New York City, 1902

Lower Manhattan

Hannah's Boarding House

Bolt jerked awake, his heart pounding from his steady nightmares. He grimaced at the crick in his neck, lifting a tired hand to rub his sore muscles. He'd fallen asleep sitting up, leaning against the front of the boarding house where the Evans sisters lived. Squinting up, Bolt tried to gauge how long he had slept. His eyes were met with a light gray sky, tinged with bits of pink and purple. Just after sunrise, then.

Bolt stood, wincing at the stiffness in his legs and back as he did so. He glanced up and down the street, which was just beginning to fill with people as the city came to life. Leaning back against the brick wall of the building, he turned the events of the past night over in his head. He'd gone over them time and time again before sleep had claimed him, and he still couldn't make sense of it.

He had come to one certain conclusion. Conners wanted more than just a thrown fight from him. The question was what? How could he care so much about one measly fighter? It wasn't as if Bolt had personally thrown him in jail, he had Judge Porter to thank for that fate. Unless there was something Bolt was missing. He leaned his head back against the brick wall, calling up the memory of that night, his last fight.

New York City, 1897

Brooklyn,

The Glass Factory

"So, Porter's here, huh?" Bolt asked, stopping next to Spot in a hallway just outside of the main room. The fight wouldn't officially begin for a few more minutes, and people were still milling about, some trying to claim what few seats were scattered around the place.

"Yeah, he's here," Spot answered absently, eyeing the crowd. "So what, this isn't the first match he's shown up at."

"Yeah. I know." Bolt knew it wasn't the first match the Judge had attended. It also wasn't the first match where he'd been given a note; hand carried by one of Conners' own message boys. A note with implicit instruction to throw a fight. They were always detailed, telling him exactly when to take a hit, when to go down, and when to stay down.

The fact that these notes and the Judge's visit seemed to coincide left him with an uneasy feeling in his gut. The judge was sure to pick up on it soon, he wasn't stupid. He knew Spot was bound to catch on, too, especially if Conners kept asking him to throw fights with people he was so much better than. He was torn between telling Spot the truth, and just keeping it to himself; because when it came right down to it, there was nothing Spot could do. Conners was just as much Spot's boss as he was Bolt's and if the boss said to throw a fight, then that's what you did. The problem was, the more Bolt lost, the more money they lost, and he knew Spot wouldn't be able to stand for that. He'd probably do something stupid, like confront Conners, and get himself killed.

"Hey you in there?" Spot asked, irritation in his voice as he snapped his fingers right in front of Bolt's face, "Get it together and get out there, North aint gonna wait forever."

Bolt shook his head as if to clear it from the bothersome thoughts, "Right. Sorry—"

"Well, don't apologize, just go!" Spot said; an ill hid smirk of amusement on his face, as he shoved Bolt forward.

With that Bolt was moving, threading through the crowd that either cheered or booed him, he made his way to the ring. He also made his way to a decision, setting his jaw in determination. Tonight would be his last fight. He'd been wanting to leave the Glass Factory for too long now, and it was time he actually made it happen… and Conners could forget a thrown fight, he wasn't going to duck out on Spot that way. He'd win, make his friend a good handful of money, and then book it out of there. If he was lucky he'd be able to stay out of Conners' way. After all, surely the gang leader had bigger things to worry about than a simple fight.

His decision made, Bolt fought like the fighter he'd become. His jabs and hooks rained down on North faster than he had time to register them. Not surprisingly, Bolt won the match in record time, and quickly ducked out of the ring, for once thankful for the crowd of bodies that would give him a good cover for escaping the warehouse before anyone caught up with him.

And then he was gone. Just like that, the fighter known as Bolt disappeared from the ring.

New York City, 1902

Lower Manhattan

Hannah's Boarding House

The door of the boarding house swung open, and Bolt was pulled from his memories, coming face to face with Elisabeth.

"Elisabeth," he greeted, startling the girl.

She whipped around to face him, hand over her heart as if she'd received a sudden shock. "Elijah! Have you seen her? Do you know where she is?"

"What?" Bolt questioned, caught off guard by Elisabeth's frantic questions, "Know where who—" Suddenly it struck him, and he took hold of Elisabeth's shoulders, panic settling in his eyes, "Ellie, where's Hannah? Where is she?"

For once Elisabeth didn't have a snobby retort ready; instead she just stared at him, shaking her head silently. Her eyes were filled with tears when she finally found her voice again, "I don't know. She never came home last night! First that brick through the window at Avery's and now this… Elijah, you tell me right now! What is going on?! What have you done, I know it must be you, I knew you were no good—"

Elijah's grip on her shoulders tightened a little and he gave her a gentle shake, silencing her tirade. Having Elisabeth Evans panicking wasn't going to help anybody.

"Listen to me, Ellie," He said, making her meet his gaze, and attempting to keep his voice calm, even though on the inside he was feeling about the same as she looked, "you've gotta go back inside. I mean it. Go back up to your room, and stay there, you hear me?"

