Tiffany tried to focus only on her breathing as they pulled up to campus. She' had taken her medications that morning but she felt dizzy. Everything was moving too fast.

In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through…

She went over her routine again in her head; the song transitions, her outfit changes - Jade would be lookout to make sure Jazzi didn't see her putting on her new costume.

Her fingers fidgeted with the ice-blue crystal beads of her gown before mimicking her routine across her thighs.

Full fan kick, three 360's, firebird leap…

She dropped her hand, ignoring Jazzi's heavy stare on her face, hoping - for once - she couldn't read her like a book. As she looked out the window to the snow swirling and switching directions in the harsh wind, her palms and armpits began to sweat.

The gravity of her routine was beginning to set in. In her head, it had sounded avant-garde, rebellious, a death blow.

But now, it sounded like the stupidest plan she'd ever heard.

She closed her eyes, fighting the feelings, the fear, the anxiety, all threatening to overtake her.

Breathe.

The campus was buzzing like a hive: camera crews from local news and entertainment networks were set up in front of the Dance Hall, others rushing in and out of the arena; assistants with passes around their necks and clipboards in their hands running around like they were on fire, directing hands and answering guests' questions; interns ran around with coffees as their scarves tangled around their heads. Dancers entered the side doors of the arena with duffle bags, bags of food, and water bottles, their faces prepped for makeup. Two hours til showtime.

As the escalade came to a stop in front of the Dance Hall, she turned and met Jazzi's scrutinizing brown eyes. There was no comfort to be found in their depths, because Jazzi looked just as nervous as she felt, her usual stone-like expression cracking as the bodyguards exited the driver and passenger seats to open their doors.

For an instant, Tiffany knew her, saw her. Joselyn. Though she looked paler than usual in her beautiful shimmering copper gown, she was dazzling. Next to each other, they looked like a crystal ball and a fiery comet.

Fitting, Tiffany thought with a small smirk.

Jazzi stared at her blankly, her eyes momentarily betraying the terror she felt.

Given what she was about to do in a few hours, Tiffany felt a sudden urge to amend what was left of their crumbling relationship. She took a deep breath as she reached for Joselyn's hand, squeezing it quickly and smiling timidly at her before turning and taking the driver's offered hand to step out of the escalade.

All she could do was hope Joselyn would forgive her one day after tonight was over. That she would see why she had to do this, that she would understand.

Even if I'm not here, she added numbly.

Forget getting expelled from school for explicit music choice and outfit, which she fully anticipated... but that was the least of her worries.

It was like Jade said to her as she tried to convince her there had to be another way: it was suicide.

As she sat wide awake on her bed last night, she'd finally fully accepted it. Almost without hesitation.

She had to push everything she held dear away - her home, the ocean, her career, her best friends, dance…Jack.

Because the cause was more important. It made her skin tingle and took her breath away to think of the hundreds of stories she'd learned at her mother's dance studio from young women and men…and the one story in particular that had always been too close – she couldn't ignore it.

She would die for it, for the truth.

They stepped out and cameras clicked and flashed in their faces as the freezing cold gripped their skin. Her curled hair was gathered on top of her head in an intricate bun, leaving her neck, back, and shoulders completely exposed. The diamonds on her collarbone suddenly bit her with their weight. But she hid her wince as they ascended the stairs to the Dance Hall lobby, Jazzi trailing behind her.

"Wingham, Miss Wingham! You're named NYU's top dancer, and one of the best dancers in the city: what are your plans after graduation?"

"Several artists are here tonight scouting for choreographers, who do you want to work with the most?"

"Who are you wearing, Tiffany?"

She stopped to speak with a few, smiling and keeping it light and short, confident. It still shocked her that none of them knew who she really was…would they after tonight?

She turned to the doors, walking tall with her shoulders back as she entered, and she told herself she was ready for whatever happened.

But when she stepped through the double doors and scanned the bodies in suits and gala gowns, she froze.

Her composure cracked and her heart constricted as she stared, suddenly forgetting everything she'd been playing in her mind over and over, everything she'd been preparing for. Everything stopped and came to a point - to him.

He stared at her too, his dark eyes glinting as they fixed on her face, seeing her as she stepped inside. The cold wind followed her in, but she felt warm, flustered, at the sight of Jack.

People wandered between them, talking and laughing as they explored the renovations, completely unaware she was falling through the floor as she stood completely still.

Her lips parted as she stared at him. She couldn't breathe.

She recognized the faces around him too, also secretly staring at her. Their gazes were sad but attentive on her face as they stood with their boss talking with patrons and professors, dressed in the suits they'd worn to the Black Diamond.

But she couldn't tear her eyes away from Jack, his strong face so wonderful and terrible to see at this moment after weeks apart.

Dressed in all black with his hair slicked back, he stood still as a statue, drawing gazes from a few of the guests who passed him as they felt the intensity radiating from him, like a burning star.

Her heart broke; she felt no joy to see them, to see him standing there, so close - fear cut through her like a cold knife, his beautiful image blurring as her eyes stung.

His jaw clenched, his gaze boring into her.

You're not supposed to be here, she shouted furiously in her mind. No no no -

Her heart was pounding away in her chest, like an animal trying to escape her ribcage, when a cold hand slithered up her spine and around the back of her neck.

