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Chapter 123: The Gambler and the Magpie

A/N: (For clarity) This chapter takes place a few days after the previous one.


Twilight had already fallen as Race made his way back towards the lodging house, whistling as he went. He was arriving home late, having stopped by the Becker tenement to visit Sophie after a long day of selling, and in all likelihood he'd already missed out on dinner at the dining hall, but one of the boys would probably have swiped at least a bread roll or something for him, and he could make do with that until the next morning.

Sophie had been in good spirits during their visit, and it had heartened Race to see her taking to life in Manhattan so quickly. The comfortable situation that she was enjoying at present would come to an end soon, for her injuries were healing and she would need to start working, but Race was thankful that she'd had a short respite to regain her strength and to recover from the ordeal that had driven her from Brooklyn.

She'd already been with him for over a week, but a part of him still couldn't believe that she was finally here.

For the last several years, Race had marked the passage of time not by days or by months but by seasons, periods clearly delimited by something that had irreversibly altered the course of his trajectory. His life in Brooklyn had been one season and his life in Manhattan another, though even those periods were subdivided into distinct stretches of time: his earliest memories of growing up in the rundown apartment on Gold Street with Sophie, the move to the Poplar Street lodging house when he began carrying the banner as a Brooklyn newsie, his eventual relocation to Manhattan and the adjustment to life on the other side of the Bridge, the strike against Pulitzer and everything that had played out after...

Sophie's unexpected arrival in Manhattan heralded the beginning of a new season, and Race could sense the impending change the way he could sense the barely-perceptible shift of an opponent's demeanor at the card table. He was optimistic that it would be a change for the better, but no season of life was without its challenges, and the challenge currently facing him was that of figuring out a permanent living situation for his sister as well as teaching her how to earn her livelihood. As comfortable as her current accommodations were, she couldn't stay at the Becker tenement forever, and Race would need to start showing her how to hawk headlines soon, unless a different employment opportunity presented itself. He knew that being a girl newsie wasn't easy, but Sophie had a flair for selling stories (she was a Higgins, after all), and with a little training, she'd be just fine. It was primarily a matter of figuring out a place for her to stay, now.

Letting the thought sit in the back of his mind, Race turned onto Duane Street and was heading towards the lodging house when the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end, and he heard the faintest sound of footfalls behind him. He stayed his course without breaking stride, but his fingers flexed just a bit, coiling reflexively in anticipation of a face-off. Foot traffic on the streets this early in the evening wasn't uncommon at all…but he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was following him, and that whoever he was was drawing closer by the second.

A block and a half later, the lodging house came into view, and with it came a boost of confidence, for Race was on his home turf now, well within calling distance of several allies. He slowed his pace, deliberately coming to a stop about fifteen feet away from the door, then turned abruptly, ready to confront the trailer...

...but to his surprise, the street behind him was empty.

Race's fingers twitched. He listened for a moment, straining to hear the telltale signs of someone slinking through the shadows, but all appeared to be still.

Just as he'd decided that it was probably his imagination, a slight brush of air blew past, ruffling his hair, and he whirled around to find himself face-to-face with -

"Cal!" Race exclaimed, the tension in his voice giving way to relief as he recognized the Bronx newsie. "For Pete's sake, why's it always gotta be a game of cat and mouse to you these days, huh? Can'tcha just announce yourself properly like any normal person?"

"Where I'm from, it pays to move quietly and to retain the element of surprise," Calico answered simply, "something you seem to have gotten less and less adept at ever since moving to Manhattan."

"Yeah, well, 'round here it ain't necessary to go skulkin' around," Race huffed, ignoring the insult. "We walk where we please and throw fists if some bummer wants to play tough and get in our face."

"That's a brutish way of solving things," Calico opined, "though I can't say it surprises me, given the newsie you have in charge. Kelly always struck me as a little high on bluster and a little low on finesse."

"Jacky actually ain't the kind that goes out lookin' for a brawl," Race clarified, used to the girl's open criticism of the newsie leader by now. "He don't run from no fight, but he only steps in if he feels like he has to."

Calico said nothing in response, examining the end of her ponytail as though it was far more interesting than the subject at hand, and Race decided to drop the subject, knowing that the Bronx newsie would probably retain her disdainful opinion of Jack until the end of time.

"So, what brings you down here anyway, Cal?" he asked curiously. "Things gettin' a little dicey on your turf?"

