Jack stayed hunched in the border bushes of Central Park South as traffic rolled in waves on 5th Avenue.

Wreaths and garlands on street lamps and traffic lights swayed in the icy wind, horse carriages ambled by, and he could hear people laughing from the ice rink in the park behind him, skating and singing along to Michael Bublé.

When Jack first arrived, he had watched in breathless amazement as Cage and Jazzi exited the black escalade in front of the high-roller penthouse complex; he thought he'd been too late to catch up with them. But his good timing was short-lived – they were the only ones to enter the lobby as the escalade turned into the parking garage beneath the building.

He was about to pull out his phone to call Jade when he felt someone approach his side, breathing heavily –

"Jesus – I almost soaked ya," he hissed at Spot, shoving him as he turned his glare back to the manned front doors.

"Good thing ya hit like a wet mop with your left arm," Spot said as he crouched next to him, looking at the pale stone building of Ellington Place as he labored to catch his breath. "But ya still run like a freakin' cheetah - damn my side's stitchin' like a son of a bitch -"

"What are ya doin' here, Spot," Jack muttered. But he was selfishly glad that he was.

"Someone's gotta watch your six." Spot's thumbs moved quickly over his phone screen, its light illuminating his flushed face. "Race an' Mush are gettin' everyone ta Medda's… they gotta hold'a Honey an'-"

Jack looked up at his rare silence, seeing the rage in his eyes as he read a text.

"What," Jack asked flatly, his body tensing.

Spot leveled a look at him. "Honey was with David. Near Kips Bay."

Several questions popped into Jack's head at the mention of the bay – but they couldn't afford the distraction. Not now.

Jack turned his attention back to Ellington Place. "Remind me ta ask him what the hell they were doin' there, and ta kick his ass."

"Ditto," Spot put his phone in his back pocket. "Jade said they're on tha top floor - of course."

Jack counted twenty floors. Then his eyes zeroed in on an alleyway to the right of the building as a truck turned down it. A loading dock.

"Ya gotta plan, Cowboy?" Spot asked as he stared at the people going in and out of the lobby doors. "...preferably one that doesn't end with us in body bags?"

"Not really," Jack's heart rate double-timed as his thoughts swirled, trying to steady his own breathing. They had to find a way in, a way to her. He didn't care how.

He remembered the promise had he made to Medda, to finally play smart, but he felt whatever common sense he had seeped out of him and into the frozen ground beneath his shoes.

He no longer cared what happened to him. Just like last time.

"Stay here," he said, knowing it was useless –

"I didn't run after your ass ta be told ta stay put, Jackie boy." He sighed heavily. "I'll be right behind ya."

Jack let out a huff. "C'mon."

They followed the sidewalk towards the street crossing, Spot following Jack with his hands in his pockets, nonchalantly crossing the street with families leaving the ice rink. He peered through the windows when they passed the doormen and made sure they weren't looking as they ducked into the alleyway. An iron gate blocked them at the end.

"Shit –"

Jack hit Spot's shoulder and he looked towards a side door where a server just stepped out to smoke. They flattened themselves against the wall beneath the stairs and waited for the server to return inside, catching the door before it closed.

They entered near the lobby bar; men in suits and women in fur coats and designer clothing wandered from the lobby to the bar, from the bar to the elevators. The place smelled expensive, with four massive Christmas trees standing tall in the decorated gold and marble lobby. There was even a pianist, weaving music through the merriment and laughter of New York's high society.

Everyone was too drunk and distracted with themselves to pay much attention to the two young men slipping a couple of coats from the coat rack at the bar entrance. As they slipped them on, they blended in with the guests moving toward the –

At the sight of the man operating the elevator, Spot hit Jack's side and redirected him down a hall to a door marked 'stairs'. They knew the fewer eyes on their faces, the better.

They ditched the coats at the foot of the stairwell and began taking the stairs two at a time, the flights stretching on forever above them.

"Pace yourself," Spot said tightly, his eyes weary.

But Jack's energy coursed through him as he remembered the resigned look on her face before the arena lights went out.

He'd find her.

After a while and lots of cussing toward the top, they reached the eighteenth floor, and a door opened above them.

Once he saw her face, Jack sprinted up the stairs faster, his thighs screaming.

"What the hell are you two idiots doing?!" Jazzi hissed, her brown eyes ablaze.

