Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. All of the characters and dialogue from Newsies referenced in this story belong to Disney and not to me. I only own Sadie and the Becker family; any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental.

A/N: Shout out to Disneyfan10 for nudging me to give this a try - always thankful for your kind words!

The inspiration for (and title of) this fic comes from the cut song "Then I See You Again" (partially quoted below):

"Most things just are what they are

And not what we wish they could be

But then I see you again

And a new world starts spinning

Filled with light, filled with you

And the crazy belief that tomorrow

is something worth winning

Keeping faith with a new beginning."

Something Worth Winning

Chapter 1

Their friendship began in a most inauspicious manner.

Sadie Becker was in a hurry, and furthermore, she was annoyed, which was unusual for her. It all came down to rather unfortunate timing...

It was a Saturday afternoon, and she had been sitting at the kitchen table finishing her lunch of potatoes and roast beef, when her father caught sight of her as he came into the kitchen from his study across the hallway.

"Ah, Sadie, just who I was looking for." He walked over to the table, and Sadie immediately frowned as she noticed the small can of paint and paintbrush in his hand.

"Papa, I can't today," she said quickly, rising to take her dishes to the sink. "Megs and I are going shopping. We've been planning this all week!"

"Now, Sadie," her father cajoled, "I know you don't have to meet Margaret for another hour, and the job I have in mind shouldn't take you nearly that long. Besides," he added, "haven't you been asking me for extra work lately so that you can save up to buy that hat you've been eyeing at Halston's?"

"Yes, Papa." Sadie admitted, somewhat grudgingly. It was true. She only needed a bit more money to be able to purchase the smart looking hat she'd seen in the millinery shop several weeks ago.

"I just need you to touch up the door to my office," her father continued. "The paint's gotten a little chipped, and I'd like to have it looking sharp before the inspector from the tenement office comes by this afternoon." He gave her a disarming smile. "I know you're quick with a paintbrush, Sadie. You'll be done in no time, and then you can be on your way to enjoy your afternoon."

Sadie huffed, knowing it was a rather childish response, but still feeling a bit put out. Her father, the landlord of a modestly-sized tenement, had no sons to assist him with the work of maintaining the property, so a good many odd jobs regularly fell to Sadie (much to her mother's chagrin). She usually didn't mind - her father was generous enough to compensate her for her help, and she enjoyed having the extra spending money - but it was a Saturday afternoon, she had already changed into her second-best dress, and being suddenly saddled with a tedious chore from her well-meaning but ill-timed father had not been a part of the plan.

If she did manage to complete it in time, however, she could probably afford to buy that hat today, which meant that she could wear it to the picnic next week, and…

"Alright, Papa, I'll do it," she said, holding out her hands for the paintbrush and paint. He gave her a grateful smile.

"Here's the key to the office," he said, handing it over. "There's a canvas apron hanging on the door inside, if you'd like to use it to cover your dress." Sadie nodded her thanks, then quickly cleaned up her dishes and hurried out of her family's apartment and down the hall to the landlord's office, which was situated a few doors down.

Unlocking the door (which indeed looked rather neglected), she propped it open so that she could easily access both sides for painting. She found the canvas apron hanging exactly as her father had described, and quickly threw it over her dress. A search for the ladder that usually sat in the office closet proved futile, before Sadie remembered that her father had taken it downstairs earlier that day. The thought of having to locate it and haul it back did not appeal to her (and she didn't have that kind of time, anyway), so she improvised, dragging several large books from her father's office and stacking them haphazardly atop one another in front of the door. It wasn't the sturdiest, but it got the job done.

So there she was, hurried and a bit annoyed, perched atop her makeshift step-stool with a small can of dove gray paint in her hand, doing her best to brush an even coat across the office door and trying hard not to let the ticking of the clock on her father's desk remind her of exactly how late she would be if she didn't speed the process along. Engrossed in her task, she didn't notice the steady beat of footsteps coming up the stairs behind her, or hear the telltale creak of someone stopping in their tracks as they arrived on the landing.

