After dark, the only lights on Gunner Street were the brief glimpses of moonlight from behind the rainclouds. A huddled, swathed figure was tottering down the street nonetheless, looking the worse for it; there was no umbrella in sight, and rain battered against the heavy scarf and coat.

Rum Ginny turned to look behind her, her pupils so dilated in the near-complete darkness that her eyes looked black, rimmed with a thin line of bottle green. Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the deserted street behind her; she continued, shivering, her steps entirely reliant on a fuzzy memory.

The house had been abandoned some ten or fifteen years. It was a worthless property; its foundation was sinking, its walls worm-eaten and infested with rats, vermin that squeaked and hurried off when Ginny came up the creaking steps. She made a face. It would have been more pleasant to travel down the steam tunnels to arrive here, but she didn't know the way; only he knew the secrets of those intricate, ever-changing paths.

Five knocks. One pause. Two knocks. She waited for two minutes, counting the seconds, forming numbers with her lips in silence.

"Delivery for M. Stanton," she whispered.

The door swung open immediately and she was pulled by her collar, wrenched inside by thick and strong hands, then swaddled immediately in warmth and pressure. She clung to the rough fabric and pressed her face into his chest, tears springing into her eyes.

"Ginny, Ginny, Ginny," she heard, and she said "Stu!" and swayed back and forth, hugging him tightly. Her heart felt too big for her ribcage.

The room was dark, and she could sense other figures, but for the time being she was too relieved and happy and exhausted to care. She pulled back and gasped.

"Your face!" she cried, putting her hands against his cheekbones; his nose had been shattered, and the left side of his face was riddled with scar tissue. He laughed and put a hand over hers. "What happened?"

"Later," he replied, eyeing the other men in the room.

"Well, come on then!" she said, frustrated, looking about as though he would have luggage to carry. The room was dusty, and she sneezed. "What are you waitin' for? Let's go back to the B&B! You've got stories! I got 'em too! Stu, come on!"

He wasn't moving, and she felt sick inside her stomach.

"You know I can't," he said quietly, sitting down beside the door on an upturned crate.

He pulled her down next to him, and she put her head on his shoulder. They had never been much for physical closeness in the past, but the climate had changed; she nestled against him like a child for comfort, and he put his arm around her, squeezing.

"I can't be anywhere near the bar, not while they're still looking for me," he explained quietly. She shut her eyes tight to prevent more tears from leaking out. "Can't be near any of you, I expect. I'll be holed up here for a bit. But I'm back," he added weakly, as though that were sufficient to ease the pain of their separation. "Not going anywhere."

"I thought you was dead," murmured Ginny, snuffling. She hated the other men for being in the room, though they were silent and did not watch; she would have liked a little privacy.

"You thought wrong, then," he chided, patting her be-hatted head; it was the woolen one she'd knit last winter, with the lopsided stars. "Fion an' me got back just fine."

"And Casey?" she whispered, fearing to ask.

"Yes, and Suss and Marks," he said, deciding not to mention that Casey' infection had gotten worse in the past week. "But we're lying low, so don't mention their names to anyone, not even anyone else in the party, hear?"

"I heard there was a...a golly informant," she said, with measured distaste. It was the sort of information that she had suspected for a long time, but began to doubt once she actually heard the rumor.

"I don't know about that," said Stu evenly, never putting more stock in his own intelligence than he needed to. "But Mr. Ceres did his bit, and kept his word. And he let me return home provided I not endanger anyone else."

"But if it's anyone, it's him," whispered Ginny, her face frightened.

"Not a chance. You should see what Hawke did to him."

"You met the King?" she said, forgetting momentarily about their previous suspicions and brightening.

"Well, sort of," said Stu. "But that's for another day. You best get home before the uncles begin their rounds."

"They don't come into Sully Squares anymore."

"No, but they go by the tavern, and if they see you outside skulking there are bound to be questions."

"Can't I take the steam tunnels back?" she pleaded, not anxious to be back in the cold and wet.

Stu hesitated. If anyone else outside of the Gunner Street crew knew Ginny had been to visit him, there'd be hell to pay with Serro - and the thought that he was now recognizable to Serro gave him chills down his spine. But he couldn't stand the thought of Ginny being caught by the Seventen. And now she was here, and he could give her directions...

"All right," he said, and whispered the directions in her ear, repeating them when necessary. Ginny struggled for a few minutes to commit the route to memory before nodding.

"But that's only for tonight," he cautioned her.

Understanding a fundamental aspect of the steam tunnels, she nodded.

"If you get lost, come straight back," he said, "and you can remain until morning. But we're headed out of here then."

"I won't get lost," she said firmly.

They walked to the back of the room. The rug was where she had remembered it, pinned down by the bookcase. One of the dark figures in the room stood to shift it aside with Stu's help. He moved in a familiar, spiderlike way.

"Ox?" she whispered.

"Not officially," replied Oxidus, who looked the worse for wear. His normally flamboyant curls hung limp and damp against his waxy skin, but his grin was as mint. "Think I'm known by number only, now."

"Eleven," she remembered, chuckling.

"But I prefer the old name, me," he said dryly, and the bookcase moved aside with a crunching noise. "I'll be back next week, sometime, daughter. Don't worry about Ward here. He's a pain in the erse, but we'll figure out a place to put him where he won't get in the way too much."

"Ginny, I don't want you coming back until I send for you," said Stu, ignoring Oxidus. "It's too dangerous. The bar may be watched, and we're shady enough as it is without a lot of night-time walks. I want you to keep Phin on lookout until I get back."

"Get back?"

Stu grinned. "What else am I good at, if not hawking drinks to alcoholics?" He pulled her into another tight hug, crushing the breath out of her; she didn't mind.

Fearing she would begin to blubber if she stayed too long, Ginny pushed him away and slid down the small trapdoor without a word. Glancing back, she saw his face peering over the edge, blue in the darkness. The sequence of rights, lefts and centers swam in the forefront of her mind, blocking out emotion and good sense, and the overwhelming urge she felt to stay behind and never, ever leave his side.

(( OOC Comments welcome! ))