"We can ask ya tha same thing, Jazzi," Spot spat as he stood tall in front of her on the landing, his dark sweaty hair pushed back.

"I'm giving you one chance to leave," she said in his face. "You have no idea the danger you're putting her in - yourselves in." She leveled a cold look at Jack as he reached the landing. "You really do have a death wish, don't you –"

Jack's hand lashed out, pinning her by the throat to the wall behind her. Spot didn't protest as he glared at her from behind Jack.

Jack's voice rumbled down the stairwell. "Where is she."

Jazzi's hands pulled at his as she tried to kick him, but her long copper gown twisted around her legs. Jack moved closer, pressing his body to hers to hold her still.

Her words were venomous, "You bastard -"

Jack squeezed her tighter. "Where is she."

Jazzi stopped struggling, taking a moment to read the look in Jack's eyes. "...you've dreamt of this, haven't you?"

"I've dreamt a lotta things," Jack whispered hatefully.

She laughed and coughed at them, angry tears in her eyes as a cold smile lifted her red lips.

But her eyes changed on Jack's face. She tried to shake her head, coughing under his grip. "You'll never learn, will you – to stay in your place?"

Jack's chest heaved, breathing heavily from the climbing, and to keep from strangling the last bit of air out of her. "Too bad yours is still next to him. She trusted you."

She closed her eyes, her face turning ruddy. "Go ahead - no one hates me … more than I do."

"Save your self-loathing for someone who gives a shit," Spot growled. "We ain't leavin' without her. An' we'll use you if we have to."

"A useless play," she said. "You'll never make it out of here alive."

"Then we'll take you with us." Jack squeezed.

Spot snapped out of his dark thoughts. "Jack."

Jack loosened his hold. "Why did ya lie to Martin?"

"She needed a better chance," her eyes bore into his. "And if you want to attempt to save her, you'll let me go. Right now."

Jack read her for a long moment, and his hand was beginning to loosen more when the door opened again, two goons in suits spotting them.

"Oh great," Spot muttered.

"Don't fight them," Jazzi said in Jack's ear as she pushed him off her.

The men moved quickly without a word; one split Spot's lip and the other got Jack in the ribs, limbs swinging. After a quick tussle, they had Spot and Jack's hands zip-tied behind their backs and walking ahead of them up the stairs and through the door to the twentieth floor with Jazzi following them, rubbing her neck.

As they were escorted down a carpeted hall through double doors into the penthouse, Jack flashed back to the night he was taken to Pulitzer in his mansion. But even Pulitzer couldn't have imagined this kind of wealth.

The goons pushed them through a spacious room made of windows and full of men in expensive suits and cufflinks, laughing as they drank scotch and touched pretty young women in lingerie on leather couches. Music blared. They paid no mind as the newcomers were pushed up a staircase to the second floor.

Through another pair of guarded doors, they entered a dimly lit office. They were shoved to the floor, the rug on their faces assaulting their noses with the sharp odor of cigar smoke and bleach before they were hauled up to their knees.

Roger Wilks III was leaning on a shiny mahogany desk, smiling down at them.

"So glad you could join us this evening, gentlemen." His voice was cold, unamused.

Jazzi walked past them, her dress glinting from the light of the lamp on the desk. She stood silhouetted against the glass wall overlooking Central Park and the Pulitzer Fountain. Jack glared at her as his eyes adjusted, his blood running cold as he spied Phillip, lounging in the desk chair, his fingers poised together as if contemplating a business deal. He was smiling at Jack.

A body stood in the shadows behind him, but Jack knew it was Cage.

The pain in Jack's ribs faded almost instantly as his eyes found Tiffany, still in the blood-stained white lingerie and white button-up shirt from her routine. She was zip-tied to a chair on the other side of the room; untouched, her face drawn, her eyes watered as she met Jack's eyes. She fought hard not to show her fear, but the terror in her eyes was enough. Terrified at the sight of him and Spot.

Jack's gaze went to her legs, her muscles straining – they had her ankles zip-tied to the chair legs.

His breath came short and hot as he tried to stay calm, his mouth dry. He'd never felt so helpless. He couldn't look at Spot; it was his fault he was even here.

