"Jack? Jack?"
The familiar voice sounded like it was coming to him through a tunnel. Jack's eyes lost focus as they gazed out over the Manhattan skyline, as he attempted to shut out the harsh world that had become his all-too-painful reality in favor of the dream world that had always been there to console him before.
"Jack, stop staring at nothing. Look at me. Answer me! You can't pretend that this isn't happening! You can't pretend - "
Jack closed his eyes and trained all his strength on transporting himself to another state, just for a moment, just to clear his head. It had never worked before, and he supposed that's why trains were still in business. After a few moments of useless wishing, he lowered his head to rest on his knees and let the weariness of the day baptise him in one all-encompassing wave. After all, weariness can take the edges off of sorrow and help a person to resign himself to his fate in the final, fast moments before sleep takes over entirely, and dreams replace the pain with hope. However false that hope may be, in the morning Jack would somehow always feel refreshed after a night of vivid dreaming, with images of desert skies and open fields lingering in his mind's eye. Sometimes, if he tried hard enough, he could transform the dirty, cobble-stoned streets of New York into what he could only imagine was the endless open space of New Mexico and California. Tonight, however, he doubted that sleep would be so sweet a release, so beautiful an escape.
"Jack - "
The sound of his name being repeated in an increasingly pleading tone eventually brought Jack reluctantly back to Earth, to the cold, hard rooftop on which he now sat, not quite alone but nearly so, for in a moment she would leave him as nearly all others he'd ever cared deeply for had left him.
"Massachusetts, huh?" He cleared his throat, but the words still came out hoarse and shaky, despite his admirable efforts to sound masculine and indifferent.
Sarah nodded. "A rich second cousin of Mamma's has taken pity on us. She just moved to the States from Germany, but she has a beautiful home in Boston, and Mamma and I can find work suitable for ladies, and Les can go to school... We'll have plenty to eat, and we won't have to worry about anything happening to Les on the streets anymore."
"I can look after him," Jack interjected, more gruffly than he meant to. "I always have."
"I know you can, I didn't mean to - " And Sarah looked so distressed at the possibility that she'd injured Jack's fragile ego that he wanted to hurl himself into the alley below to quell the overwhelmingly guilty feeling burning in the pit of his stomach. Here was a girl who'd just lost her father and brother - his best friend - but he was moping like they'd been his own flesh-and-blood, as if Sarah was his girl and not simply the beautiful sister of his former selling partner...as if she hadn't always been much too good for the likes of him. He was doing nothing to ease her pain - in fact, he admitted to himself in a moment of pure self-loathing, he was making it worse with his selfish grieving. He resolved in that instant to shut up every emotion he had in his body and soldier on through the evening, bravely taking whatever it brought with it in stride and gallantly keeping whatever demons tried attacking the uncannily strong yet vulnerable Sarah at bay.
"Shhh, shhhh-shhh-shhh." Jack touched her chin tenderly with his ink-smudged hand, stroking his rough fingers down her soft, warm cheek. He found it slightly damp with tears that hadn't quite had the chance to evaporate before the sun had begun to set, had escaped the hasty scrubbing of her apron corner as he'd made his way up from the fire escape. She'd turned, the most pathetic attempt at a smile painted crookedly on her face, still so innocent somehow but now so world-weary, and he'd cherished for a moment the way the golden haze around her head made her look like the haloed angel she'd always been in his mind. He'd tried to seal the image into his brain as she'd opened her mouth to speak, breaking the quiet which, in times like these, was nearly always preferrable to and less painful than words.
Now the two of them sat side by side in silence, Sarah's head resting wearily on Jack's shoulder as he caressed her loose brown hair as gently as his clumsy hand would allow. This spell was broken after what seemed like only moments by the rude sales pitch of a newsie stationed just off the alleyway, evidently trying to rid himself of his last few papes.
Jack nearly forgot himself and laughed at the exaggerated headline the newsboy had obviously invented in order to garner more interest from passersby. It was a trick he'd taught David and Les, though Davey had always been much too conscientious to use it and had even been dismayed when Les displayed a natural talent for what Jack liked to call "improving the truth."
"Sarah?" he said softly, not wanting to disturb the still-silent figure that seemed at peace on his arm, but unable to suppress his boyish curiosity any longer. He had to know.
"Yes, Francis?" Jack smiled, not only at the slurred, sleepy sound of Sarah's normally perfectly enunciated syllables, but at the fact that she'd chosen to call him by his real name - a name that, if any of the newsboys tried to use on him, he'd retaliate with a swift punch to the gut.
"Do you love me?"
Sarah sat up, obviously shocked at the inquiry that had seemed to arise out of nowhere.
"Why would you ask me that?"
