Tay ran her fingertips over the bandage that covered the upper part of Spot's right arm and reflected on the number of times she had been the one to take care of him when he was hurt. That was a side of him most people were not privy to and a little piece of Tay had always selfishly held tight to the fact that he'd come to her when he was in pain. She watched Spot's deep, vulnerable breathing as he slept and the ghosts of her conversation with Racetrack seeped into her thoughts. She'd always known there were other girls but she wondered how many would have willingly switched places with her if they knew the cost of loving Spot Conlon.

Had she tied him down? What did it mean to tie down someone who relied on instinct instead of logic? What if she had answered differently when she admitted she didn't want him to leave? Tay scowled into the dark at the thought that he'd probably already had someone in mind who wouldn't place any demands on him other than a good time in bed to further cement his reputation with the ladies. But he hadn't left. There was that, at least. Even if the only reason why he hadn't bedded some whore was because she had backed down and drew him into their bedroom using the only feminine wiles that she had.

Tay slid out from under Spot's arm and pulled the quilt up around her shoulders before heading into the kitchen. The whisky bottle still sat on the table next to the empty glass and Tay frowned as she realized it was likely the only edible thing in the house. It was what they lived on. Cigarettes and whisky. She ran her hand over her face as she thought about the complete lie she was living. A family? How did she ever think she could have a family? Spot had always been right about her, she wasn't the kind of girl that boys wanted to marry. She couldn't cook, she didn't clean, and any vestiges of domestic life that she'd learned as a child were long gone. Even then she hadn't been asked to do anything much as most of the 'womanly' tasks were left to her older sister, Bridget. Tay's mother had always been flighty, more interested in her children's spiritual lives than in their everyday care. She'd taught them how to read cards and tea leaves and spun wondrous tales about a variety of mythical creatures but never concerned herself much with how the family was going to be fed or clothed. That was all left to Bridget and Tay reflected back on just how little attention she had paid to her older sister.

She felt his hand at the small of her back, caressing her through the quilt. He brushed her hair to one side and she felt his lips on the back of her neck. A familiar heat rose in her chest and she found herself tilting her head to one side so he could have better access. She expected to feel the familiar sting of sharp teeth on her skin but she was surprised by his gentle manner, dare she say he seemed kind. It was strange yet exhilarating. He had always been sharp words and sharper gestures. He was playing another game, she was sure of it.

"Spot?"

"Hmm?"

His forearm tightened around her waist and she felt him pull the quilt down. The fabric of her nightgown slipped to one side, revealing the place where her neck met her shoulder and she felt his lips, soft and warm, move against her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed and she inhaled sharply. He was going to win. He always won.

There were children everywhere, swarms of them flooding the streets, the stoops, the storefronts and alleyways. She used to be one of those children but it wasn't until after she had lost her own that she noticed, really noticed, the number of children in the city.

"C'mon, doll."

"No."

She toyed with the key hanging around her neck and stood with her feet firmly planted in front of the window as she looked down at the bustling street below. It hadn't been as hard as she'd thought to keep the key. One of the girls had shown her a variety of hiding places in the reformatory and Tay had used them well. But she wondered if she was getting too old for relics of their old way of life. Tarnished keys, nicknames, games of pretend. Playtime was for children but as Tay looked back she wondered if any of them had ever really been children.

"I wasn't really asking."

Tay turned toward him but found she could barely look Spot in the eyes. That was nothing new though. The key felt heavy in her hand and she let it swing between her fingers on the leather cord. Tay watched from someplace far inside her as Spot approached her carefully. The only thing pressing on her mind was a single question. Why?

She held up one of her hands to try and stop him from coming any closer. She knew if he touched her, she'd do something to sabotage all that they'd built thus far. It wasn't his fault and yet she couldn't help but be angry with him. She felt a familiar tingle in her fingers as she held them down by her side, clenching and unclenching her fists.

"Don't come near me, Liam."

"Anna."

"Please." It was just a whisper and she felt betrayed by the tears that began to build in her eyes. She placed the blame on her own shoulders but it didn't dampen the anger she felt coursing through her body. She held one hand to her stomach as she began to tremble uncontrollably, the tears sliding down her cheeks as rage and sadness fought for supremacy within her mind.