Elisabeth was already shaking her head, "I can't! If I don't show up for work, Judge Porter will fire me!"

"Ju—You work for Judge Porter?" Elisabeth continued to stare at him, eyes widened in fear. He shook his head, releasing her shoulders finally, but keeping his eyes glued on hers. He spoke fast, hoping the girl would be able to understand what he was saying, "Never mind, it doesn't matter. Go straight there then. Don't stop for nobody, no matter what they say, you got me? And don't leave by yourself, I'll send somebody down there to walk you home. What time do you get off?"

"Four. But what about Hannah?" Elisabeth's uncertainty made her voice sound small… childlike, and Elijah forced out a small breath, trying to calm himself. There was no need to get Elisabeth worked up, after all, it could be nothing.

"Don't worry about her, I'll find her. I'm sure she's got a good explanation for not coming home last night." Elijah waited until he received a doubtful nod from Elisabeth before releasing her shoulders and taking off at a run, weaving through the crowded street with ease.

Elisabeth watched him run off, her feet frozen to the steps. She was startled out of her reverie when the door swung open behind her, striking her back and almost pushing her off the small porch.

"Oh! I'm sorry dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Brennen, "but you really shouldn't be standing there, people need to get out!" She eyed Elisabeth suspiciously for a moment, "You know, dear, I didn't hear young Miss Evans come in last night, and I daresay she hasn't left this morning… I don't suppose it's any of my business, but it's really not proper for her to be out all night—and that young man! I can't—"

"No, Mrs. Brennen. It isn't any of your business," Elisabeth interrupted her sharply, her blue eyes snapping as she fixed the old landlady with a cool stare, "And if you'll excuse me, I must be going. Good day, Mrs. Brennen."

"Well I never!" Mrs. Brennen exclaimed, her eyes widened, and her pale cheeks an interesting shade of red.

Elisabeth offered a curt nod, before turning on her heel, and leaving the old lady to figure out what had just happened. She smiled grimly to herself as she walked to the courthouse, Hannah would have been shocked if she had heard the way her sister had just spoken to Mrs. Brennen. As far as Elisabeth was concerned, she could lecture her sister on her questionable social habits until she was blue in the face, but far be it for anyone else to try it.

How Elisabeth even made it to the courthouse that morning was beyond her. So lost in her thoughts, she was almost surprised when her feet found the courthouse steps. She climbed them slowly, all the while becoming more and more worried for Hannah. She hadn't noticed it at the time—she'd been so worried in her own right—but now she'd had time to absorb the events of the morning, and she was even more concerned, if that was even possible. Elijah had definitely been acting strange—stranger than usual. And asking her to stay at work until he sent someone to walk her home… it was just ridiculous.

Elisabeth paused as she reached the massive front doors of the courthouse, mulling over it. What had her little sister gotten herself into?

A heavy hand fell on her shoulder, causing her to jump; a startled scream escaping her lips before she could stop it.

"Miss Evans?"

Elisabeth turned slowly, her hand on her chest as if that should somehow still the wild beating of her heart. "Oh, Judge Porter!" she exclaimed when she recognized the man, "You gave me a fright!" Elisabeth tried to laugh, but it came out shaky and unsure.

"My apologies, Miss Evans. Are you well? You look a mite pale, if it isn't too rude of me to say so." The question was uncharacteristic of the older man, and Elisabeth hesitated a moment before answering him. Judge Porter was known as a strict man, he dealt roughly with the criminals that came into his courtroom, and treated his staff with the same regard.

"Yes, sir, of course," Elisabeth stammered finally, still attempting to regain her poise, "Just startled, sir, that's all."

"Very well, then." The judge replied, nodding, "the files on the Conners case. I left them back in my home office. Pick them up for me, and bring them here. Be quick about it, I need them before ten."

Elisabeth hesitated, her mind replaying Elijah's instructions. Don't leave by yourself, I'll send somebody down there to walk you home.

"Well then?" Judge Porter asked, raising his eyebrows at her hesitation.

"Oh… Yes, of course, Judge. I'll be back before ten," Elisabeth replied, forcing a tight smile. Judge Porter nodded and was gone, disappearing through the large doors. Elisabeth bit her lip, casting her glance down the street. It wasn't like she really had a choice, she reassured herself, he was her boss, and she had to do what he told her to.

((A/N- What?? An Author's note from me?! I know, shocker, right? Well, I just wanted to say sorry for the spastic updates... I'm taking 16 credits this summer, and most of them are in this six week session (which means each class is four hours long, and I have... let's see, five papers due within the next four weeks? Maybe six, I can't remember. Anyways, needless to say, it's slowing me down a bit. Good news though, I do have the rest of the fic plotted out, and I'm guessing we have about ten more chapters remaining before I finish (and that's including an epilogue) A huge thanks to everyone who's been reviewing this! You have no idea how happy it makes me, and also how much it inspires me to get crackin' on the next chapter! And a special thanks to Morning Glory, Stress and Keza, who have faithfully reviewed every chapter, you guys rock! Ok, I'll shut up now. Thanks for reading!))