"That doesn't look very safe," a voice remarked.

Sadie started in surprise, nearly losing her hold on the can of paint but managing to grab it before it evaded her grasp. Heart pounding, she turned slowly towards the unexpected visitor, careful not to lose her balance.

A boy stood there, tall and dark-haired, with a doubtful look on his face. "Don't you have a ladder or something you could stand on?" he queried, gesturing at the stack of books with the small envelope he held in his hand.

"Yes, well - " Sadie huffed, blowing her short bangs out of her eyes,"- it just so happens that the ladder is downstairs so that our new tenants can use it when they move in today."

The boy gave her a curious look. "'Our' new tenants?" he repeated. "Does that mean you're..."

"The landlord's daughter, yes," Sadie finished, when he failed to complete his sentence. "Which is also the only reason why I'm here, on a Saturday, painting this office door instead of being outside, where most of us belong on a day like this." It was rather curt of her, and normally she wouldn't have minded striking up a conversation, but today she was in a rush, so she gave the boy a quick nod, then began to turn back to the door, intent upon finishing the task at hand.

Unfortunately, in her haste, she lost her balance.

The boy lurched forward and managed to steady her in time, but not before the momentum of Sadie's fall jarred the can of paint in her hand, sending the dove gray paint splashing liberally down his shirt.

For a moment, they were both speechless, the boy frozen in utter shock, and Sadie dismayed, but struggling not to laugh at the astonished look on his face.

"I told you standing up there was a bad idea," the boy muttered finally, breaking the silence and surveying his ruined shirt with a grimace. Before Sadie could reply, he held out the envelope he'd been carrying, which had thankfully escaped the small deluge of paint. "Look, you said you're Mr. Becker's daughter?" he asked. "Could you give him this for me? I'd rather not make a bad first impression by dripping all over his floor."

Sadie took the envelope. "I'm so sorry," she murmured, sincerely chagrined but still struggling to hide her amusement.

The boy shrugged. "It's just a shirt."

He was about to turn away and start down the stairs, when Sadie called out, "Wait!" He turned, and she motioned to the envelope. "Whom should I say this is from?"

The boy gave her an unreadable look, before replying, "Tell him it's the first month's rent from the Jacobs family." He started down the steps, adding over his shoulder, "We're the new tenants."

Sadie finished her task without further incident (fortunately, there was just enough paint left in the can for her to cover the door), then went to find her father, who was downstairs mending a window screen. "Papa," she called, waving the envelope. "I'm all done, and I've got the rent from our new tenants!"

Phillip Becker straightened up and took the envelope and office key from his daughter's hand. "Excellent! So, you met them?"

"Well, one of them." Sadie brushed her hands off on the apron. "A boy. He looked about my age."

"I've met Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs, but neither of their sons," Phillip said, putting the envelope in his waistcoat pocket. "How did this one seem?"

Sadie gave a careless shrug, removing her apron. "Uptight and overly concerned with safety." She related the paint incident to her father, this time allowing herself a small laugh as she described the flustered reaction of the dark-haired boy who had looked so very like a fish out of water upon finding himself unexpectedly doused with paint. Concluding her story, Sadie was surprised to find that her father looked vaguely troubled, rather than amused.

"Is there something wrong, Papa?" she asked hesitantly, suddenly concerned. Her father regarded her for a moment, before putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Sadie," he said gently, "I didn't expect you to know this...but our new tenants are very poor. They're a family of four moving into one of our smallest apartments, and, quite frankly, I only accepted them as renters because they seem like honest folk and the boys are about the same ages as you and Abby. But I know that they're struggling to make ends meet. That shirt you ruined might have been one of the few that this boy owns." He paused, then added, "I know you never mean things maliciously, Sadie, and I'm not saying this to make you feel bad. I just want you to be aware, for the next time. Not everyone has the good fortune that we've enjoyed."

Sadie bit her lip. "Yes, Papa," she said quietly. "I'm sorry. I'll try my best to remember."

