew Julia was just being protective, albeit somewhat unnecessarily so, and as much as this irked Katherine, she couldn't help but also feel a warm gratitude fill her stomach at the thought.

How lucky she was for this woman—this friend—who had time and again, taken her in, dried her tears, and been her one and only safe haven. Her home.

She took a moment to admire the girl with her hands on her hips blocking the entryway above them. Her beautiful blonde hair, piled fashionably atop her head, seemed to gleam like gold in the setting sun. Her clothes, though common, were neatly and fashionably put together, and her bright blue eyes, as always, were blazing confidently ahead of her. Katherine had often joked that she looked like a fierce Greek goddess, ready to strike down anyone who dared cross her.

"So, she's the one you've been stayin' with?" Spot murmured, as if working out a puzzle in his head. "How—how could you possibly know each other?"

Katherine found she couldn't hide the awkward chuckle that escaped from her lips at the somewhat uncomfortable situation they had found themselves in. She had always known that he would eventually become aware of her connection to Julia, one of his past dalliances, but in all honesty, it was hard to befriend a woman in Manhattan and Brooklyn that hadn't graced his bed.

The thought made a strange, but familiar twinge fill her chest—a discomfort she tried like hell to ignore. Because he wasn't that boy. And, by God, she wasn't that girl. The one desperately willing to throw caution to the wind, diving head-first in the hopes that the ecstasy of the fall would bring her into the arms of bliss. That she and Spot Conlon would stare unabashedly into one another's eyes and fall desperately in love. That was a fool's dream. And to her, it felt more like a prison than anything else.

She didn't want that fairytale—that love story. She never had. Because she knew that really, those stories were merely collateral to ensure that she play by the rules. That she fulfill the role dictated to her. And it was one that allotted her no freedom and no power.

That was part of why she enjoyed spending time with Spot. Because she could tell that he too found the conventions surrounding love and relationships to be tedious and unnecessary. And so, they could talk freely and openly about anything. And that was something she wouldn't trade for the world.

But there was also another strange pull to him that she couldn't fully explain. The way his blue eyes studied her when she spoke, the rare genuine smile on his lips that seemed to warm her chest, and that damned jolt of energy when their skin seemed to accidentally touch. Those things unnerved her.

And the thought that his toned, naked body, warm lips, and strong hands had given pleasure to many, many women over the years.

Meaninglessly, she reminded herself.

Because that was something else, she was almost certain they had in common as well. Sex was to be utilized for pleasure and escape. Not connection, and certainly not love. The few times Katherine had chosen to sleep with men, all had left the interaction satisfied and unscathed. So, what more could she possibly expect to get out of such thing?

"I just hope you remember not to bring strays into the house, dear," Julia continued off-handedly, her eyes not leaving Spot's still surprised stare. "They're awfully dirty creatures and aren't toilet trained."

That comment seemed to snap Spot out of his stupor immediately while Katherine sighed, waiting for the inevitable bickering to begin.

But Spot only smirked, his tone casual. "Julia, always a pleasure. Though I seem to recall you not minding bringing me in your house on a nightly basis for quite some time. Must be I'm just the right amount of dirty."

Julia's eyes blazed at him as Katherine put a hand over her mouth, trying unsuccessfully to hide her unladylike snort. She of course was well aware of all of the details involved in the very short sexual history the two had shared over a year ago. Truthfully, most of her initial information regarding Spot Conlon—save his union days—had come from Julia's ill-fated romantic tussles with him. And according to Julia, he could be just about the worst, most selfish, manipulative scoundrel around. So, Katherine had rightly been wary of him at first.

But over the six or so months they had been spending time together, she had seen none of these traits. And looking on Spot and Julia's interactions now, Katherine felt perhaps they were just ill-suited for each other on a personal level. Julia was eight years his senior, and had a very demanding, motherly tone that most likely drove him mad. Because even though Julia always meant well, Katherine was wont to admit that it made her cringe as well.

Spot looked pleased with himself as Julia hissed, "You're a right dirty bastard is what you are."

But, Katherine, finally having enough of the petty squabble rolled her eyes, saying, "Please, can't we all just be friends? Bastards and strays alike?"

She shot a coy smile at Julia, who huffed in response while Spot outright laughed at her proposal. But when Kate widened her smile to its full breadth, Julia finally yielded. She slowly walked down the steps, Spot curiously watching the girls' interaction unfold on the side as he took out a cigarette and lit it.

