The storm had passed hours ago and the clouds had lightened and thinned. Now the roofs and windows of the city glowed orange in the setting rays of the sun, striking saturated patterns over the clouds that remained.

Jack stared at it from his seat on the floor against Medda's couch, his legs sprawled comfortably in front of him as he kept his face turned to the window, away from his friends beside and behind him.

He was amazed every time, no matter which era, at the natural beauty of sunsets; how it made a sprawling man-made shithole so beautiful. His hand scratched Jack the cat's ear mindlessly as his eyes shifted from the sunset to the reflected faces in the window, seeing their eyes bright on his back.

He wanted to watch the color show in the sky rather than look at the emotions swimming in their eyes...especially Kat's.

It was getting harder and harder to forget it all just for a moment, even while staring at the beauty outside from a beautiful expensive townhouse.

They were waiting for David, but Jack got the story-telling over with, speaking to the window as he told them the need-to-knows from the night, and the morning with Tiffany...

"It's hard to be vulnerable," Kat said in her defense when Jack told them how angry Tiffany was that her friends shared her private business. "Especially with someone you're intensely attracted to…" Kat blushed and Racetrack flipped her bobbed hair with a finger, a teasing smirk on his lips.

"Seriously," Kat stressed a little as she looked back to Jack. "She's trying to have something normal in all of this and it's in jeopardy. I would be royally pissed off if my trusted friends offered up such personal information in front of company."

"I'd be peeved too," Race said. "Trust is everything."

"They're worried about her," Mush contradicted adamantly. "I think they're seeing things they didn't before, and now they're worried for her life. Honey doesn't like it one bit but she's still got her back."

"Yeah," Spot added in resignation.

"Think they're bein' watched?" Snoddy asked curiously. "Clubs usually don't keep a close watch on their dancers, call girls, whoever. They usually don't care that much."

"Absolutely they are," Jack agreed stiffly, his eyes on the sunset again.

"Rich guys keep an eye on their valuables," Racetrack said honestly, his tone dark as he put a cigar in his mouth and crossed to the window. "'s why Cage comes ta find her on campus in expensive I-Don't-Give-A-Fuck suits." He looked over his left shoulder to Jack. "We know it's not an easy world ta get out of - if the big dogs are involved."

Medda fumbled a glass in the kitchen, ice falling on the counter. Jack met Spot's eyes, the others looking at them anxiously.

They knew by now how big the mafia and gangs were in the city, how much faster word spread from one end to the other, how fast money changes hands. Faster than newspapers, faster than the internet, faster than a second.

But even if they weren't 'newsies' anymore, they still had some connections: the guy at the Deli down the street, the cool beat cop on the third floor, Connor at the pub.

Spot never lost the need to know and the want to be in the loop. He had his own people at the car dealership, even a few of the Brooklyn newsies he'd found who had their own lives...and remembered him. Every now and then, they'd text him something they thought he should know, and now Spot pulled out his phone to ask a few questions...

Jack ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated and feeling strung out again as his head fell back on the couch armrest. His voice was hoarse and tired, "'ey Boots, see what's on TV, will ya?"

Boots glanced at the other couch where Spot and Kat sat, Mush on the floor with his head resting on Kat's folded legs. Their faces were as tired as Jack's, even after sleeping most of the day away. Kat sighed as her fingers played with Mush's curls.

"This sucks," she said thickly, her eyes becoming glassy again.

Spot threw the remote to Boots.

Race stared out the window to the city, the lights beginning to glow brighter than the fading light of the sun. "Somethin' funny. Like the Muppets or somethin'." He sighed.

"I spoke with her," Spot added as he pulled out a joint container. He lit it, took a few puffs, and passed it to Kat. "After he called."

The kitty cat Kid Blink was sprawled against Jack's left leg on the floor, and his jaw clenched tight angrily. "Yeah, his caller ID is 'douchebag'."

Kat closed her eyes as she exhaled and passed to Mush. Spot patted her leg affectionately like an older brother.