Her father nodded. "That's my girl." Patting her on the back, he reached into his pocket. "Before I forget, here's the money for painting the door, plus the rest that I owe you for last week's projects." He smiled at her fondly. "You go enjoy your time with Margaret, now. I'll see you at dinner."

Sadie took the money with a word of thanks, then turned away, her mind still on her father's words as she returned to the Becker apartment to gather her things. Exiting the tenement, she hurried across the street to find her best friend, Margaret Ellis, waiting for her at the corner.

"Megs!" she called, waving. "I'm so sorry I kept you waiting. I had to finish a project for my father and it took a little longer than I expected."

"You're forever slaving away to keep that tenement ship-shape, aren't you?" Margaret asked, looping her arm through Sadie's. "But I must admit, it does show - there's a reason why your father's got a long list of tenants waiting to get into the swanky Becker apartments."

Sadie grinned, half amused, half proud. Her family's tenement wasn't grand or high-class by any means - it was modest and simple, and, like the other tenements in the area, it housed not the wealthy and opulent, but the underprivileged and poor. Philip Becker was a good landlord, though, maintaining the property with care that was unusual for someone of his station, and doing his best to keep the rent reasonable while still turning a small profit. He had come from an impoverished background himself, and was often telling Sadie that people had been kind enough to help him and his family through the worst of things, so it was his duty to do the same for others in whatever way he could. This conviction was probably what had made him gently chide Sadie for her flippant reaction to the afternoon's earlier mishap.

"Shall we stop at Halston's first?" Margaret asked, breaking into Sadie's thoughts. "I know you're dying to see if that cunning little hat is still there." Sadie agreed, but an uneasy feeling pooled in her stomach, and she found herself not as excited by the prospect as she should have been.

The girls made their way to the millinery shop, and, sure enough, there in the window sat the smart-looking straw boater hat, trimmed with wide titian ribbon and adorned with a sweet little bow hanging down the back. Margaret gave it an admiring look before turning to her friend. "It's perfect for you, Sadie," she gushed. "Please tell me that you're finally going to buy it!"

It was perfect. And Sadie knew that with the money she'd earned that afternoon, she had more than enough to cover the cost. She reached into her handbag, pulling out the small coin purse where she kept her money...

But her father's words came back to her. And, try as she might, Sadie couldn't get them out of her head. She sighed in frustration, not sure whom she was more put out by: the unnamed, dark-haired Jacobs boy whose mere existence had caused this dilemma in the first place, her father, for reminding her of her privileged station in life, or her conscience, for deciding to show up at the most inopportune time. But show up, it had, and it was now clamoring at her with a voice that would not be silenced.

"Sorry, Megs," Sadie said, regretfully tucking the coin purse back into her bag. "This money's for something else."

Later that evening, after dinner, Sadie climbed up to the rooftop of the tenement. A gentle breeze blew through her hair, and through the many garments hanging on the clotheslines, making shirts and sheets billow playfully. A small smile tugged at Sadie's lips. She and her sisters used to play up here often, running to and fro between the always-moving clothes that could be imagined into anything - the sails of a ship about to embark, a congregation of friendly ghosts, the canvas walls of a tent in the woods...it had been a wonderful playground of sorts for them. She missed those days.

Shading her eyes from the glow of the setting sun, Sadie scanned the rows of drying garments one by one until her eyes fell upon what they were looking for: a familiar, paint-stained shirt, flapping away on the clothesline. Glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching, Sadie quickly unpinned the shirt and folded it up, tucking it under her arm.

If she was quick, Mrs. Jacobs wouldn't even notice that it was missing.

A/N: Thanks for giving this a chance; I know it's a bit of a slow beginning, but starting with the next chapter there will be significantly more recognizable characters and events, as well as a backstory for something I'm pretty sure no one's written a backstory for yet (as you know if you've read my other stories, coming up with random details to explain things is kind of a weird interest of mine).

If you have a moment, please let me know what you think of this so far! I'd truly appreciate your feedback.