Medda's hands clenched her mug tightly, instinctively.

I have to get with Cece about the lighting for Act III of -

The wealthiest family in the country is after her.

I need to meet with the Music Director for -

She is in danger, even here, in my condo.

What about tomorrow's matinee of -

The daughter of Ira. In my care.

I need to -

She closed her eyes.

Breathe.

But even that didn't help.

She sipped her tea...though it was more whiskey than anything else. Bless Kat for knowing what she needed.

But, God... what were they going to do?

She stole another glance at the young woman asleep on the couch, just seeing the top of her head on the armrest. She took solace in the tired but watchful expressions on Claudia and Mush's faces, whose eyes hadn't left Kira's since she had fainted.

Kira -

Medda swallowed, remembering Kira's face in her bedroom upstairs as she had told her...everything.

Kira's lip had trembled, her eyes swam as she read Medda's expression, fearful of the truth that broke her heart.

Now, it was all Medda could do to keep from hugging her so tightly, to comfort her.

Kira had lost her, her mother.

Medda knew how that felt.

But...

She was also the daughter of the one Medda had counted as a sister.

Medda took another long sip of her whiskey with a spot of tea.

"So...Claudia, huh?" Mush said lightly, softly from across the room.

His tone feigned lightness, but his and Claudia's gazes were glued to Kira's sleeping figure.

Medda's eyes were sharp on Claudia as she hid the pleasure she felt at the sound of her name on Mush's lips, the newness of it. The warmth. Claudia peaked at him through her curls, her eyes puffy and glassy. But her soft lips lifted at the corners as she read his expression.

"My great grandmother's name, on my mother's side."

A mischievous glint appeared in Mush's gaze. "Was she ever in New York? Maybe I knew her -"

Claudia, unable to help the snort that escaped her, shoved him.

"I like it," Mush said as he leaned his elbows on his knees. "An' I'm not jus' sayin' that."

Claudia pressed her lips to his cheek, her hand on his arm. He looked at her.

"Thank you for...everything," she whispered, her eyes darting to the girls across the room with Medda. She met Medda's eyes. "It's appreciated, more than you know."

Kat draped a blanket around Jade's shoulders at the dining table, Jade's chin resting on her knees as she stared across the table at Tyler and Kiki. The sky had darkened outside the windows behind them, time like a blur in their confinement. The rain had stopped and the temperature dropped as early evening descended. They were all waiting...for what they didn't know.

Tyler's voice snapped Medda from her thoughts - "- certainly explains why she's been distant from you," he said after they had dissected Joselyn's moves at the gala and showcase for the tenth time, trying to find understanding in the confusion.

"We won't hear from her. Not that I want to," Kiki said darkly as she gripped the mug of tea Kat had brought her and the table. "I don't know what to believe anymore."

"We only know her story from 1901," Medda reasoned, her hands still like vices around her mug as her eyes sought out David and Spot in the kitchen. "We may not fully understand her motives in this life. Not yet."

Kat looked up at Medda, her eyes imploring. "Do you think...Ira - Vivian - knew...?"

Medda watched the guys across the room in the kitchen, tightly grouped. Race, David, Specs, Boots, Bumlets, and Snoddy stood around Spot, murmuring to each other. Spot held Jack the Cat in his arms, Kid the Cat weaving around his legs, as he stared numbly across the room at Kira's sleeping form.

Jack was on the roof, and had been for almost an hour.

None of them attempted to go to him. Even if they had wanted to, they didn't know what to do for him. They knew there was nothing any of them could do...

"It's too coincidental for her not to have known," Medda answered.

"That would mean she'd forgiven her," Kiki murmured.

Only to be betrayed again, Medda thought bitterly.

She put her mug down on the glass table top too forcefully, the guys' voices in the kitchen stopping short as she turned away from them all, taking out the vibrating phone from her pocket. "Cece, thank you for handling things while...while I'm on leave. Yes, I'm fine, but you know me, work never stops - yes, I need to speak with the lighting director for the third act."

From the kitchen, Spot watched Medda carefully, noticing her free hand shaking as she touched her hair and moved away from the glass dining room table where Kira's friends sat closely. Medda crossed to the farthest window, her young face creased with worry.

Spot could practically see the thoughts running through her head -

What about this week's shows?

What about Kira?

What about opening night for -?

What about Kira?

They had the same worries on all their minds...

What about work?

What about Steve?

What about -

"What about Kid?" Boots' voice cut through the quiet like a knife. "If he's as bad as you say he is -"

Spot came back to them, glancing around as if waking. He was so tired. But he couldn't stop thinking of Kid's heartwrenching expression, his tearful eyes. Hating himself.

His hand resumed its absentminded stroking of Jack the Cat's ears. "Not gonna lie, fellas... he was pretty fucked up."

"Strung out?" Mush asked softly as he joined them in the kitchen, jumping up on the counter next to Snoddy.

