"Come along, son."

Miss Medda and Miss Katherine were standing there, framed in the doorway where Snyder had so often stood before dealing out his punishment. The doorway which no longer seemed too threatening to Crutchie as he stared at the two women, wondering why they were there. He looked back to Rose, who was standing at his shoulder. With an almost imperceptible nod, he smiled tentatively back at her.

"I'll come back for you," he said softly, and a smile grew on Rose's face also. That simple statement was all she needed. Crutchie limped his way to the doorway ignoring the almost accusatory faces of the other children. He looked back at Rose, and worry was apparent on his face for a small moment. She looked paler than usual, and he knew (though she hadn't wanted him to know) that she had been coughing last night. More so than usual. Rose gave him another reassuring smile, and he walked out of the Refuge not knowing what he would come back to later. It was better that he didn't know then.

"They're waiting for you," Katherine said, smiling, and he looked at her. "Does this mean the strike's over?"

"Yes."

"What's happenin' to Snyder?"

"He's going to jail."

The smile stayed on Crutchie's face for the rest of the trip to see his friends.

It rained that night.

Crutchie didn't mind it, though. He had told Miss Medda about Rose, and they were coming back to get her, along with the rest of the children. The day had passed by in a blur, with Jack kissing Katherine and everyone cheering. Oh, and Teddy Roosevelt. Davey and Les had filled Crutchie in on what else had happened during the strike, with Specs and Race and everyone else chiming in the important bits. Davey had suggested he get something for his black eye, and that was when he had gone to Medda about getting Rose out. And so here they were, walking to the Refuge.

Children flooded out of the doors, tasting the rain as some embraced their freedom for the first time in years. A lone elderly man closed the door behind them, and then started sweeping the stone porch free of dirt and grime and dust. Crutchie already felt that this would be a better place in the years to come, but that wasn't important right now. What mattered was Rose. He scanned the incoming faces, but there was no sign of her. He cast a worried look around, and then limped up to the man with Miss Medda right behind like a mother hen.

"Excuse me, sir," Crutchie began and waited while the man set down his broom and turned a haggard, weary face up at him. "Did yous 'appen to see a girl walk outta here? She was—"

The man interrupted him before he could finish, feebly waving a hand towards the crowd of other children. "I see many girls, boy. Was they the ones you lookin' for?"

Crutchie shook his head 'no' a tad impatiently. "No. She's got long brown hair, and big green eyes, and, and a small mouth and nose."

There was a pause, and the man scratched his head perplexedly. At last he returned Crutchie's question with a somber gaze, and the boy braced himself for what was coming.

"She died sometime in the night," the man said carefully, and Crutchie looked down. Medda put her arms around his shoulders, which had slumped slightly in dejection. What was life without Rose? He couldn't go back to what had been before.

Jack would find him later at the Lodging House, curled up on the couch and lost in his own thoughts. Jack would pull up a chair, and sit by him for a while, taking in his younger friend's bruises and black eye. Crutchie wouldn't tell him about Rose until almost a month later.

Until then, Medda guided her young charge away from the Refuge and back down the streets. She quietly thanked the old man, who went back to sweeping the steps. They turned away sadly, and went on their way.

"Come along, son."