"You're lucky you're sunshine," Julia muttered to Katherine, squeezing her hand gently and shooting her a knowing look. "So, I'm starving," she said somewhat louder. "What's for dinner tonight?"

"How 'bout O'Malley's?" Spot said suddenly as he blew out a quick puff of smoke, causing the two to turn toward him. "My treat," he added with mischievous glint in his eye.

Julia shot him a suspicious look while Katherine raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"What devil's contract do we have to sign for this oh so kind gesture, Conlon?" Julia asked.

"I thought we were friends now?" he shot back, inhaling with a smirk.

"We'll buy him a drink," Katherine finally said, grinning at both Julia and Spot as she started heading in the direction of the pub. "Nothing more devilish than Irish whiskey."

At that, Julia and Spot managed to share a knowing chuckle as they followed behind her.

The pub was crowded when they arrived, but Julia managed to find a booth in the back. Katherine slid into the far side, Spot swiftly sliding in next to her as Julia rolled her eyes and sat across from them.

"Oh, I think a band is playing tonight!" Katherine said smiling, as she pointed to a group of men with instruments setting up across the room. She turned to smirk at Spot. "Maybe I can finally convince you to let me take you for a whirl, so you'll see what you've been missing."

Spot rolled his eyes before meeting her gaze. "Pretty sure I'd need to be the one leading."

Julia groaned loudly, Katherine kicking her under the table in turn. But Spot didn't miss a beat. He turned to her, a charming smile on his lips, adding, "But only if we can manage to secure written permission from Julia first, of course."

The blonde girl glared at him as Katherine shook her head, irritably eyeing the two of them.

"Not a chance in hell that'll ever happen, I'm afraid," Julia said sweetly, though her eyes held a fierce scowl that she aimed between Katherine and Spot.

"I'm just so glad we're all friends now," Spot replied sardonically, with a grin so big that Katherine wasn't sure it would fully fit on his face.

But a slap on the table from Katherine jolted both Spot and Julia from their mean-spirited banter.

"That's enough, children," she chastised irritably, finally fully done with their ridiculous feud. "Though I'm the youngest here, by far. I'm not spending my evening watching the two of you go at each other's throats. So, we're going to work this out very quickly right now. Otherwise, I'm finding new friends to sit with. And I'm very good at making friends."

Katherine looked between the two, her eyes serious, as Spot seemed mildly amused, if not the slightest bit impressed, and Julia seemed resigned to the lecture she was about to be given.

"Alright," Katherine started with a smile, turning to Julia. "You spent one month with Mr. Conlon here, in an intimate, though non-formal nature. Am I correct?"

Spot looked between the girls curiously as Julia sighed. "You know you are."

"Okay," Katherine continued. "And did you have any future, long-term romantic intentions with Mr. Conlon, Ms. Hawthorne?"

"Are you serious right now, Katherine?" Julia said, sitting up indignantly, while Kate saw Spot use his hand to cover the smirk that appeared on his lips. But a swift glare in his direction from Kate set him right again as he cleared his throat and paid attention.

"As a prayer." Katherine sighed. "Let's just get this out of the way, alright? I'm sick of having to tiptoe around this and keep the two of you separate. There really isn't even a real reason for the two of you to dislike each other anymore, so why not just lay it out on the table and move on?" Katherine smiled reassuringly at both Julia and Spot.

"Fine—for you," Julia muttered as Spot shrugged in some sort of similar assent.

"So, Julia, did you have any future, long-term romantic intentions with Spot?"

Julia looked him over for a moment before stating, "Absolutely not."

Spot seemed somewhat surprised by the answer, but merely shrugged.

"So then what was the nature of your dissatisfaction with Spot?" Katherine asked.

"After we mutually ended things, he was exceedingly rude every time I saw him after."

"Is everything Julia's saying sound correct? Do you have anything to add?" Katherine asked, turning her head toward Spot's enigmatic stare.

Truthfully, she did feel somewhat guilty for all but putting him on trial at a dinner he planned on treating them to. But she knew that the only way to dissipate the angry discomfort seeming to hang over he and Julia was to address the problem head on.

And then supply lots and lots of alcohol to immediately soothe the wounds until they were all but forgotten.

