A/N- I must warn you now that the dialogue will not be written in New York accents. Sorry! If you're really disappointed, use your imagination. Just kidding! Enjoy!

Chapter One: To Dance In My Dreams

Remember when it rained

I felt the ground and looked up high and called your name…

In the darkness I remain….

-Josh Groban

"Jacky-boy," Racetrack called out to his friend leaning against a lamppost and looking over the morning paper. The business had been bad since the strike, which was apparent as the streets stood empty and boring. The only thing that even showed presence of life in the streets were the newsies and an occasional passer-by.

Jack was jerked from his reading and seemed annoyed at the interruption. But, then again, he was annoyed by everything these days. A few nights before, he found love letters of Sarah's between her and another man in her room when he was visiting David. She found out about this and ended their relationship, causing a friendship to be bruised and a romance to be halted.

And there was the business. Before the strike, the streets were practically crawling with customers who would take the time to buy a pape. Now, the only people who made money were the girls selling themselves on the street. Jack had caught their eyes and whenever he passed them, the girls shouted for him to buy. The usually curious Jack just bowed his head and sped past them till their calls were merely echoes bouncing through the street and pounding in his head. When the others asked why he was so uncomfortable, he merely answered, "Ask my father," and walked away, storming.

"Jack," Racetrack repeated. Jack folded the newspaper and turned to him, looking up at the sky before squinting in the autumn sun. "You going to Medda's place tonight? I hear they got a new performer."

"Who?" Asked Jack, only half paying attention to the conversation. Race thought for a minute, mumbling and snapping his fingers as he tried to remember.

"Oh, I don't know, some girl, Sa….Samantha…Sarah…?"

Jack wrinkled his face up in disgust at the last name he said and sank to the ground, still leaning on the post. He fanned himself with the papers he held as Race ran off with the others after being dared to try and sell a pape to a prostitute. Jack sighed and looked up at the sun and its golden glance with secret admiration. He always had enjoyed the sun's warm beams upon him.

"If only I could find someone like you," he mumbled to the sun and to himself. "Someone to light up my day…" He was growing drowsy, looking straight into the giant star and realizing how stupid he sounded. He just laughed softly before being pulled into unconsciousness.

Rain was pouring…Darkness had a grip on everything…Jack saw himself holding the hands of a girl, leading her through the night…He was younger…maybe eleven or twelve…

'I've been here before…somehow, I remember…'

There was a carriage…They were heading towards the carriage…They had nearly reached it…The boy was in it…Gunshots filled the streets…

The girl yelled for the boy…the carriage started to move…Faster and faster, like a boulder rolling down a hill…

'She never made it…How do I know this...?'

The children reached for each other…their fingertips touched…A gunshot…The girl's thigh gave a horrible jerk and she fell to the ground in a heap as the carriage drove away…

"Sally!" The boy screamed, in horror…She reached for him still as the men dragged her resisting form away. "I love you, Francis Sullivan!" She screamed after him before being struck in the head with a gun…

"Look for me in Santa Fe!" He shouted to her…

"I will…Francis…Jack...Cowboy…" She blacked out…

Jack snapped awake, gasping for air and finding himself in a cold sweat. His eyes were rolling as he began to notice his surroundings and his friends standing over him. They all had the same worried look as he ran a hand through his hair and let out a long sigh…

"You okay, Cowboy?" Kid Blink asked as he extended a hand out to Jack who took it graciously and stood up. He nodded as the others explained to him that he had dozed off that afternoon. It was now night time and they all seemed excited as they were going to Medda's theatre, dancing and hopping on barrels the whole way there. Jack was the only one who lingered behind, causing David to worry a bit. He fell back until he was beside his friend and slapped his back with an open palm.

"Look, if it's about Sarah- its okay; we're cool now and she…"

"The dream was not about Sarah," he answered coldly and looked away. David looked at him with his regular concerned face and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I wasn't talking about…" David replied, until Jack gave him a look that oozed poison. "Jack, I'm your best friend; you can tell me anything. Now, what was the dream about?"

Jack took a breath as if he was going to spill it to David, but he held his tongue and just let out a sigh instead. David looked down, discouraged at his failure and worried for his friend.

"It was about things I thought I had forgotten," Jack whispered and folded his arms. David pondered this and shrugged at him, deciding to join the others again.

"Things I had hoped I had forgotten…"

"Oh, Medda," Sally said shakily at her boss. "I'm so nervous! What if I screw my song up badly?"

Medda smiled and embraced her before putting her hands on the sides of the girl's face and looking into her eyes with motherly determination.

"You will do beautifully, my dear!" She exclaimed and tucked a loose hair behind Sally's ear. "You have the voice and looks of an angel and you dance like a snowflake in the wind!"

Sally gave her a weak smile, but didn't believe her; partly because she had just recited a line from a play and secondly, she couldn't dance that well. She had been injured by a gunshot in her thigh when she was a child escaping the Refuge. Her then best friend, Francis Sullivan, had persuaded her to escape by climbing into Roosevelt's carriage and heading to Santa Fe. Unfortunately, only Francis, or Jack as he insisted he be called, made it there. Sally remembered how she loved him and how they had both shared their first kiss with each other when Snyder wasn't looking, causing the other children to giggle at them as they blushed.

Sally carried herself out of this daydream and continued to put on some powder as she looked at herself in the mirror of her vanity table. Jack was in Santa Fe now; why should she hope to see him again in this place?

To be continued…