Spot swallowed, his voice ragged. "Worse."

Racetrack looked away, his mind reeling to grasp any hope, anything.

Specs dropped his head dejectedly. "What do we do?"

"Nothin'," Spot said. He dropped the cat and he scurried away. "We have ta forget about him...for now."

The guys blanched, their voices starting and stopping in shock. Spot couldn't bear to look at them, the same look on their faces he had felt in the elevator.

David's face paled. "But, Spot, what if -"

"Fuck that," Mush said to Spot darkly.

Spot leveled a dark look at each of them. "You weren't there. Ya didn't see 'im. He was -" He licked his lips. He was scared shitless. "I nev'ah seen 'im like that before. Ever. So, we need to focus on what mattah's -"

"An' Kid doesn't?!" Snoddy spat.

Bumlets stepped to the middle, closer to Spot, his eyes angry. "He's all we've been hoping for this whole time, this whole time we've been waiting for him to -"

"Have ya lost ya minds?" Racetrack said tightly, stepping up to Bum. "Have ya forgotten how these guys work -"

"I haven't forgotten," David said evenly, joining Bumlets. "Which is why we have to do something -"

"Denton's workin' on it," Spot barked loudly. "So can it."

The room fell silent.

Racetrack removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes cast down as he sighed. "Look, fellas, we're exhausted. We're fightin' with each other. Let's take a break, huh?"

They backed down, their shoulders slumping again as the tightness in their chests eased...the stress and tension were still there, but their exhaustion was stronger.

Spot shook his head, his voice cracking as he spoke softly. "Ya weren't there - there ta see 'im." He rubbed his mouth, avoiding all their gazes. Kid's eyes red and glassy in front of him, even as he closed his own. "He looked - sick. Hollow. Afriad."

"He's in deep," David muttered, meeting the guys' stares. "We knew it before, but now..."

"We gotta get 'im out," Boots said, his jaw tightening, his eyes swimming. "Denton's gotta get 'im out."

The room seemed to crack as Kat's mug clamored on the glass-top dining table, her hand covering her mouth as she dashed to the side bathroom. Tyler instinctively stood, but he didn't follow her. Medda stared as the bathroom door closed behind Kat.

"Medda?" Claudia's shaky voice took everyone by surprise - she was staring at her phone, her brows knitted. "...can you turn on the TV to...uh...CNN, ABC, FOX...any news channel?"

Tyler, Jade, and Kiki looked at each other before setting down their mugs. Medda finished her call with her assistant hastily as she crossed the room and reached for the remote on the coffee table, her hand shaking as the TV on the wall woke up and bathed the room in blue light.

"...we are hearing now from authorities that the Wilks brothers have been under heavy investigation for almost a decade, from sex trafficking and drug smuggling to money laundering and blackmail of local and national officials. Reporting from the Metropolitan Detention Center in Brooklyn, Terry Killian brings us the latest news as the story unfolds. Terry, thank you for joining us."

The guys slowly moved into the sitting room, standing behind Medda and staring at the flatscreen TV. Images from the penthouse, the Black Diamond, and NYU's campus flashed, all covered in police tape and barricades and people. Jade lifted her hands to her mouth.

"Thank you, Dillon - the Wilks brothers and several trusted members of their organization were apprehended Friday evening at the Wilks' penthouse on 5th Avenue after attending NYU's famed Winter Showcase. Along with hundreds of attendees, celebrities, and New York elites, the Wilks Brothers attended the Gala and the Showcase, and were featured in the final performance by NUY student Tiffany Wingham."

"Fuck," Honey choked out.

"It's what she wanted," Kiki said solemnly.

Kat emerged from the bathroom, eyes red and glassy and glued to the TV as she stopped next to Tyler.

"...Wingham's performance displayed photos of the brothers and of alleged victims, thus acting as a whistleblower. But the story progresses with Wingham, who has been identified and confirmed by a private source as Kira Knight, daughter of the late Hollywood icons Erik and Vivian Knight. Vivian Knight was known as the best dancer in modern US history, but also for her continued efforts in anti-sex trafficking fundraisers and programs -"

Medda gasped as a video clip from 1982 filled the TV screen.

Vivian...Ira.

She was unmistakable, the lead dancer in one music video after another: she danced in Who Can It Be Now? by Men at Work in nothing but a white button-down; in Mad World by Tears for Fears; in 1999 by Prince. Her own roles, written just for her, the most sought-after dancer of her generation.

Her cold eyes gleamed beneath long dark hair, her body shapely but toned like a machine, dressed in the hottest eighties fashions. Video after video...stage shows, music videos, award show performances.

Her pale skin was smooth, no scars or marks to be seen on her strong frame. Her shoulders back, her strong chin held high. It felt as if they'd seen her all their lives, hiding just out of sight beneath their noses.

