Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters created by Disney that are used in Newsies, though I do own my original characters. In addition, Millicent Willson is a real historical figure, and though I try to be a historically accurate as possible, I do take liberties with her character. Thanks for reading! xx

A young girl dressed in scarlet ducked off the train into the torrential rain and sweeping crowds of New York. She had missed the city when she had left some four years ago to live with her aunt in Vermont, after her mother died and her father insisted she reside within the presence of another woman until the whole growing up business was sorted out. She was seventeen now, and deemed old enough to go back and live with her father. Scanning the crowd on the tips of her toes, she looked for her father, a wealthy man with graying hair and an amiable disposition. She squirmed through the crowd with the two heavy suitcases locked in her hands, the rain soaking her hair and clothes. Breathing in deeply, she smiled to herself. Cigarette smoke and car exhaust from the Model T's lingering in front of the train station mixed to form the peculiar scent of New York- busy and unforgiving. At the back of the crowd she spied a small sign, the black letters reading "Welcome Back, Ms. Sinclair!" that were beginning to run due to the rain. Transferring one suitcase to her other hand, she gathered up her skirt and maneuvered her way to the sign as fast as she could. Seeing her father, she ran to him as he opened his arms for an embrace. She dropped her suitcases at his feet and gave him a tight hug. He picked her up and spun her around, setting her back on her feet quickly.

"I missed you, Vera." Said her dad, quietly. "It's lonely without you." He smiled, but Vera saw the hollowness behind his eyes. He had never been the same since her mother passed, and now Vera was back to pick up the broken pieces.

"I'm home now, father." She said, hoisting up the bags at her feet with a bright smile. "For good." She declared. Mr. Sinclair offered his arm, and she gladly took it as he hailed a taxi. The ride was short and quiet as Vera Sinclair reclaimed her urban life in the madness of New York City.

-VERA-

Of course I missed my dad, it goes without saying. Vermont was pleasant enough, but my true home would always be Manhattan. I was only half-listening to him ramble on about the news as I took in the familiar but forgotten surroundings. As we quickly climbed the stairs to their home to escape the rain, I ducked under the eaves of the building and looked around at my street. The cloud cover made it dark, but it was still the same street I knew and loved. I remembered often getting scolded by mum for playing around with chalk, doodling up and down the sidewalk as long as the sun was out. As I glanced across the street, I saw that the light was on in the building across from ours. The girl who lived there, Millie Willson, was my age, and we had always been in classes together when we were younger. I would go so far as to say she was my best friend, only because I didn't have that many friends, and I mostly kept to myself. I wondered if she remembered me. We had corresponded a few times when I was in Vermont, but we lost contact after that.

"…and Vera, the newsboys are thinking about going on strike, those unimportant hooligans." My father spat. "You have no idea what that'd do for the economy, you see… it's all very complicated, with inflation prices and…"

"Mmhmm. Dad, can I pop in to Millie's house? I want to say hello." I said, sweetly. He shrugged.

"Don't see why not. Come back after you're done though, I'm making dinner." He patted me on the head and went inside, leaving me to make my way to the Willson's house alone. I covered my head with my arms as I ran across the street, the rain still coming down, but lighter than before. I hopped under the Willson's awning and attempted to run my fingers through my hair to deem myself presentable. After a little, I gave up, the rain dealing crippling damage to my messy strands. I knocked on her door, and a pretty young woman with a head of dark waves and shining eyes opened it. It had been four years, but I'd recognize that face anywhere.

"Hi, what can I do for you?" Millie asked briskly.

"Hello, Millie." I said, pleasantly. I saw her face transform from confusion to recognition, and she flung her arms around me in a tight hug.

"Vera Sinclair!" she said, pulling back to look at me. "My, look at you! Oh, I haven't seen you in ages! Are you visiting from Vermont?" She spoke rapidly, words tumbling out of her mouth at an impossible speed.

"I'm here for good!" I said, smiling. "Just came to say hi. Father's waiting on me for dinner. So what are you doing these days?" I asked, curious. She smiled mischievously.

"I'm a dancer, now, Vera!" she squealed, delighted. "I'm on Broadway and everything! I'm a bicycle girl for Herald Square… it's a laugh! You should come!" She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, whether she realized it or not.

"Congratulations, that's amazing!" I exclaimed, though I wasn't surprised in the least. Millie had always been a dramatic girl. I was glad it was being channeled into her career, because all of that theatricality would explode if wasn't. I promised her to come to a show sometime, and I hugged her goodbye. The rain had stopped and the clouds began to dissipate as Millie shut her door and I turned back to my house.

Night was falling and I walked quickly down her steps, shivering as my dress was still damp from the rain earlier. As I crossed the empty street, I looked up to stars that were starting to peek out, and silently made a wish on the first one that I saw. All of the sudden, I collided with something very solid. I stumbled and twisted, ending up on the ground, thoroughly confused. I looked up, and saw a boy, a stack of newspapers under his arm. A newsboy, my mind supplied.

"Sorry, Miss." He murmured, his voice low and husky. He stuck out his hand to help me up, but by that time I had already bounced up and was brushing myself off. He was significantly taller than me, and half of his mouth was pulled up in a crooked smile. He had dark, curly hair and eyes to match, his skin tanned from spending all of his life on the streets. I half- smiled back, and fished in the pocket of my coat for some money. I took out a quarter and dropped it into his still open palm, deftly sliding a newspaper out from the crook of his arm in one smooth move.

"Thank you." I said, now grinning. He tipped his cap and I scooted around him, walking up the stairs to my house. I opened the door and was about to slip inside when he cleared his throat. I turned around, knowing what he was going to ask.

"Keep the change." I said with another smile, and closed the door.