"I'll go, Ginny," James offered manfully as he began to push to his feet. His expression was grim but resolved, and wholly unbefitting a boy of his age.

"No, honey."Ginny moved in front of him to stop him.

"But, Ginny-"

"No."

"But-"

"I said no!" she snapped, instantly regretting it when a look of hurt flashed across her brother's face."Oh, James, I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking. She gave the boy a watery but heartfelt smile of apology."I didn't mean to do that, James."

James trained his eyes on his legs and picked at a loose thread on the seam of his trousers. He and Lewis were the men of the family now. And they should be strongmen didn't cry like sniveling babies no matter what. A single tear snaked down his flushed cheek and he angrily wiped it away with dirty fingers."S'okay."

"No." Ginny shook her head. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't okay, that she shouldn't have been so harsh and that she loved him... and so much more than that. But she felt as though a heavy weight was pressing against her breastbone and it just wouldn't stop and let her catch her breath. She would, she decided, see to her own injuries later. After she'd crossed to the street and found the rest of her family one way or the other. I need to get the kids someplace warm and dry. And they'll need to eat and use an outhouse. She shivered as goosebumps erupted on her arms, missing her coat for the first time.

"Ginny." Lewis' voice was suddenly panicky and Ginny followed his wide-eyed gaze. Men in dark pants and white coats were loading the stretchers that had just come from inside the building onto a wagon.

"I'll be back," Ginny called scratchily over her shoulder, already making her way through the throngs of emergency workers and neighborhood residents. She was panting now and felt a little faint.

Her mind had raced. What now? Where do we go if I find them? No. I can't think like that. Not while there's still a chance. But no matter how Ginny tried, she couldn't make herself believe it. Not a living occupant of 88 Orchard Street had come out of the building after her and the siblings she led out of the building. God. She'd closed her eyes at the feeling of her heart tearing in two. How do you give up on your family? How will I tell the boys...and Jane?

Halfway to her destination she had the sudden urge to stop. So she did, turning back to see what she knew in her heart that her remaining living relatives were sitting patiently on the curb, waiting for her return. She lifted her hand to wave and both boys waved back, causing a tiny, affectionate smile to twitch at her lips despite the situation."I love you. Be good," she mouthed silently Lewis mouthed back 'Yes' and James just rolled his eyes, pulling his cap down over his face.

When Ginny turned back to the fire she felt dizzy and she grasped onto the side of one of the fire wagons to keep her balance, but for some reason her fingers wouldn't work and she slid to the ground. The sound of the people rushing around her, the spraying of fire hoses and the crackling of burning wood all seemed to fade as tiny dots danced before her eyes. She caught a glimpse of the wagon carrying the stretchers starting to move a split second before her world went black.

The ferry butted gently against the dock and several bulky men from the New York Penitentiary, clad in striped prison attire, plain brown caps, and shabby coats, loaded the injured and ill from the boat onto wagons. A nurse quickly picked through the coughing, crying or simply unconscious bodies, separating the critical patients from the rest and loading them onto a blue wagon that would be allowed to leave for the hospital first.

Ginny's stretcher was placed alongside an elderly vagrant who'd been stabbed in a robbery the night before and who'd waited in the receiving area of Manhattan's finest hospitals as the hospital administrators argued over where he should receive treatment. Ginny had been much more fortunate and was routed directly to the docks where the Charity Hospital Ferry was just about to cast off.

With a quick snap of the reins, the blue wagon began to move and Ginny gazed up into the winter sky. She was confused and she blinked several times, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. Am I dead? she wondered dazedly. Where are the boys and Alice? Why can't I breathe? She rolled her eyes sideways in time to see a nurse, who was riding in the wagon along with her patients, scowl as she checked an old man's pulse. Ginny closed her eyes again, welcoming the darkness. She didn't want to see the blanket that was covering him pulled over his head. No more, she told herself. No more death today.

On the other side of Blackwell's Island, a second ferry carrying patients bound for the Charity Hospital docked with a muted thud, sending a small wave of dark, dirty water sloshing over the wooden landing. This transport was nearly empty and its few injured passengers were unloaded quickly. A single stretcher holding Lindsay Killian was placed in a blue wagon and rushed towards the hospital emergency room.