She froze, mortified, and Jack's gaze became deadly. Enraged.

"Once again, you're the most beautiful woman in the room," Phillip said, his lips grazing her ear as his fingers tightened on her.

She could hear the interviewers from outside calling his name, her name, shouting questions as they pounced on their perceived 'intimacy'. She was surrounded by a cacophony of noise but all she could hear was roaring, like waves crashing over her.

She could feel the guys' fury pulsating toward them, filling the room.

She looked up to the bright vaulted ceiling, trying to stop tears from forming and falling down her cheeks. Her hatred for Phillip multiplied in that moment, hated him for exposing what she'd tried to keep hidden from them, from Jack - seeing her on his leash.

And she had to pretend they weren't even there. For their sake.

Within a millisecond, she inhaled and gathered herself, turning on Phillip. She looked up into his smoldering hazel eyes and guided him in the opposite direction, hoping he hadn't seen the guys in suits across the room.

She put her hand on his chest, his expensive Italian suit smooth under her fingers. "You shine up nicely too," she purred close to his face, his cologne filling her nose.

She had to keep playing the part and chase her nerves away. She feared he almost sensed her hesitation. But he gave her a satisfied smirk and walked with her.

Over his shoulder, she spied Jazzi; her eyes were crazed as they fixed on the guys, clearly surprised to see them there too. She almost looked afraid for them.

Tiffany risked another glance in their direction. Jack was gone.

She exhaled her emotions, pulled on her mask, and turned her full attention to Phillip.

For once, she did just as Jazzi instructed: she stayed at Phillip's side, her arm linked through his as he paraded her around, introduced her to city councilmen and the mayor, and spoke with members of the university board about donations.

"Smart match with this one, Miss Wingham."

"My, you two could rule the city!"

"We intend to," Phillip replied coolly, his hand low on her hip. They laughed, but the twinkle in his eyes froze her from the inside.

She smiled and laughed when prompted, enduring his glances and secret touches. She tried her best to follow conversations.

But her skin crawled. Her mind raced. She felt sick. She wanted to leave.

They had a small crowd following them as they meandered through the studios, eager to speak with Phillip about developments for the University without seeming too eager for his money. She heard them say her name, raving about her talent, how she had become such an asset to the program, drawing attention from celebrities and important New Yorkers, such as himself.

She hoped the cold sweat she felt didn't show, nor the tremble in her fingers.

"Of course," Phillip crooned as his hand caressed her bare back, his thumb trailing where her dress cut above her tailbone. "After all, she is the best."

She swallowed, smiling at him for a moment before spying Spot over his shoulder, lingering in the back. He seemed busy inspecting the floors until he glanced up, his sharp blue eyes piercing her.

Her eyes widened and she looked away, her throat constricting.

This wasn't supposed to happen. They weren't supposed to be here -

She allowed one more glance at him, and he gave her a sage nod.

Perhaps she wasn't the only one with a secret plan.


David tapped his thumbs impatiently on the steering wheel as he turned into the girls' neighborhood, hoping Honey was ready.

Hoping the photos he transferred from his office computer earlier this morning reached Denton in time.

Just what we needed, Denton said on the phone. But his voice was guarded, tight.

"I'm risking my job," David stated, almost to himself rather than Denton.

If I'm being completely honest, we all are.

David wiped his forehead. The hope and safety he'd felt with the guys last night had been fleeting.

Don't worry, David, Denton had said smoothly on the phone, masking his own fears. We've done this before, remember?

David inhaled and sighed loudly as he pulled up to the curb. Having an insider at the Feds had to count for something, right?

Honey startled him as she yanked the passenger door open and threw her backpack into the backseat. Her wide hazel eyes were bright and eager on him, her expression frantic, dark, and serious. Seemed like none of them had slept last night.

"We don't have much time," she prompted as she clicked her seatbelt and pulled her dark multi-colored wool scarf tight around her shoulders and neck. Her accented voice was fast and high-pitched, anxious in its Scottish lilt. "We need to be on campus in two hours and we cannot be late - I hope you know where you're going."

David lurched away from the curb and merged back into traffic, his foot heavy on the gas.

His eyes glinted in the light of the setting sun, breaking through the clouds for a moment as he headed towards the Brooklyn Bridge. "Like the back of my hand."

Her Dr Martens tapped the floorboard impatiently as he maneuvered through the throng of Friday night tourists, traffic, and bodies crossing the street at will. Christmas decorations and lights twinkled in every storefront and restaurant, Santas rang bells on the sidewalks, and people snapped photos as snow began to fall softly before turning into sludge in the gutters. It felt like they were inside one of the Christmas snow globes they sold to tourists.

No one did Christmas like NYC. But as cheer and merriment gathered and swirled everywhere around them like the falling snow, dread and worry haunted the car as David drove north, away from the rabble, toward the Newsstand Bookstore.

Honey's fingers tightened around each other, her nerves mirroring David's as they both glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes, too many thoughts to speak out loud. She surveyed the area, watching groups of friends laughing as they bought hot chocolate and coffee from street vendors, musicians playing cheerful notes into the cold air as night began to fall.

"So," Honey began slowly. "…were you a Newsie too?"

David glanced at her. He could practically see the questions swarming in her head.