"Shoulda seen her face when I brought him up," Spot shivered a little. "She's definitely protective of their situation, and I think she knows we're not in with him...but she's definitely torn between you an' doin' the right thing." He held Jack's eyes, remembering the heartbreak and heartache he'd seen in her. "Big time."

"An' the right thing is...?" Boots asked impatiently.

"Not takin' him down with her," Spot said evenly, holding Jack's dark gaze. "An' from what Jade's told me -"

"You two actually talk?" Racetrack asked. Smartass.

Spot held up his middle finger to Race but didn't break eye contact with Jack, who sighed as he brought his right knee up to rest his elbow, the cats leaving his restless side. Racetrack grinned devilishly at Spot's reflection in the window. Spot hated to be interrupted, and Race rarely missed opportunities to annoy him, trying to stir a laugh in the fellas. But the situation was too heavy to laugh off.

"Point is," Spot continued irritably, "Whatever game these girls are playing, they've joined voluntarily, Jackie Boy. And they're trying to keep us on the surface for a reason."

They were all quiet for a moment.

"Man," Boots sighed irritably, crossing his arms as he fell back into the couch, grimacing.

"Why couldn't they just be dancers?" Mush said irritably. "Why do they gotta dance for the biggest shit stains in the city? Honey said somethin' 'bout information -"

"I don't like it," Racetrack muttered, shaking his head, his eyes still on the city.

"Sounds like Jazzi's playin' both sides to me," Specs muttered darkly. "I think you're right, Jack: somethin's up with her."

"Gotta keep a lookout for that one," Spot muttered darkly.

"I wanna know who's calling the shots," Boots said angrily. "Who's holding the leash on all of them."

"Honey was afraid to tell me," Mush recalled quietly.

Jack let his head fall to the other side again, observing the fast changes from the sun setting: the sky was bright orange but dark purple clouds darkened the horizon, the city falling under shadow.

After a long while, Medda came around the couch and kneeled in front of Jack, forcing his eyes to meet hers, which were bright and wet with tears, fear. He hated seeing it there again, bringing the same troubles to her doorstep.

Her emerald green silk robe pooled around her, contrasting classically with her red curls, which were loose and long around her shoulders. Seeing her with her hair down was rare, almost out of character. But he looked at her now and saw the vibrant young woman she'd always been, the same fire there, the same wisdom in a younger face.

She read his face for a long time, tears threatening to escape her eyes.

"You -" her voice caught in her throat. Jack looked away, his eyes landing on Jack the cat at his side.

She took a deep breath and spoke gently, "You really do look so much like your father."

Jack's eyes snapped back to hers, her words unexpected. He saw the pinkness of her cheeks from drinking, and remembered she'd said the same thing the first night they'd come over to her condo.

"When I first met him." she added with a touch of dreaminess in her voice, something appearing in her eyes. "He was so ambitious, so full of adventure, so sure of himself. As young as you are now, with a whole life ahead of him."

The love in her eyes changed back to fear - "but he was too strong a fire to hold, too strong to keep in one place, to keep him from making the mistakes he knew would kill him -"

Jack looked back to the window, hating the stinging in his own eyes. Why was she saying this to him?

She reached out to cradle his face in her slender hand, turning him back to her.

"Don't do this again," she whispered fiercely. "Don't make the same mistakes that killed you."

A ripple ran through him and the guys, an uncomfortable shifting.

"She's a mistake?" Jack asked a little defensively, almost innocently. He felt as if he were pleading with Fate.

Medda took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "It's like you tell the guys next to you every day: this is a second chance. How many get to truly say that? And you, Jack Kelly, one of the brightest lights I've ever seen, can do anything you wanted to now. A small part of me... hoped you had left this city, when I woke up and wondered - if you were out there somewhere."

Jack's brow furrowed as he read her eyes. She stroked his cheek, her other hand on his right knee.