On this day, two young women's fates were about to collide and each would be changed forever.

Chapter Three.

It was full dark before Lindsay was moved from the surgery to a bed at the far end of the women's fourth floor east wing. Two prisoners lifted her from the gurney she was riding in and gently placed her on a bed clad only in dingy white sheets and topped by a thin pillow inside a pale pink pillowcase.

Her head sank into the pillow and the sheet was draped over her. Lindsay let out a little moan and licked dry lips as the 'orderlies' disappeared. She cracked open one eye and the room spun a little as she tried to gain her bearings.

She had awoken to a world of hurt that reeked of bleach mixed with the metallic scent of blood. Where am I?

Most of the ward's lights had been turned off, casting the unfamiliar, institutional setting in haunting shadows. Gone were the bridge and the railroad tracks, which were the last places Lindsay could truly remember being, though she had a vague recollection of being carried down the tracks, the cavernous but warm interior of a church, and a frantic wagon ride.

She blinked with exaggerated slowness, realizing that she was only seeing out of one eye. Her entire body ached and felt impossibly heavy and the room appeared to be draped in a dense haze.

Lindsay tried to open her other eye and, when she couldn't open it at all, a surge of panic tore through her. What if she'd lost it in the fight? Her heart began to pound. What if the dog...? God. The room swam as she tried to sit up. "Damn," she cried out brokenly as a bolt of searing pain halted her movement instantly. Her abdomen felt as though someone was twisting a knife in it and her head throbbed. Where the dog had torn into her shoulder she could the tight, burning sensation of new stitches holding together tender skin.

"Now then," a nurse, whose accent clearly indicated she was from Queens, startled Lindsay. But despite the woman's somewhat grating tone, Lindsay was relieved to hear a voice, any voice, being directed at her. That means I'm not dead, doesn't it?

"You shouldn't move," the nurse chastised mildly. The woman was middle-aged and plump, her dress protected by a white apron that stretched to the floor. A crisp white hat sat atop her head of dull brown hair.

Cool air tickled Lindsay's legs as her sheet was pulled back. She fought the urge to cover herself."Clothes?"

"Those rags are long gone. But your soiled coat and shoes are under your bed." The nurse made a face."I'll see if we can't clean up the coat tomorrow so they won't be forced to give you a new one."

"They?"Lindsay's voice was weak. She thought she remembered several nuns hovering over her. Or was that years ago?"The church?"

"Hardly," the nurse snorted."I mean the State of New York."She tapped a syringe in her hand, removing the air bubbles."No one's told you anything, have they?"

Lindsay's silence was her answer.

"You're in the hospital on Blackwell's Island."

"Jail?" Lindsay squealed, again trying to sit up.

"No."The nurse gently coaxed her back down with a practiced hand."The hospital isn't part of the prison... or the lunatic asylum," she assured before Lindsay could ask. Then her voice took on a slightly impatient edge."Now hold still."

Lindsay felt a prick on her thigh as a needle pierced her skin, then a stronger, burning sensation as a liberal dose of drugs, whose primary ingredient was morphine, was administered.

"What's your name?"The nurse lifted the chart from its holder at the end of Lindsay's bed and annotated the time and dosage of the medication."This says 'unknown'" She quirked a grin. "You'd be surprised how many women in the State of New York decided to name their babies that. I swear sometimes it seems as though we're overrun with them. But somehow I doubt that's your real name."

A deep crease appeared on Lindsay's forehead as she thought. I know this... I think... "I...I..."

The young woman's fear must have shown on her face because the nurse laid a comforting hand on her leg.

Lindsay tried not to jerk away from the unexpected contact, but her reaction was instinctive. She didn't like people touching her. That was dangerous.

"It's all right," the nurse said calmly. She lifted her hand from Lindsay's calf then continued to thumb through the chart. "Ahh. That explains it. You have a concussion among other things. I'm sure that tomorrow things will seem much clearer."She replaced the chart and tucked her pencil behind her ear.