She shrugged, "You just seem more…reserved."

David laughed in spite of himself and she relaxed a little.

"I was in school when I met the guys," David smiled a little as he thought back on happier memories. As he drove, even though the streets looked so different, the faces of buildings having been knocked down and rebuilt long ago, the path was the same. He passed the docks.

"I was an outsider, what they considered 'straightlaced'. None of them had a mother and father looking after them, a family, like I did. They didn't trust me at first."

He turned onto the familiar street, the bookstore window shining up ahead. Christmas wreaths hung on doors and lamp posts.

"But you became their friend."

David was pensive as he parallel parked. "Enough to take me in, teach me how to be a newsie, and help them go on strike."

"Against 'The World'."

David looked at her apprehensively as he pulled the parking brake.

She shrugged, "Kiki and I did some research. She's the computer wiz."

He reached for his messenger bag in the back. "You must feel like you're with a bunch of ghosts."

"Ghosts talk more."

He stared at her as she reached for her bag too and exited the car.

She stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the bookstore as he came around to her side, sighing as he looked at the familiar windows. The sight still warmed him.

"Though I gotta say," Honey said as she looked up at David, smirking a little. "Ghosts have never been this interesting before."

David looked at the front door. "'Interesting' and 'heartbreaking' are two different things."

She watched him as he walked up the steps to the stoop, the bell above the door ringing as he entered the old boarding house.


Spot's eyes were sharp on Phillip Wilks' back as he guided Tiffany back to the lobby.

He slipped in between bodies, listening here and there, and listening to the guys on the comm.

Their earbuds were so small they couldn't be seen; snug in their ears, all they had to do was touch a button on the battery packs in their pockets, as slim as a pencil, to communicate with everyone.

Spot looked back to the guys and glared at Racetrack's back; they were gathered at the finger food buffet.

"You're embarrassing me," he muttered tightly as he unbuttoned the top button of his blue shirt, feeling stifled. Glancing at Jazzi, he felt like she was strangling him with her thoughts. He tried to pretend she wasn't there.

Racetrack turned, his smacking resounding in Spot's earpiece as he ate cheese. He shrugged in Spot's direction from across the room. "'ey, lay off: I eat when I'm nervous."

"So, what's tha plan, Spot Conlon?" Boots said, keeping his voice low as he stood near the front door, watching the people.

Mush was listening too as he stood next to Steve. The others, Bumlets, Snoddy, and Specs, were outside, keeping eyes on the movement on campus and the arena.

Spot rolled his eyes as Racetrack moved onto a wing. He touched the button on the device in his pocket.

"Waiting for Denty to chime in, he should be in the sound booth with Kiki. After the gala, Racetrack and I will head there. Snoddy, Bum, and Specs will roam the corridors and exits. Boots, you'll be our eyes on the Wilks in the seats with Mush, and Jack will do whatever the hell he wants. Capiche?"

Spot turned and found Tiffany and Phillip near the doors. They were about to head to the arena.

Jack chimed in on the comm. "I'll be backstage." His voice was husky, angry.

Spot glanced at Mush, who puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled. They knew why he bolted. It was better than the alternative.

"Here we go," Racetrack said in a foreshadowing tone.

"Jus' keep us in the loop, huh Cowboy?" Spot said as he looked back to Tiffany. She was staring at the lobby doors. "Don't want ya gettin' jumped an' dumped –"

Spot promptly froze, then melted into the floor as Jade entered the Dance Hall. Her hair was braided around her head like a crown of fire and she wore a deep purple gossamer gown fit for the red carpet. But the blood in his veins turned to ice at the sight of Roger Wilks escorting her with his hand on her ass. He suddenly wanted to light the world on fire.

"Yo! Earth ta Spot," Racetrack almost choked on a grape as he saw what held Spot's attention.

"Easy, fellas," Mush muttered. "Let's not incite a riot."

"'Incite'?" Racetrack said incredulously, looking at Mush from across the room. Mush glared at him.

"Easy for you ta say," Spot said darkly as he circled the room like a shark in the water, his blue gaze locked on Jade. "'s not your girl on a predator's arm."

They could almost feel Jack's resounding agreement through the comm.

"Where is your girl?" Racetrack asked as he wiped his mouth, looking at Mush by Steve's side.

Mush swallowed nervously, his eyes scanning the room.

"Where's David?" Boots' voice said down the comm.

"They'll be here," Mush said confidently. But he was beginning to sweat, too.

"Where's Cage," Spot asked darkly, still staring at Jade as she hugged Tiffany.

Tiffany's composure broke for a moment as she whispered in Jade's ear. Jade's fingers tightened on her back.

"He's in the arena," Jack answered in kind.

Tiffany pulled away and Jade's eyes flitted upwards, sparking to life as they found Spot's face. The same fear that had been on Tiffany's face reflected back to him in her eyes. But she gave him a slight nod to the door as the Wilks brothers led her and Tiffany outside.

A new voice cut in on the comm. "Evening, fellas."

"Denton," Mush said in relief, smiling a little.

Racetrack punched the air beside him, "Yes. Man is it good ta hear your voice." He grabbed an apple and a bag of popcorn and stuffed them into his pockets.

