Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, sadly, they belong to Disney. Mac, however, is my own creation. Please read and review!

Help. Help me. It's so dark here; I can't even see my hand in front of my face. And it's cold too. My arms have goose bumps on them. But I can't move.

I wonder if they've realised I'm missing yet. I've been sitting here for what feels like hours. Maybe I should try calling again. But I'm hoarse from trying.

And nobody came.

My leg is on fire. You'd think this biting cold would numb the pain, but it just makes it worse. I'm shivering; I wrap my arms around my body to try and retain just a little warmth, but it doesn't really work. My teeth are chattering too; surely someone will hear them?

But nobody came.

Oh great. Now it's starting to rain. I can feel it splashing my nose, despite my faithful hat. It's trickling down my neck, sending cold shivers down my spine and making me gasp. I curse soundlessly as the freezing rain robs me of my remaining warmth.

They must have noticed my absence by now.

But nobody came.

I'm beginning to think I'm gonna die here. I'm so cold, and my leg is agony. But wait! I hear voices! Calling my name. Even from here, I can pick out Mush's voice, and Kid Blink, Jack, Swifty. Some are quite close, others further away. I shout out – or at least, I try to. But nobody hears me.

And nobody came.

Mush's voice is getting louder now; he sounds like he's gonna cry in a minute. (I hope he doesn't; I don't want his wet tears falling on me, thank you very much. Not that it'll make any difference; I'm soaked already.) Then I hear his footsteps on the wet wood above me; the boards creak loudly under his weight. I try to call to him, but all that comes out is a tiny croak that dies in my throat.

And nobody came.

I raise my arms and start trying to pound on the wooden boards, but I'm too weak to make any audible noise. Again I try to cry out, but still nothing. Mush is standing so very close, still calling, and I can do nothing to attract his attention. His footsteps start again – No! He's going away! Mush! Come back, please, I –

I'm crying now. Warm tears are coursing down my cheeks, mingling with the still falling raindrops, as my one hope of rescue moves away, oblivious to how close he is to me. But suddenly, I can feel something building inside me, kindled by fear and despair and desperation. It grows and grows until it bursts from my mouth as a yell that cuts through the crashing rain and the calling voices. But it has come too late. Mush hasn't heard me; he's too far away now. Nobody is coming.

I fall into deep despair, ready to let the cold claim my fatigued body. I think I hear approaching footsteps, but I know there are none. I'm gonna die here, cold, alone, in pain, afraid.

But now there's a light coming from somewhere. I look up and see an angel peering down at me, a storm lantern in her hand. For some reason, she is dressed like a newsie: pants and suspenders, two cotton shirts, an old tweed jacket buttoned up to her chin, and a battered cabby cap on her head. That's strange; who's heard of an angel dressing like a newsie? Not to mention that she seems familiar... Then I realise who it is – it isn't an angel, it's my girlfriend and fellow newsie, Mac – and relief floods through me. Mac's short black hair is plastered to her face and rain is streaming off the brim of her hat. She smiles down at me, then addresses someone beside her, and then hands are reaching for me, pulling me gently but firmly from my prison. I cry out as my leg is accidentally knocked, but it doesn't dampen my feeling of thankfulness and relief. Someone – I think it's Mush – wraps two or three dryish blankets around my shoulders, and Jack scoops me into his arms. Swifty is dispatched back to the lodging house ahead of us, to alert Kloppman to our imminent arrival, and those who are left group around Jack like a wind break.

I can feel myself drifting into unconsciousness, but even as I pass out I see the face of Mac, my beautiful angel, as she walks beside me, and a smile comes unbidden to my lips. I, Racetrack Higgins, am safe.

And when all seemed lost, and all hope was gone, at last, somebody came.