"There's no need to cry, Rosie." said someone.

"He's right," said a female voice. "The surgery went well. He should come to any moment now, although he will be a little drowsy from the morphine we gave him."

"I- I know," a girl sobbed. "I j-just c-can't stop."

Spot's eyelids felt really heavy. Maybe just five more minutes of sleep? He had a really bizarre dream last night, although he didn't remember most of it, just little pieces. There was music and some fire and gunshots... It probably all came from hanging around Jack Kelly too much, with all his talk about the wild West and Santa Fe.

Spot was too comfortable to wake up. But he had to get up and sell some papes so he could eat tonight. Maybe if he sold a lot he would have enough money to take Chase out on a real date… He didn't want to be late picking up his newspapers… Spot started drifting off again. His bed was unusually soft and warm this morning.

No! He really needed to wake up. Chase would be waiting for him if he took too long.

But wait, he thought, Chase was still missing, wasn't she? Or was that a dream? Spot wasn't sure what was real. He felt strange, like he was floating.

He heard a girl crying again. This is weird, he thought. Girls usually didn't come to the Brooklyn boys' lodging house at this hour. Maybe I'm still dreaming. Chase had taught him that as a gentleman it was his job to find out what was wrong, dream or not. It was the least he could do.

"W-what's a matter?" Spot blinked at the blindingly bright light. His vision was still a little bit blurry.

"Spot!" the girl exclaimed, practically tackling him.

"Miss, you need to give him some space." the nurse cautioned.

She wasn't listening. She just laid her head on Spot's chest and sobbed, but this time she cried tears of joy.

"What's goin' on?" Spot asked. This wasn't his room. Where were the bunks? Where was his cane? He could see the silhouettes of several people surrounding his bed.

"You're in the hospital, Spot." someone said. Spot recognized Jack Kelly's voice.

"...Why...?" And more importantly, why was some girl sprawled across him crying? Spot bolted upright. A sharp pain reverberated in his head. "Ah!"

"Be careful," said the nurse. "Don't push yourself too hard."

After the pain subsided Spot returned to the matter at hand. Instinctively he stroked the girl's hair. Wavy blonde hair, like Chase.

"Chase!" Spot cried. It was her. It was really her! "This ain't a dream, right? Please- please tell me this ain't a dream." Almost immediately tears started flowing down his cheeks. He didn't even think to be embarrassed as the people around him watched. He really hoped it wasn't a dream.

"No, this is real." Chase squeezed him tighter. "You're back. You're safe." She finally released him to give him some space.

"Shouldn't that be my line?" Spot quipped.

He looked around and saw his friends were the ones surrounding his bed. David, Jack, and Mush stood to Spot's left, behind Chase. Spark and Story were at the foot of the bed, their eyes were red and puffy like they'd been crying. Denton was speaking to the doctor and nurses behind the group. They all looked a mess, sporting black soot marks on their faces and clothing, and they all had dark circles under their eyes as if they hadn't slept.

Someone sat in a comfortable looking chair in the corner of the room but Spot couldn't tell who it was.

"Welcome back, Spot," Said Mush. "Happy New Year."

"I'm just glad I don't have to take on Brooklyn for ya," said Jack.

Spot rolled his eyes. "Not in a million years." Now that he was fully awake and his vision was clear he got a better look at Chase. "What happened to you? And what are you wearing?"

"Last night was-" Chase blushed, looking down at her feet. She pulled the jacket she was wearing closer, crossing her arms in front to hide her scandalous dress. Spot could see a crisscross of bandages wound tightly around her right hand. Her hair was disheveled, half was pinned up while random, tangled strands here and there cascaded down her shoulders and wilting rosebuds hung at odd angles. Tracks of tears and kohl stained her cheeks and purple bruises darkened her right eye and her jaw. A stark contrast to her fair skin. Her bottom lip was cut. Her white stockings were torn badly and stained by soot and dark splatters of blood.

Spot looked back to the foot of the bed. He saw that Spark looked much the same (minus the bruises and blood), with one of the boys' jackets hiding a very short and low cut dress.

"Spot," Chase began again slowly, "What do you remember?"

Spot closed his eyes for a second, trying to think. "I was sittin' in the front row at Medda's theatre." That's right… Last night was that show Medda's theatre. "I was watchin' you on stage and then Shade did some magic tricks…"

Chase nodded. Spot looked down. His right hand was tightly bandaged like Chase's the only difference was that blood was starting to seep through his bandages.

"The bullet catch." Spot's eyes widened. "I- I was shot last night, wasn't I?"

"Mhmm…" Chase nodded again, holding back tears. "W-when Shade's plan for you to kill me during the trick didn't work he- he shot you. If it wasn't for Prima tackling him, you would probably be..." She couldn't hold back any longer. Chase buried her face in Spot's chest and cried.

"Prima…" Spot said, remembering more details from the night before as he absentmindedly stroked Chase's tangled hair. "Is she safe?"

"Yeah," David said.

"She and Helena are at our lodgin' house," Jack added. "Snoddy's takin' real good care a' her."

A few of the newsies laughed a little. After she and Helena escaped the burning theatre Prima, dazed and in shock, had clung to the sleeve of the first boy she saw, which was Snoddy. The normally cool and aloof newsie was considerably flustered as he guided her to the ambulance. When she was later released from the hospital he walked with her back to Manhattan's lodging house.

"Oh, good- And Shade," Spot said abruptly. "What happened to Shade?"

"Dead." Someone said.

The person in the chair came forward and joined the boys. It was Skittery.

"Really?" Spot gaped. "Did I-?" He vaguely remembered pointing the gun at Shade.

"No, Spot," Jack said. "Believe it or not Skittery was the one who finally did him in."

Jack smacked Skittery's back. Skittery stiffened at the pain, shooting Jack a vexed look.

"Ah, sorry." said Jack.

Spot saw that Skittery was in a similar condition to Chase. Spots of blood stained his clothes and a few holes were charred through his shirt. He had a particularly bad gash on his head. Bands of gauze were wound around his forearms. Spot thought he could see the the print of a person's hand in the dark bruises on Skittery's neck.

The newsies recounted the events of the night before after Spot had blacked out and the audience left the theatre to escape the fire, leaving Chase on the stage to fight for her life. Skittery explained how he had seen the smoke from the Manhattan lodging house and how he ran immediately to the theatre, that he snuck past the police and firefighters to enter the burning building where he found Helena locked in the coat closet. He left out the part about their kiss.

The room was silent as the group listened to Chase and Skittery retell the details of Shade's final demise. It was a horrible way to die but Shade was an equally horrible guy.

Spot stared at Skittery for a moment. Finally he said, "Thank you." Two words Skittery never expected to come out of the King of Brooklyn's mouth.

He looked down. "Uh, you're- you're welcome."

"So," Spot said breaking an awkward silence that began to fill the room. "When can I get outta here?" He sat up slowly this time so his head wouldn't hurt again.

The newsies all shared a look. Many of them turned their eyes to the floor.

"Um, Spot..." Chase said shifting uncomfortably. "It's probably going to be a little while before you can leave."

"...And why is that?"

Spot followed her gaze down to the bed where the rumpled sheets lay over his legs. Spot's eyes stopped at a glint of silver. He pushed away the sheets. Like his hand, his left leg was also bandaged up, a red splotch of blood bloomed in the middle of his calf. On top of the bandages was a shiny metal brace. Like the one Chase wore after the Rally.