"Tell us what to do, Mr Assistant Director," Spot said as he watched Jazzi removed her glare from the Newsies and followed the Wilks, Tiffany, and Jade out the Dance Hall.

"Spot and Race, come to the sound booth. Tell the agents at the door you're delivering Sparrow and Tiger Intel. My men are stationed around and inside the arena. I'll give you instruction as needed."

"Move out," Spot said, glaring at the back of Roger's head. "Jack: the sparrow and tiger are flying your way."


Kat fidgeted with the program in her hands as she stood by Medda's side, slowly making their way through the arena lobby. Slowly, because everyone knew Medda. Everyone.

Producers, fellow dancers, choreographers, casting directors, interviewers, journalists, celebrities; they grasped her hands and kissed her cheeks, genuinely happy to see her. Cameras flashed as people took pictures with her and she beamed.

Medda looked stunning: dressed in a royal blue tailored suit accentuating her small waist, her cleavage peaked tastefully from under an unbuttoned collared shirt, her long red curls were pinned up, her figure was graceful in matching blue heels, and gold earrings sparkled beside her fantastic cheekbones. Medda glowed.

Watching her in her element, seeing the courage she displayed only for Kat - because only they knew the weight they carried inside - Kat stopped fidgeting. She smiled as Medda spoke with two young students about pursuing theater.

Medda had spoiled Kat earlier that day with lunch and a shopping spree, buying her clothes for her upcoming trip to France and the prettiest dresses Kat had ever tried on: golden yellow silk flowed over her body to the floor, an a-line plunged to her cinched waist, and long billowing sleeves cinched at her wrists. Medda loaned her a pair of dangling yellow diamond earrings and elegant heels, and Kat felt like a movie star from old Hollywood, the colors stunning against her creamy complexion. With one look, Medda's friends were eager to meet her.

"My best friend and assistant," Medda said with a bright smile.

The term caught Kat off guard, and she exchanged a loving smile with Medda.

As Medda led them through the throng of people, Kat observed. She wondered where the guys were, what they were doing, if Denton was with them –

She froze as she saw a familiar face in the crowd, his gaze cold and sharp as he also observed the sea of people.

Her skin bloomed as his gray blue eyes landed, and stayed, on her. On her. But then he disappeared.

She craned her head, trying to spy him again through the bodies of people as her pulse quickened.

Medda followed her gaze, recognizing the look on her face.

"Do you see him?"

"N-no...let's find our seats."

Medda took her hand and led her down a corridor, her thumb rubbing the back of her hand.

Medda had two front-row seats in the middle tier, right in the middle of the arena with the best view along the length of the floor. Kat couldn't help looking around for him again as everyone found their seats, talked and laughed, and admired the lighting and sound in the large space, the hype music vibrating the floor. Kat felt like she was at a high-ticket concert.

Her eyes wandered upwards to the sound booth but the dark tinted windows didn't expose anyone she knew.

"Kat, there," Medda gripped her arm and Kat followed her gaze down to the floor where people with cameras were lying on the floor to get the best angles of the dancers. Walking directly in front of them was Cage, dressed in all black with his blonde hair slicked back.

His face was somber as he looked around and it made her nervous; he looked suspicious, as if looking for someone.

"I hope the guys are playing it smart," Medda murmured, her eyes following him too. "More specifically, Jack."

She squeezed Kat's hand, and Kat closed her eyes.


The bookstore attendants were unaware of the young man and woman who headed to the old stairs that led to the storage attic. Honey's eyes roamed over the worn wooden floors, stairs, and banister. Even the front desk looked original to the building… a boarding house.

She felt it, the old memories that lived between the floorboards...the laughter, the stories. Too many to discern and pick apart, she allowed them to fill her senses. She paused briefly on the stairs, seeing what she called 'shadow glimpses': Jack's face, Mush's, Racetrack's, Cage's.

She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly through her mouth to calm herself as she followed David quietly to the top floor.

He paused at a closed door, licking his lips. His hand shook a little as he reached for the doorknob.

He let her step into the room first and she was immediately stunned as her eyes wandered over the empty space, her mouth opening a little.

Like a film overlapping a picture, her dreams meld into the reality in front of her. But instead of shadow glimpses, she could see them clearly, hear them, smell their sweat and the soap from the steamy showers…it was suddenly morning.

She saw the metal framed bunk beds with blankets and clothes strewn across them, the showers and line of double sided sinks in the washroom to her left, the windows overlooking a busy street of horses and carriages to her right, and she could hear people shouting.

So much shouting - there were at least thirty boys: laughing, teasing, running around everywhere, chaotic and fun, talking so fast –

David's voice sounded far away as if she were underwater. "This is where we slept, the bunkroom."

She stood in the middle of the room, closing her eyes as she dropped her bag.

"So many of you," she said.

David paused for a long moment before closing the door softly behind him, the floorboards creaking under his feet as he stepped closer, watching her.

She turned, her eyes still closed as her left hand hovered and moved over the floor.

She felt breathless and quietly overwhelmed as more images were revealed to her. "This is where Racetrack and Ca- Kid Blink slept." Racetrack with a cigar in his mouth below Kid Blink's bunk. Kid Blink was laughing, full of joy and mischief. She followed Kid Blink's laughter to the next bunk. "This was Mush and Jack's."

