Jake made his way up the familiar street, stopping in front of the familiar building known as the Book & Bell. He had an air of confidence about him, a confidence that was strange for him, as he knew he was about to walk into a crowded bar. This time, however, he would have both of his arms.

So, with both sleeves of his trenchcoat filled and his bag slung over his left shoulder, he opened the door of the B&B and took a look around as he walked in.

The Book and Bell had changed dramatically since Jake had last been in. Once a popular haven for the wick night life, the floor was deserted; only a couple lone, drunk customers remained at corner tables, languishing in the shadows. There was intense quiet, and the air was full of dust.

At the bar, a black-eyed Stu was morosely wiping down the countertop, sleeves rolled up as usual. Ginny was nowhere to be seen.

When Jake entered, Stu looked up for a brief moment before looking back down. Another moment passed before he did a double take, looking up at Jake as though he were a ghost.

"Riot," he said, hoarsely, as though he had not used his voice in some time. "What the clock? What are you doing back here?" He stepped out from behind the counter, taking a better look at Jake, staring at his arm with no small amount of unhidden fascination; Jake remembered his fondness for machines.


----




The eerie quiet and dust-filled air was more unsettling than any manner of crowd Jake had been in before, especially given his experience with the bar and what it should have been like at this time of night.

He was glad to see Stu again, but was again perplexed that Ginny was nowhere in sight. Surely she should have been down here doing whatever manner of chores presented themselves. It was clear to Jake that he had missed a lot.

Jake noticed Stu staring at his new arm. He smiled and rolled up his sleeve, eager to show off his handiwork.



-----





"That's some contraption you've got there," remarked Stu, turning it over and staring at the clockwork. "How the devil did you manage to do this? What's it for? Yikes, reminds me of the Old Stiff. Just don't start tossing people in prison, eh?"

Jake smiled. He had no idea who Stu was talking about, but he was glad that, for once, he was getting attention for something other than a missing arm.

He took another look around the tavern. The fact that there were so few people, as well as the apparent absence of Ginny, was a question that still lingered in his mind. He was eager to show her the arm as well.

Stu noticed the boy looking around, and for a moment he was very confused. Nothing had really changed since he'd been gone, with the exception of a rapid decline in business, the loss of his automatic dish-washing machine, and that one shooting that had permanently cracked the column near the stove in the kitchen. Oh, and that dreadful leak in the roof, the one that dripped tiny droplets of rain onto the floor at odd intervals and was slowly wearing a groove in the floorboards...

"So, what's new?" said Stu, leading Riot over to the counter and fishing out a bit of paper for him to write on. "Haven't seen you in almost a month. Lot's changed here, that's for sure."

Jake was glad to take the piece of paper offered to him. He still wrote with his right hand, despite the fact that his handwriting with his left hand was neater thanks to the increased precision. Old habits were hard to break. He even had to stop himself from restricting his writing to the left half of the paper.

He handed the paper back to Stu.

Well, aside from the fact that I finally have two working arms, I have also gained my freedom. Now you don't have to worry about getting arrested for harboring a fugitive. What's been new around here? The tavern seems... empty.

"You have been gone a while," said Stu, rubbing his forehead. "There was a great riot in Crosstown Court, and the wicks have been deported from the city."

He paused, almost at the point of telling Jake about Ginny hiding upstairs, but he wasn't sure. This was a boy who had apparently gone into the welcoming arms of the galdori; who could know where his allegiance lay? Perhaps he was a spy for the other side. All sorts of things could be hidden in that arm...

"Er, yeah," he finished, lamely. "Real awful shame. I can't really afford to take on any extra help now, what with business being down the duct and everyone avoidin' going out in public."

He did feel bad for the boy, but that arm hadn't just made itself. Stu mistrusted galdori to the bitter end, and he would do anything to protect Rum Ginny.

Jake's eyes widened a bit. Wasn't Ginny a wick? Did that mean she was gone too? Saddened that a good friend of his was gone, Jake also thought about the state of things for Stu. With his barmaid gone as well as most of the tavern's patrons, he must be starved for companionship.

Jake thought some more. The entire reason he wanted a job in the first place was so that he could earn enough money to buy materials for his arm. Now that it was all built and finished, did it really matter if he was paid or not? He grabbed a sheet of paper.

Well, you seem like you could use some company, and I no longer have a reason to need money. Any chance I could work for free? As long as my spot in the basement is still open.