Spot squinted at Katherine for a beat, before saying. "No, Julia's right. About all of it." He turned to Julia then, who raised her own eyebrows in surprise. "I spose I should've been more polite in passin'."

Julia considered his comment and then nodded. "I guess that's all there is to it really."

Spot shot her a grin. "Noted."

"Alright," Katherine quickly interceded before things could turn snarky again. "I feel that we've resolved some tension here. Now, time for food, drinks, and merriment!"

She smiled brightly once more between the two, Spot sending her a quick wink before standing up and announcing, "Lemme go grab some shareables for the table and some pints." His eyes narrowed toward Katherine, who felt a small thrill pulsate in her chest, "But you'll still owe me that whiskey."

She put a hand to her heart, smirking. "As God as my witness, you shall have your whiskey, sir." And with one more grin he sauntered off toward the bar.

"So, I do hate him somewhat less now."

Katherine shook her head as she turned to meet Julia's cool stare, raising her hands in question. "When are we going to stop going over this? I told you I was spending time with him. I told you the night I came to Brooklyn that he was the one who walked me over. You know I'd never keep things from you like that."

Julia nodded solemnly. "I know. I trust you. But I'm still worried."

Katherine followed Julia's eyes as she surveyed Spot's form at the bar. "Worried about him?"

Julia nodded looking back toward her. "And you."

Katherine sighed, irritably. "Nothing is going on, Julia, alright?"

Julia raised her eyebrows in challenge. "Between the way I keep catching him looking at you, and the fact that you've never spent this kind of time with any other man, you're either both blind or both in denial."

"Julia," Katherine groaned in exasperation. "I've told you a thousand times already. We've not so much as held hands. Why don't you believe me?"

Julia's eyes turned sad momentarily. "You know William came to talk to me at work the other day. About the two of you."

Katherine's gaze narrowed. "I don't really see how what Spot and I do, is any of his pal, Rummy's, concern. Does Spot know that he did that? Because he'll blow his fucking top, and—"

"No," Julia said, raising a hand to quiet Katherine's rising voice. "But he had some interesting observations, to say the least. He says that you two have been spending nearly every single day together."

Katherine's lips pursed as she felt her face growing red with anger. "Dammit, Julia. Don't start with this. Not again. I'm already infuriated that you've enlisted one of Spot's friends to monitor me. But the fact that the two of you actually discuss my business, now that is just—" Katherine shook her head, too outraged to finish her thought.

Julia reached across the table and grasped Katherine's hands, smiling gently as Katherine slowly met her gaze. "I promise you, William knows none of your business. But, just answer one question for me, Katherine. Does Spot know why you're here?"

Katherine felt her frown deepen significantly. "No."

"Are you going to tell him?" Julia asked quietly.

Kate shrugged, pulling her hands underneath the table, and looking away in discomfort.

"I ask," Julia added, "Not to make you uncomfortable. But because, if you are going to keep spending time with him, and he finds out everything without you having said it first—because he will, Katherine—then he may jeopardize you staying in Brooklyn too."

Kate felt her stomach drop. Of course, she had known that might be a possible consequence of spending more time with Spot, especially in his borough. Manhattan had always allowed her to maintain some distance and secrecy. Her relationships there were shallow and mostly short-lived. No one thought to ask anymore. But Spot…

She stared at the handsome boy at the bar, his bronze hair glinting in the lamplight, his blue eyes glancing in her direction as he shot her a brief smile.

And her chest filled with sudden panic.

Oh, God, what had she been thinking? What was she supposed to do—actually trust him?

"So what?" she turned to Julia suddenly, her mood entirely consumed with anxiety. "Either I tell him all these horrible things about me, and he gets to decide whether to blow the whistle all over town, or he finds out on his own and blows the whistle anyway? What the hell kind of choices are those?"

Julia shrugged, looking toward the bar then back to meet Kate's gaze. "You know, yesterday, I would have said fuck him. Let the cards fall where they may. You don't owe anyone an explanation and we'll deal with him if we need to. But," her blue eyes were cloudy as she again glanced at Spot's form. "I see what William meant the other day when he said something is different."

Katherine looked incredulously toward her friend as Julia narrowed her eyes further. "Something is different about him. I'm just not sure what it means exactly. The one thing that I do know, is that he appreciates honesty. And he might not react as badly as I initially thought he would. Maybe not to you."

