She stood on the balcony, overlooking the dark street, which was still buzzing with latent activity. Her long, brown hair trailed down her back, unrestrained by a bun or net. From her meditative perch, she could see the New York City Department of Public Charities and the Christian Herald Press Room. The area she was rooming in was just off of Main Street, where the noisy, suffocating factories and streets resided. The surrounding buildings were once red brick structures, but were charred brown and black with decay over the past century.

It was humid and breezy, and she had kept the balcony door open, for she could barely breathe with it closed. She thought about the day, but her thoughts continually wound themselves back to what Jack had said to her at dinner. She was looking for something, but for what reason she was looking for it, or exactly what it was, she wasn't certain. Her thoughts were an eddy of memories, nameless faces, loved ones she had left behind, her dreams, and snippets of conversation.

"Hello! Jo! Come over here. You too, Meg. It's dull as tombs around here."

"Can't you at least marry someone amusing?"

"We'll all grow up some day. We might as well know what we want."

"I am not afraid. I can be brave like you. But I know I shall be homesick for you, even in Heaven."

"I have loved you since the moment I clamped eyes on you. What could be more reasonable than to marry you?"

"Go, and embrace your liberty. And see what wonderful things come of it."

"If I weren't going to be a writer I'd go to New York and pursue the stage. Are you shocked?... "Very."

The moon was milky-silver, and she could make out the endless rows of buildings and layers of skyscrapers until the edge of the water, and the slope of the Brooklyn Bridge looming far away. She was in an alien location- everything was fast and hard, always moving and rushing by, a far cry from sweet, still Concord- which seemed only to consist of her and her family, and their moments.

"Penny for your thoughts."

She turned.

The smooth, husky voice of something dangerous and familiar cut through her misery and pain, attracting all her attention. Someone was partially concealed in the shadows, the dappled moonlight revealing his face and shoulder. His wavy, dirty blonde hair obscured his eyes, a clear hazel. He was dressed simply in a pair of loose-fitting pants. His skin was flushed smooth and tan, speckled light brown on his back with freckles from the sun. He appeared to have had trouble sleeping as well, for his eyes were enigmatic, dark, and yet patient. He had sharp, finely chiseled features, and thin, quiet lips. His presence halted all mental meandering, and she gulped.

"You might say that," she said, watching him. "You're Jack Kelly," she stated simply. "What are you doing here?" she asked warily. Some horses pulling carriages and wagons filled with supplies trotted by.

"I just wanted to check and see if you were all right," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Do you regret coming here?" She was astounded by his directness, but also found it appealing.

Like a picture gallery, the people she loved appeared in her mind. Marmee, the mother she wished could hold her right now, who had held her in the past as she cried on her shoulder. Beth, the sister who would always be with her one way or another. Amy, the beauty of their family, whose paintings she had put up on the walls of her room here. Meg, and her family, and their sunshine. Laurie, who promised to always be there for her, and love her, in his own way. She shook her head to Jack.

"No, I don't. Concord, New Hampshire was my home for every day until yesterday," she said. "I don't regret it for a second."

He went and stood behind her. She could see the white beams of moonlights smoothing the edifices of the city. She could hear the hubbub of city life in the night, the restrained noise of the city slickers making their way home. They drank in the sight before them, knowing that in a few hours, the milky quietness would dissipate into the day.

Jo cleared her throat. "Where did you want to go?" she asked suddenly.

"What?"

"If you had the opportunity to leave New York, where would you want to go?" As she said this, she rotated slightly, her eyes gazing into his. He was several inches taller than she was, so she had to tilt her head upward to see his face. But his hooded countenance and the ambiguity of his person precluded her every truly seeing his face at this time. And it wasn't because it was nighttime and the room was shrouded in shadow. There was a wall there, guarded by highly trained, loyal soldiers, who would do anything not to let something slip, even for just a moment.

"Santa Fe," he said neutrally. He almost said, "You ever heard of it?" as he said to anyone who inquired, but he realized that she probably had. Her intelligence could be spotted a mile away. It was all in the eyes, he noted. Her sharp, perceptive, gray eyes that noticed everything, except, perhaps, what was right in front of them.

"Cowboy, huh?" she asked mischievously. Jack grinned boyishly, blushing.

"You ever been there?" he asked.

"Never," she answered. "I should've gone a great many places. I should've been a great many things, I told someone once," she said simply, feeling suddenly increasingly vulnerable.

"It happens to the best of us," he replied in his signature ambiguity. "You just get locked in."

"Yes."

"But you're not," he pointed out.

"New Hampshire will always be calling me back," she admitted, turning to rest on the foot of the bed. There was a long pause before Jack spoke.

"Yeah, but will you answer?" he asked, looking up and meeting her eye to eye, probing her with something deeper than just a superficial challenge. The mystery still shone through in his eyes.

"I don't know," she admitted. She hated to be defenseless in front of him for some reason. Somehow he had found a way to sneak past her fortifications with his cocky charm still intact. He smiled slowly, and ever so slightly, grazed her arm with his fingers. Then he crossed in front of her and began to leave the room, as quietly as he had entered. "Wait, Jack," she said, feeling the part of the cotton where he had touched her. He turned sideways, giving her another glimpse of his sharp profile. Their eyes met again.

"Yeah?"

Jo lost her voice for a second.

"Never mind. Go to sleep."

She watched him walk back to his room without so much as another word or glance. Then she shut the door and fell asleep instantly.

"What do you think of her?" He took a slow drag of his cigarette before exhaling the smoke. He flattened the thing with the heel of his boot on the ground. The garish yellow light from the lamp above illuminated the small surface of street they talked under. The night seemed more peaceful than usual. There were only a few city-slickers mucking around.

"I like her."

"Me too," piped in another.

"I don't know. She's all right, I guess," the other said, shrugging off excess drink that dripped from his chin.

"She's got everyone in such a fix. They all went 'ga-ga' when they saw her," another said.

"Something about her though, you know? Something in her eyes."

"She's certainly got Jack into quite the head-lock."

"Yeah he was taken with her. But it's interesting; he usually goes for the easy ones. Like Jess, Tilly."

"Dana."

"Dana, thank you. Kate, Sarah...the list of conquests goes on."

"Sarah wasn't easy," the one with the drink said as he took another gulp. "She wouldn't have been schmoozed by just anyone."

"She melted into his charms like ice next to a fire. The Kelly charms. She's still taken with him, too. Even after years of this 'I need to find myself' shtick. She only said that to make him angry."

"I'm glad they finally figured out their feelings. Put us out of our misery. I hated being in the middle of it."

"Me too."

"She'll be back from Carolina soon."

"They're finally together again. Jack Kelly and Sarah Jacobs. The way it's meant to be."

On this note, everyone said a quick "Here, here". There was a long silence. One of their faces turned fearful, and he took a thorough drag of his cigar before speaking.

"When does Jack have to pay up?" he asked. The burden heaved onto them, and for a few minutes they forgot their joviality.

"The next couple of days. He'll be heading back to Brooklyn. Kingfish will want to speak to him. He'll have his head if he doesn't pay the one from last time, too."

"That wasn't his fault."

"Doesn't matter. Kingfish is the boss." This was the final word, as no one could dispute that fact. They took sips of their drinks, puffs of their cigarettes. Then the slouching forms of Spot Conlon, Itey, Ten-Pin, Snitch, and Racetrack stalked out of the lamplight and into the darkness.