Jake paused briefly.

Plus, if you think about it, how many people do you know who have ever seen someone like me?

He handed the paper to Stu. Jake's pride in his arm eclipsed the fear of being mocked. He felt like showing this thing off to the world.

Stu stiffened.

It wasn't so much the danger of the boy's diablerie - he'd handled that sort of situation before. It wasn't even the thought that he would turn Ginny in, though that was a rousing concern. Stu feared that Jake knew more than he was letting on. Staying in their basement, he must have heard the sort of business that went on at the Book and Bell; he must have spied the sort of men that came and went on a daily basis. He must have wondered why some men ascended the stairs and never came back down.

It was too risky, having him nearby. Stu had already compromised too much by having Ginny stay upstairs. He had bigger things to worry about than hurting an amputee's feelings -

"Riot!"

The surprised shout came from the rafters. A few of the customers looked up, but they didn't seem surprised to see the young witch bounding down the stairs happily to greet her friend. Apparently, they were friendly.

"Get your erse back up there," said Stu crossly to Ginny, but she ignored him and flung her arms around Jake as though she hadn't seen another living soul in a very long time.

"You're back!" she cried happily. "I thought you weren't comin' back! Where the clock've you been?"

Ginny's presence caught Jake completely off-guard. So much so that he didn't even respond to her embrace right away.

Nevertheless, he returned the hug, while at the same time shooting a rather confused expression in Stu's direction.

Stu was not amused by Ginny's free-spirited nature. He grabbed her by the cuff of her shirt, pulling her away from Jake and dragging her to the kitchen without a moment's hesitation.

Inside, the kitchen was warm and steamy, explaining Stu's frizzled hair. It was also uncharacteristically messy. A few broken machines lay discarded in one corner, and the sink was piled high with dishes that hadn't been put away; clearly the tavern was feeling the absence of Jake and Ginny both.

"What'd I tell you about boundin' down here?" demanded Stu, shaking his finger in Ginny's face.

"But..."

"You don't know who might've been down here! It could've been a golly! We had a deal, Virginia, you stay up there and I don't turn you out, you understand? You're endangerin' me AND the bar, not to mention yourself. You know what the penalty for harborin' a fugitive is? It's worse than the one for bein' a fugitive!" He paused, sternly searching her face for a sign of repentance.

"But Stu..."
"I'd appreciate it if you'd take this whole thing a bit more seriously!"
"I do, I just saw Riot..."

"No excuse," he thundered. "There's more at stake here than you and me."

"But I'm so BORED," said Ginny loudly, with no small amount of exasperation. A few of the bar's customers looked up and grinned, most of them knowing full well what it was like to be in hiding. "An' I ent stupid, I looked at who it was first. You'da done the same if you saw-"

"I don't want to hear another word," Stu said hotly, and pushed Ginny forward out of the kitchen. "Up to your room, this instant."

Ginny glared at him, her cheeks turning tomato red, and turned on her heel to storm up the stairs. She looked close to tears.

Stu came out of the kitchen behind her and sat at the bar, sighing and rubbing his eyes with his palms.

Jake coughed nervously as Ginny and Stu argued. He didn't expect his mere presence to be such a huge deal. It was clear to him that Stu didn't want to compromise the secrecy of Ginny's stay. And with his prejudice against most galdor, Jake understood that he'd keep such a thing from him.

Still, it was obvious that Ginny had missed him, and Jake felt bad for keeping the nature of his absence from such a close friend of his. And he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss her at all. Somehow he needed to convince Stu to let him stay.

Jake hopped up on a stool at the bar, trying to avoid eye contact with Stu for the moment.

"Why'd you come back, anyway?" said Stu, sounding grumpy and tired. "Not that we aren't glad to see you. But it looks like you had it good with that golly friend of yours. What happened there? This place can't provide for you. It isn't good for anyone."

Jake grabbed a pen and piece of paper.

I promised I'd return, didn't I? It was nice to see my old friend again, but I left Brunhold because I couldn't stand being inside those walls again. My friend allowed me my freedom and I returned here because I missed this place, as well as you and Ginny.

He slid the paper to Stu. He realized the last bit was a little corny, but he didn't care. It was the truth, after all.

Stu looked him over, surreptitiously trying to judge his trustworthiness from his face alone. It was an impossible task, as he knew from years of working with the resistance, but worth a shot.