"So, trust that Spot Conlon might be merciful and decide to keep my secret here in Brooklyn?" Katherine said, her voice full of anxious doubt.

Katherine ran her hand down her face, suddenly very unsure of what her next moves should be. She knew enough about Spot Conlon to know that he wasn't a cruel man—he did not delight in other's suffering. And he was not a man that entertained violence of any kind against women. She had once seen him beat a man bloody by the shipyards for backhanding a cheeky barmaid unconscious.

But she also had very little understanding of what exactly someone like her could mean to someone like him. He had been an enjoyable companion for her so far—perhaps even a friend. But what had any of it really meant to him? What kind of loyalty did he deem her worthy of, especially in the face of a secret that promised to devastate her reputation for all her years to come? That guaranteed her nothing more than a life as side-alley prostitute at best?

For some reason, however, the thought that seemed to bother her the most was, what if he found out about everything, and he wanted nothing to do with her anymore? What if she lost him?

Julia stared curiously toward Kate for a moment before Spot appeared with three pints, a barmaid following him with several different sides of food. He slid in next to Katherine again, seeming to note the tension between the two girls who maintained eye contact.

"So, what should we toast to, then?" he asked, nudging Katherine's shoulder lightly to secure her attention.

Katherine attempted to offer him another bright smile, even though her stomach felt as if it were in knots. But when his eyes continued to study her face, an uncharacteristic worry in their blue depths, she knew he could tell something was still off. However, Julia slid a mug into her grasp and raised it, a small smile pointed in Katherine's direction.

"I say we toast to trusting in new friends and new beginnings."

Spot raised his mug as well, nodding with a smirk, "That is a solid toast. I agree."

And finally, Katherine shrugged, half-heartedly clinking her glass against theirs. "To trusting new friends and new beginnings."

Brooklyn, December 1901

"Fuck!" Spot grunted as he felt his feet almost slip from beneath him on the icy walkway.

It was going to be impossible to get to Julia and Kate's tenement before Julia got home from work at the rate he was having to navigate the random icy patches along the way.

But fifteen minutes later, when he arrived earlier than expected at the front of their building steps, he found it had made no difference whatsoever because there Julia stood locking the door before proceeding carefully downward.

But when her eyes caught sight of him, he instinctively took a step back, somewhat unnerved by the murderous wrath radiating in his direction.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" she growled, her petite frame tensing before propelling her body aggressively toward him.

He had prepared himself for a reaction like this from Julia. He knew that, after what he'd done, she'd most likely dispense all the rage and resistance that Kate seemed incapable of expressing at him. And he would deserve every angry, cruel remark or blow she had to give.

Over the five months that Kate had been living with Julia in Brooklyn, he had come to realize just how close they were. And just how fiercely they each would protect the other. It reminded him in some ways of his newsie days. The profound bond he and his boys had—the idea that it was understood, implicit, that they were one. That they would be there no matter what.

Now, though the numbers had dwindled down to one, he knew for certain that Rummy was that for him still. So, he did not blame Julia for her ferocious protective instincts toward her wounded friend. If anything, he was in awe of her tenacity and fearlessness in the face of whomever it was that came calling.

But still, he also was inflexible when it came to getting what he wanted. So, he stood his ground, clearly stating, "Julia, I want to see Kate. I want to apologize for yesterday. You need to tell me where she is."

Julia's eyes widened, her ire seeming to increase to new heights as she gritted out, "You need to leave. Now."

"Where is she?" Spot said, his jaw setting harshly in turn.

She scrunched her eyes shut, shaking in rage before popping them open again. "I could kill you, Spot Conlon. Do you know that? I can't believe I actually gave you the benefit of the doubt these past two months," Julia hissed, a deadly fury reflecting within her icy blue eyes. "And if I wasn't running late, I fucking would kill you."

"Where the fuck is she, Julia?" he demanded louder.

"Do you realize what kind of damage you've done?" Julia exclaimed, looking exasperatedly toward him. "She doesn't want to see you, Spot. Leave her alone."

And with that, Julia spun away from him and began marching quickly in the opposite direction.

"Goddamit! Can you just tell me where she is? Is she up there, in the apartment?"

Julia stopped, turning her head. "Are you deaf? I said leave her alone. It's done, alright? It's over."

