She remembered how the water felt, its icy grip almost suffocating the life from her lungs after she flung herself from the ship deck…she remembered seeing his face, feeling his touch, as he swam to her…His blue eye was wide on her face as he smiled in breathless disbelief.
She saw their faces; Jack, Mush, Race, David…Ira.
Her beloved Uncle and Aunt, the house filled with warmth and laughter as snow fell outside and the newsies slept on the floor and couches…she sat in front of the fireplace with him for hours that night, treasuring the way the firelight played on his handsome face.
Her mind refused to part from the dream as she slowly emerged, her fingers gripping the pillow under her head. She opened her eyes to the dim room, remembering where she was.
She slowly rose and crossed to the kitchen to make tea. It was the fourth time this week she'd stayed at Medda's, and the fourth time she'd woken from the same dream, the dream that broke her heart all over again.
She glanced at the clock over the oven. Eight in the morning. Her nerves gathered and tensed, remembering that today was the day…she needed to call Jack.
A light cut on behind her and she pulled a second cup from the cupboard as the kettle began to steam.
Medda rubbed her back gently. "Same dream, dear?"
Kat nodded.
"I didn't want to wake you before…you needed the sleep."
Kat shook her head, trying to smile as she looked at her friend. Her wild red curls were tamed by a silk scarf, and she was in her PJs: a worn Broadway Beauty and The Beast shirt and gold silk lounge pants.
Kat's attire was similar. After she'd drawn Kat a bubble bath last nigh, Medda had given her a Funny Girl t-shirt and pink fleece leggings. Despite the comfy PJS, she was still exhausted.
Medda looked tired too, but she smiled at Kat as she reached to tuck a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, grazing her cheek lovingly with her thumb..
They clutched their mugs as they sat side by side on a couch, watching the cold city outside, smoke and steam rising from chimneys and smokestacks.
Kat stared down at her tea cup and spoke softly, her voice as faint as the dim morning light.
"Do you…remember anything about your life?"
She saw Medda's head tilt and she looked up to meet her beautiful blue eyes.
"After Ira disappeared? After the guys…"
Medda took a deep breath and became pensive, her fingers tightening around the mug in her lap.
"Sometimes I get glimpses," she said, her voice suddenly sounding older. "Like remembering a dream half way through the day. Sometimes…I wonder if my grief was too much that my current subconscious fights not to remember, like self preservation."
Kat nodded, her hair swaying around her jaw. Yes, that's exactly how it feels.
Sometimes she wanted to remember, sometimes the memories were like shadows in the corner of her eyes, shapeless. She thought about the newspapers in the box in the corner behind Medda's couch…and she found herself not wanting to remember at all.
She remembered her Grandmother coming back for her and taking her home to England, after Kid and the guys…She knew she had never married.
"This time will be different."
Kat looked back to Medda's timeless face. "You believe that?"
Medda sighed and nodded. "I have to. Just as you will finally study art in France."
Kat sipped her tea to hide the shaking in her hands.
She thought of him -
Suddenly her mug was taken away and Medda knelt in front of her, reaching up to wipe Kat's cheeks.
She no longer felt the tears streaming down her face, as if they had become a part of her.
"Kat," Medda said softly.
She couldn't hold it off – it was the same routine once her emotions reached out, like fingers constricting around her heart. Her chest seized, the image of Kid Blink smiling behind her eyelids, unable to escape the pain–
"I want to believe as you do," she gasped, shaking her head. "I want to believe Kid is somewhere inside him – that heartless cold body. I want to believe things will be different than last time – that maybe a happy ending is possible. B-but I can't seem to convince my broken heart that it will beat again. That he'll wake and escape this nightmare – that he'll know who I am."
Medda wrapped her arms around the young woman and brought her to her chest as she sobbed softly. After a few moments, she pulled away, shaking her head dejectedly.
"I'm so tired, Medda – but my dreams are the only time I can see him and hear his voice…I'm trying to be strong, for Jack and for the others…perhaps it's why I've been hiding away here, to hide my fear –"
"Shhh," Medda sat close to her and put her arm around Kat's shoulders, rocking her and stroking her bobbed hair. "Don't fight it, dear. The guys understand…they need to be strong for you, too. Today is a big day… I'm afraid too, for Tiffany."