Striking on red carpets, designers clamored to have their pieces on her at every function. She didn't flaunt her wealth - off stage she was reserved, an observer. But on stage, she was unapologetic in her execution, as if nothing could hold her back.

She smiled but carried a secret—a shadow. One the guys and Medda recognized.

Time passed with the clips, and then a man appeared beside her in photos from the nineties. Her smile changed - brightened.

He was handsome, movie star handsome, with wavy sandy hair, warm green eyes, and a wide charming smile on his face as he stood next to her on red carpets at premieres. But he didn't look at the cameras - his eyes were on her face. He was completely enthralled by her, as she was with him.

A young girl soon appeared with them in photos and video clips, their love embodied in her.

She changed completely - Vivian's joy was tangible.

"...the Knights had Hollywood wrapped around their fingers until the tragic and early death of Erik Knight, prompting Vivian Knight to retreat from the spotlight to raise their daughter."

Young Kira danced across the screen, some with Vivian by her side. Both dancing and immersing themselves in their shared love to rise above their grief... Their bond was apparent, as was their love and adoration for each other.

"Kira Knight followed in her mother's footsteps and took the dance world by storm until Vivian was diagnosed with brain cancer. She passed away in 2015 and her daughter all but disappeared. We have confirmed that she's been undercover and working with the FBI for almost 2 years to investigate the Wilks Brothers -"

Footage from the showcase, from cameras and cellphones. Kira was everywhere, plastered all over the news.

Spot had to look down at her to reassure himself that she was here, safe. But he froze when he saw an empty couch.

His eyes darted around the first floor and then up the stairs, seeing the edge of a robe disappearing behind Medda's bedroom door as it closed silently.

"No hidin' now," Racetrack said as he stared with the others at the slideshow of Kira, her mother, and the Wilks Brothers, the news reporter's voice going through them. "Sorry Medda, looks like we ain't leavin' any time soon..."

But Medda was reeling. "How did I never ...see her before? Vivian Knight...she was everywhere. A sensation."

"I grew up studying her music videos," Tyler said in disbelief.

Spot slipped away from them unnoticed.

Her hands gripped the freezing wet metal of the balcony railing, feeling it bite her palms and fingers. She inhaled slowly, deeply, the wind whipping her hair and face. She still felt...dizzy, light-headed, like she was in a dream. A horrible repeating dream.

She closed her eyes, closed out the high-rise buildings, the lights, the noise.

She imagined she was weightless, water all around her, cradling her, nothing around her but the life of the ocean, its rhythm. All noises muffled beneath the motions of the waves above her.

She exhaled roughly, almost sobbing.

Those videos, those photos. She wished she hadn't woken just as Claudia had asked to turn on the TV.

Her worst nightmare all over again, all over the biggest news channels, primed for reliving with no one aware of the painful grief thrumming through her with each replay and every cherished photo.

She wanted to scream -

She heard the glass door behind her slide open. Someone stepped through.

She didn't open her eyes for fear of more tears. "Please, I just want to be alone -"

"Figured you'd want one of these."

Her eyelids flew open at the voice, the cold stinging her eyes. She turned and, surprisingly, welcomed the image of Spot leaning nonchalantly on the doorframe with two cigarettes hanging from his busted lips. He looked exhausted, his jaw darkened from deep purple bruises and stubble. She didn't know how he was standing up - she felt the shame from before as she looked at him.

But his eyes were alert, glowing as he lit the cigarettes. A cloud of smoke drifted on the cold air as he took one from his lips, offering it to her like a truce. He stayed where he was, allowing her her space.

Against the bitter heartbreak she felt, she nodded. "Yeah."

She took it from him and he eyed her bare feet, shaking his head.

She wiggled her toes and turned back to the city, taking a long drag and resisting the urge to cough on the nicotine. "Just wanted to feel... something solid."

He gingerly stepped up to the railing, his cat eyes narrow as he scanned the city.

She stared ahead, searching for something she wouldn't find among the shimmering buildings in the grey.

"Somethin' real?" he asked gently.

She nodded, feeling her throat closing up again. She held her cigarette on the railing, still gripping it for stability. "...how's your rib?"

"Like the rest of me - hurts like a bitch," he shrugged. "When I'm not half drunk and high."

She nodded, biting her lip. "I... I never said thank you -"

"Yeah you did," he said. He flicked ash over the edge into the cold wind. He didn't so much as shiver as the cold icy air gripped them.

She turned to him, cutting the pretense. "You could've been killed."

He shook his head once, his eyes rolling upwards. "Wish everybody would stop sayin' that."

"It was reckless."

He looked at her, the light in his eyes taking her by surprise just like the night in his Caddie. "I could say the same to you, sweetheart."

She swallowed, remembering her number at the Showcase.

The images from the news channel.

