I looked down at the gravestone. The engraved figures across it formed his name: "Kerry MacKilligan". The yard was small and overgrown with weeds, and the few of us gathered there huddled together to keep ourselves warm. The sky had clouded over and I could see on Patrick's hair that snow was starting to fall from it. Sister Agnes squeezed my shoulder, trying to reassure me.

Soon, our huddle began to deform, and became myself, Patrick, and Fishface. She shivered in the cold, clutching her arms, and tears were streaming down her face, and they looked as if they were about to freeze. She looked up at me and glanced away, as if searching herself, "I almost forgot..." she said, "I wanted to give you this."

She reached from behind her jacket, pulling out something that she had wrapped in a napkin, "I want you to have this." She handed it to me and I looked at her questioningly, she nodded, urging me to unfold it, so I did.

Kerry's slingshot. I closed my eyes. He had given it to her the night before he died. She couldn't be giving me her brother's slingshot. "I can't take this."

"Yes you can," She did exactly as her brother had always done, and brushed my hair behind my ear, "He'd want you to have it." She glanced back at his grave and nodded.

I don't know what possessed me to hug Ruth MacKilligan, but I found myself doing so that moment. And I found her hugging me back. She was shivering, and honestly, I was getting a little cold myself.

"Why don't we go get somethin' to eat, huh Fishface?" I suggested, "It's gettin' cold, and we can probably catch up with Patrick and Spot."

She shook her head, "You go ahead. I think I'll stay here awhile longer. Y'know, say my goodbyes before I go to Jack..."

I nodded, "Catch up with us later, alright?"

She nodded solemnly and I turned and started walking away, and I could have sworn I felt an almost warm gust of wind around me as I heard her soft soprano singing, "But me and my true love will never meet again, on the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond..."

Patrick's head turned as the door of the clubhouse creaked opened. I welcomed the bit of heat that the room offered, and sat down next to him. He shifted a bit and squeezed my shoulder. I glanced at Spot. I had tried not to think of him for the past day or so. He caused me so much guilt that I wanted to hurt myself. I had to get away from him. Before I let my infatuation for him grow into love. Because that's what it was, an infatuation.

"Patrick? Can we go upstairs and talk?" I asked quietly.

He nodded, and we climbed the stairs. The room was just as cold as it was outside, and through the window, I could see that that the snow was piling up. The small graveyard we had buried Kerry in was within sight, and I could see Fishface, still standing by her brother. I bit my lip as I turned to my own.

"Patrick... I know this sounds crazy, but I have to leave."

"Ya are leavin' Shortstack; we're goin' ta live in Manhattan together."

"I don't mean like that Patrick," I sighed, I wasn't sure how I was going to explain this to him, "I can't stay here, I can't see Spot Conlon anymore, I can't watch life go on here without Kerry. I can't watch Buttons heal and start sellin' again while Kerry's..." I couldn't bring myself to say it, and I looked at him, hoping he'd understand, and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a hug, "I can't stand to live in this city anymore."

"Well, where do ya wanna go?"

"Anywhere, it doesn't matter. There's just too much here... does that even make sense?"

He hugged me tighter, "Yeah, it makes sense. So where should we go, if we're gonna leave Manhattan?"

I smiled a bit, looking up at him. "Who said anything about 'we'?"

"I'm the big brother, remember? There's no way I'd let you go anywhere without me." Maybe he was only saying that because he no longer had someone like Daisy to keep him here, but it just didn't matter. As long as he was with me, I would be okay. Or I would at least be sane.

"So... are you okay?" He looked down at me with concern in his eyes.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "You know, every time someone asks me that, it just reminds me that I'm really not."

"You can always tell me anything, remember that. Okay?"

Hearing that reminded me of when Kerry had said the same thing, and I felt compelled to blurt out everything that had happened. As I looked up at my brother, I wondered how he would react if I told him all the things I had done while in Brooklyn, including the night I spent with Kerry. It already felt like years had passed since then. But I needed to tell someone, and it might as well be the person I trusted most in this entire world.

So with a deep breath, I told Patrick as quickly as I possibly could about everything, not even giving him a second in between to respond. All he could do was listen. His face illustrated no real reaction, but his eyes did go wide when I briefly mentioned the night Kerry and I had spent in Spot's room downstairs.

I hadn't told anyone what had happened until then, and I was surprised at how calm I was throughout it. When I finished, I tried to calm my breathing while my brother held me again, and I wondered why I wasn't crying. For some reason, it just didn't feel right. I never did cry over Kerry. When he had died, I felt like I had lost a part of myself, and that his funeral was my own, and you don't cry at your own funeral.

A few minutes later when Patrick and I went back downstairs, we were greeted with the sight of Buttons sitting up against the wall, rambling to himself. It killed me that he was getting better, the most selfish and insensitive part of me wanted to freshen that black eye of his that was beginning to fade. But I still tried to put on a smile and pretend that I was glad he was getting healthier every day. I couldn't talk to him, though. It took less energy and will to smile than it did to say something. He didn't try and talk to me, either. He knew I wouldn't have anything to say to him. So we only acknowledged each other's existence, no need for anything more. And so in the usual silence, I was able to walk right past him without a second glance. Think me bitter if you want, I deserved it.

