Racetrack knocked on the door and listened to the sound of something crashing to the ground followed by a curse word. He heard the door behind him open and he turned to find a bespeckled older woman peering at him and holding a rather ornery looking cat. He nodded politely at the woman and faced the door again, realizing he'd forgotten to say who it was.

"Tay, it's Race."

There was a long moment before he heard the lock click open and the door opened just a crack.

"Race?"

"Just me, kid." He smiled and stepped to one side to prove that he was the only one on that side of the door. Tay opened the door wider and allowed him to enter the apartment before closing the door and locking it quickly behind him.

"Didn't mean to startle you," he said as Tay picked up the pieces of what looked like a plate and placed the broken bits in the waste can. He looked around the kitchen and noticed that there was something smoking in the sink and he raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

"I was trying to cook," Tay explained with a small smile. She gestured to the burnt offering in the sink. "Didn't work out."

"I still remember you almost burning down the kitchen at the mission house that one time," Race recalled with a smile.

"That nun hated me anyway," Tay told him. "How was I supposed to know that bread could burn like that?"

"You know Em could come over and show you-"

"No, thank you, Race."

"What about Sarah?" He figured her hesitation at his suggestion came from the fact that Emily was a stranger but other than Sarah he couldn't have named a woman that Tay was even a little close to.

"No, thank you, Race," Tay repeated as she took up a wet cloth and began wiping the flour off the kitchen table. When she was finished she wiped her hands clean and tossed the cloth into the sink. She stood for a long moment staring down into the burnt pan and Race saw her shake her head slowly but she composed herself quickly and turned to look at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought maybe I could take you out," Race explained.

"No, I don't think I should…he wouldn't like it," Tay answered as she took a step back.

"I saw a fine cigar shop a couple of blocks over and we could get some dinner on the way, my treat," Race told her, trying to keep his voice cheerful.

"It's gonna be dark soon," Tay mentioned fretfully. "Spot will be home any minute."

Race drew his pocket watch from his vest and glanced at the time before looking toward the window to see the sun beginning to set. Tay stood twisting her fingers together nervously and Race sighed as he decided to just tell her the truth.

"Spot isn't coming–"

"What do you mean he isn't coming home? What happened to him? Where is he?" Tay interrupted, rapidly firing questions at him before Race could finish his sentence.

He held up his hand as a plea for patience. "I'm sorry, kid. I shouldn't have said it like that. He's got a few things to take care of. It ain't nothing serious but he might not be home tonight. He sent me to take care of you in the meantime."

"You know where he is?" Tay asked. Race nodded. "Take me to him."

"I can't do that, kid. You know how he is about this sort of thing."

"Then just tell me where he is and I'll go there myself so that way you ain't gonna be involved or get into any trouble."

"Tay, c'mon. You know I can't do that." Race was beginning to grow frustrated with her attitude but he also realized that it was the first time he'd seen a little spirit in her since before she'd been taken. He hadn't seen her much in the past month but what he had seen hadn't said much for her mental or physical state. Other than her odd conversations with Jack and David, Race hadn't seen Tay talk to anyone but Spot and her entire attitude had been withdrawn and sullen.

"I'll even take you to a nice place with tablecloths," Race joked, hoping that his manner would help ease her mind.

"You know they don't let street rats like us into places like that," Tay answered.

"I happen to hobnob with the best of them, I'll have you know," Race pointed out with a smile. "Just last week I had box seats next to the governor."

Tay put her hand up to her face to cover her smile but Race saw it and was relieved. It was a lie and they both knew it but he felt grateful that Tay didn't seem intent on stubbornly holding onto the idea of going to see Spot.

"I don't know how Emily puts up with you," Tay told him. "I'll go get my things."

It was a fairly quiet walk and Race couldn't help but notice that Tay startled easily the moment anyone brushed up against her. At one point during their journey she had slipped her hand into Racetrack's hand, surprising him as Tay had never been one for letting anyone into her personal space. By the time he had decided on The Bull's Head as an establishment his hand ached from where Tay had gripped him tightly and he noticed her face was ashen. He steered Tay to a table in the back as he assumed she hadn't wanted to be around others and they both took their seats. He offered Tay the chair that backed up to the wall so she wouldn't have to worry about anyone coming up behind her.

"You doing okay, kid?" Race asked gently.

Tay shook her head and pulled at the strap of the burlap bag she carried over her shoulder. If Race wasn't mistaken he recognized it as the same bag she had carried all those years as a newsie.

"I met your neighbor. The one with the cat," Race told her, hoping idle conversation might help draw her out. "Never cared much for cats myself but the boys were always taking in strays that they found in the alley behind the lodging house. Used to drive Kloppman up the wall but he always managed to find some spare food for the cats."

Tay kept her eyes down and Race decided to continue with his rambling.

"You should see Rose now, climbing over everything and getting her hands on whatever she can find. She's started making some words, I mean they're just nonsense words but she knows what she's saying. I have a feeling we're gonna have our hands full with that one."