She dropped her gaze from him. "My recklessness was...planned. But it was never about me. And it was certainly never supposed to be about any of you."

"We willingly walked into that one." He took a drag and exhaled slowly. "An' knowing Jack...There was no way to stop him, either."

She swallowed tightly, feeling the bitterness rising. She closed her eyes and her heart, blocking his name out. "Until now -"

His warm hand covered hers on the rail. She dropped her cigarette and it landed near her feet, a long strand of smoke drifting up from it as it went out slowly. She looked up and met those striking eyes, two oceans staring into each other.

"He'd do the same thing right now if you were still back there," he said, like a vow.

She wanted to look away, but the pulsing warmth from his hand held her still, melting away the numbness she'd tried to hold on to. The most solid and real thing she'd felt since they confined her to the hotel room.

She shook her head, fighting his words. "You don't know that," she whispered.

She'd woken up angry. She wanted to stay angry. Knowing the truth, unable to hide from it, it tainted everything she thought was real.

But all she felt was sorrow. Regret. Heartbreak.

The image of him staring at her when she told him -

Spot stared at her for a long moment and she wondered what he was thinking about. His voice was steady now.

"I do. Because I've sat with him on rooftops when this city was just learning to walk. I've seen him strung out on worry and stress, wondering how he was going to keep his boys alive through winter when there wasn't enough food or clothes. I've seen him lead a city's worth of newsies through a strike, demandin' for bett'ah. I've seen him tear a city apart for someone he never gave up on."

She felt a chill deeper than the freezing temps move through her as she looked at him.

"An'... I've seen him adapt to a strange world of cell phones and Snapchat. I've seen him accept the life that's here, right now. An' I've watched him let go of the one that's not."

His hand didn't leave hers, and her eyes began to sting.

His strong narrow jaw tightened, his cigarette long-forgotten in his other hand. "I've known him twice now, and he hasn't changed, not his loyalty to those he cares for. But even back then... She didn't change him the way you have."

Her jaw clenched against the glimmer of hope fluttering in her stomach.

As if sensing her hesitation, his hand tightened on hers. She fought to still her heart and the breaking she felt.

He licked his lips, holding her gaze. "I won't try ta speak for 'im, or for her...but I know that when we knew her, she was only just beginnin' ta heal herself. An' she was taken before she could begin again. God knows she'd been through enough hell to only dream about heaven."

A tear escaped down her cheek, but she couldn't bring herself to move her hand from his, as if the comfort from his hand held her there on the freezing balcony.

The light in his eyes was far away, his head slightly shaking. "Don't torture yourself askin' why. We've done that an' we're no closer to knowin' anythin'. But I know he met ya for a reason, jus' like she met your father."

She shook her head, wanting to pull away from him. "Spot, I can't -"

"Can I give ya some advice?" he asked as he removed his hand from hers. He relit his cigarette, took a long drag, and flicked more ash over the railing. "Somethin' I've recently adopted for meself."

She eyed him apprehensively.

He turned towards her, his elbow leaning on the cold rail. "Baby steps, dollface."

She shook her head, "It's too late for that."

"No, it ain't."

She pressed her palm to her forehead, laughing coldly as she moved across the balcony, the soles of her feet completely numb.

"Our lives are at stake and you're playing matchmaker!"

She wheeled on him at the sound of his laugh, coughing as he smiled broadly out to the city.

"Tha oldest an' best matchmaker in New York!" he shouted over the rooftops.

Somewhere below a dog began to bark. Kira couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. The sheer impossibility of it all.

Silence fell between them and he toyed with his cigarette as she pulled her robe tighter, sinking into one of the balcony chairs, soaked from the freezing rain.

She shook her head. "I can't - I can't lose focus. Not now. But I can't help thinking about...what she told me. What she left behind for -"

The glass door slid open again.

"'bout time, Assistant Director," Spot said lightly as he put out his cigarette.

Agent Martin gave Kira a slight smile. "Glad you're safe. You ok?"

She gave a hard laugh, the wind blowing through her.

He nodded knowingly. "I know...and I'm sorry to drag you back into it, but I have someone downstairs. We're on borrowed time, so she doesn't have long."

She bristled, almost forgetting - but then noticed the pointed look Spot and Martin exchanged.

"This should be fun," Spot muttered as he tossed his cigarette into the wet ashtray on the table next to Kira. "Get anything out of her that even resembles the truth? From either century?"

Martin sighed, "That's what I'm hoping to get right now, away from... listening ears." He looked at Kira, "Now that the truth is out."

Spot scoffed, "Good luck."

She stuttered, her mind reeling. "Wh - wait..." She gripped the chair that held her as she stood, her eyes nailed to Martin's face. "...not you too."

They eyed her carefully, Spot's hand instinctively extended to catch her.

She closed her eyes and exhaled, exasperated. "Fucking hell - alright. Alright... Let's have it."