"Okay. But-"

"You need to rest now. You've only recently come out of surgery."The older woman tugged Lindsay's sheet up to her chin and tucked its sides tightly into the thin metal bed frame. Then she pulled a threadbare blanket from the cart she'd left parked in the aisle and laid it over her patient."Hush now, or you'll wake up the others. Someone will be back around to check on you later. My shift is finally over."The 'thank God' was left implied.

Surgery? Damn. I don't have the faintest idea of how I got here. I can't think about that now. They cut me open? Lindsay licked her lips to speak and caught a glimpse of a moving shadow."Wait," she rasped. So thirsty."My eye?"

But the nurse was already gone.

She whimpered a little, wondering how long until the drugs would take effect. Unwilling to follow orders without question, Lindsay refused to try to sleep. Instead, she took in her surroundings as best she could, pushing the pain into a manageable corner in the back of her mind.

To one side of her bed was a plain white wall. At least that's all I see... I hope that's all that's really there. She was, she finally discerned, at the very end of a long, dark ward filled with single beds. She couldn't muster the strength to turn completely over but she could shift just enough to see that in the bed next to hers, so close that she could reach out and touch her if she wanted to, was a fitfully sleeping woman. Lindsay took a moment to study her neighbor to determine whether her coat and shoes would be safe under the bed or if she'd have to sleep with them.

Moonlight spilled over the stranger's drawn face, highlighting her slightly upturned nose and a small, delicate mouth and making her appear a ghoulish gray. Her breathing was harsh and thick and Lindsay idly wondered what tragedy had befallen her, causing her to end up here... all alone.

She's younger than me, I think. But with the same piss poor luck or she wouldn't be here at all. But the passing interest faded as the drug began to seep into Lindsay's bloodstream. Her chest and neck began to itch and she lifted a shaky hand to try and scratch them. Her brow furrowed when she fuzzily realized that her hand was wrapped in a thick bandage and her fingers splinted. How did that happen? Then she moved her hand upward to her face, still worried about her eye, which she could feel was completely swollen shut. She poked the tender flesh gently until she was more or less convinced that her eyeball itself was still there. Higher still, and she could feel that her head was wrapped in gauze.

The constant thudding in her temples and the sharper pain below her breast were beginning to fade, and her eyelid began to grow heavy. But she continued on, her fingertips tracing her nose, which was splinted and bandaged. Now that she wasn't surprised about. In a blinding flash, she could see Jacque's heavy fist coming straight at her and hear the sickening crunch of cartilage all over again. An unexpected wave of nausea swept over her and she swallowed hard against it. She grimaced, causing her to feel the sting of two deep scratches that ran from just below her eye to her chin.

A soft groan drew Lindsay's attention sideways to the next bed. The woman had turned from her back onto her side and was now facing Lindsay. String Bean frowned at the sound of the redhead's shallow gurgles. The breaths were wet and shallow, something that Lindsay could easily place now that her mind wasn't so preoccupied by her own misery. She'd heard it many times before, especially in the winter. Pneumonia. But then why are her hands bandaged? She blearily noted the covered appendages that were now sticking out from under the sheet.

Finding it hard to concentrate as the sense of dislocation within her own body grew, Lindsay felt sleep's irresistible tug. She was about to give into it when she caught a glimpse of moonlight shimmering off the eyes of the women who had been sleeping. She blinked in surprise but held the stranger's pale, frightened gaze for several seconds before the woman's eyes fluttered helplessly shut once more.

Lindsay had a sinking suspicion that she would wake up and the bed next to her would be empty. Maybe I should call for a nurse. But wasn't a nurse just here? Everyone can't be saved, String Bean, the grim thought came unbidden, and she resolutely turned her mind elsewhere. Which wasn't hard, considering she now felt as though she was floating atop a wispy cloud, high above the earth and all its petty troubles.

"String Bean," she blurted out suddenly. A soft giggle bubbled up inside her. That's my name. She smiled to herself as the last bit of discomfort she'd been feeling floated away as if on a gentle breeze. Drugs, Lindsay decided as the mental fog she was drowning in finally reached out and claimed her, could be a very good thing.