Kat shook her head as she pulled away from Medda. "How can I be so selfish, when she's the one risking her life?" Kat's eyes dropped to Medda's cats, Jack and Kid, curled up together on the other couch. "...all over again."
Medda's troubled eyes focused on Kat's face. "Because she isn't the only one in danger…and we see that. I wish I had the words, I wish I had the power to protect you all, I wish I could tell you everything will be alright - but with so many moving pieces and uncertainty…"
Medda's eyes searched Kat's and became thoughtful.
"...I remember when we saved her from the Underground," Medda whispered.
Kat watched as Medda's gaze changed, seeing her own shadows pass behind her bright eyes. Chills ran down Kat's spine…none of them ever talked about what had happened to Ira. She knew it was difficult for Jack, but especially for Medda.
Medda's voice was soft and quiet as if she feared waking a beast. "She was broken and scarred, traumatized. Her PSTD was… severe. There wasn't a name for it back then, not even for the boys who came home from war. She suffered daily and no one knew how to help her. I'm afraid for Tiffany not only because she's standing up to darkness again…but because I don't want her to remember the darkness that swallowed her before."
"What happens when she does remember?" Kat asked softly. "...what happens when she sees Jazzi and –"
Medda shook her head, her eyes glinting with tears. She couldn't imagine the strong young woman speaking in a Russian accent, couldn't imagine her warm blue eyes turning cold and distrusting… The hurt that had once controlled her returning to the bright young woman she saw dancing on a stage at NYU - the young woman she saw backstage with Jack… "I wish I knew."
Kat sighed, but Medda's hand lifted her chin.
"One step at a time," Medda whispered. "Tonight, you'll be by my side every moment as my assistant. Nothing will happen to you."
Kat shook her head, thinking of Jack, of Tiffany, of the hundreds of women she was trying to save, to serve justice.
Her voice was timid, afraid of giving her fears a voice. "It's not me I'm worried about."
Medda's gaze was steely, nodding numbly. "You and I have the hardest task: we have to watch, and wait…and pray."
Mush sighed again as he put his phone back on his nightstand. Still no word from Honey. He guessed he shouldn't be surprised, but still, he hoped. He went out to the living room where the guys were pouring over battery packs, earpieces, and a packet of papers, their voices fast and talking over each other.
"'ey don't get tha pages outta order, we gotta know what we're doin' –"
"We don't know what we're doin' –"
"Can tha negativity, wiseass."
"This stuff must'ah cost a fortune."
"How is this supposed ta fit in me ear?"
"Tha oth'ah way, numbnuts."
"Does this mean we've started our training for the feds?" Specs asked with a bright grin.
Mush looked over to the other bedroom, seeing Jack emerge the same time he did.
"Where's David?" Jack asked the room.
"Left for work before any of us bums were awake," Spot replied from the desk chair, his feet propped on the desk as he looked over the mission papers from Denton. His suspenders hung limply at his sides, his shirt sleeves rolled up. "Grab a donut - he left 'em for us in tha kitchen. Seein' as I'm takin' tha day off from my busy work schedule ta look after you lot, David did me a solid."
The guys made incredulous noises but Jack grinned at Spot as he crossed to the kitchen, seeing Mush.
Jack clapped Mush's shoulder. "Today's tha day."
Mush exhaled in a huff.
"I know."
"'ey, try not ta lose the merch, 'kay?" Spot said irritably as he leaned back in the computer chair, his feet crossed on the desk as he looked over the papers in his hands, instructions from Denton. "'s on loan, knuckleheads."
"Is this two-way communication?" Boots asked as he stuck an earpiece in his ear.
"No, only mine and Jack's," Spot said without looking up. "Can't have you idiots muckin' up the whole operation –"
"What ya mean 'muckin' up'?!" Snoddy shouted obnoxiously.
Boots fired a pillow at Spot from across the room and the guys laughed and dodged as Spot flew over the couch to catch Boots in a chokehold.
"A'right, a'right, we won't muck it up."
Spot shoved Boots away. "Jus' jokin', they're all two-way. We gotta have each other's backs, fellas. Denton knows best."