"Why else would I bother setting foot in Manhattan?" the girl sighed, showing the first sign of dismay in her generally-unwavering sangfroid. "We had an incident a few days ago: a newsie from Queens was caught selling in our territory, and Gar was absolutely livid. He had Skeet and Knuckles soak the intruder, but the boy was only eight or nine, and probably new to the profession. He claimed he'd come over on the ferry to visit his cousins, and I'm convinced that he didn't know that he wasn't allowed to sell across the bridge, but Gar wouldn't believe him."

Race grunted. It sounded like something Gar would do.

"You try to intervene?" he asked, knowing that Calico, despite her aloof exterior, had a soft spot for folks in trouble.

The other newsie looked away.

"There was nothing that I could do." Her tone was dispassionate, but Race could sense the regret in her confession. "The concerning part of it is that I don't know if this might lead to something worse. Gar has been even more touchy than usual, lately, and this might tip him over the edge enough to incite retaliatory action."

Race scoffed. "Yeah - 'cause one little kid comin' over to sell his papes on the wrong side of the river's such a threat to the Bronx's empire." He shook his head in disgust. "That's what happens when an egomaniac like Gar gets too much power - he's liable to set the whole place on fire, just 'cause he thinks someone's looked at him the wrong way."

"This recent incident wasn't the only one," Calico admitted. "There were a couple of trespassers back in the Fall, and then Thimble showed up selling his papers on our side of the Third Avenue Bridge - "

"If Gar thinks a fella like Davey's out to undermine him, he's got even more screws loose than I thought," Race interjected scornfully.

"In any case, he's fed up," Calico continued. "I hope that he won't do anything rash, but I can't be sure - not after what I saw and heard earlier this week."

Race shook his head again. "Your newsies really would've done themselves a favor if they'd put you in charge instead, Cal," he remarked for probably the hundredth time. "I know most of 'em respect you, even if they ain't got the spine to say so. Can't understand how they's more comfortable followin' the lead of a bully like Gar instead of a gal like you with a good head on her shoulders."

"It's the 'gal' part, as we both know," the other newsie answered dryly.

"Yeah, well, it's pretty stupid," Race maintained.

Calico said nothing.

"I have my girls to oversee," she conceded after a moment. "It's not everything I'd want, but it's far better than nothing. At least they're smart enough to listen to what I have to say. Gar will never offer me the same consideration, even if he allows me a level of freedom to do as I please, since he knows there are newsies still loyal to me in his cadre."

"You oughta come join us down here in Manhattan," Race offered, half serious and half joking. "We don't work real closely with most of the girl newsies, but we ain't the kind to write 'em off either just 'cause they ain't boys."

"Maybe you wouldn't," Calico retorted, "but Kelly would. I know his opinion of me. He doesn't think a girl should be leading a group of boys, regardless of her competence. He's said as much himself."

"Wouldn't doubt it…" Race shrugged, smiling a little, "...but Jacky's changed."

"Has he?" The Bronx newsie was clearly unconvinced. "How?"

"He met a real smart girl reporter. Didn't think she was capable of doin' anything but writin' fluff for the entertainment pages and even told her so to her face, but she ended up writin' the article that got us on the front page of The Sun."

"And you think that was enough to change his opinion on girls as a rule?"

"Maybe not," Race conceded. "But it's a start. At least he don't put down her writin' abilities no more." He chuckled a little. "Turns out, he's real smitten with her, actually - the rest of us can't get a word in edgewise when she's around. It's like we's just some kinda background chatter; he don't hear none of it." It was a good-natured observation, free of accusation, but Calico remained unamused.

"And who, pray tell, is running the lodging house while he's thus occupied with his lady friend?" she asked cooly.

Race grinned. "What would'ja say if I told'ja it was yours truly?"

The Bronx newsie didn't miss a beat. "I'd say that's a fortunate improvement for Lower Manhattan."

"Aw, Cal!" Race gushed mockingly, "You's gonna give me a big head with all of them nice words of yours!"

"They're an indication of how much I despise Kelly rather than an indication of how much I endorse you."

Race smiled at the bluntly honest rejoinder. "And that's why you's the real deal," he declared. "No flatterin' or sweet-talkin' when there's truth to be told instead." He moved aside to let a pedestrian coming down the street pass by, then glanced over at Calico.

"Hey, you want to grab somethin' to eat while we's talkin'?" he suggested. I missed dinner on account of comin' back too late, but I figure some of the street vendors might still be sellin' - there's usually a group of 'em not too far away."