"If I weren't so selfish," she said lovingly, "I'd give you everything you need to leave, wherever you wanted to go. All of you -" she looked at each of their faces - "If you asked me tomorrow, I would without hesitation. If it meant saving you. Something I couldn't do before."

"Medda -"

She smiled sadly at him and tears escaped down her porcelain cheeks. "These girls - doing almost exactly what Ira did -"

Jack looked away at the sound of her name. He looked to his friends, who had been listening silently, dejected looks on their faces. Kat's hazel eyes were swimming too as she looked at him. Spot held her hand. Jack took a slow deep breath.

"- Tiffany, Kid Blink - none of them know what they're doing. They don't know the kind of web they're getting themselves tangled in," Medda said, almost pleading. "It's like watching a trainwreck you've seen before, with no way to stop it. Drugs, sex trafficking...it's all the same poison in a different and much more advanced time, Jack."

Jack looked back to her face, resenting the truth she spoke.

"I know you want to save her," she breathed, her thumb stroking his cheek. "I see it in you as clear as day: you'd do anything all over again. But Jack - I can't watch you torture yourself again. And I will not watch them kill you again. I won't."

Jack watched her cry silently for a long moment before placing his hand over hers, holding it to his face. A sob shook her chest as she took a breath.

"Just tell me what you need," she said. "But please promise me -" She swallowed, reading his eyes desperately.

"Promise me you'll leave," she said, her heart breaking in her voice. "Promise me you'll leave this place, Jack Kelly."

Jack could see the raw seriousness in her, and wondered what all had happened to her in this lifetime, let alone the previous...it was so much for her to carry both.

"There's so much more," she breathed, her eyes brightening with hope. "There's more beauty, more life, more chances outside this city. And you boys owe it to yourselves to at least try."

"And I want to," Jack agreed in a low warm voice. "But I want it with my brother. And I want it with her."

Medda's lip trembled for a moment. "Jack -"

"I promise," he vowed quietly to her, her fingers flexing against his jaw under his hand. "I promise. And I'll be smart," Jack reassured her. "...for once."

They all laughed softly and Jack kissed Medda's palm before she got up to go to her bar cart.

Jack's eyes landed on Kat, who was rubbing her eyes, Spot rubbing her back.

"You apply for that internship in France?" Jack asked, watching her.

Kat laughed without humor, looking up at him. "Funny you should ask...I was accepted today."

"'ey!"

"That's great, Kat."

"Way ta go, Kat!"

They were sincere, their sadness lifting a little so they could cheer her up a little.

"That's wonderful darling," Medda said with a sniff from behind the couch, kissing the top of Kat's head.

"We'll celebrate that," Spot jumped up and went to join Medda to make drinks.

"Can't wait to hear all about it," Mush said, beaming up at Kat from his seat at her feet.

"I leave at the end of January and come back in April," she said with a small smile. "And... a few of my pieces have already been selected to be featured at the campus in Paris."

"That's awesome," Specs said. "Do you have pictures of your work?"

"Yeah, I wanna see."

"Me too, show off to us, Kat."

She laughed and they gathered around her on the couch, lying on top of each other and comfortable. Medda stood behind the couch with a glass of gin and tonic as Spot handed Kat a whiskey on the rocks. The cats scattered as Jack crawled over and sat next to Mush, their bodies on either side of Kat's legs.

She took a long sip of whiskey before putting the glass in her lap, and she held her phone out in front of her for them to see her finger swiping photos of her work.

Her city scapes were simple abstracts but filled with mood stirring color palettes; the grays and blues of a rainy day amongst skyscrapers, lush greens and bright colors of Central Park in Spring, light blushes and pinks of an early morning. They remembered her sketches back in 1901, of the city and of them. Her skills had grown and bloomed into huge canvases covered in colors, confident and bold strokes, smooth flowing lines.

"'s amazin', Kat," Jack said after a moment.

"How can such big talent come from such a petite person?" Racetrack teased, ruffling Kat's hair.

"I'll take whatever you're selling," Medda said smoothly. "Seriously."