"To our man, Denton."
Mush saw Jack cross silently to David's desk, picking up the packet of papers. He'd read them about twelve times last night before turning in, but Mush knew he must've been feeling nervous about forgetting something.
He glanced at the microwave clock: ten o'clock..
"Jack, what time did Steve say ta be at the dance hall by?".
"Three," Jack said without looking up, his donut untouched in his hand. "Let's get ready fellas - I promised the boss man we'd be dressed to impress."
The guys leaped into action and Mush went to Jack's side to read over his shoulder. Spot sat on the back of the couch, eating his third donut.
16:00: Winter Gala in the Dance Hall, Sparrow with Tiger
17:40: Sparrow and Tiger fly to dressing rooms in the arena, prepare for showcase
19:00: Final performance, Sparrow stays backstage
Racetrack came around and snorted from behind Mush. "They actually plan stuff like this, with code names?"
Spot smirked. "Pretty sure they gave us the 'dumbed down' version when they heard you'd be on the case."
Racetrack shoved Spot onto the couch, Spot's laughter filling the room.
"So we follow the Sparrow," Mush murmured to Jack.
Jack said nothing as he flipped to the beginning and read everything again.
As they all busied themselves with mini workouts with Jack's weight set, picked out their clothes and suits, and shaved, their minds raced. Their hearts seemed to beat faster. Jitters made their legs move even when standing still.
Spot's good humor fell when he was alone in the shower, aching for Jade, wanting to know she was alright… He tried his best to keep the guys alert and laughing, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't worried about tonight. Nervous as a damn cat. His brow furrowed as he went over the feds' plan again and again in his head…Too many questions for Denton were swirling in his head, wondering if he'd get the chance to ask them before this shitstorm went down.
As the guys got ready, Jack stole to the roof again. It felt like the only place he could really breathe, but the cold winter wind tightened his chest as it flew over him. Heavy gray clouds hung above the city, threatening them with more snow.
He stuck his hands in his sweatshirt, his brow knitted as he listened to the car horns and Latin music playing from the apartment below him. He could smell food from their pub on the corner, corned beef and shepherd's pie.
He wondered how Tiffany was doing this morning; if she was eating breakfast, if she was nervous. He couldn't imagine that - but he knew he was nervous at the thought of finally seeing her again. He wondered if she'd see him differently after so many long days, weeks, apart.
Last night, as he lay wide awake in bed listening to David's light snoring, he allowed his thoughts to wander back, back…back to when he and Ira fought like wild animals, when she threw things, shouted, fought him tooth and nail, woke in the middle of the night screaming. And how he had responded to it all…
He'd been so angry. Impatient. Selfish.
Knowing he'd never fall asleep, he'd reached for his phone, the screen brightening the room and blinding him. He usually resisted looking at photos of her, to keep his heart from aching, but last night he looked through every photo she'd sent him before the Wilks had taken her.
Smiling sleepily in a dressing room mirror, her long hair in a messy bun. A video of her walking to class, blowing him a kiss. A clip Honey had taken of her dancing, practicing her pirouettes, her skin gleaming with sweat as she gave her all to every execution.
He thought about when he'd been in her room for the first time, almost two months ago, glimpsing into her private life. When he gazed at her face next to his on her bed, talking about life. The way she smiled, the way her eyes flared, the way she looked at him. The sound of her voice, the feel of her breath on his face as she leaned closer.
The burning intimacy, the humming between them vibrating like a live wire as they laughed and kissed and consumed each other in the balcony at The Lincoln Center.
He realized in the early hours of the morning, after scrolling through her bright colorful beautiful photos and the memories of her in his head, that his biggest regret wasn't just that he hadn't found her again when she'd disappeared for the final time… but how he'd treated her after she came home from the Underground. How impatient and blind he'd been when she had needed him most.
It first occurred to him in his jailcell before he'd been murdered. And it crossed his mind every day they were apart in this life.
He couldn't imagine being the same Jack Kelly as before. Not with her, not now.
Seeing her smile and sparkling eyes on his phone… He realized she deserved better, much better. And he hoped he'd have the chance this time to give it to her.
He was pulled from his thoughts as the sun suddenly broke through the clouds, brightening the city. He took a deep breath, huffing it out as he watched it disappear.