"I just...I just wanna know." He tried to judge the tone of her response, but it was too much an amalgam of the infinite range of female emotions, and he was much too spent to try to decipher it as if it was Morse code. And besides that, he was curious.
She stared into the distance as Jack had upon hearing her announce her family's plans to leave the city the next morning. He expected to have to endure an awful silence, as punishment for the ignorance he'd shown her when he chose to dive into his fantasy rather than face one of life's unexpected and painful twists. Though, in his opinion, this wasn't all too difficult a question. A yes or no would suffice, and Jack felt foolishly confident that he could handle either tonight. Instead, before he had the chance to settle back to wait it out, she looked him straight in the eye with an expression Jack could identify all too well. It was one of hope.
"Do you love me?"
He answered without pause. "Of course." And he took the liberty of reclining flat on the cold surface beneath them, hands resting behind his head, so he wouldn't have to see the expression that flitted across her face and try to interpret its meaning or what it would mean for him.
To his surprise, she followed his lead, and softly laid her head against his chest without hesitating. His pulse quickened, and he sucked in a gulp of air instinctively only to feel it catch in his throat, becoming all the while aware that Sarah could now feel every hitch in his breathing, every deafening drumbeat of his heart, and breaking out in a nervous sweat at the realization.
And for an instant the thought crossed his mind that if Davey could see them now, he'd probably pummel Jack over the edge onto the cobblestones below, screaming at him for "making a move on his sister." Of course, that wasn't really the case, but David had always been fiercely protective of his family, particularly of Sarah, and would not stop to ask questions first if he thought something was wrong, even if the supposed offending party was his closest friend.
She's vulnerable, and you'd sure as hell not be taking advantage of that, Kelly, his conscience sternly advised in his head. The thing had an annoying way of remaining silent and allowing him to get himself into all sorts of scrapes, but then popping up loudly at the most inopportune times. And this time it sounded a little too much like his old friend for Jack's comfort.
"Sarah, I'm gettin' a little uncomfortable, mind if we sit up a little?" he heard himself asking. Sarah obliged, looking completely indifferent to the physical and emotional distress she'd just caused him. She appeared altogether surprisingly collected - even giving the remarkable composure and self-control she'd displayed in the two short weeks since her father and older brother had perished in a factory fire. In fact, if Jack hadn't been there that night to comfort her, to hold her close as her body racked with uncontrollable sobs and silent screaming, he would have thought she hadn't shed more than two tears over the matter at all.
"What kind of love are you talking about, Kelly?" Sarah finally ventured to say.
"The kind where, uh..." And here Jack stumbled over his words as he struggled to recall the speech he'd rehearsed on his way over. "The kind where, well..."
"The kind my parents had?" she finished for him, with not a hint of reproach in her tone.
He chewed the inside of his mouth, but met her gaze. Her brown eyes were warm and loving, but what sort of love she had for him he could not yet tell.
"Will you marry me, Sarah?"
Jack's eyes opened wide with shock as he heard the words leap from his throat. His tongue had always been quicker than his brain, and that had always gotten him into trouble, but in the past he'd always managed to charm his way out of it, and he could not recall a single incident more mortifying than this one.
Something changed in Sarah's expression, and Jack prepared himself for the worst. But instead of launching into a lecture on how improper and forward such a request from him was, she launched into a fit of mirthful laughter. Sarah's laugh was like a song, not bird-like at all, but rich and romantic like the sweet sounds of a violin, and it never failed to warm Jack to the bone.
This time, though, his face warmed as well, and he tugged his bandanna higher on his neck in an attempt to hide the color that sprung to his cheeks. It was so good to hear that sound now - it felt like he hadn't heard it in years, though he was sure it had been no more than a month. But he was confused - what did she find so funny about his proposal?
"Jack..." This was only half a word, as Sarah brought herself closer to Jack's face before the sound was even formed on her lips, and cut herself off by brushing them against his own. It was a gesture so warm, so soft and so fleeting, Jack felt as if spring itself had come to rest upon his face for that instant.
"I...I can't marry you."
"Why not?" This came out sounding like something between a whine and a command, and Sarah tilted her head to study his furrowed brow as he ducked his head from embarrassment. He was so confused right now, both at the veritable cocktail of new, unidentifiable feelings bubbling up in his chest, and at the mixed signals Sarah was sending him with her eyes, her body language, her amusement, and that kiss. That dang kiss just about set his whole thought process on a whirling carousel, spinning off into space.
"Well, for starters, my family needs me," she responded plainly. "And I need them. And it would seem so ungracious to our relative for me to decline her invitation for a new husband."
Jack was grateful that she did not begin with, "Because you're a newsboy, and you're a dirty street urchin, and your parents are God-knows-who."