Kat turned around to look Medda in the eye, her mouth hanging open, "Medda -"

"No buts," Medda cut her off with a clever smirk. "Broadway needs to support local artists like you, and these will look great in my office."

The guys clapped Kat on the back, and they lost themselves to asking her questions about her work, where she'll be staying in Paris, where she'll travel in Europe.

"Sounds like a blast," Mush said. "And doing what you love. 's perfect for you, Kat."

"I want to visit my home too, if it's still there." Her eyes fell for a moment, remembering her life in England before her family had moved to America...she looked back up and smiled warmly at the guys, "I'll send postcards."

It was well after dark when David joined them. He walked off the elevator a little urgently when the doors opened, his tired eyes bright as they landed on Jack in the kitchen with Spot.

"'ey Davey!" Snoddy shouted from the couch.

"Haven't seen you in days, man!" Boots shouted. "They workin' ya to the bone or what?"

Spot and Jack saw the look on David's face and their expressions hardened. They both spoke at once -

"What's wrong?"

"'s matter?"

Medda left the couches and stood at Spot's elbow, her eyes glued to David.

David hesitated, looking at Jack imploringly.

"Jus' say it," Jack said darkly. "Whatever it is."

David looked down at his heavy messenger bag, his hands unzipping it and pulling out a spiral notepad.

"So...as assistant deputy editor, I oversee all pieces... all stories from all departments, including homicide and...missing persons." David glanced up at Jack, seeing the darkness that had fallen over him. "Today I saw a police report from four days ago on the editor's desk."

He opened the notepad, flipped to a page in the back, and handed it to Jack. The guys had been moving closer from the couches as David spoke and they crowded around Jack in the kitchen, their eyes scanning over David's fast messy handwriting.

"They wouldn't run it," David said darkly. "I asked why and I was told more or less to overlook it - to keep my mouth shut."

Jack scowled at the notepad.

"I wrote down as much as I could before he came back from the bathroom," he said, watching Jack's face.

NYU student. Nineteen years old. Employee of -

"The Black Diamond," Mush said from Jack's side, looking up at David.

"Missing," David said coldly. "For almost a whole week. She was last seen at work, this isn't the first occurrence, and -"

"Jazzi gave the Club's statement to the police," Jack read off the paper emotionlessly. But when he looked up and met David's eyes, he felt like he was boiling alive. "I fuckin' knew it."

"Boys," Medda said carefully, reaching for Jack. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves...David, come have a seat dear, you're dead on your feet. Racetrack get him a beer? Where'd I put that joint..."

The guys clapped David warmly on the back and made him sit down on the couch. Boots made him a plate of what was left of the pizza.

Jack threw the notepad onto the kitchen counter and pushed his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"C'mon," Spot said as he handed him a beer. "Let's regroup."

Jack's laugh was hard and empty. His face felt hot, energy rising inside of him. He tried to slow it down but his anger was stronger. "These fucking scumbags are the exact same as before -"

"An' we're smarter than before," Spot replied in a fierce hiss, facing his friend as he set his beer down on the counter. "Before, we were just a bunch a kids without a fucking clue. We thought we knew somethin'. We thought we could do anything against them but in the end they won. They fucking won and I want revenge for it too, Jackie Boy."

Jack breathed heavily and slowly through his nose, his eyes cutting to Spot's face.

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it," Spot said in a low voice, a dark gleam twinkling in his eyes. "It may be hidden, Jackie Boy, but it's there. I can see it. An' I want it too, man. I want it for you, and I sure as fuck want it for her. For all those girls."

Jack slowed the rising anger and looked over to Kat and Medda who were watching him from David's side, all listening to Spot. David's shoulders were slouched in defeat, hating himself for bringing the news...

"We gotta be smart this time, Cowboy. We gotta be ahead. And these girls -" Spot's eyes cautioned Jack as he'd done so many times before when they'd been caught in tight spots together. "- they're savvy to what's going on. Bet your last dollar on that. They're playin' their roles but they're not on the same side as these guys, dig?"