Roger's light voice commanded their attention. "Now, normally I'd join in on the fun, but I do have business to attend to downstairs. After your little performance," he turned to Tiffany, "a few clients are a little…nervous. But you're in luck…"

He crossed to her, leaning on one of the chair's armrests with one hand as he took her face roughly in the other. She didn't flinch, her face didn't change, but her throat muscles tightened.

"You actually gave us the advertisement we needed, my angel." He smiled and laughed, shaking his head. "I must say, no one's ever caught Phillip's full attention as you have, or mine for that matter…but he's so obsessed," he whined. "It's really too bad."

He shoved her head back and strode to the door. "Don't be too long, brother."

The guards closed the doors behind Roger and they waited in tense silence. Spot shifted on his knees as a full five minutes passed before Phillip moved behind the desk.

"How I've waited for this moment."

Jack's skin crawled. He sounded exactly the same.

Phillip turned his head slightly to the side. "Elizabeth, darling, come to me."

Tiffany's face was stoic as she watched Jazzi step slowly to Phillip's side.

From his chair, Phillip reached for her hand and kissed her knuckles. "I have you to thank for this."

Jazzi's jaw tightened as Jack's chest heaved heavily, furious.

Without glancing at Jazzi, Phillip rose from the desk and strode over to Tiffany, kneeling before her. The light from the desk lamp fell across his neatly combed hair, his black suit blending with the shadows of the room. His fair-skinned face was controlled as he smirked at her, "Lovely performance. As my brother said, it's caused quite a stir. Very original. And I know it was all you."

He reached out and stroked her cheek. She glared at him, her fists balled up and straining against the zip ties cutting into her wrists.

His voice was soft as he caressed her, "They all say I should do you and sell you, just like last time. But I've waited too long, I've wanted you for too long."

Tiffany's crazed eyes flashed with confusion as she glanced at Jazzi over his shoulder. Phillip grabbed her chin, directing her eyes back to him.

"She won't save you," he whispered.

Spot spit on the rug.

Phillip glanced coldly at the two young men kneeling on the floor. He chuckled darkly as his hand traveled downward, down her neck, her breasts.

Jack didn't realize he had moved until the goon behind him punched his side, the blow landing in his kidney. jack fell to the floor, gasping, and the goon hauled him back to his knees. Sweat dripped down his face as he glared, his eyes hard on Tiffany. She barely shook her head, her movements tight.

She breathed heavily through her nose as Phillip continued to slowly touch her - his fingers traveled down to her hip, her thigh. She put her legs together, her ankles straining on zip-ties, but he parted her knees roughly, suddenly bringing her chair closer to him so his body was between her knees.

Tiffany looked at Jazzi again over Phillip's shoulder. But her face was turned away.

Jack and Spot struggle against the goons' hands. Spot seethed with hatred. "You coward," he hissed at her.

Jazzi's glaring eyes were lined with tears.

Phillip looked back to Jack, smiling at the look on his face. "Now you have a front-row seat to watch me take her from you all over again." He looked back at her, sighing as he touched her hair. "She looks almost exactly the same, doesn't she?"

Tiffany froze as she stared at Phillip, her blue eyes confused and wide on his face.

His voice softened, "Tiffany, Talia, Ira. Makes no difference to me, darling. You're mine."

Tiffany's face blanched as if he had slapped her. The horror she felt was clear on her face as she leaned as far back as she could in the chair. She looked at him as if he were a madman, a ghost.

Phillip's smile grew and his eyes twinkled coldly. "Remember me yet? Don't worry...you will."

He gripped her face and kissed her roughly. But he suddenly yelled and stood, holding his mouth. She'd bitten his tongue.

He spat out blood and his arm flashed as he backhanded her, her head twisting to the side.

He huffed a dark laugh as he crossed to his desk. "You'll pay for that later."

Jack's thoughts stopped as Phillip returned to Tiffany with something in his hands - a syringe with a long needle.

Jack and Spot struggled against their captors as Phillip removed the protective cover and jabbed the needle into Tiffany's arm.

"Say goodbye to Jack Kelly, darling. You'll never see him again."

But she didn't move or flinch. She only stared at Jack, her resolve completely broken as she looked at him wildly. Her body began to tremble.

Jack held her gaze, and everyone, everything, faded for a millisecond as he tried to read the emotions in her bright ocean eyes –

Is she…?