"And Jack," she went on, her voice softening. "Where would we live?"
Jack blinked. Was this the only other reason she could think of? Maybe he stood more of a chance than he'd given himself credit for on the walk over.
"I still have the money I saved for my train ticket," he replied, a bit too eagerly, the words rushing out of his mouth before he had a chance to reflect on how weak his case truly was. "I found a nice little apartment not far from the boardinghouse, so I could still sell with the boys - Race said he wouldn't mind bein' my new selling partner - " His voice cracked at this, as his suppressed grief momentarily betrayed him and his noble resolution. "And I've been looking into gettin' other jobs, y'know...more respectable professions and all that. I could be a reporter. I'd be good at it! I'm great at makin' up headlines."
Sarah smiled in her sweet, bemused way at this, but said nothing.
"Sarah, I know you deserve so much more than I can give ya, and I deserve to go to hell for askin' ya to sacrifice any more of your time with your family, but - "
Now a lump had risen in his throat and now matter how much he scolded himself for failing to keep his heart in check, it wouldn't budge.
"Jack, you are more than enough for me all on your own," Sarah whispered, filling the silence between them in the way only she could. "My papa always told me and David and Les that all a hard-working, good person is truly entitled to is love, and Jack, I know you have so much of that to give. I've seen it. You care about those newsboys; you care about children you've never met simply because you know what it is to suffer as they do. And I admire that about you more than I can put into words."
"But?" The lump swallowed, Jack managed to eke out this one word before another, larger one rose to take its place, and his stomach filled with dread for the blow he knew for certain he was about to receive. You can handle this. You are Jack Kelly, cowboy, leader of the Newsies' Strike, champion for working boys and girls everywhere. You're no Francis Sullivan, lost and scared little boy anymore. You're strong now, and you take everything life hurls atcha and spit in danger's face and laugh when the world tells ya to cry. You're Jack Kelly. You can handle a little rejection.
But beyond that, what Jack knew he couldn't handle, not again, was losing someone he loved.
"But it's just as I said." As Sarah turned to watch the last rays of the sun disappear behind the buildings in the distance, Jack spied a single tear illuminated in the corner of her eye. "I can't leave my family. They need me, Jack, even more than I need them. I can't abandon Les. I can't abandon Mamma."
"But you have no problem abandoning me!" he wanted to scream at her, but he didn't. Maybe it was the lump in his throat that prevented him, though that had subsided a little. Maybe he had finally seized on some forgotten storehouse of good sense, long lost somewhere in his big dumb head. Maybe it was sheer exhaustion that kept him from exerting any more effort, physical or emotional, that evening. Maybe it was a combination of all these things.
Or maybe this is what people do when they really love someone. They let 'em go.
He watched her, as if in a dream now, because maybe he was dreaming - he'd been so tired, who was to know? If it was a dream, though, it was not the sort that made him want to "rise and seize the day" when he opened his eyes in the morning. It was not quite a nightmare - David's death had been a nightmare - but it was certainly no castle in the sky.
"Goodbye, Jack Kelly. I promise I'll write." The words floated through that tunnel again, and Jack barely heard them. He certainly didn't notice Sarah as she paused at the door that led inside and turned to blow him one final kiss. It was just as well he didn't notice, because if he had seen the look in her eyes all his manly resolve to march boldly into his now-even-bleaker future - a world devoid of the two people who'd been the closest thing he'd had to family since the newsboys - would had disappeared on the spot.
The gentle click of the door as it shut behind Sarah somehow broke Jack from his trance, and he looked around dejectedly at the now-empty rooftop, wondering how he'd come to be so alone.
"Goodbye, Santa Fe," he whispered at the closed door. But his words were carried off behind him, up across the neighboring rooftops, out towards the city skyline. They seemed to follow no particular path, certainly they didn't move in a straight line, but without question they moved with purpose, unmistakably searching for something that appeared to always be just out of reach, no matter how determinedly they wove through the air. Only God in His heaven knew what the words were seeking, and He in His infinite wisdom chose not to intervene in helping them find their mark, but instead allowed them to continue marching bravely onward, like a child with no fear and endless hope. At one point the word "Goodbye" found itself caught on a shooting star, and plummeting towards the Earth with no discernible destination. But "Santa Fe" stayed the course, and in those words was contained Jack Kelly's singular innocent, beautiful wish, the same wish he'd had since he was a boy old enough to dream, and young enough to believe in miracles.
(Author's Note: Before you think it was the kiss these words were after, you should know that that kiss had hitched a ride on the back on the same shooting star that "Goodbye" inevitably found itself on, and the two had had a happy reunion before disappearing together somewhere in the shadows of Brooklyn.)