Later I had retreated to the upper room of the clubhouse once more, and the sky had grown dark, I couldn't see anything outside my window, save the graying snow landing on the sill. Fishface hadn't returned from downstairs yet, though I didn't worry about her. I had decided that that girl, no matter how giggly she could be, could handle herself without me having to think about her.

In my hand I held the slingshot she had given me earlier that day; it was still wrapped in her napkin. I noticed that there was some embroidery across the back. Obviously, the first thing that had actually been properly stitched in little x's, perhaps from when she'd grown up at the girls' home, there, in a soft green thread were stitched her initials "R.M.". Though I could tell that later on she'd added in messy stitching, with a dark brown thread, a heart around her initials, and underneath hers, "J.K." I smiled lightly. Somehow, I wasn't surprised seeing this from her. I went to give her handkerchief back, but I heard voices from the lower room, and decided to see who it was before entering.

"Spot..." I heard Ruth MacKilligan speaking softly to him, "I need to tell you something." She paused for a moment, "I wasn't gonna tell you at all, but after Kerry... you're the only brother I've got left. And it wasn't fair not to tell you. I'm gonna marry Jack when I get to Santa Fe."

"Guy like Jack," Spot said, his voice almost wavering, "A lucky guy like Jack...how could you expect him to do anything but ask you to marry him?" There was a silence. "When are ya leavin'?"

"As soon as I can. I just," She paused, "I just can't stand to be around here anymore. I don't know what I want from here anymore, I used to have all these plans for when I grew up, living with my brother, who would be rich by then, because he was always real smart, and then I'd fall madly in love and Kerry'd find a great girl like Anabeth and they'd get married and we'd all live happily ever after in a big house in the country; I only got part of my dreams, Spot. And I can't let him slip away to his dreams without me in 'em."

"I don't think he'd ever do that, Ruth." Spot said, rapping his cane on the ground. He hadn't done that in awhile. I suppose it sounded good to him. I peered around the corner. Buttons was still laid out across three or four crates, and his eyes rested on me. Though he didn't say anything, I could tell that the way he'd moved his head diverted Fishface's attention from Spot and her head turned around and landed on me.

"I...uh... I came to return your handkerchief." I said quietly, descending the stairs and handing it to her. She looked at the stitching on it and smiled. She loved him. And it was as plain and simple as that.

"I'm gonna turn in," She said suddenly, breaking the silence, "Thanks for returning this. And..." She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts, "I'm glad you decided to keep it." She was, of course, referring to the slingshot, though I'm sure neither Spot nor Buttons knew that.

There was yet another awkward silence. This, I could tell was going to be one of those partings where everyone awkwardly left until there was one person alone, and they just went their own separate way.

"I'm going back to the lodgin' house," Spot said shortly as he turned, pulling on his jacket, then he turned around softly, "Take care of yourself, and them," he motioned towards Buttons, who was coughing, and I supposed 'them' included Fishface, "Alright?"

I nodded, "Alright."

I turned and looked at Buttons. He was staring straight at me. I just shrugged and forced his eyes off of me, but just as I was about to climb the stairway, his voice interrupted me.

"Shortstack-" He said roughly, "I know this is...stupid, because you're never gonna...y'know, believe it, but I..." I stared at him, wishing he would finish, and honestly, not caring what he was on about, "I'm sorry for what happened."

I stared at him blankly.

"If you don't wanna, don't forgive me."

I stared at him again, but suddenly something moved in me, I'm not sure whether it was the slop that I had eaten earlier that day telling me that it was time to regurgitate or whether I really forgave him. But it moved again, "I forgive you." I said, and I turned and walked up the stairs, falling down onto my mattress and falling asleep.

Sleep comes hard for the busy-minded, and is often interrupted by horrible images. Though my dream was not of dying, it was filled with guilt-ridden thoughts, and it kept me awake.

But I was positive that I wasn't dreaming when I saw light come in from the door to the upstairs room, and the distinct smell of horses wafted over my way. My eyes snapped open.

Suddenly, I felt myself smile softly as the dark figure knelt down beside the mattress my sort of "roommate" slept on and softly said to her, "Sleep sweet, Ruthy..."

Fishface turned over in her sleep, and before I knew it, I was watching her leap on him in a hug. He kissed her all over her face as she embraced him. Finally, and I believe Fishface had been waiting for this for awhile, he slipped a ring over her finger, and pulled her into a passionate kiss.

Still smiling, I quietly got up from my mattress and left, closing the door softly behind me. I'm not sure whether or not they had even noticed that I had left. There wasn't anything else to do, so I decided that I should go outside and get some fresh night air. The only thing that I found downstairs was Buttons sleeping up against the wall, so I crept by him quietly, trying not to laugh at the sight of him drooling in his sleep.

Outside on the docks, I was relieved to feel the faint early morning rain falling down on my skin lightly. I tilted my head back, letting my face cool off by the soft drizzling, humming to myself softly.