Sunshine streamed through the windows of the women's fourth floor east wing at Charity Hospital. Lindsay awoke to the sound of a commotion coming from the bed next to her. Before she even opened her eyes she knew what it was. The girl who couldn't breathe is dead. There was no particular emotion tied to the thought. Save for the fact that Lindsay thought it was a waste and felt sorry for the soul who died all alone. Like I will someday. Like we all do. But then she heard a raspy, strained voice above what she assumed was the clamoring of medical staff. She made it. Whaddya know.

"You don't... you don't understand." Virginia Chisholm's normally warm, somewhat husky voice was barely audible."I can't stay. My parents, the kids... they-"

"Listen, young lady."The nurse straightened her back and crossed her arms over her chest as two other nurses threw their hands in the air and stalked away."You're still running a high fever and we almost lost you twice last night." She lifted an eyebrow. "Aren't you glad the doctor said you could have a small sip of water?"

Her patient nodded quickly.

Lindsay rolled her eyes at the nurse's condescending tone. Apparently she'd missed a lot during her drug-induced stupor. Good. Her eye drifted to the clock above the door, which she could barely make outfit read four o'clock. Did I sleep an entire day?

"If we hadn't given you enough painkillers to fell a horse not an hour ago, I don't think you'd be so sassy now," the nurse informed Ginny tartly."Don't move and be quiet. Girl, you are staying here until a doctor says you're not."

"My name is Virginia... Ginny."A weak cough."Not girl."

A grin twitched at Lindsay's lips and she turned her head to see who was giving the nurse such a hard time. She couldn't quite swallow the groan of pain the movement caused."Oh, nuuuuuuurse? I'd appreciate enough pain killers to fell a horse right about now," Lindsay called outfit came out more smart-ass than she intended it, but it was the God's truth.

The nurse spun around. It was the same heavy-set woman who'd given Lindsay a shot the night before."You're awake. Good. Now it'll be easier to change your bedpan."

Lindsay frowned.

"And annotate your chart and figure out if you have any family..."

"Who can pay for my stay here at the Ritz," Lindsay finished wryly, groaning a little as her body shook with silent laughter. What did they do to my side? And my ribs? "Ugh."

"I don't understand what's funny about that," the nurse said crisply."Medical treatment is not free, you know." The nurse narrowed her eyes. "You and Ms. Chisholm here are going to be nothing but trouble. I can see that. Now..." She lifted an expectant eyebrow at Lindsay. "Family?"

"Nope. No family." Lindsay ground her jaw together to keep from cursing as a wave of fresh pain washed over her."My head is killing me and it's just little ole me in the great big wicked City."

"Am I supposed to write that here?" The nurse tapped Lindsay's chart, which was still in its holder at the foot of Lindsay's bed, with her pencil."Little ole me? I'll tell you my name if you like?" She hesitated, as though she was waiting for an answer, so Lindsay nodded."I'm Miriam Goletz. But you can call me Nurse Goletz."She smiled."See how easy that was? Now it's your turn."

"If it will help me to get my pain killers faster, I'll be anyone you like. President Cleveland even. But I really need something."Lindsay's voice dropped to a rarely used pleading tone.

The nurse's lips thinned as she continued to wait.

Oops."Umm...I mean...my name is String Bean," Lindsay smiled triumphantly then quickly added as an after thought, "ma'am."Amazing how quickly pain has me kissing arse like there's no tomorrow. She hadn't even considered giving her birth name. It had been so long since she'd heard it spoken it didn't even seem like hers anymore. Has it really been so long? Six, nearly seven years?

The older woman shot Lindsay a self-satisfied smile before turning back to Ginny. It wasn't an actual name, but it was better than President Cleveland.

Ginny had quieted during the nurse's brief exchange with String Bean, which worried the hefty woman, especially considering how the girl had been kicking up a fuss about her family and a fire ever since she'd awoken."I'm going to ask the doctor if there's anything we can do about your fever, Ginny."The nurse laid a cool palm on Ginny's forehead, then she shook her own head ruefully."Mmm... Still too high."

Ginny nodded as her eyes began to fill. She didn't feel hot; she was shivering. I'll bet the kids are cold. And scared."Hurry, please? I need to leave. I ...my family."