He didn't bring himself to hope to talk with her tonight, to feel her. To make sure she was safe. But he knew that when he did see her, he'd do everything he could to do what needed to be done.
I hope you know what you're doing, Denton.
He scowled at the city across the bay.
Would tonight be the end of this nightmare or just the beginning of another one?
Jazzi watched Tiffany closely as she escorted her from class to class, seeing the way her eyes stared ahead, focused but avoiding. She had somehow maintained A's in all her classes, cramming late into the night in the hotel room and during car rides to and from campus, preparing for her exams this week, distracting herself. She excelled and nailed her final projects.
Jazzi wouldn't show it, but beneath her cold exterior, she was proud. But guilt stalked her, for pushing her so hard, perhaps to keep her from falling apart. She could hear Tiffany's mother's voice: Tiffany always needs an outlet.
She kicked herself for slapping her last night…but she was tired of watching her step more and more out of line, especially when they had gotten so close. She wondered if she was the one falling apart.
Jade and Kiki approached them as they entered the arena, their eyes cold on Jazzi as they murmured to Tiffany and rubbed her shoulders. The place was filled with crews preparing a stage at one end and laying down wooden floor panels across the expanse of the arena ground level. Chairs were lined along the edges with name cards on the seats.
News coverage, talent scouts, celebrities.
Jazzi took a deep breath and fought to keep her face straight as Tyler ran across the floor to Tiffany. She knew her scowl showed, but Tyler paid her no mind.
In a huddle, Tyler hugged Tiffany while Jade and Kiki talked about lighting, sound, dressing rooms, and the studios.
Jazzi noticed the way Tiffany's back straightened, her attention lifting, at the mention of the studios. The way they all exchanged the same look with Tiffany, the same knowing. The possibility of seeing –
"We have to get going," Jazzi said loudly, breaking into their reverie. "The gala is in three hours. You all need to prepare."
Tyler's hand stroked Tiffany's arm, and she laid her head on his shoulder. Kiki said nothing as she hugged Tiffany and left for the sound booth through a side door across the floor.
"So, we'll meet back here around four, yeah?" Jade asked as if Jazzi weren't there. "Do you need anything before the gala? Coffee?"
Jazzi glanced down at Tiffany's shaking hands. "She doesn't need any more caffeine."
Jade glared at her.
Tiffany gave her a small smile, straightening a little. "I'll be fine."
As Jazzi lead Tiffany away to the dressing rooms, before they were out of earshot, she heard Tyler's voice: "...does she know?"
Jazzi glanced over her shoulder, seeing the tight headshake Jade gave him before glaring at Jazzi's back.
Jazzi's jaw tightened and she glanced down at Tiffany's stoic face.
She showed Tiffany her dressing area; a long mirror and a countertop were divided into sections by tape, and makeup and hair products, replacement hose, bobby pins, extra buttons and sequins in jars, and body tape were sprinkled across the flat surface like it was New York Fashion Week. The thrills of a performance day.
Tiffany's deep emerald costume hung among the others with her name on it.
Jazzi couldn't understand why Tiffany regarded it as if she'd never seen it before.
At the hotel, Jazzi hid her nerves as she helped Tiffany dress in an ice-blue, body-hugging, strapless crystal gown. Her ears and neck were heavy with the diamonds Phillip had given her. Despite the dull numbness in her face, her beautiful watery eyes gleamed like stars.
Jazzi helped her into her four-inch heels.
"You will be wonderful tonight," she tried to say in encouragement. She stood and looked her over… She looked like a movie star, her perfect makeup ready and primed for more once they were backstage for the showcase.
"Just be casual and let him parade you around at the gala…" Jazzi sighed, reaching out to touch her. It was like looking at her little sister before sending her into a den of wolves.
But there was something that glinted in Tiffany's eyes…defiance? Resentment?
She supposed it was deserved. Why should they pretend anymore?
Why should she pretend that their relationship would be the same as before?
It was part of the stakes, the risk, the cost.
She thought of Tiffany's mother – wishing more than anything she could talk with her, one more time.
How can I save her? I couldn't before –
Tiffany turned from her and walked out of the hotel room.