Seeing him was still a shock: young with blonde hair, Kid Blink's good eye shined as he and Jack laughed, Mush towel whipping them. The knowing between them was deep. Brothers.

Standing near the door, David covered his mouth with his hand to keep from speaking, too engrossed and amazed as he watched her.

Her mouth lifted a little, eyes still closed and taking it all in, afraid to break the connection.

"This is amazing…this has never happened to me before...it's never been so strong -"

The scene changed.

It was nighttime and the guys' demeanors were different, tense. There were shouts from the stairwell.

She turned towards the door, brows furrowed.

Jack carried in a limp body - the young woman from the brothel. She wore a burgundy evening gown but her feet were bare.

Jack's expression was dark and familiar, the same from the night Tiffany had been drugged…

"What is it?" David's voice was afraid.

The other boys left the room, all worried…Mush, Kid Blink, and Ractrack's knuckles were bloody. Jack laid the woman on the bed and she tossed and turned. Honey couldn't see her face.

"Something happened," she said slowly as she listened to them. "...to Talia."

The woman moaned and sobbed gently. Her voice was hoarse and slow. "These sheets are clean…"

"What's wrong with her?" Mush asked. He shared a frightened glance with Kid Blink.

"She's been drugged," Race said angrily. "Rockefellas can afford the most expensive concentrated drugs in the city."

"Jack, you may not be able to avoid a doctor on this one," David pleaded by Jack's side. "She could be in more pain than she even realizes."

"She'll be arrested," Jack said evenly.

On hearing Jack's voice, the woman shifted towards him.

"Jack..."

"I'm here," he said. His face was like stone.

Honey opened her eyes and the shadow figures and bed were gone. The David who stood by the door barely looked any different from the one she'd just seen, dressed back then in dark brown pants and vest with a dark blue button-up shirt, a newsboy hat covering his curly hair. Seeing him standing there in this room in dark jeans and a navy sweater, she felt spooked.

But now his face was pale, his bright eyes fixed on her.

"What happened after Talia was drugged by Rockefeller?"

David watched her carefully, remembering that night, when Talia went to the party with Garrison, and the following morning when she...

"She went to the docks."

Honey steeled herself, remembering her dream. "Take me there."


Denton looked up as the sound booth door opened and one of his agents poked his head in.

"Sir, two young men are here asking for you; they know the code."

Denton strode to the door and saw Racetrack and Spot. The smug looks on their faces made it feel like coming home.

His stress retreated a few steps at the sight of them and he fought the urge to smile.

"I'll handle it, Roderigo."

Roderigo nodded and went back to the door at the end of the hall while Denton glanced back into his booth before smirking at Racetrack and Spot.

"How does it feel to break in on a Federal Operation?"

"Fuckin' gold," Racetrack beamed. "Does it happen often?"

"No. You wouldn't be here if I hadn't prepped my team for Tiffany's friends to help out this evening. As far as they, and my superiors, know: you've been trained...sort of."

Spot and Racetrack snickered.

"You should put us on your team, Denty," Spot said with a smile. "'s good ta see you."

"So what are our code names?" Racetrack leveled. "Can I have 'Roderigo'?"

Spot glared at him and Denton shook his head, grateful for the comic relief. But he was still all business.

Denton tilted his head to the door next to them. "Go into the next booth, that's where Kiki is. I'll be over in a minute to debrief you." He smirked again, "try not to look like you're with the feds."

They opened the door and Kiki glanced over her shoulder, her eyes widening before she turned back to the sound and light monitors of her work station, her hands flying over buttons and knobs and switches on the boards in front of her.

She pulled a side of her headset away from her ear, her voice low and measured, "You're only allowed to stay if you bring me coffee and DON'T distract me. So help me God I'll end your life in this booth if you do."

"As you wish, my sweets," Racetrack crooned as he went to the coffee pot on a folding table next to what looked like the fed's very-expensive set-up; three laptops and gadgets lay scattered in front of the equipment Kiki wasn't using, and a stoic silent agent in a suit sat next to her, helping with sound.

"Sugar?"

"Black."

"My kinda lady."

Spot approached the work station and stared out the wide banked windows with his arms crossed, surveying the scene below.

People were everywhere: celebrities, camera crews, paparazzi, students, and guests from all over the city. It was a full house. Kiki had the lights on a timer, smoothly changing colors to light the room as people mingled and found their seats.

Spot looked back to the door as Denton entered and came to his side, his hands in his pockets.

Spot brought himself back to reality, feeling the weight of the situation. And nervous with anticipation for Tiffany's number…

"Kinda risky, doin' this in tha open like this, isn't it sir?"

Denton looked down at Spot with raised eyebrows. "Absolutely. But I started as a journalist: more drama guarantees the front page."

Spot looked at him appreciatingly.

"We'll get them before they run," Denton muttered tightly. "As long as a certain Sparrow follows orders."

Racetrack stood on the other side of Denton, all thoughts of food far from his mind now. "A'right, fill us in, sir."

Denton gestured to the man sitting next to Kiki. "This is Seth, our fill-in for Junior Susie, who unfortunately came down with the flu two days ago."

Spot and Racetrack glanced at each other pointedly behind Denton's back. Seth, bald with glasses and also wearing a headset - and a black Glock under his suit jacket - gave a curt wave over his head without looking up from the controls in front of him. Denton smirked a little before moving on.