"You can stay for a while, then," he said uneventfully, looking back down at his hands. "Go on, head up to see Ginny if you like. She could use the company. Remember, she's not to come down, under no circumstances."

He smirked. "Unless the gollies set the building on fire, of course."

Jake smiled and nodded. He was glad to have gained Stu's trust, at least he thought he did.

Nonetheless, he took Stu's advice. He waved to him, not as if to say goodbye, but as if to say he'd see him later. He started upstairs, but turned suddenly and went back to the bar. He took out his pen and paper and wrote down a message.

Um, which room is she in?

"Loft three," said Stu under his breath, stirring his beer with his finger and discreetly pointing to the north side of the building.

Jake nodded, understanding Stu's apparent secrecy. He grabbed his bag and head up the stairs.

Jake realized he had never really spent all that much time in the upper floors of the Book and Bell and had a little bit of difficulty finding the room Ginny was in. When he finally came upon the door, he took out a sheet of paper, wrote a message onto it, knocked three times, and slid the paper under the door.

Hey Ginny, it's me, Riot.

"GO AWAY," bellowed Ginny through the door, apparently under the impression that Stu was coming up to apologize. After a moment there was a slight scuffling noise, and Jake could hear her pick up the paper; he could almost hear her mouthing the words to herself as she struggled to read them.

There was a silence and a sniffle.

"Come in," said a sheepish voice.

Ginny's tone of voice told Jake that she was still upset after she and Stu's argument, and he couldn't help but feel a little responsible. He had, after all, shown up unannounced. Jake opened the door slightly, poking his head in.

It had been a while since he last saw Ginny, but Jake had to quell his excitement. She was in hiding now, no need to draw attention to her (as if there was anyone nearby whose attention he could draw). He carefully made his way in, making sure to shut the door behind him. He quietly cleared his throat and nodded to Ginny, a soft smile on his face.

"Still can't talk, then," said Ginny matter-of-factly, sounding a bit disappointed, as though she'd been under the impression that he was not speaking out of choice. "Terrible luck. I'm not feeling much for conversatin'."

Ginny's room was tiny, a glorified closet, but she'd put quite a lot of effort into decorating it; the walls were papered with illustrations from tally dreadfuls and advertisements and theatre posters, and the ceiling was hung with paper lanterns made from newspaper. Her bed was covered in a colorful but threadbare patchwork quilt; there was room for a couple of crates full of odds and ends, and a few feet left for pacing. He could see from the wear and tear on the wood in front of her bed that she'd been doing a lot of it.

The window looked out on the steamy rooftops of the Dives. It was a nice view, but Ginny didn't seem to be much in the mood to admire it. She sat down on the bed sullenly, crossing her arms.

"Where'd you go, anyway?"

Jake made his way over to Ginny's bed, sitting next to her. Taking out his paper and pen, he began to write down a message.

As he wrote the message, he began to think about just how effective this method of communication was. He seemed to get by on it up to this point, but now that he was in this kind of situation, he realized that the extremely time-consuming manner of writing down everything he wants to say was rather... inefficient. He needed to find some other method of communication.

He finished his message, and handed it to Ginny with his left arm.

A friend of mine sent me a message a couple of weeks ago that he could help me build this arm, and I had to take him up on his offer.

"Stu's gonna love you," she said, after reading the message. "He loves machines an' stuff. Don't let him take your arm apart, ye chen?"

She reached out and took his mechanical arm, turning it over to look at the various parts. Her forehead crinkled as though she was trying to figure something out.

"Must be great. Can you crush tin cans with it?"

Jake let out a nervous, silent laugh. He wasn't sure whether or not Ginny was kidding about Stu taking the arm apart.



Jake smiled. Not only was it great, but the extent to which it was great was beyond physical prowess. He still had his phantom limb syndrome, but now he wouldn't need to worry about looking like a fool when he groped at the empty space on the left side of his body. Now there was something solid, something tangible for his hand to meet.

Nevertheless, Jake nodded. He could crush a tin can, and he could do so much more.

However, as much as he loved the attention, he couldn't help but feel like he should turn the conversation away from his handiwork. Ginny must be bored out of her skull up here, he thought to himself, taking note of the floor in front of the bed that had been worn down from near-endless pacing. He wrote down his next question, letting out a sigh with a subtle hint of frustration in its tone.

So, how have you been holding up since you needed to go into hiding?