"It's not your fault, doll." Spot reached for her hand but Tay shied away. He persisted and held her hand fast even as she tried to pull away.

"Of course it's my fault," Tay told him. She couldn't hold back her tears and began to sob uncontrollably even as she hated herself for giving in to her pain. "I'm a horrible person. I killed someone, Liam. I didn't just hurt him. He's dead because of me. I don't deserve a child. I deserve nothing."

Her tears had always had an unpleasant effect on Spot and so Tay was startled when he drew her to him and put his arms around her. She flashed back to the night he'd come to visit her after nearly three years apart. The night she had told him everything she'd been through in the reformatory.

"It's not your fault," Spot repeated as he stroked her hair. Tay fought the urge to push him away, to keep him at arm's length so she could deal with her pain the way she always had. Alone. But Spot had always been the one she turned to when she was hurt or in trouble. It hadn't always been the best idea but at that moment Spot's concern seemed genuine.

"I can't do this," Tay told him quietly.

"What?"

"Any of this. I'm not meant to be a wife, let alone a mother. I can't even take care of myself or you or anyone. I'm not like Sarah or Emily or any other normal girl."

"I think you're normal," Spot joked. Tay just glared at him and he held his hands up innocently. "You're the one who said it, doll."

Tay stood apart from him and wiped the remaining tears from her eyes. She was confused by the brief glimpse of pain she saw in Spot's eyes. He had always been so driven, so sure of himself that he never seemed to even notice her pain. There were times when he had been the one to cause her pain and Tay wasn't sure regret was something he ever felt but as she looked at him Spot appeared to be struggling with his own feelings the same way she was struggling with her feelings.

"Just so you know," Spot said tentatively, "that's not why I married you."

Tay swallowed hard and brushed her hair out of her eyes, trying to keep her eyes level with his but failing miserably.

"I'm not meant for this, Liam. I'm a murderer. A street rat. A whore." Tay cringed inwardly as she thought about the time Race had told her to her face what she was.

"I knew all that when I married you, doll."

"So why did you marry me?"

"Because I love you."

"What if I can't ever…" Tay's voice died on the last syllable and she couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence. In her heart of hearts she had always kept that secret quiet and contained.

"Then we'll just cross that bridge when we come to it, Anna. Don't mean I won't love you. That ain't gonna change no matter what happens."

Tay watched as the door opened, revealing a dim interior that was clouded with cigar smoke as Spot appeared in the doorway. She tried to slip into the bakery opposite the mysterious meeting place but Spot had already seen her. The bell above the door jangled as Spot stepped inside and made a beeline for Tay.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Spot grabbed her by the arm and pulled her in close enough that she could smell the stale alcohol on his breath.

"Buying bread," Tay answered innocently but before she was able to purchase anything Spot had yanked her back out onto the street. He glanced at the variety of pushcarts, delivery trucks, and people swarming the street and steered Tay down the block to a luncheon counter. The place was fairly crowded and Spot headed for a table in the back.

"Sit down," Spot told her as he guided her toward a chair. He ordered for both of them before sending the waiter away and running a hand through his hair. "You can't do this anymore, Tay."

"I haven't done anything," Tay pointed out. Spot clenched his fists and slammed them down on the table, causing Tay to jump. She quickly realized how angry he was and she felt a familiar sense of fear gnaw at her. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry," Spot muttered. "That's all I ever hear from you."

"What do you want me to say?"

Spot just glared at her as the waiter set two plates of food down in front of them. At least he'd gotten her something to eat, it was better than his ordering for himself and ignoring her needs. Tay grew uncomfortable with the angry look on Spot's face and concentrated instead on the food. There had been brief glimpses of his anger in the weeks after their marriage and Tay realized her mistake in thinking that Spot had left that part of himself behind.

"I only wanted to see if-"

"Don't." Spot picked up the mug of coffee in front of him and took a sip before placing it back on the table. "We'll talk about this when we get home."

Tay was terrified by the implication as she was very familiar with Spot's method of discussion when behind closed doors. Not that he ever really waited for privacy to take his aggression out on her. He didn't discriminate between Tay or anyone else who had angered him.