Phillip placed the empty syringe on the desk as he spoke to Cage, "Take her to Elizabeth's quarters downstairs." His eyes moved coldly to Jazzi, who hadn't moved. "See that she's cleaned up and presentable. Bring her to me in one hour. But first…"

Phillip opened a desk drawer as the firm hands on Jack and Spot's shoulders hauled them upwards, forcing them to stand as Phillip approached them. He had a pair of brass knuckles on his hand.

Tiffany snapped out of wherever her mind had gone and began to struggle as Cage cut her ties. A goon grabbed her and held her still in the chair. "No! Wait! They had nothing to do with this!"

"Don't be silly, darling." Phillip met Jack's eyes, the smirk on his face just for him. "They had everything to do with this."

Tiffany kicked and screamed. "No! Please, no!"

"And you're going to watch," Phillip said to Jack under his breath, his voice deadly as all humor left his lifeless hazel eyes.

But his brow furrowed as everyone stilled - a noise, static and faint, was coming from Spot's pocket.

Phillip glared at Spot's smooth façade and he reached into Spot's pant pocket –

He pulled out an earpiece and comm device.

Phillip held it to his ear but Jack could make out Denton's words clear as day, his spirits almost lifting at the sound of his voice.

"Spot? Spot do you copy? We've arrived at Ellington, I repeat, we – Delta, in position –"

Phillip's coy smirk fell from his face, replaced by icy hatred.

"They're comin' jus' for you, sweetheart," Spot said, his glare deadly on Phillip's face.

Jack didn't dare to feel an ounce of victory. He knew better. Instead, dread trickled down his neck.

Phillip dropped the comm and punched Spot in the face and then the side, breaking a rib. Tiffany screamed and thrashed against the goon who held her as Jack lunged for Phillip. But he felt an explosion of pain as Phillip hit him in the side of his head and kicked him in the stomach. The goons hauled them upright, Spot moaning and cursing as Jack spat blood on Phillip.

So many things he wanted to say to him. But he only thought of Tiffany.

Phillip wiped his face, all amusement gone. "I was going to let you stick around for the fun, but I'm done with you, filth. Take them out back and finish the job."

Tiffany's shriek chilled Jack from the inside as her screams filled the office, the entire penthouse. "NO! NO! YOU CAN'T –"

Phillip moved back to the desk, drinking from his scotch glass without an upwards glance. "Out the back, please. We don't want to disturb our guests. I'll handle this…new situation." He looked at Jazzi, who was staring at Jack. "...with your assistance."

Jazzi dropped her gaze and moved to the desk with Phillip.

Cage crossed to a bookshelf on the other side of the office. The shelf swung open to him, and he stepped behind it without a word.

Tiffany struggled in the goon's arms as he carried her, following Cage into a dark stairwell. She fought to look at Jack over the bodyguard's shoulder, tears streaming down her face. "NO! You can't do this - NO! Take me instead!"

Jack's heart felt as broken as the side of his face at the sound of her sobbing, the only time he'd seen her completely overtaken by the emotions she kept in check.

"Take me instead!"

Phillip's cold voice followed them down the stairwell before the door closed: "I already have."

Spot's goon shoved him ahead by his bound hands as Jack's kicked him from behind, his body careening forward down the dark staircase. Jack felt - and heard - something crack, and he moaned as his body stopped on a landing. Two solid hands hauled him up and he shouted out in pain. He felt sick.

"DON'T YOU TOUCH HIM YA FU –"

Spot grunted as his goon socked him in the stomach, no doubt hitting his cracked rib.

Jack opened his eyes against the pain to see Cage, his horribly familiar face smirking inches from his. Tiffany's screams began to slow, echoing eerily back to them through the darkness.

"No! No!…n-no no no you…you can't – you…Ja...Jack...Jack...Kelly"

Jack's jaw clenched as he glared at Cage. His cold blue eyes were amused as he smiled at Jack.

"Don't worry, it'll all be over soon, angel." Cage pushed Jack ahead as he barked an order at one of his men. "You, go see to the brothers. I'll take care of this myself."

Jack heard footsteps, then the door above closed. Tiffany's voice was indiscernible; far below them down the stairs, her cries were drawn out like a moaning ghost.

"This how ya sneak them out without anyone seein'?" Jack asked Cage bitterly. "Like animals to tha slaughter?"