He stared at her, confusion and indignance radiating through his features, causing Julia to throw her hands up in exasperation. "You've had your fun. Now is your cue to bow out, Conlon. For good."

"Why?" he demanded angrily.

Julia set her jaw, staring hard at him. "Because. Because she was honest with you. Because she deemed you worthy of her trust. She cared about you enough to share the tiniest, smallest piece of her darkness with you, and you," Julia sighed, shaking her head in fury. "You shamed her—as if somehow it was her fault. You belittled her and then like the coward you are, you walked away. So, do her a favor and stay gone."

Spot's chest tightened involuntarily at the immobilizing blow Julia dealt, but he made no move to disagree. He knew the harm he had done yesterday—the very second he had done it. Maybe even as the words were forming in his head. He knew their months of trading questions had delved into a new, more serious level and he was aware that he had been wanting to ask that question for quite some time.

But what he hadn't expected was Kate's answer. Or his horrendously cold, disgusted response to her pain. As he was saying it, he heard his brain screaming for him to stop, to shut his mouth and at the very least say nothing at all.

There were so many other options that he could have chosen—so many other roads he could have gone down when she had slowly told him the story of the middle-aged, balding man that she had noticed leering at her around town for weeks just after she had turned twelve. How she had told her mother, but the woman had waved her off. How she had still been forced to go about Manhattan, making deliveries for her parents while the shadow seemed to be getting closer and closer with each passing day. Until finally, one late afternoon, a cold hand had covered her mouth, an arm wrapping around her waist.

She didn't remember what basement they ended up in, but she remembered his hands were cold and calloused, his breath smelled sour as he had panted against her ear and neck. He was sweaty and out of breath as his body had pushed into hers and his fingers had left bruises on the pale skin of her thighs and hips. That after his body was off of hers, she still felt like she couldn't breathe. But he had been talking, calmly, as if nothing had happened. He had told her one time would do for now—unless further debts accrued. And finally, he had looked down at her ripped skirt and petticoats and stained shirt but had laughed as she had begun to weep.

"That's the price you pay," the man had said to her.

Spot had asked her the question, but after she had answered, all he had managed to say was "How could you have let him do that to you? How could you let him treat you like a whore? That's just—revolting."

Spot cringed as he remembered Kate's beautiful green eyes contracting in a way he had never seen before. It was as if every small prism of light within them had slowly vanished. Her face had deadpanned in turn, and she had remained silent and as still as a statue.

But all he had done was make it far worse, floundering with more ridiculous, awkward insults because she had made him uncomfortable. Because she had been too weak and had allowed herself to be in that position. And now how was he ever supposed to look at her again, knowing?

Knowing how the pain and violence forced upon her so many years ago somehow made him feel weak—terrified that someone had hurt her so badly and uncertain of how to protect her from something like that in the future.

But he hadn't said that last part aloud. No. Instead he had thrown his hands up and just walked away, leaving her there to stew in her pain alone.

Because Julia was right. He was a fucking coward.

But Spot jolted back to awareness as Julia turned to leave. And without knowing anything better to do, he swiftly grabbed her arm. "Wait. I want to apologize, Julia. Please. Please tell me where she is."

Perhaps Julia saw the real desperation in his eyes, the actual contrition reflecting chaotically within their depths, because she paused once more studying his face before shaking her head. "Look, honestly, I don't know where she is at the moment. And I don't have time to go looking for her because I'm currently late for my second job. So, if you'll excuse me—"

She pulled her arm from Spot's grasp roughly, quickly walking further away. But Spot was not done. He'd do this all night if he had to.

"What second job? Does it have to do with Kate?" he asked falling into step beside her, thankful for his much longer legs.

She sighed again, irritably stating, "It's temporary. While we wait for a few things to work out so Katherine can start working in Brooklyn too. Otherwise," Julia paused, seeming to try to find the right words to relay the situation they were in. But she stuck her hands in her coat pockets, continuing quietly, "Otherwise, she's going to convince herself she has to go back to Manhattan, and I can't—I won't let that happen again."

"But she has places to stay in Manhattan," Spot pointed out, causing Julia to stop suddenly again and face him.

"You don't get it, do you?" she hissed.

Spot raised his hands incredulously. "How the fuck can I get anything if you won't tell me?"

Julia glared at him. "Well, it's about what she told you yesterday. You remember—what happened with one of the men her parents' owed money to four years ago?"