"Honey," the nurse gave Ginny a sad, sympathetic smile and her voice took on a kindly edge, despite her earlier gruffness."Your hands... they-"

Ginny lifted her hands and studied the white bandages with an almost disinterested air."Were burned," she finished simply. They didn't hurt really. There was only a slight bit of discomfort between her heavily wrapped fingers and she wondered briefly if the lack of serious pain was because of the drugs or the nature of the injury itself. The drugs, she figured. Her burns hadn't been that bad, had they? But then again, she couldn't be sure of anything at the moment. Everything felt fuzzy.

Ginny thought hard, forcing herself to concentrate. There was a fire... And I tore Lewis' coat...The baby was with Mama. Oh, Mama. Why didn't you come downstairs? And who is that annoying woman in the next bed who doesn't even know Cleveland isn't President anymore? What did she say her name was? She snorted to herself as her mind flittered out of her control. A vegetable, she said. Beetroot? Lima Bean? That can't be right. God, I'm so confused. I need to get out of here. I'll bet no one knows I'm here at all. Alice would be here if she knew.

"Yes," the nurse confirmed, breaking into Ginny's mental ramblings, "your hands were burned and the inside of your throat. The back of your neck is blistered too. I'm afraid we had to cut your hair. You won't be going anyplace for quite sometime. Your injuries need to heal."

Ginny reached for her hair, but couldn't grasp it with her bandaged hands. She scowled.

Lindsay winced, imagining how it would feel to burn your hands and throat. Even worse than having the shit beaten out of you and being attacked by a rat dog, she guessed."Oh, nurse?"

The older woman whirled around again and shot Lindsay a disapproving look. "Can't you see that I'm dealing with another patient?"

Lindsay was glad she hadn't said 'helping' another patient. She might have had to take exception to that since, as close as she could tell, the nurse was merely nagging the sick girl. "Someone said surgery?" At least I think they did. Her headache was back and so was the splitting pain in her side with a vengeance. "What happened to me?"

"What didn't happen to you is a better question. You have animal bites and scratches on neck and shoulder. And I'm afraid a chunk of your ear is missing."

"What?"Lindsay screeched.

The nurse turned back and started to take Ginny's pulse. She spoke to Lindsay without turning around."Your doctor will be around shortly to explain your condition."

"There's more? Oh, Christ!"

"They'll be no blasphemy in this hospital, young lady," the nurse scolded before marching away.

Ginny coughed."Did you-" Her throat worked a few times before she could continue."Did you have to do say that?"

Lindsay awkwardly rolled over until she was at least partially facing Ginny."Ugh. That hurts." She jerked a thumb towards her own chest. "Are you talking to me?"She knew, of course, that Ginny was. But she didn't want to appear interested in talking to a stranger. Even though, given the circumstances, she didn't really mind now.

Ginny's pale, still disoriented eyes flashed with sudden anger."Yes," she ground out harshly. "If the nurse is... if she's mad at me, she won't help me get out of this place so I can find the kids."

"What did I do?" Lindsay queried honestly, feeling spurned and sorry she'd even bothered to acknowledge the girl."I just want some God damned medicine, that's all," she lashed back.

"Don't curse at me!"

"I wasn't!" But Lindsay's voice was contrite. Maybe I've been in the company of assholes for so long that I don't remember how to talk to a regular person anymore. Especially a woman. Females were something that String Bean rarely encountered on the rails. And the few that she had met had been just as vulgar and twice as mean as the men.

"Okay, then."Then Ginny's brows furrowed and she all but growled in frustration."I don't know what you did," she admitted frankly."I can't remember anymore." Her eyes fluttered shut. "I'm all messed up. But I know it was something, Cabbage Head," she whispered as the sounds of the rolling hospital carts and squeaky beds and muffled voices all faded away into nothing.

"Cabbage Head? Who would have a stupid name like that?"String Bean exhaled long and slow, mentally willing the nurse to return with a shot painkiller or whiskey, at the moment she didn't care which. She stared at the ceiling, knowing that Ginny wouldn't hear her answer."Considering I always seem to be in some sort of trouble, I must be doing something wrong."

It was 3 a.m. and the ward was dark the next time that Lindsay awoke to the sound of a different nurse's voice, coming from the narrow space between her and Ginny's bed. This time when Lindsay tried, both her eyes opened. Though the vision in her right one was still a little fuzzy.