"This isn't working out," Tay said in a low voice.

"What?"

"I can't do this, Race. Don't you ever wish we could go back?"

"Go back?" Race was growing more bewildered by the moment.

"I just want to go back…to before all this…to when…I don't know. Like when we was newsies."

"Kid, I know it's been tough lately but it weren't all sunshine and roses back then," Race pointed out mildly.

"It was bad, I know. I remember always being hungry and times when I didn't have a penny to my name but this life is just…it's not for me, Race."

The waiter came over at what Race considered to be the most inopportune time and he asked if the man might give them a couple of minutes to think it over before ordering.

"I keep thinking it might be better off someplace else. Maybe some place upstate or in Boston."

"You know how attached Spot is to Brooklyn."

"Not with Spot. By myself. Maybe it would just be better if I left."

Race sat back in his chair and absentmindedly bit at the end of the cigar he held in his teeth. He was spinning his wheels trying to come up with a proper response to her suggestion. Being a newsie hadn't been easy and he thought about the various struggles she'd been through but nothing compared to what had happened to her when that Italian bastard had got his hands on her. Race had always believed that Tay knew how to handle Spot, even at his most volatile, because they had a relationship that Race didn't condone or understand but had existed nonetheless. During Tay's absence Race had witnessed Spot's spiral into self-destructive behavior and it had made him realize that regardless of how he had treated her in the past or present that one thing was clear, Spot needed Tay.

Race took the cigar from his mouth and twirled it idly in his right hand. He gazed across the table at Tay, noticing that she'd only meet his eyes for a brief glance before looking down at the menu on the table in front of her. Race sighed heavily.

"You'll break his heart."

It was Tay's turn to be bewildered. "What?"

"If you leave, you'll break his heart," Race told her. "Look, kid, I know you two have had a lot of ups and downs but I'm being straight with you. You didn't see him while you were in that reform school."

"He never wants to talk about that," Tay explained quietly.

"I don't know how else to put this but it seemed to me that he was trying his damndest to kill himself. At first, it wasn't anything anyone would notice. He drank a bit more, got into a few more fights than usual but that was it. A couple of months went by and you still hadn't turned up so he started spending all his time at the pubs. He'd start fights with anyone that dared even look at him no matter what age or size the guy was. Then he started taking jobs from different gangs and he always wanted the jobs no one else would take. I'd try to get him to sober up or to see reason but he'd argue with me and even his boys couldn't get him to see sense."

"I wasn't there, that's got nothing to do with me."

"It had everything to do with you, kid. I'll admit I've never understood you two but after seeing him fall apart like that I realized something, you keep him from going off the rails. He needs you in his life and any time you're not he loses it. It might not always be clear from a distance but he cares for you and I know you care for him."

"But that's why I have to leave. We're not right for one another, Race. I can't do any of this. I'm not meant to be someone's wife. And now, after everything—I don't know how to fix it. I just want to go back to before, when it was different." Tay's voice trailed off and she brushed her hair out of her eyes as she looked across the table at Racetrack.

"You want him to go back to what he was like when you were fifteen?" Race asked with a pointed look. His conversation the other day with Jack had reminded him of Tay's first attempt to free herself of Brooklyn.

"No," Tay admitted as she shook her head.

"You two will make it through this," Race encouraged. "Two to one, you'll make it."

Race had been watching the smoke from his Havana cigar swirl around the lamplight when the sound of the lock opening broke him out of his reverie. Spot entered the apartment and Race instantly noticed his unkempt appearance. Spot was favoring his right side as he limped carefully over to the sink and began to wash the bloodstains off his hands.

"What the hell, Conlon?" Race asked in a low voice. Tay had laid her head down on the table and fallen asleep, the empty glass of whisky still in her hand.

"Ain't gotta explain myself to the likes of you," Spot answered. He wiped his hands dry and turned to where Race sat at the kitchen table with Tay. "What happened?"

"You know she's never been able to hold her liquor," Race answered. "She offered me a drink while we waited for you and one drink turned into seven."

Spot huffed under his breath and approached Tay, moving to lift her up out of the chair but he stopped short when Tay protested weakly, holding her knife up in her limp hand.

"Don't touch me," Tay slurred before her head dropped back down to her chest.

"Anna. It's me," Spot told her as he pried the knife out of her hand. He didn't seem surprised by Tay's actions and Race understood she must have behaved that way before and it made sense given what had happened to her.

Tay muttered something in a language Race didn't understand and Spot set the knife down on the table as he picked Tay up. She was like a rag doll in his arms and didn't seem to regain consciousness as he carried her into the bedroom.

"So what do I owe you?" Spot asked as he returned to the table and slid into the chair across from Race.

"Well, she ordered the lobster," Race joked. "But she bought me the cigar so I'd say we're even."

Spot drew the glass Tay had been using over and poured himself a neat shot of whisky. He grimaced as he swallowed and moved his jaw back and forth as though it was bothering him.