She tapped her fork against the edge of the plate. Spot gave her a look that was razor sharp and the words she planned to say died on her lips. His eyes were two pieces of ice and Tay's stomach flip-flopped as her appetite abandoned her. She set the fork down and folded her hands in her lap, just waiting for the inevitable.

"I'm not hungry," Tay said quietly, looking down at her clasped hands.

"Might as well eat," Spot shrugged. "There ain't nothing in the apartment."

"Well, I was trying to buy bread," Tay pointed out. She bit her tongue to keep from pointing out that the only reason she hadn't been able to was that Spot had lost his temper and now they were sitting at a table in some dingy restaurant.

"What I don't need is you being a smart ass right now," Spot answered.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Tay offered softly. "You just never tell me-"

"Enough," Spot interrupted. "I told you that we ain't talking about it right now."

The rest of the meal was silent and Tay grew exceedingly nervous as she walked down the street back to the apartment. Spot seemed to be ignoring the traffic on the street and strode ahead of her, sure that she was following him. Tay barely noticed the people she passed and the only thing her mind could concentrate on was what would happen when they reached their building.

Tay stood with her hands pressed against the inside of the door as Spot lit a cigarette and began to pace back and forth in front of her. There was nothing she could say and yet Tay had the desire to say so many things. So many things that she shouldn't put into words. Not with him. She has seen that look before and it never ended well. Not for her. When he decided to speak, he spoke slowly as though measuring out each word carefully.

"You got ten seconds to explain what the fuck you were doing following me today."

Tay panicked and rather than offer up any of the responses she thought up at that moment, she blurted out the one that would likely cause the most offense.

"I'm worried about you."

The glass struck the opposite wall and shattered, scattering small pieces across the floor. It was followed by one of the kitchen chairs which didn't break but made a dent in the wall before landing on the floor at Tay's feet. Another glass and two dishes followed and Tay remained silent. It wasn't that she was afraid to speak but instead was waiting for the inevitable.

When it was over Tay found herself out on the fire escape, smoking a cigarette and feeling so tired that her bones ached. He hadn't touched her. What he had done was methodically destroy the interior of the apartment and Tay wasn't sure if she should be grateful or alarmed.

"Tay." She flinched at the sound of his voice but still found herself moving to one side so he could sit next to her. He took the cigarette out of her hand and took a drag before handing it back. "I cleaned up in there."

"You didn't have to."

Spot shrugged and Tay realized it wasn't an apology but it was probably as close as he was going to get. Tay shifted slightly and leaned her head on his shoulder although part of her wondered if he would just brush her off. He allowed her to stay and Tay felt slightly relieved.

She tried to match the version of Spot sitting on the fire escape with her to the version from the other night. He'd been gentle, kind. He hadn't left. He had wanted to but she asked him to stay and he did. It was the same as it ever was. She'd played her part and he'd played his, neither one of them able to admit the need for the other.

"I don't want you following me ever again."

His voice was cold and Tay felt the numbness inside grow steadily. "Okay."

"I'm not kidding around, doll."

"I know."

Tay glanced down at the street below and was surprised to find it so busy. The world around her had fallen silent the moment Spot closed the door to their apartment. She hadn't really heard the sounds of destruction and it felt as though she and Spot were surrounded by a wall of silence. How many times had she sworn the next time would be different? It never was.

"You ain't leaving without me saying so," Spot said gravely and Tay's breath caught in her throat.

"I have to work," she argued.

"You can work from here."

"That isn't fair." She didn't bother yelling at him, it wouldn't do any good.

"I told you to stay out of my business. You got no one but yourself to blame."

"The door locks from the inside, Spot. You can't keep me here."

"I don't need a lock. You'll stay because I'm telling you to."

"Liam, please."

Spot took the cigarette from her fingers and crushed it against the bottom of the fire escape. He held out his hand and Tay took it without thinking. Back inside the apartment he pulled her close and rested his chin on the top of her head.

"I ain't gonna lose you." He tilted her chin up until she met his eyes. "We are done talking about this, understand?"

"Yes." They weren't done talking about it. Not in the slightest.

Note: Well...um...that's as smutty/fluffy as I can get so I hope you don't mind this chapter being a little confusing. I really don't know what possessed me to write it that way. Anyway, happy reading and enjoy! Thank you! (forgot to add...did anyone catch the Letterkenny reference? lol!)