Thank you FuschiaGrasshopper, FrostyAutumn, and Persephoniii for reviews!


It was Oswald's turn to be less than happy with recent events. The more successful the Burrow Boys were in disrupting Falcone's operations, the more puzzled Falcone became and the angrier. And Grady had yet to supply the plant in Falcone's operations they would frame for passing the information. If this went on much longer, the entire situation could erupt into something dangerous very quickly. But Grady seemed untroubled. She became happier the more heists the Boys pulled off despite their imminent demise at the hands of Falcone. Oswald was worried. He had trusted Grady with something very important, he realized. Had that been a mistake? She had proved several times she was capable of manipulating a situation before he realized what was happening.

They sat on the cold metal seats of the grandstand at the horse track. That was his other reason for being miserable. Not only was it freezing outside, but Oswald hated horse races. Despised them. But Grady had insisted they meet at the track.

Luckily the horses, steaming in the chill air were nearly loaded in the posts. The race itself would not last long. Grady was the picture of contentment, her feet up on the seats in front of her, sipping coffee. Oswald gave her a side long look. What are you up to Grady?...

She caught his glance. "What's eating you, anyway?"

"Nothing," he glared back at the horses. "It's just very cold out for all of this."

"Think how the horses feel. Here, have this," Grady handed him her coffee.

Oswald nearly spit in surprise when the bite of whiskey met his tongue.

"For god's sake Grady," he choked and handed it back.

"Well it's kept my cheeks rosy, hasn't it," she took another sip.

"What are we doing here anyway?" he demanded.

"Making money," she said, bouncing her legs to keep warm.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Races are a great way to pick up some cash. The races are fixed constantly, but once in awhile an opportunity comes along to sneak in on one. A Burrow boy paid me for some gear with the information on this one. The bet's just low enough to make some money, but just high enough to make it look like chance and not piss off whoever was meant to collect. Plus I just like to watch the horses. You've never tried getting in on any of this?"

"No," he said, face still stormy.

"Don't like the races then?" She tilted her head. Damn perceptive little thing. He didn't answer. "Come on," she nudged him with her knee. "I've told you a hundred things about me I didn't want to talk about."

"My father wasted ridiculous sums of money betting on horses. Unlike you, his bets were rarely well placed." He watched the last of the tall, long legged horses pick their way into the stall, the gate swinging shut behind.

"Your Dad's not around anymore..." Grady said, an unasked question on her face.

"Dead, thank goodness for mother and I. Although that's not how she see's it. You'll hear nothing but his praises from her." The post time announcements ringing loud through the mostly empty seating spared him further comment. Grady however, scooted right next to him to be heard over the noise.

"Mixed up in stuff like my Da was?" she asked.

Oswald shook his head. "He was ill."

"Dads can be real bastards," Grady declared. "At least you're in good company, eh?" She gave him a pat on the arm. The gates swung open and with a great thundering, the horses were off. They passed them faster than blinking leaving behind a bit of dust and the animal smell of sweat and manure.

"So this one, they've misled everyone into betting on Lady's Secret. That's the bay on the inside corner. But First Pilot coming up on the outside of the lead will be the winner. Or else that jockey on the chestnut will be very sorry..." Grady pointed. "This isn't nearly as fun when you know the outcome though..."

Oswald grunted. Already they were on the final stretch, at least it would be over soon. He hated the noise of the pattering hooves and the irritating commentary, sounds he couldn't forget if he tried.

"Well done First Pilot," Grady toasted the horse with her coffee while the commentator shouted about the upset although chances were, he was as aware of the fix as Grady. "I almost bet on one at the harness track just for fun, but I don't actually like leaving things to chance. You alright? You didn't have to come, I could have caught up with you later."

"I wanted to ask you about our inside man from the Burrow," he said, snapping out of his thoughts.

"That'll be sorted before too long," Grady said, apparently unconcerned.

"It has to be soon Grady. Falcone is going to move on this any day now. I don't think I've ever seen him so rattled. We could be in for a lot of trouble," he said, with a warning stare.

"Come round on Tuesday then," she said. "I'll have your man ready. Also I'll need to borrow that umbrella again."

He passed it to her without argument as the blade addition had already gotten him out of three scrapes. She took it and stood to go collect her winnings. "What are you doing with it now?" he asked.

"I'd rather it was a surprise. You'll like it as much as the last one though." She reached down and tousled his hair which was somehow very Grady-ish although she'd never done anything like it before. He was very unsettled. Was she taking the Falcone problem as serious as she needed too? Why was she so cheerful and flippant?

He stood up too, dark hair now sticking up even more than it usually was. The smirk and the flashing eyes. He hadn't liked it when the spark had gone out, she had left him feeling both overwhelmed and alone. But Grady with the spark returned, was clearly more dangerous. "You're smiling like you have this under control," he said. "But can I trust you, Grady?"

"Oh, you know better than that," she laughed. "Never," she bounced down the steps leaving him very annoyed.


"I'm happy for any job Grady, really I am!"

Oswald stood on the other side of the curtain, listening in on the shop where Grady was talking with their plant.

"It's not terribly exciting Jimmy. You'll be moving things for Mr. Falcone is all, when deliveries come in. But work hard, the right people notice, you might move on up. Think of it as entry level."

Oswald did not need to see the boy to know he was a bumbling idiot. You could hear the smile in his voice which was deep and suggested big and dumb.
"Well thanks again, Grady. I was in a tight spot what with Mr. Hannigan throwing me out and all. You're a real ace for landing me this."