"There's something you should know," Race said hesitantly.

"What makes you think I don't already know?" Spot asked.

"She's thinking of leaving." The light in the kitchen was low but Race still managed to catch a glimpse of surprise on Spot's face before his features settled back into their usual cold, unfeeling mask. Race knew how Spot had dealt with Tay's notions about leaving before and so he wasn't sure what the outcome would be considering Spot's recent change in behavior.

"Damaged goods, that's what she told me she feels like." Spot took a drink and set the glass back on the table. "I thought getting rid of Morelli would help but she's still…I don't know what to say to her."

"It's gonna take time. A lot of time," Race told him. It felt more than strange to be trying to have that kind of discussion with Spot as the younger man had always made it clear that he and Tay were off-limits as a topic. "You know, she thinks she needs to fix it, too. Seems to me that you're both trying to fix something for the other but it ain't gonna work, not like you think."

"What do you suggest, Higgins?" Spot asked sarcastically but Race just ignored the sarcasm.

"Maybe you should–"

"I ain't leaving Brooklyn," Spot interrupted.

"I was going to say maybe you should take a trip somewhere. Upstate or something. Just for a while."

"I thought I could protect her here. I figured if we just stayed in Brooklyn, then I could keep her safe."

Race was more than a bit surprised by the slight anguish in Spot's voice as he talked about his futile attempt to protect Tay. As a newsie, Spot had been just about untouchable and there weren't many out there who would willingly take on Spot or Brooklyn, which had been essentially the same thing.

There was a long moment of silence and Race wasn't sure if he should stay or head back home. He'd never seen Spot be so open about what was going on before and he was somewhat intrigued. Race had always been a curious outsider when it came to Tay and Spot's relationship but he quickly understood that day he was getting more insight than he'd ever had before.

"She won't let me near her," Spot admitted in a low voice. "She'll let me hold her when she cries but every other time I touch her, she gets startled. I mean, you'd think I'd be used to it after how I treated her. And I don't want to scare her or nothing."

"Like I said, you gotta give her time. If you want, I can ask her over to my place. It might do her some good to be around Rose."

"No," Spot said as he shook his head. "It ain't easy for her to be around kids. It ain't like she doesn't like them, it's just…that's my fault too."

"What do you mean?" Race asked, not at all expecting an answer. He kept waiting for Spot to tell him to take his advice and stick it where the sun didn't shine but it seemed that, odd as it was, that Spot either needed to or wanted to talk.

"We was fifteen and she started acting real strange. It took me a while before I figured out she was knocked up. She tried keeping it a secret. You remember that winter she ended up in Manhattan? I told her–I made her get rid of it."

"Christ," Race muttered under his breath.

"I ain't proud of it, okay? I just thought—she was fifteen. She didn't understand what could happen and I know that ain't an excuse. I thought I was keeping her safe."

Spot ran his hand through his hair and swallowed the rest of the whisky in the glass as Race sat there practically stunned. He had always had his suspicions about what had happened that night Tay had shown up in Manhattan but he didn't think Spot would be that open about it.

"Then Brighton happened and she lost the baby. The midwife told her—she said there was a chance that she couldn't—couldn't have any more after that."

"No wonder she didn't want to hold Rose," Race said in a numb voice.

Spot poured another shot of whisky and downed it in one go, weighing the glass in one hand before he hurled it across the room where it shattered against the wall. He muttered a curse word under his breath and turned his head toward the bedroom but there was no evidence that he had disturbed Tay.

"Guess I'm gonna have to clean that up," Spot said wryly.

"I'm gonna tell you like I told her," Race explained. "You two have been through some shit but you're going to make it."

"Is that some happily ever after bullshit, Higgins?"

"It's the truth. She loves you, she always has. Despite you trying everything to prove otherwise, you love her. It's gonna take a lot of time but you'll make it."

"Well you sure changed your tune," Spot pointed out. "I always figured your Sheepshead deal was the only thing keeping you from trying to get her away from me."

"You're both a couple of idiots if you think you'd ever leave one another," Race kidded. "I can call a bluff when I see one."

"Didn't you just tell me she's thinking of leaving?"

"And has she ever gone through with it? Believe me, it's always been something I've wondered about but I know why she stayed all that time and will always stay. She loves you. Simple as that."

The sound of murmured conversation followed by Tay calling out reached them both and Spot got to his feet. Race stood at the same time and he nodded once at Spot before retreating. He knew Emily and Rose would be waiting for him and he felt the desire to hug his wife and daughter tightly. But that was just the result of spending any time trying to figure out Spot and Tay's relationship. The evening had been eye-opening but he wasn't sure what the result would be. He hoped for the best as he traveled back across town to his home.

Author's Note: Why do I keep writing conversations? I don't know! That's just how it turned out...I'm sorry!

Shout-out to Anna_W for her wonderful review! I am just so thrilled to have someone who is an amazing writer review my story! It means the world to me!

As always reviews are welcome and appreciated! Enjoy!