"Keep moving," Cage sneered, his footsteps echoing down behind Spot.

They emerged into another stairwell, and Jack squinted as they stepped into a bright hallway. The bodyguard holding Tiffany went to a service elevator, and the goon guiding Jack pushed him forward, and then Spot.

But Jack's eyes were on Tiffany's body, limp and moving slowly. Her eyes roamed like she couldn't see. The drug was beginning to take full effect. He swallowed tightly, his mind racing as his palms began to sweat. As he flexed his hand, it took an agonizing moment to realize his shoulder was dislocated.

They entered the elevator and the doors closed as Cage pushed a button. Tiffany moaned and sobbed next to him as Cage checked his watch. Jack's nose burned from whatever cologne Cage was wearing, but in the bright light, Jack could see Cage was sweating.

Cage sighed impatiently. "One floor to go, angel. Jazzi will be along shortly."

Tiffany struggled sluggishly in the goon's arms. "no no…J…Jaaaazzzzziiii...Eliz...Eliza...J...Jaaa...Jack…Jack…Jack Kel– he's Jaa... Jack Kelly –"

A chill ran down Jack's spine and he looked at Spot next to him, seeing his eye beginning to puff up and darken from Phillip's knuckles. Blood caked and trickled down from his nose, his lips. And by the look in Spot's eyes, Jack's face didn't look any better.

But Spot's attention was on Cage. He spat a bloody wad of spit onto his shoe. "Fuckin' scabb'ah –"

Cage looked at him evenly, grinning with amusement. But his eyes glinted with something else –

Spot glared at him through his swollen eye. "You ever dream of my face, punk?"

Jack's eyes were sharp on Cage's hand under his suit jacket. He bristled as Cage removed a black 9mm from his hip holster.

"Every night," Cage said, his eyes downcast.

His voice, his tone, caught Jack off guard –

Cage hit the emergency stop button, the elevator jolting to a halt on the cables.

Jack and Spot struggled to move away –

Cage pistol-whipped the goon behind them in the temple, his body falling like dead weight. The elevator bobbed as everyone stilled.

Jack and Spot stared at him, frozen.

Breathing heavily, Cage looked at the bodyguard carrying Tiffany. "Fed, right?"

The goon's stoic face didn't change.

Cage snorted, shaking his head as he took a knife from his pocket, flipping it open. "So obvious."

Jack wasn't imagining. His voice –

Cage kept his eyes down as he reached for Spot's arms. "We don't have much time."

Spot jerked away from him, stumbling back and almost falling over the goon's body behind him. He looked terrified.

Jack knew how he felt. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke, his throat constricting, "...Kid?"

Cage finally looked up, his damp blonde hair matted to his forehead. His glaring eyes were red and rimmed, his nostrils flaring slightly as his chest heaved. The knife in his hand shook. He looked sick, strung out.

But there was no mistaking the look in his eyes. Recognition.

Jack and Spot only stared at him.

"Don't be thick," he said tightly as he reached for Spot again, flicking his knife under Spot's restraints.

He grabbed Jack roughly and turned him, ignoring Jack's hard grunt as he cut Jack's zip-ties – pain seared through him from his left shoulder.

Without warning, he gripped Jack's arm and placed his other hand on Jack's back as he quickly pulled out and back –

Jack's shout was so loud it almost woke Tiffany. But his shoulder was back in place.

Jack gripped his arm but lunged for Cage as he took another syringe from his pocket. Jack pinned him against the elevator wall before he could get to Tiffany –

"JACK!"

Jack backed away from him as if he had burned him. He'd heard him say his name a thousand times before, but none had sounded like this one. Looking into his icy blue eyes, he knew it to be true.

Kid Blink.

He breathed heavily, his face twisting in agony. "There's no time - this is an antidote. You have to let me give it to her."

Jack and Spot watched him as he stuck the needle into Tiffany's arm. She didn't even move.

"Go out through the stairwell on the fourth floor, take a right an' go into the park."

He looked away from Tiffany, meeting their stunned gazes. "Hit me."

They didn't - couldn't - move. Jack struggled to comprehend –

Cage - Kid - spoke impatiently, "Damn it, Jack, fucking hit me. Ya have ta make it look like you attacked me –"

Jack moved toward him but not to hit him. Kid Blink shoved him backward into the wall. Spot's fists shook at his sides.