"These laptops are monitoring our comms and the cameras on the four agents on the floor. There are seven of us here, not including you two. And I hope we won't have any more interruptions, seeing as someone disobeyed my orders and almost compromised the mission."

Another pointed glance. Denton bit back his smirk.

"You two are to stay here, help communicate with Jade, and provide Kiki with whatever she needs. The door code word is Razzmatazz. Do not unlock it for anyone without it. Understood?"

Racetrack snorted but Spot reached behind Denton and smacked Race in the head.

Racetrack swatted at Spot's hand and seeing Denton's eyes on him, he straightened and cleared his throat.

"Yes sir," they answered.

Denton gave them both a long glance, his lips fighting a smile, and he spoke to Seth. "I'm next door."

Denton closed the door behind him as Spot went to the coffee pot to pour two more cups and Racetrack sat next to Kiki on a swivel stool. He kept his hands in his pockets as he observed the sheer amount of buttons and knobs and blinky things on the sound and light boards, amazed that she understood it all. It looked complicated, and he figured keeping his hands far away from it was the safest way to not get punched.

There was a big red analog clock next to the switchboard: twenty minutes til curtain.

Kiki didn't take her eyes off the glowing monitors of her workstation as her fingers adjusted knobs and pushed buttons. "So you're technically over a hundred years old."

Racetrack slowly looked at her as Seth gave him a long sideways glance. Spot froze halfway to Race with his coffee.

Racetrack gave a short laugh, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head at the stoic agent. "Kids say the darnedest things."


The energy of the gala and arena was nothing compared to backstage.

Dancers ran around half-naked, tech and stagehands moved like eels as they moved pieces and props into place, and costume racks rolled back and forth like highway traffic, the music and sounds of hundreds of people in the arena making them all the more eager.

There were solos and group numbers, duets, and segue pieces. Every senior and junior had their showcase numbers, and Tiffany was the last one, much to the seniors' irritation. She couldn't bring herself to spare them any of her thoughts tonight.

But they all stared at her and Jade as Roger and Phillip Wilks escorted them backstage with Jazzi. The brothers' wealth and status oozed from them, and Jade and Tiffany shied away from them under the gazes of their classmates.

They all knew who they were, and tired to hide their pointed stares as they prepped for makeup and costumes. Tiffany fought off the shame rising like bile in her throat.

Cage waited by the stage entrance, his figure dark and menacing as he watched them. Tiffany ignored him as best as she could, hoping he'd leave with them, and Jazzi.

"Ladies, we'll see you after the show," Roger said as he turned to his bodyguard and Cage, clapping his shoulder.

Finally separating himself from her, Phillip raised Tiffany's hand to his lips, his eyes boring into hers as he slowly kissed her knuckles.

"My shining star," he said proudly, possessively. "Excited for our celebration later?"

The smile he gave her sent shivers down her spine. She didn't even try to smile back. He must know by now she was tired of pretending.

But he didn't care. His indifference was the most honest side she'd seen of him.

He looked at Jazzi behind her, his eyes glinting. "I'll save you a seat," he crooned.

Tiffany felt Cage's long gaze before he turned and followed the Wilks out of the backstage.

Jazzi moved to unzip Tiffany's dress, but Tiffany turned to her with an emotionless expression. "Jade can help me," she said evenly. "Go sit with them. I'll be fine."

Jazzi studied her for a moment before reluctantly moving to the rack at her dressing table to lay her costume over her chair. Tiffany swallowed before Jazzi met her eyes again.

"You'll be perfect," Jazzi whispered as she touched her cheek. She hesitated a moment, words caught in her throat, in her eyes, but she turned and left.

As soon as the train of Jazzi's copper dress vanished behind the backstage curtains, Tiffany turned to Jade and didn't recognize the sound that came out of her: a sob and an exhale, pained from holding them in for so long. Salty tears flooded her eyes and Jade took her face in her hands, her fingers cool on her cheeks and jaw.

A few dancers looked at them in the reflection of their mirrors as they applied make-up, confused and, for a moment, slightly concerned. Tiffany could practically feel their thoughts: why is she falling apart? What has she to worry about?

Tiffany closed her eyes, wishing to make all of them, everything, disappear.

"Breathe," Jade said slowly. "You're almost there, you just have to hold it together a little longer. Don't buckle on me now, you little badass."

Tiffany opened her eyes, seeing tears in Jade's eyes too as they looked at each other. She gripped Jade's wrists as if she were her anchor.

Tyler, in sweatpants and shirtless, rushed through the throng of people to Tiffany's dressing area.

"But they're here," Tiffany choked out in a shaky whisper, her fingers trembling on Jade's hands still on her face. "They're not supposed to be here, Jade –"

Jade's green eyes shone brightly for a moment, and Tiffany registered the guilt in them before Jade turned her around to unzip her dress.

Tyler came to her side and set a coffee on her dressing table, kissing Tiffany's cheek. He was hyped up on coffee and adrenaline.

"Ok, you've got about an hour. I got you a double espresso because fuck Jazzi, I know you need it. You already have your makeup done, just need to add lipstick. Jade, she'll need her mascara and eyeliner touched up, too –"

She stared at Jade in the mirror, who refused to look up at her as she slid the ice-blue gown down her body.