After a moment, I looked back up, and nearly jumped when I saw a shadow sitting on a pile of crates nearby. Taking a step closer, I could see the cheap cigarette in his hand and the cap hanging on the tip of his cane. He hadn't seen me yet, so it was easy to take a good look at the sullen look on his face. Eventually, curiosity got the better of me and I walked right up to him, and his head snapped up hearing my footsteps.

"What are you doin' out here?" he asked, standing up.

"I was just gonna ask you the same thing."

Spot took a long drag on his cigarette, exhaling slowly. "I saw the Cowboy come back a few minutes ago. Just didn't feel like goin' back to the lodgin' house."

"You'd rather sit out here and sulk?" Maybe I hadn't asked that in the most considerate way. But he didn't reply, he just looked at me sharply. Then he turned and threw his cigarette into the river. "I mean, I know how you feel about her, but isn't it time to face reality?"

"What would you know about facing reality?"

"What the hell kinda question is that?" Well, this was going nowhere very quickly. "Look, don't you think I'd know something about losing somebody you care about?"

"Yeah, I guess so," he wouldn't look at me anymore, which made it considerably easier to talk to him.

I took a step back, "It just doesn't make any sense to me, why you're so completely obsessed with her that you don't see how incredibly..." I cut myself off there, deciding that what I was going to say would have been a bad idea.

My sudden silence got his attention unfortunately. "Incredibly what? Pathetic I am? That's what you were gonna say, isn't it? I know you've been wantin' to say it ever since you met me. You probably have said it, I don't remember." He walked over to me and stood in my face, his green eyes blazing through the darkness. "Let me tell you somethin', Anabeth Meyers. You ARE NOT allowed to feel sorry for me, got that? It doesn't matter what you say, it ain't gonna change anything. God, you've been a pain ever since you showed up here." With that, he started to turn and walk away, but I wasn't about to let him leave in triumph.

"Well, let me tell you something. I'm not something that happened to you, Spot. I'm not some accident that just happened to end up here, so don't talk to me like that." Suddenly I wanted to be as far away from him as possible, but I couldn't make my feet move. "Besides," my voice dropped, "I'm leavin' soon anyway."

Now I had his full attention. "What? Leavin'?"

"Yeah," I just couldn't keep the sarcasm out of my voice, "as in goin' away. As in not here anymore."

"But why?"

I couldn't exactly tell him that I was leaving New York because I was hopelessly infatuated with him, so I just made a vague excuse.

"Well... there's lots of reasons. But the main one is... I suppose I'm just not happy here, and I never will be. I mean, I've spent my entire life here, so I've had sixteen years to be miserable." I took a deep breath, "I guess the only thing that's missing is a reason to stay..."

He hadn't missed my implication at all, and I think I might have secretly been hoping that he wouldn't.

"Are you lookin' for one? A reason to stay, I mean."

The only option was to lie. "No..." I felt a lump forming in my throat. "And I don't think you're pathetic. At least, not entirely. So you didn't need to get angry with me."

Once again, he wouldn't look at me. "You don't understand, Anabeth, but I have to be angry. It convinces everybody else, and even me, that..." He paused, and glanced at me.

"That what?"

With a big sigh, he said quickly, "That I don't need anybody, especially anybody like you. Cause I don't, I never needed anybody, and nobody needs me, not really. All these guys think they need me to run their lives, but they don't, they never did." He shrugged and added, "So I guess neither of us really has any reason to be here, we just... are."

Spot took a step towards me, and I inhaled sharply and bit my tongue. God, I could hear myself screaming in my head to tell him how I felt, it was overpowering my senses. Staring up into his eyes, my legs were about to give out completely, and my breathing was shallow. I bit too hard on my tongue, and made the stupid mistake of opening my mouth.

"Please don't do that, Spot. Not now, don't talk to me like that, and for the love of God, don't look at me the way you do. I mean, you... you talk about us and it just reminds me of how I feel about you, even though I hate myself for feeling it. And you don't make it any easier by trying to make it look like we're in the same situation." I stopped, not sure whether or not I should say anything else.

He took a deep breath, raising his eyebrow curiously. "I think you may have missed my point-"

I cut him off quickly, "Well, then don't miss mine." I let out a breath that I hadn't noticed I'd been holding. "I..." I'd gotten this far, I might as well go ahead and tell him everything, so I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, almost choking on my words as they came out. "I don't understand it at all, but I know how I feel about you. And it really, really scares me, because I shouldn't be thinking it but you know when you just can't help but be completely... aware of something? I mean, the way you look at me, the way I can talk to you, the way you kissed me, it just... it scares me because, honestly, I'm not so sure that it's not what I really want. And I know it doesn't make any sense, but you're the reason I'm leaving, I have to get away from you. Cause this is so incredibly and... terrifyingly real, that I just can't help but run away from it. So please, please if you care about me at all like you said you do, even if it's just a little bit, don't try and make me say again that I love you. Cause this time I might just do something completely and utterly crazy... like mean it."