"Don't you fucking do that," Kid bit out, his angry eyes watering more. His body shook. "Hit me!"

"How long," Spot asked quietly.

Kid Blink's eyes were touched with a desperation they'd never seen in him before. "Don't –"

"How long have ya known?!" Spot shouted.

Kid shook his head, his gun still in his hand. "We don't have time for this –"

"We're not leavin' without ya," Jack said thickly.

Kid glared at him, tears falling down his face. "You have to, fucking hit me an' get her outta here!"

Spot's hand lashed out; he nailed Kid in his left eye and followed up with his other, hitting him in the side of his face.

Kid Blink's head snapped against the wall behind him, his body sliding to the floor.

Spot's face twisted, his own eyes watery as he sniffed and held his hands to his chest as if he had sinned.

Jack could only stare numbly, his eyes stinging.

Kid Blink spat blood, panting and shaking his head. "Don't." His left eye stayed closed and bled as he glared up at Spot. His voice was rough, tight. "I deserve worse than what you can give me."

He reached up and hit the button for the fourth floor, the elevator lurching as it began to descend again. He met Jack's stare as tears fell down his face. "Fourth floor. Central Park. Go."

The goon behind Jack and Spot groaned. Spot turned and his fury went into the guy's face, curb-stomping him.

The other suit, Denton's undercover agent, handed Jack Tiffany's body. "I'm breaking orders by doing this, but I have to stay too, to keep my cover. But you don't have to hit me."

Jack nodded, his eyes lifting from Tiffany's pale face. "Tell Den- tell Agent Martin what he did… what Cage did."

The agent nodded. "They're coming."

Without looking at them, Kid coughed. "Jazzi…she grabbed the syringe… off the desk."

The elevator stopped, the door slid open. Spot knelt next to Kid but he lashed out, pushing Spot away –

"Are you fucking deaf?! Get outta here!"

Spot glared at him, his face full of emotion. "We're comin' back for ya, Kid."

Kid shook his head, his jaw clenched as his eye seeped blood. "If ya know what's good for ya...you'll forget about me."

"Never," Jack vowed.

Kid Blink covered his busted face with his hand, his mouth twisting. He was ashamed.

Spot forced himself to his feet and stormed off the elevator, rubbing his nose with his hand.

Kid looked up at Jack once more, his cold stare driving daggers through Jack's heart. "Get her outta here, and never come back."

Jack inhaled sharply before he tore his eyes from him, following Spot.

They could hear sirens and commotion from the front of the building as they waited, checking the sidewalk and the street before darting across to the park. They knelt once again in the bushes and Jack propped Tiffany's body against his as he removed his suit jacket, wincing and shaking. She stirred, soft sobs escaping her lips.

"'s ok, you're safe," he murmured as he wrapped his jacket around her body and held her to him, rocking her gently.

He couldn't believe it - they got her out.

Kid saved them.

He closed his eyes and murmured to her, but he knew he was trying to comfort his own thoughts; the shock was slowly receding, and the emotions he kept bottled up began to tighten in his chest, his throat -

Spot removed his jacket too and pulled out his phone to call Boots. But when he looked up, he froze.

"Spot!" Jack shouted after him, watching as Spot suddenly darted into the street. A car screeched to a stop and Jack recognized the chipped paint job –

Honey exited the passenger seat of David's car, sprinting to Jack as he emerged from the shrubs with Tiffany's body.

"Oh my god -"

"She's ok," Jack said as Honey opened the door to the backseat. They piled into David's car.

David's voice edged on hysterics as he drove off in the opposite direction of fifth avenue, his eyes darting from the street to Jack's face in the rearview mirror. "Are you guys ok? Holy shit, you - you did it. Holy shit – where's Denton?"

Against the screaming in his shoulder, Jack held Tiffany firmly by the arms, her back resting against his chest as her head lolled to the side.

Honey, face pale, twisted round in the front seat to hold Tiffany's hand – her eyes were wide, terrified.

"Holy f-fuck," Spot said shakily.

Jack looked at him, seeing his hands shaking, covered in Kid's blood.

Spot looked at Jack with an expression Jack had never seen on his face before, streaked with tears. "Holy fuck."