Calico agreed, and they made their way down the street, bypassing the lodging house.

"How have things been over here?" the Bronx newsie asked, giving the establishment a glance as she walked by. "Are your boys behaving themselves?"

"More or less," Race replied. They always made it a point to compare notes, so he'd been expecting the question. Belatedly remembering Artie, he decided to apprise Calico of how the situation regarding the missing money had resolved, for she'd been the one to provide the missing link that had led to Artie's confrontation.

"It weren't one of my best moments," Race concluded after he'd filled her in, "but it taught me a few things. I ain't gonna be so quick to judge Jacky the next time he slips up - I got my blind spots just as much as him."

"You were right about Thimble, though," Calico pointed out. "Even when the evidence was against him, you knew something was off, and it turned out that your instinct was correct."

"Yeah, him bein' the prime suspect always seemed a little fishy, but I couldn't figure out why," Race shrugged. "Anyway, all that's water under the bridge now. And this leadin' the newsies thing is only temporary, just to help Jack out 'till he's got his feet back under him. I'm expectin' he's gonna want to take over again soon, now that things are settlin' down on his end." He paused, then added, "I actually got another problem on my hands right now...but it ain't nothin' havin' to do with the boys."

He'd spoken to Calico vaguely about his family before, but it had been quite some time since he'd brought up the subject. As he began summarizing Sophie's situation and the housing predicament, he suddenly realized that there was a solution that he'd never considered before. It wasn't ideal, to be sure...but if Sophie couldn't find a place to stay in Manhattan, the next best thing would be for her to be with someone who could watch out for her and show her the ropes of newsie life, even if that someone wasn't Race...

Even if that someone lived on the other side of the Harlem River.

Apparently, Calico had the same idea. "We'll take her in," she said as soon as Race had finished speaking. "There are still several openings in our lodging house, and the girls I oversee wouldn't ever think of mistreating her. There are even a few who would probably like taking a younger one under their wing and teaching her what they know. And I'd see to it that she stayed out of trouble."

Race gave her a probing look. "You sure about that, Cal? I know you got your hands full already."

"She's your family, Racetrack," Calico replied, as though that explained everything.

"Well…" Race grinned, "if you's offerin'...I ain't gonna say no." He let out a little sigh, relief flooding through him at this unexpectedly simple solution. "Thanks, Cal," he added. "It's real nice of you. I wouldn't trust my sister with just anyone, but I know she's gonna be in good hands, and truth be told, she's gonna be safer in the Bronx anyway since no one'll come lookin' for her there."

"Do you think she'll object to being so far away?" Calico asked.

"It'll probably take some gettin' used to," Race admitted, "but she'll come around. And in the meantime, I'll stop by to visit as much as I can." His grin widened. "Guess Gar and his boys'll haf'ta get used to seein' me on their turf more often."

That earned him a rueful smile. "You know they have no love for you, Racetrack."

"Aw, really?" Race drawled, feigning surprise. "Whatever happened to romance?"

"Ever since that time you came over to visit and almost got Skeet and Knuckles hauled off to the juvenile penitentiary, Gar's suspected that you're some kind of interloper who's out to get him."

Race chuckled at the memory. The incident in question had taken place months ago on one of his spontaneous visits to see Calico, and what had been an honest mistake had nearly devolved into a few arrests and fisticuffs. He'd talked his way out of it - with more than a little help from the girl newsie - but the urge to needle the narcissistic leader of the Bronx and his henchmen had been too strong to pass up, and Race hadn't stopped himself from levying a few parting quips their direction as he'd been escorted off of their territory. Calico had chided him for it afterwards, but he'd remained unremorseful. Sometimes self-absorbed windbags needed to be taken down a peg or two.

They continued walking down the street in companionable silence, passing a gaggle of pedestrians as they drew near a busier street, and Race saw Calico inspecting a few of the more well-dressed members of the lot with a practiced eye, no doubt tempted to pocket a fancy bauble or two, but she refrained, her hands remaining at her sides. It brought back memories of the times when they'd gone pilfering together for fun, and though Race had since left off indulging in the pastime (with an occasional cigar being the exception), he knew that Calico was constantly swiping things that caught her eye, canny and quick like a magpie amassing treasures for her nest.