Someone Pat Hannigan wouldn't miss. Well chosen on Grady's part. Oswald supposed he shouldn't have doubted her.

"Don't go thanking me yet," came Grady's voice and was that the sound of guilt he detected? Don't say another word Grady... "Wait until you start the job before you thank me. It'll be a lot of sweat, lifting, and elbow grease stuff."

"I don't mind, Grady. Truly." You could hear the fool beaming as he spoke.

"So you'll go find Dave Mackey at the warehouse tomorrow and he'll get you started? Clear on that?"

"Crystal. I won't be late. Thanks again Grade, maybe I can get you a drink or something sometime?" Oswald had to swallow laughter over how hopeful he sounded. Pathetic.

"Can't say no to that. Now good luck, Jimmy." She had let the boy down more gently than he expected but he could hear her rushing him out the door. After the thud and clatter of the door shutting, Oswald emerged from behind the curtain, chuckling.

"Oh come on," Grady groaned. "It isn't funny. It was far too easy. The poor oaf is as thick as a post. He'll be dead by Thursday, blabbing on to all creation about about how he was in with Hannigan, I'm sure."

"That's why it's so funny," Oswald snorted.

Grady gave him a swat on the arm. "Aye well, you've got no soul."

"Neither do you," Oswald laughed. "Leading the poor boy on like that."

"I did no such thing," Grady protested.

"I didn't even need to see him to know how taken he was with you," Oswald continued although Grady now hit him with a newspaper. "Smiley little Grady leading him to his doom, never knowing how dangerous she could be."

"Dangerous is right," she delivered a final thump with the newspaper. "I need fresh air."


They didn't stray far from the shop as it was still very cold. An ice storm from the previous night made the Burrow, usually a cramped, dull, dirty place sparkle in the sunlight. They wandered a narrow brick street still strung with lights although Christmas had passed.

"What did you do on Christmas?" Oswald asked.

"Hung around the pub with the only family I've got left and all the other layabouts," she shrugged. "Had a nasty eggnog concoction and we all played carols. Crazy Sweeney never leaves that pub and can't string a sentence together but you'll never hear a more brilliant fiddle player."

"I would have stopped down, but mother wouldn't have liked it." He had caught himself wondering that night if Grady even knew it was Christmas. He'd imagined she'd worked straight through it, losing track of time like she usually did.

"Ma still doesn't like me, huh?"

"I try not to mention you to spare myself the headache, but she does notice my long absences," Oswald said. "It's nothing personal. She can't bear the thought of me leaving. She needs me."

Grady made no comment. Oswald glanced at her but her face was neutral of expression. "I know some people find it strange that I still live with my mother, but she has no one else," he explained, his ears warm.

"Oh, I didn't find it anything," Grady said. "I don't know what mother's are supposed to act like. I've never had one."

"You have one somewhere," he raised an eyebrow.

"Well, no I didn't come from nowhere," she laughed. "But I was very young when she took off to who knows where. Can't say as I blame her."

"You don't remember her?"

Grady squinted. "Just a bit. I remember it raining and wearing yellow boots. A lady bounced me up and down in a puddle and spun me around. I remember red hair. And cigarettes. She must have smoked because I remember the smell. That's all though. Don't know her name, Da wouldn't speak of her. I asked once and he gave me swat on the mouth and wouldn't let me bring it up again. Anyway..."

She reached up to touch a scratch on Oswald's cheek, her fingers surprisingly warm in the cold air. "Where'd that come from?"

"Fish," he frowned.

"Why can't you leave her well enough alone?" Grady sighed.

"I just can't," he said. "She mocks me."

"Mocks you how?"

"By simply existing," he growled. "She refuses to take me seriously. But that won't last long."

"Oy! Grady!" shouted a voice behind them. Oswald whirled around but Grady stayed put.

"Bollocks," she mumbled before turning around. "Alright?" she called to him.

A big man with a grey scally cap bore down on them from the end of the alley.

"I want to know how you got a cut in that horse race," he demanded.

"Easy Ronnie. You know I can't tell you that. You know how I work," she said, raising her hands in an innocent gesture.

"I do know how you work and I don't care. I want to know who sold me out," Ronnie shouted.

"And what makes you think I'll tell you that," Grady said, now much less friendly than she was a moment ago.

"Because I'm a lot bigger than you and from the looks of it, that friend of yours too." He had almost caught up with them now.

"Just tell him Grady. What does it matter to you?" Oswald mumbled.

"Because people don't get what they want when they don't ask nicely," Grady said loudly enough for Ronnie to hear. "Especially stupid bloody idiots like him."

"Alright bitch, you're going to hand over what you cheated me out of in that bet," Ronnie roared.

"There's no call for rudeness," Oswald said, trying to hide the edge of panic in his voice.

"Take out the umbrella," Grady muttered. And Oswald raised it as she said, just now realizing she hadn't shown him what she had done to modify it. Ronnie was jogging now and nearly upon them.

"Twist the handle," she instructed.

A burst of pale smoke and sparks erupted from the end of the umbrella. Grady yanked his arm and they ran down the alley, leaving a murk of smoke and a cursing Ronnie behind them. Oswald couldn't move very fast with his limp but Grady tugged him through a strange alcove, led him through the back door of a pub, and they emerged on a street not far from the clock shop.

"Neat, eh?" she tapped the umbrella.

"Yes, very good," Oswald panted. "But Grady, he'll just come looking for you at the shop."

"He wouldn't dare come in the shop. They all know better than that," she said. But she didn't meet his eyes. There was something she wasn't telling him.