"- both costumes are here, your lingerie and the suit to go over it. The fake you-know-what is under the table here, in that vile. I made sure you can open it easily with one hand, ok?"

But Tiffany was thinking about earlier, remembering the look and nod Spot had given her in the dance studio –

"You knew they'd be here," Tiffany accused as she stood in front of her dressing table in only a strapless bra and thong.

Jade, tall and gorgeous like a queen in her purple gown, met her gaze without remorse.

A new, sudden, hot energy began to hum through Tiffany as Tyler draped a robe around her shoulders. She rounded on him, seeing the same look on his face too.

"What have you done?" she hissed to him, looking back to Jade in the mirror.

Jade swallowed but said nothing.

"They'll be killed –"

"It's Martin approved," Jade countered.

Eyes wild, Tiffany began to turn to her but Jade pushed her shoulders down, making her sit in the makeup chair. She began removing the pins from her hair. "Can't herd cattle with one cowboy, darlin'."

Tiffany closed her eyes as pure anger coursed through her veins. "This wasn't part of the plan –"

"Honestly, none of this was," Jade said sharply.

"They wanted to help," Tyler said in a low voice. "They can help, just trust us -"

"If they're even seen –"

"Stop," Jade commanded to her in the mirror, her hands coming down hard on her shoulders.

Tiffany's chest heaved as they stared each other down.

"You can't think about them right now," Jade said, her thumbs rubbing Tiffany's shoulders soothingly as she spoke fast and low. "I'll explain everything later, but please, for now, you have to trust me. They can take care of themselves. They're worried about us, about you. We all are. But none of that matters right now because you're on in an hour, and you need to think about your number and why you're here. Martin and his team are all over this place. The guys are just extra eyes, ok?"

Tyler watched them quietly, feeling more anxious as he thought about the vile of fake blood under the dressing table. Reality came down upon them fast and heavy; Kiki and Jade had told them about her number...and while he thought it was fucking brilliance in dance form, he was suddenly very afraid. By the look on Tiffany's face, she dreaded it for all the right reasons: expulsion and removal from the University, but worse...crossing one of the wealthiest families in the country.

But he had trust in the invisible federal agents, in the guys, and in Tiffany. He believed in her, what she was trying to do. He puffed his cheeks out as he exhaled.

The lights dimmed backstage, save for the dressing mirrors, and the arena darkened on the other side of the curtains. Noise hitched and heightened around them, deafening as applause and cheering filled the arena and the MC began speaking.

"Welcome to the 2016 New York University Dance Academy's Winter Showcase!"

People cheered, and Tiffany felt cold.

The first dancer was announced, and 'Thinking Outloud' by Ed Sheeran began as the first dancer took the floor.

Jade moved to kneel in front of Tiffany, her hands taking hers. She looked steadily into Tiffany's eyes.

"He would've been here even if Martin hadn't approve it," she said gently. "Can you blame him?"

Tiffany bit her lip, thinking of Jack's face. Seeing her with Phillip…he'd been furious, jealous, heartbroken –

"Trust me," Jade pressed. "Trust him. You're not alone. Tyler and I have our duet in twenty minutes, so just wait as long as you can to get dressed, in case Jazzi comes snoopin'. I'll come and find you, and I'll help you. Ok, darlin'?"

Tiffany took a deep breath and exhaled, nodding as she steeled herself.

She pushed Jack from her mind. She had to.

Jade kissed her cheek and handed her the coffee Tyler brought. "I love you. I'll be back in thirty."

"I'll be watching," Tiffany replied as she tried to smile at her, her best friend. She looked at Tyler. "Thank you."

He kissed her cheek too and turned with Jade to change a few tables over.

Another junior, Emily, looked over at Tiffany from a table down the line, pink sequins sparkling on her hair flower and beautiful lily flower-shaped tutu costume. "Hey…are you ok?"

Tiffany looked up at her, dazed that someone other than her friends was talking to her. Emily's pink mouth frowned at her, genuine concern shining in her brown eyes.

Tiffany was so used to focusing on her secret mission, her fake life, and was used to hearing whispers behind her back on campus full of jealousy and resentment, that she never expected to make any real connections or friends outside her little family. She never wondered how she appeared to others on the outside because her mind was always racing, planning, worrying.

Emily's concern touched her.

"I know we don't know each other, and I know it's all really stressful, more than people realize," she said shyly as she tugged on her costume. "But…for what it's worth," she looked up, reading Tiffany's face. "I really admire you and your dedication. It's like it's in your blood. And…as lame as it sounds…we just need to have fun with it. Otherwise, what's the point?" Emily offered a kind smile. "Ok?"

Tiffany, stunned, thought about what she said. It was in her blood. Not in a cocky way, not the drive she had for the sake of the mission she chose to achieve but…dance.

Her true passion, the place her joy lived. She hadn't truly lost herself in her dancing for over a month and she felt the toll on her body, her mind, and her spirit. It had been the same for her mother…and her words echoed in a memory, her icy eyes shining with purpose as she smiled at her:

If you have to think about it, you're not dancing.

Tiffany smiled back at Emily, somehow feeling better. Stronger again.