It wasn't a habit he particularly wanted Sophie picking up on (not because he had any particular qualms about its moral implications, but because he didn't want her getting caught), but he just had to just trust that Calico would exercise common sense in that regard. They'd been through enough scrapes together for him to know that she possessed sound judgment and that she was true to her word, and since she'd promised to look after Sophie, he knew she would do it. The specifics of that supervision would have to be left up to her discretion.

The thought of Sophie permanently settling in the Bronx was a surprisingly agreeable one, all things considered. The distance would make things less convenient, but Race was willing to put in the walking if that meant setting up his sister in a situation where she would be protected and cared for and ultimately where she'd have a chance to find a family the way he had with the Lower Manhattan newsies. And he was used to visiting the Bronx, anyway. His occasional meetings with Calico were never scheduled or planned, but they occurred often enough where he knew the quickest routes back and forth and was familiar with which parts of the borough to avoid. As long as he stayed out of Gar's way, he could go where he pleased, and Sophie would be able to as well. From what Calico had mentioned in previous conversations, Gar generally considered the girl newsies to be beneath his notice, so it wasn't likely he'd bother Sophie, especially not with Calico looking out for her.

Satisfied, Race turned his attention back to the street, watching as an elegantly-dressed lady exited a shop up ahead, her attention absorbed by the foot traffic on the sidewalk as she fumbled with the packages that she was carrying. This time, Calico did make a move, skillfully divesting the unwitting woman of the coin purse that was sitting just inside of her half-open handbag. The pilfering was barely perceptible, but Race had observed Calico long enough to know what to look for, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as she examined her prize with a look of satisfaction before quickly secreting it away.

"Bet'cha what's inside that is worth a pretty penny," Race remarked casually. "You feel like treatin' me to dinner tonight, Cal? Pretty sure you just made more than I did sellin' today."

The girl sniffed derisively. "You're capable of picking your own pockets."

"Yeah, but I ain't got the knack for it that you do," Race rebutted. "You's always been the more quick-fingered one of the two of us." He knew that Calico primarily stole for the thrill of it (though she'd occasionally pocket something that caught her eye to add to her personal collection of baubles), but it was rare for her to straight up lift someone's money, and he was curious to know why she'd done it.

"I need to have a reserve," Calico said pointedly. "It's supposed to rain later this week. I might need the money to offset any losses."

Race grunted at this unwelcome news. He usually tried to keep an eye on the weather report, but hadn't been doing so lately, due to his mind being on other things. The predicted precipitation wouldn't make selling impossible, but it would make it harder, and things were hard enough as it was without the weather deciding that it needed to get in on the game.

But at least things were looking up with regard to Sophie's situation, he reminded himself. He'd need to run the idea by her first to make sure that she was willing to make the move to the Bronx, but with a little convincing, he was pretty sure she'd agree to it - there really weren't many other options for her at this point. And Race was going to highlight all of the positive sides of the northern borough as much as he could, for though he had no love for Gar, he trusted Calico, and that was enough for him to be willing to release a valuable of a different kind into the hands of the quick-fingered newsie whose propensity for acquiring other people's treasure was, in Race's opinion, second only to her skill in making the most of unideal situations.

Sophie was in need of a new profession and a new home - and he was willing to bet that Calico's offer would be a fitting answer to both.


It turned out that Race didn't have an opportunity to broach the subject of The Bronx with his sister until nearly two days later. Sophie had been spending more and more time with the Becker family, and Race had found himself loath to intrude upon that time, knowing that it would come to an end soon. When he'd come by to visit on subsequent evenings and had found notes on Sophie's apartment door stating that she was dining with the landlord and his family, he'd only scribbled down a few sentences of approval and a promise that he would catch up with her later and had left, content to know that his sister was happy.

Eventually, though, he needed to break the news to her, and his chance to do so came after a particularly long day of selling. The aforementioned rain had put a damper on things in more ways than one, and Race had barely managed to move his allotment of papes, but move them he had, and as soon as the last near-sodden copy had left his hands, he'd turned his steps in the direction of the Becker tenement, eager to see Sophie and to get out of the rain.

Thankfully, his sister was in her apartment when he stopped by.

"Tony, you's soaked!" she exclaimed upon opening the door.

"Yeah, it's still rainin' cats and dogs out there," Race replied, stepping inside. "Had a little trouble sellin' the last of my papes, but I got rid of 'em all, eventually." His sister handed him a towel, and he grinned at her as he sopped up some of the water from his clothes. "You look like you had a better afternoon than me, though. You spend all day with Beck's family?"

