"So are we just gonna sit heah an' wait fer him to do somethin'?"

The question Jack Kelly posed required much thought on Spot Conlon's behalf. As they sat in the living room, Noah squirming considerably on his father's lap, Jack eyed the former Brooklyn ruler who used to be so good at strategizing. It seemed nowadays he was distracted but many other things and was not paying appropriate attention to the situation at hand.

"Well, I haven't really thought about that, to tell ya the truth, Jack." Spot pulled up Noah by his arms and brought him back down in a swooshing fashion, thus enticing the infant to erupt in a fit of giggles.

"I mean, it's been a long time since Salvini did anythin' to me anyway…" trailed Spot, much to the frustration of Jack. "I think he was just messin' with me, in some way. Nothin's happened over in Brooklyn so far, either. I've kinda let it pass."

"Race hasn't said anythin' to you either? Hasn't seen Salvini at the Social Club lately?"

"No, which is another reason I ain't as concerned as I was before. Gabby an' I were about to pack up an' leave about a month ago, but I told her we'd wait it out a couple 'a days. I didn't wanna just run away." He took Noah by the arms again and set him standing straight up on the floor. Ambitious, Spot let go of his child's arms only to watch him lose his balance and fall right on his butt.

"Yeah, she didn't like hearin' that too much, but we waited and nothin' happened. Honestly, nothin's happened to me since the last time I saw Salvini at the Club."

Jack nodded and sat back in his chair. Gabby and Sarah moved quickly about the kitchen, preparing dinner and cooking up a storm. From where Jack sat, Spot maybe was right. Gabby did not look particularly alarmed or under a tremendous amount of stress. She chatted constantly with Sarah over things which did not really hold much purpose and the two laughed between conversations. Even so, Jack couldn't shake the memory of the time he and Gabby were in the market and a boy Spot's age was killed.

The door produced a round of knocks and Spot promptly set Noah on Jack's lap. He opened the door and greeted Bolt with a grateful hug. In truth, it had been a while since the two had seen each other as well; the last time they had met up was the time of the fire in Brooklyn.

"Before I come in, can we talk outside real quick?" inquired Bolt.

Spot hesitated, calculating the possibilities of what the two were to talk about. He pulled the door shut and they walked to the end of the hallway.

"So, we got Queens outta Brooklyn fer good," informed Bolt. The boy, who had gained a much-needed amount of weight, pressed his lips together as if trying not to burst with pride. "Took some 'a my guys, walked right into Queens, had a friendly lil' chat, some 'a them got a few fingers broken, but next day, no more Queens in Brooklyn."

Spot smiled proudly and nodded his head. He wasn't quite sure what to say, for he couldn't help but want to bust out a round of "I told you so." Instead, he shook Bolt's hand and they walked back into the apartment.

As they sat down to eat the hearty meal Gabby and Sarah had provided, Spot also couldn't help but think his life was actually back on track for a change. Salvini was starting to fade out of the picture, at least it had seemed so; Bolt was taking back Brooklyn; and he and Gabby were actually getting along. Things couldn't be better. It was as if he was starting to live a kind of life he had never had: normal.

But then, a round of knocks came to the door. Spot hopped up presently, after actually being polite and excusing himself, and made his way over. He couldn't rightly imagine who would be visiting them. He didn't foresee it to be a bearer of bad tidings or a messenger with some ill-fated message to bring him. However, as he opened the door, out of all people, he didn't expect to see:

"Kat."

The luscious, desirable blonde he had once kept to live out his fantasies stood in all her glory in his doorway. The dinner conversation did not stop even in his absence, yet he closed the door and stood narrowly with his back against it.

"Hey Spot," breathed Kat sensually. She blinked slowly, as if still in the daze he had last seen her in, all that time ago, and leaned her arm against the doorframe. Conveniently, the strap to her dress slid off her shoulder and her clothes seemed too fitted to be appropriate in the first place.

"Haven't seen you in a while, baby." Kat brought up her hand and glided it over the rough outline of his brow down to his jaw. The touch of her hand gave him goosebumps on the back of his neck.

"What're ya doin' here, Kat?" He took hold of her wrist gently and let it down from his face.

"So serious." Kat scrunched up her eyebrows in an exaggerated imitation of Spot and moved in, slowly, close to him. Spot grabbed the doorknob behind his back to prevent anyone from exiting his home.

"I think you an' I needa get together," whispered Kat, "I juss got some opium this afternoon and I couldn't help but think of you."

Kat was now so close to him that practically every inch of her was in contact with him. She pressed her body against his and spoke within an inch of his lips. Spot held the doorknob closer than ever and resisted the temptation that so willingly lay before him. Her lips touched his. But only for a second.

"No, Kat, I can't do this." He turned his head away and wiped his mouth.

"Yes, yes you can." She softly grabbed his face and turned her back toward her. "C'mon, one last time."

"Kat, please."

"I never got to properly say goodbye, Brooklyn," whispered Kat into his ear.

Spot let go of the doorknob and took hold of both her wrists. He set them down and moved her body away from his, saying, "Kat, you really do needa go. I gotta get back to dinner, okay?"

Kat grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, now with more force. A certain urgency gathered in her eye, and Spot had never registered that feeling to be within her before. He shook the thought away and turned away.

"Spot, you don't understand…"

"Jesus, Kat, we're done."

"You really have to come with me…"

"Goodbye Kat."

Kat then gripped his arm with alarming force and spun him around vehemently. Spot eyed her both curiously and on the verge of frustration. The dazed, tranquil, drugged out look her in her eyes was gone. Her speech was no longer slurred and there was a vivid tone of distress in her voice.

She grabbed a hold of both sides of his collar and looked him square in the eye. Slowly and urgently, she spoke, "I know about Johnny."

Spot felt his stomach drop but still felt utterly confused. Quickly, he responded, "What're you talkin' about?"

"Johnny Salvini. I know all about him, what's he's done, what he did to you, and…" Kat bit her lip and breathed rapidly now, "Spot, you need to come with me. I need to talk to you."

Spot felt there was something important to be discovered if he went with her. There was a moment of time when he couldn't register what the present time was telling him. But he listened to Kat and went with his instinct. He heard himself say:

"Let me get my coat. I'll be right back."