"Spot's right," Mush murmured after a heavy silence. "Jus' gotta watch out for Jazzi."

"Again," Boots said loudly from the couch, still irritated.

"I think..." Spot thought for a moment, careful of his words. "We should lay low a bit. I don't think we should go over to their house again...and definitely not a good idea to step foot anywhere near the club."

"Agreed," Medda said firmly, her face cold as stone.

Jack groaned a deep growl of frustration as he stood and put his hands behind his head, his eyes closing.

"She asked me a few questions about my job," David said after a moment, remembering. "The night of the Halloween party...once Jazzi learned about my job with the Times, she pegged me with all kinds of questions - she asked if there was a 'no print list'. I didn't think anything of it at the time, and I definitely didn't think she was asking about rich guys getting off for crimes…"

"It's not your fault," Medda said gently.

"They're supposed to print the truth," David said, shaking his head.

"They've never done that," Snoddy spat.

"You know that, Davey," Specs said emotionlessly.

"I'm sorry Jack," David said after a long moment. "But...it is good to see you guys."

Jack's eyes opened and he smirked a little, "'s good of ya to finally show your ole mug."

The guys laughed a little, all of them tired.

Jack huffed a sigh, "We can't do anythin' about any of this right now, so...someone pour some fuckin' shots or somethin' an' put on last night's episode of Saturday Night Live."

They jumped into action and were soon laughing in spite of the heaviness of David's news, which stayed in the back of their minds. They were thankful for modern entertainment.

Jack sat next to David, Kat on the other side with her legs tucked up underneath, angled towards them.

"Ya like workin' there?" Mush asked David from the other couch. "Besides... runnin' into things like this."

"It's a lot of work," David said with a yawn as he dragged a hand over his face. The guys laughed, and Medda handed him a whiskey. "But it's like this every day... You can't imagine how many stories and reports they get in a day, let alone a week. Maybe twenty percent of it makes it to page. But because they're mainstream and mostly entertainment and business now, they're too big to cover the 'small stories'...The only crime that makes it to print is what's deemed 'national news worthy'. They don't want to print the reality of the city, especially a city this big."

"What fun," Racetrack said as he sat down between Mush and Medda. "Nothin's changed, only multiplied."

"But you like it," Medda said encouragingly.

"I do," David said, smiling a little as if he felt guilty for it. "I'm learning so much - about this time, what's going on all over the world...there's so much. And print time is … exponentially faster."

They laughed, remembering the Strike paper they printed in one night. Hundreds of copies. They marveled at the number of papers on the streets every day, seeing the banners next to each other at stands. They bought one every now and then, just to look at them. Then they stopped as the prices kept increasing to keep up with the internet.

"Maybe one day you'll be editor," Bumlets said with confidence. "And you'll print the truth."

David laughed at the thought and Racetrack raised his drink, "I'll drink ta that - to our man David, shakin' things up."

Spot, standing behind Jack on the couch, lifted his glass too. "To Davey Boy."

They lifted their glasses and drank, David blushing a little from the booze and shyness.

Jack felt his phone in his pocket vibrate and he pulled it out just as the guys laughed at another SNL skit...Jack's body became alert when he saw Tiffany's name on the phone screen. He opened her text.

Hi Cowboy...I'm sorry about earlier.

The others' voices faded away to the background as he wrote back to her.

No worries, doll face. Sorry you had to work.

Do you have plans after work tomorrow?

He felt a thrill of excitement for the first time that day, the thought of seeing her again.

Free as a bird.

Meet me in the arena?

"You better say yes, I swear to fuckin' God," Spot said next to Jack's ear, Jack jumping a little in surprise.

The guys laughed as Jack grabbed Spot in a front choke hold, Medda yelling "BOYS!" as they wrestled over the back of the couch.

Kat and David laughed as Spot broke free, a huge grin on his face.

Jack grinned in spite of himself.

I'll be there.