"They invited me over for lunch," Sophie answered. "That is, Mrs. Becker did. Abby and Sadie were at school."

"How was lunch?"

"Good! We ate chicken pie with this really tasty bean salad and had cider cake for dessert. And after that I sat with Lilly a while and told her more stories. Then Mrs. Becker let me help her in the kitchen. We made some biscuits and flavored 'em with rosemary - there's a few wrapped up in a cloth over on the table if you wanna have a taste."

Race smiled at his sister's excited chatter as he took a seat at the table. Sophie had always been a talkative child, but it had been a while since he'd seen her like this.

"These biscuits are real good, Soph," he said after taking a bite. "You's shapin' up to be a gourmet cook."

His sister smiled slightly as she joined him at the table. "When I moved in with Ma and Franklin, I had'ta learn how to do some things in the kitchen," she admitted.

It was the first time that she'd mentioned them since the night of her arrival in Manhattan, and Race felt his latent anger stir. He and his sister had learned to be resourceful in the absence of any reliable parental figures who would have helped them carry the burden of surviving daily life, but the thought of Sophie having to cook and clean and who knew what else while the two adults living with her bummed around or drank themselves into a stupor was galling. It was a picture that Race was all too familiar with, for he'd been a part of it years ago before he'd struck out on his own, but the thought of his little sister having to shoulder that uncalled for responsibility without anyone there to help incensed him.

Those days were over, though, he reminded himself. He was never going to let her go back.

Finishing the last of the biscuit, Race licked the crumbs from his fingers, then forced a cheerful note into his voice as he said aloud, "It seems like you's makin' good friends with Sadie's sister - the one with the seizures. You said she likes your stories?"

Sophie nodded, her face brightening again. "She keeps askin' me to retell the one about the geese in Prospect Park, but I think her favorite's about how you fell into the harbor tryin' to climb the docks on a dare." Smiling, she added, "I dunno why...but it feels kinda nice to be able to give somethin' back, even if it's just a silly tale or two. Her family's done a lot for me, and I feel bad just receivin' their charity like that, but bein' able to talk to Lilly and see her smile makes me feel good, and I can tell Mrs. Becker and Sadie are real happy about it, too."

"Well, it seems like you's doin' them a service with your knack for entertainin'," Race remarked. "It's your Higgins blood comin' through - we's experts at spinnin' stories." It would have been the perfect segue into broaching the subject of the Bronx and the awaiting newsie life, but he held back for a moment, wanting to give his sister as long as she could to just be a kid again without having to think about the responsibilities and burdens that all too soon would return to rest upon her shoulders.

"You hungry, Tony?" Sophie asked suddenly, noticing belatedly that he'd finished his biscuit. "Mrs. Becker sent me back with the last of the chicken pie for my dinner. It's real tasty." The landlord's wife had been feeding her young visitor for the last several days, and the benefits of the ample and hearty cooking were already beginning to show on Sophie's face, which was far less gaunt than it had been when she'd arrived.

"Thanks, Soph," Race replied. "I'm sure it's a first rate chicken pie, but I'll get myself some dinner on the way back to the lodgin' house. You oughta just enjoy it."

"I'm still full from lunch," Sophie confessed. "I think Mrs. Becker's the kind that likes tryin' to fatten people up, even if she don't say so. She's always offerin' me food and givin' me seconds to take home. She's like that with Davey, too, whenever he stops by."

"Oh yeah?" Race grinned. "That bummer stops by pretty often?"

Sophie nodded. "Usually with Mr. Becker when they's working on somethin', but he's around most nights for tutorin', too. Makes sense, I guess, seein' as he and Sadie is goin' together."

Race let out a guffaw, and his sister gave him a quizzical look.

"They's goin' together...ain't they?"

"What makes ya think that?" Race chortled, imagining the look on Davey's face if the other newsie had been present to hear Sophie's erroneous (if innocent) assumption.

"Well…" Sophie hedged, "she knows all his habits and preferences, and his eyes kinda light up whenever she's around. I figured they was sweethearts and just didn't say anything about it 'cause everybody knew already."

"They oughta be," Race opined. "But they ain't."

"Why not?"

"'Cause Davey's a nitwit."

"Most boys is."

Race let out a snort. "Yeah, well, he's a 'specially dense case. Hasn't even fessed up to his feelin's yet, let alone said anything to the gal in question."