Spot nodded, feeling the same sickened clenching in his gut that had coiled its way through when Kate had stoically admitted it the first time.

"Well, her mother has a spending problem—always has—so her parents have a lot of debts. Some from backers much seedier than the first one. Because when the banks stop workin' with you, where the fuck do you think you get the money from?"

Spot felt the color drain from his face, the sick feeling in his stomach increasing as he realized the story Kate had told him the day before was only a small piece. Just a small piece that fit into a much larger—and far more disturbing—narrative.

"So that wasn't the last time some sick bastard cornered her looking to even things up. Far from it," Julia continued, looking wholly disquieted herself. "Once word got around that there was a way to collect from the Moore's that involved pleasure instead of money, there were plenty of takers willing to wipe the debts clean. So, needless to say, no matter where she stays in Manhattan, she's not safe for long."

"What about her fuckin' parents? They let this shit happen to her?" Spot exclaimed, utterly furious at the information he was just learning.

Julia looked away sadly. "Her father is blissfully ignorant, though I think it's more denial than ignorance. And her mother is—desperate."

Spot ran a hand down his face, his thoughts racing emotionally through his mind. "So, when she asked me to walk her to Brooklyn five months ago, and she had those bruises. She…she had just been…"

He felt too ill to finish his sentence, and Julia nodded, confirming the unfortunate truth. "Yeah, that night was particularly ugly. I think that was the final straw for her. It's when she decided to take me up on my offer and move in with me over here while we figured something else out."

They stood there momentarily, Spot wide-eyed and rageful as he digested the horror story Julia had just reluctantly told him, while Julia tapped her foot anxiously, finally muttering, "Look, I have to go. This is how I take care of her right now."

But as she began walking hurriedly away again, Spot called out, "Please, Julia. She shouldn't be out in the cold by herself like this. At least give me an idea where she might be. I'll go get her—bring her somewhere warm and safe. Until you get off for the night."

Julia paused tensely, seeming to weigh her options before huffing in defeat and stomping her boot to the ground. "Dammit."

She turned back toward him, her eyes thoughtful. "I doubt she's got the money for any dens right now, or at least I hope she doesn't. But more than likely, she's probably on the beach by the river—near the old Palmer's dock. She says the wind drowns out the—demons." Julia's eyes turned sad only momentarily before she glared back at Spot. "But I swear to God, Conlon, if you do anything, anything at all to—"

"I know," he raised his hands, his eyes radiating seriousness. "I won't. You have my word. I just want to make it right."

Julia nodded. "I'll come fetch her in the morning when I get off." Then she was hurriedly off toward the lights of the streets ahead while Spot turned toward the darkened riverfront.

It was hard to see on the cloudy night before him, very few lanterns lining the way along the docks toward the small beach by the river. He could hear the calm lapping of the water as he made his way onto the beach, the smell of the moist air mixed with the city's industry strangely familiar and calming. The wind rushed past him in cold bursts as he continued down the beach, pulling his coat tighter around him and his hat lower over his brow.

About a mile further down as the wind became consistently stronger, and the darkness overpowering, Spot began to feel unnerved. He felt his back pocket for the knife he always had on him, squeezing it assuredly as he continued on. But then he heard it.

A soft voice, carried on the wind, almost like a dream. A beautiful song that pulled him further into the void.

"Beautiful dreamer…starlight and dewdrops…"

He walked nearer to the song, the voice becoming louder and clearer.

"Sounds in the rude world heard in the day…"

Until he saw the figure lying in the sand, only a shadow and a soft, melancholy voice.

"Lulled by the moonlight have all passed away. Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song. List while I woo thee with soft melody. Gone are the cares of life's busy throng."

Spot gingerly sat down next to her, his eyes adjusting better in the darkness. Her feet were bare, shoes and stockings nowhere to be seen. A large, empty bottle of alcohol lay on her far side, her arms sprawled out and her glassy eyes pointed upward into the darkness.

Her song had gone quiet, but she still did not look toward him, so he went to reach for the hand nearest him.

"Don't touch me."

Her voice was sharp, but quiet as he recoiled back, both his hand and his heart stinging at her harsh rejection. They sat in silence for several moments Spot grappling with what he could say—if anything—to make what he had done right.

Finally, seeing no other option he gently offered up, "It's your turn. To ask a question."