"Thank you."

Emily looked over her shoulder and saw some students waiting in the wings, dressed in their costumes and watching the first performance.

"C'mon, let's go watch."

"I'll be right there," Tiffany answered, watching Emily flit off to the eager dancers.

Tiffany looked in the mirror once more. Tired and thinner than she had been a month before, she saw a different gleam in her eyes than she'd seen that morning. Determined, she downed her coffee.

Nothing else exists. Just dance.

She rose from the chair, shook her hair out from being unpinned, tied her robe tighter, and went to watch with the others.

From the shadows of the stage curtains, Jack felt guilty for having spied on her since she came backstage. But he felt something new, too, as he watched her.

"Why didn't ya say somethin', Jackie Boy?" Spot asked on the comm gently. They all had heard Tiffany and Jade's exchange over their earpieces.

"'s best she doesn't know I'm here," he answered.

"Creep'ah", Snoddy joked. He grunted as Bumlets punched him in the stomach.

The guys laughed on the comm, and Jack's lips lifted a little as Tiffany smiled and clapped, cheering with the other students as the first dancer bowed to the applause on the floor.

"Her friends gave her what she needed," he said. Despite the pride he felt in his chest as he watched her, his anticipation - his awareness - grew.

This would likely be the most important night of her life. And he had to believe that change, real change, would follow it.

"Stay sharp, fellas," Denton said in their ears.


"Look, there's Medda an' Kat," Racetrack said and pointed, bits of popcorn falling to the floor from his pocket.

Spot followed his finger, seeing them.

"Yeah, 'ey Boots, Mush: Medda an' Kat are in the middle on the east side of the arena, front middle tier. Tell Bum ta find 'em after, an' don't take your eyes off the goons, capiche?"

"Aye, Captain Conlon."

"This is like a horrible Italian mob movie," Kiki muttered as she followed the dancers below for the Junior group number.

"'You mean tha best Italian mob movie - 'ey watch where ya reachin'!" Race said as Spot reached into his jacket pocket for a handful of popcorn.

Kiki shook her head, her lips biting back her laugh.

Racetrack plopped down in Seth's seat; he'd gone next door to talk with Denton.

"Exactly how many of you guys are here tonight?" Kiki asked as the dancers finished and took their bows.

"Dunno what you're talkin' 'bout," Spot said with his mouth full.

"Deniability, sweetheart," Racetrack said as he scowled down at the performance program on the counter. He looked up, suddenly remembering -"'ey, where tha hell is David? Any body seen 'im?"

No's resounded down the comm.

"Fuck," Spot stood and looked down at the arena, seeing if by some miracle he could see him. "This ain't good. 'ey Jack, where's Davie?"

Not here, Jack answered darkly. He was pissed.

"He bett'ah be doing reconn or somethin' because I'll soak 'im," Spot growled before rounding on Race. "Can you stop eating for fuck's sake? All I hear is your chewing."

"Why don' ya stop payin' attention to me for fuckin' once and watch your girlfriend's numb'ah, huh?"

Spot whirled back to the window as Kiki flipped a switch. A single spotlight came on, and Jade and Tyler were there. Both barefoot, Tyler wore a loose black tank top with green cargo pants low on his hips. Jade wore her hair tied back, a black dancer's top, and high-waisted bottoms, showing off her creamy complexion and long muscular limbs.

Kiki pushed a button and the dancers held their beginning poses until a piano began playing, their bodies instantly moving in sync. The arena exploded with cheers, recognizing "Hello" by Adele within the first measure of music.

Spot was completely mesmerized as Jade moved across the floor in contemporary movements, dramatic and precise, simultaneously strong and fluid.

Like an answer to a question, Tyler's strong body executed his responses to her. Begging for him with her arms to come to her, to hold her, Tyler resisted her. They moved flawlessly together, Jade leaping into his arms, twisting into him as he fought to separate their bodies. As dance partners, they completely trusted each other, familiar with the other's body and movements.

Desire and heartbreak pulsed through their dance, and from his vantage point in the top row with Boots, Mush was reminded of Jack and Ira.

But from backstage, Jack's eyes wandered up to the rows of seats, seeing The Wilks, Jazzi, and Cage sitting in the third row from the floor.

Applause engulfed the space as the song ended and the dancer's stood tangled in each other's arms, their bodies shimmering from sweat, their chests heaving. Jade smiled against Tyler's face as he broke the pose to hold her in a crushing hug, languishing in their applause.

"Wow," Racetrack said as Spot clapped.

"That's my girl!" he shouted. Kiki laughed at him warmly.

Racetrack whistled between his fingers, knowing full well no one could hear him. "Man, Tyler is good."

"Lucky bastard," Spot muttered.

The dancers bowed and ran off the floor. Kiki turned knobs and lowered the lights again, changing them for the next dancer.

"How many more 'til Tiff's?" Spot asked as he calmed himself.

Race referred to the program. "Nine."

"They go quickly," Kiki said steadily.

"Here that, Cowboy?" Spot said. His heart still pounded away from watching Jade dance. He secretly wished there was a fan. "Still got eyes on the Sparrow?"

"Yeah."

"Where tha hell are you, David," Spot wondered aloud as a girl in a pink costume ran onto the floor to take her position.