Sophie considered the statement for a moment. "Guess I could see that," she conceded thoughtfully. "But I sure hope he figures things out and says somethin' to her soon. Sadie's a real nice gal...but I think she's kinda lonely."

Race was surprised. "You think so? She seems like a chirky little lady to me."

"She is, most of the time. But sometimes she gets this look when she thinks no one's watchin'. It's all serious and wistful-like. Pretty sure she don't want anyone to know, 'cause she hides it real well, but I can tell there's somethin' botherin' her. I don't think it's 'cause she's pinin' for a sweetheart...but somethin' else is makin' her sad."

"And you think a serious fella like Davey would be able to make her happy?" Race pressed, unable to keep the incredulity out of his voice (for as much as he wanted to see his friend and the petite brunette pair up, some residual doubt remained that there was any possibility of the attraction being more than one-sided).

Sophie shrugged. "He might be able to get to the bottom of what's troublin' her."

Race considered the possibility for a moment. Now that he thought about it, the idea wasn't completely far-fetched; Davey, for all of his obtuseness when it came to himself, did have a knack for reading other people and drawing them out. Race had been on the receiving end of the other boy's innate sensitivity and uncanny intuition more than once, and maybe those kinds of traits actually could be helpful - and appealing - under the right circumstances.

Tucking the thought away, he gave his sister a proud grin. "You's real smart, ya know that, Sophie? I don't know too many gals your age who's so good at noticin' things."

She smiled at the compliment. "All I do is call it like I see it." Giving him a knowing glance, she added, "Speakin' of which...you look like you got somethin' to tell me, Tony. Any news about the housin' situation?"

"Yeah," Race admitted, deciding there was no point in putting it off any longer now that she'd brought it up. "I think I've found a place for you, Soph. It's a good place, but the catch is, it's in the Bronx, not here in Manhattan like we wanted." Carefully, he laid out the situation involving Calico's offer, taking pains to downplay the negative aspects of the arrangement as much as possible and to paint a hopeful picture of what life in the northern borough could look like.

"I'd come visit as much as possible, and Cal would take good care of you, Soph," he concluded, hoping that his sister would understand. "I know it'd take some gettin' used to, but I wouldn't send you somewhere with folks I didn't trust."

"I know, Tony," his sister acknowledged. "I didn't want to come here to the tenement either, but it turned out real nice...while it lasted." The wistfulness in her voice made his heart ache, but her melancholy look was quickly replaced by a brave smile. "So, when would I be movin' to this new place?"

"As soon as we can work things out with Cal," Race replied. "It's been real nice of the Beckers to put you up here, but they haf'ta get things ready for their incoming tenant, and you's gonna need to start workin' just as soon as you can, 'specially now that you's all healed up."

It wasn't the answer he wanted to give her, but it was the truth.

Sophie nodded. He could tell that she was saddened, but he also knew that she'd find it somewhere in herself to pull through, just as she always had. She was brave beyond her years, and she'd faced innumerable challenges already in her young life. Hopefully this would be the last of them for a while.

"Do you think I could come back to Manhattan and visit every once in a while?" Sophie asked softly, breaking into Race's thoughts. "I'm gonna miss seein' Lilly and Sadie and the rest of the family."

"'Course you can, Soph," he promised. "Any time you want." He gave her a fond look. "I'll even overlook the fact that you didn't mention your older brother just now when you was talkin' about all the folks you's gonna miss once you move."

She punched him in the arm. "You know you's at the top of my list, Tony."

"I know, Soph," Race smiled, pulling her into a one-armed hug. "You don't haf'ta say it." He held her for a moment longer, the familiar pall of impending separation settling upon him even as he masked his despondency with a resolute expression not unlike her own. He wasn't ready to let her go yet...but he had to. And he had to trust that it was for the best.

"It's all gonna be okay, Sophie," he murmured, speaking not just for his sister, but for himself. "It's gonna be more than okay. I promise."


A/N: Things are looking up for the Higgins siblings, and Calico is back (in case anyone missed her :P). She still has a substantial part to play in this story, so you'll be seeing more of her, starting with our next Interstices installment (which picks up where this chapter leaves off)! If you're curious to catch up with Cal and get a behind the scenes sneak peek at what's to come, please check out "The Art of Affection," which will be posted in the next week or two.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this installment! Please share your reactions to it with me in a review if you have a moment - I'd love to hear any questions or predictions you have, favorite lines/parts of this chapter, etc. Thank you! :)