The silence between them pervaded for some time, almost making Spot wonder if she had heard him at all. But finally, she slowly pushed herself up into a slightly wobbly seated position, knees pulled into her chest as she flashed her chaotic green eyes at him.

"I want more than one question."

Spot nodded, happy to fulfill whatever requests she asked of him.

She stared unblinkingly at him. "What are you most afraid of?"

He inhaled sharply, knowing his answer immediately, but battling with years of denial and repression before he could say it. Finally, he released his breath, murmuring, "Turning into my father."

Kate nodded, emotionless and vacant before asking, "Do you think that you will?"

Spot's body shuddered uncontrollably at her incisive query. He felt himself coming somewhat unhinged, as raw wounds surfaced that had not been touched in years. "I don't know," he stammered out.

"Is what you did to me yesterday something he would have done?"

He felt his head spin as he closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure. "Maybe—I—yes. Yes."

"Would he have come back later to admit he was wrong?"

Spot opened his eyes to meet her now pained ones, several tears dripping on her cheeks. He shook his head, staring assuredly at her. "No, he wouldn't have."

"Okay," she whimpered, leaning her head down to her knees. "Okay then."

He hesitantly wrapped an arm around her shoulders, feeling her tremor—feeling the silent sobs shaking her body violently. And before another moment could pass, he pulled her to him. Sand sprinkled over his coat and into his lap as she desperately grasped his shirt and cried tears into his chest that she had tried so hard and for so long not to shed. And he sat there solidly with his arms and his coat wrapped around her cold limbs until she had no air left in her to breathe out the pain.

So, he lifted her in his arms, making a note to find her boots the next day, and carried her the few miles to the lodging house, gingerly guiding their two forms silently into the deserted attic. There were a multitude of old cots stacked about the space, with varying bits of furniture and linens lying about as well. Thus, Spot sat the barely conscious girl against the wall nearest him as he pulled together a makeshift bed. She stared at his movements silently, her eyes in a faraway place, until he gently pulled her to standing, offering her a worn looking garment of some kind.

"It's an old nightshirt that's not in circulation anymore because it's a tad threadbare, but your clothes are wet and cold, so it'll do for tonight."

She nodded as he turned around. And she quickly removed her soaking dress, petticoats, corset, and chemise before donning the oversized boy's nightgown.

"Are you decent?" he said, a small smile on his lips as she grunted affirmatively.

But when he turned back to her, he was not at all prepared for the surge of conflicting emotions that flowed through him all at once. The want, the happiness, the pull to her body, to a new extreme that he had never felt before.

And she stood there, her wet, sandy hair, messy and dirty, her eyes puffy and red, and her body hidden within a large night shirt.

What was this? Where was this coming from? Regardless, he had to pull himself together.

"Alright, c'mere. I made up a bed for you." She followed him the few feet to the cot that he had covered with mismatched sheets and several heavier quilts and blankets.

She nodded, and after a several moment pause, he turned somewhat reluctantly to make his way back downstairs. "Goodnight, Kate."

"Wait, Tom."

He turned immediately to meet her wide eyes, staring desperately at him, pushing down the hope within his gut that she would say what he was thinking, even though he shouldn't have been thinking it in the first place.

Why the hell would he even want something like that?

"I—I don't want you to leave," she said quietly, simply.

He held his breath as she thought through her next words. "I know I shouldn't ask this of you. I don't know why, but—" she exhaled heavily. "Can you stay with me? Please?"

He didn't blink, the word nearly exploding from his mouth. "Yes."

And she smiled, tension seeming to leave her face and body as she maneuvered onto the cot, looking toward him as he kicked his shoes off and laid down somewhat stiffly next to her.

She rolled to face him, Spot slowly mirroring his actions. And after several moments of silence passed between them, he murmured, "I'm so sorry, Kate. For everything."

Her fingers gently ran through his hair and he shivered at her touch. "I'm glad you came back."

She gently curled into his body, her face pressed against his chest as his fingers naturally combed through her hair. And within moments, sleep claimed them both.

They lay there, together for the first time in such a quietly intimate way. As if they had always slept beside one another in this manner. As if he had always known the way to soothe her fears was a soft, steady caress through her hair. And she had known that nothing sated him better than her even breathing against his neck, and her gentle heartbeat reverberating near his chest.