February 14, 1900

"Close your eyes!" Chase said.

"Why do I gotta do that?" Spot asked.

The couple was sitting on a bench in Central Park.

"Just do it." She whined.

Spot obeyed, closing his eyes. "I still don't understand why I-" In the middle of his sentence Chase shoved something in his mouth. "What the heck?" He opened his eyes.

"It was sweet. Really sweet. Like nothing Spot had ever tasted before.

"So…" Chase watched him expectantly.

"Mmm…" Spot said. "It's good. What is it?"

"Chase pulled a little brown paper bag out from behind her back. "They're Lancaster Caramels. My parents used to buy them for me every year on Valentine's Day so I thought..." She trailed off.

"Then why are you givin' them to me? Oh-" Oh no. Spot's eyes widened. He glanced down at the newspaper for the date. February 14th. Valentine's Day. He had never had a girl so he never needed to think about Valentine's day before. Spot looked around. There certainly were a lot of couples out today. Even some of the newsies were paired up with their girls.

"I knew you would forget," said Chase.

"Chase, I'm sorry I just-"

"It's alright," she smiled. "It's been a crazy month."

Spot nodded as he put his arm around her, reflecting. He had spent the better part of January in the hospital in Manhattan healing from his gunshot wound. Luckily Shade's bullet hadn't gone all the way through. If it had it may have completely shattered his bone or damaged a muscle and Spot would likely not have been able to walk again. At best he would be permanently crippled. But it was just a fracture, a dead painful one, but much easier to heal nonetheless. Morphine had been a gift from God, although Spot was a little disappointed he didn't get to drink any whiskey during his hospital stay. The nurses had informed him that this was a proper hospital and that they used real medicine instead of relying on alcohol to subdue pain.

"We should probably get going," Chase said looking at the setting sun. "We don't want to miss them."

She stood up and offered Spot her hand.

"Non, merci." He said simply. "Je ne pas besoin d'aide."

Chase gaped at him. " Where did you learn that?"

"You talk in your sleep."

Chase smacked him on the shoulder. "And how would you know that?"

"I'm kiddin', I'm kiddin'." Spot laughed. "Actually I been readin' that French book a' yours. 'The Count of Whatever or Somethin''.

"'The Count of Monte Cristo'," she said. So that's where her book had gone. "Your pronunciation is really good..."

Spot looked at the crutch reluctantly. He now understood how Chase had felt all of those months. He could never get used to it, but he still needed it. He leaned on the crutch as he stood up from the bench, eye to eye with Chase (almost, Spot was just a little bit taller). He pulled her close.

"Je t'adore ma chérie."

Laughing at her stunned expression Spot kissed her. A faint blush colored her cheeks.

"Alright," He said. "Now we can go."

"Wait," Chase said. "You go on to Manhattan ahead of me."

"Why?"

"I just remembered I promised Prima I would help her with something tonight. I'll catch up with you later."

"I don't want you goin' alone." Spot said firmly crossing his arms.

"I will be fine," Chase said. "Need I remind you I walked back and forth from Brooklyn to Manhattan all by myself every day for over a month."

Since Shade's death there had been no more reports of newsies being followed or chased. After the fire the police easily caught and arrested Weasel and the Delancey Brothers. It turned out that Weasel didn't, in fact, have any knowledge of Chase and Spark's kidnapping or that they were being held in the basement of the circulation building. Much to the Manhattan newsies' chagrin, he was released and they still had to see his ugly face every morning when they went to buy papes. But the Delancys would be going on trial soon. This was their second (recorded) criminal offence so the newsies hoped to find justice. The "shadows" were also arrested (it was quite simple for the police to find teenage boys with such "unique" dark hair; the shoe polish didn't wash out so easily).

Even though he told her not to, Chase sold papers for Spot while he was in the hospital, purchasing two-hundred copies of "The World" each day. She visited him in Manhattan every day, bragging that she was probably the most successful newsie in Brooklyn history, and possibly all of New York as she single-handedly pushed over a thousand papers a week without any leftover. Not even Jack or David could say that. What was even more amazing was that she was able to balance that, working in Medda's show (temporarily moved to her friend's theatre while Irving Hall was being rebuilt), and running Brooklyn while the king was gone.

"I will be fine," Chase repeated, moving in close to kiss him again. She then leaped back brandishing Spot's gold handled cane. "Especially if I have this!"

"Hey!" Spot patted his side where the cane usually resided in his belt loop.

Chase stuck her tongue out at him and laughed. Mastering the art of misdirection was one good thing that had come out of Shade's show (although she really didn't like to think about it). She swung the cane around, easily dancing out of Spot's reach and taking advantage of his incapacitated state. He reached out and grabbed her around the waist as she twirled, but Spot's hold on his crutch slipped. The two tumbled onto the ground in a muddled heap.

"Oh!"Chase exclaimed as she tried sitting up, her hair yanked back. She looked up to see Spot splayed over her, his right arm trapped under her while his left pinned tendrils of her hair to the ground. A man walking by raised an eyebrow at their 'intimate' position.

"S- Sorry!" Spot said reeling back.

They untangled themselves from each other in a rather ungraceful fashion, both blushing furiously as they did.

"Right," Chase said, smoothing her tousled hair. She quickly stood up and offered Spot his crutch.

"I told you I don't need any help," He asserted.

Chase shook her head. "You know, they say 'Pride goeth before the fall...'."

Spot smirked. "Yeah, well my pride cometh after the fall." He winced as he got to his knees, his injured leg throbbed.

"Just let me help you."

"Fine..."

Spot took Chase's hand when she offered it. He stood up carefully, trying not to show the pain. Chase handed him his crutch.

"Was that so hard?"

Spot grunted in response.

"Spark, Story, Prima, and I will meet you in Manhattan in a few hours," Chase promised. She offered him the paper bag of caramels. "And if anyone dares come near us I'll-"

"Work 'em over?"

"Until they're black and blue." Chase said as she slipped Spot's cane into the ribbon on her dress.

"That's my girl," Spot said./p
"So then I can go?"/p
He sighed. "Fine," he said as he took the bag of candy from her./p
]"Good, because I was going to go anyway." She smirked./p
Spot shook his head as he turned to leave. How did he know she was going to say that?/p
Chase smiled. "I love you," she called to him./p
"Yeah, yeah…" He looked back and a small smile crept up on his face.


"You're sure it looks ok?" Prima asked.

"Yes," said Chase putting an arm around the girl's shoulders. "It does."

Both Brooklyn and Manhattan had taken Prima in almost instantly. The Casellas welcomed her back to the girls' lodging house with open arms. She fit in with everyone very well. The newsies were surprised that Prima didn't mourn the death of her twin brother. She was surprised herself. Yes, she loved him and she missed him. But she didn't miss the dark, twisted man he had become. She missed the kind twin brother she had grown up with. The one who loved to perform because it made him happy, not the one who did everything in the name of revenge. Michael, not Shade. Just like she missed Alexander, not Myth.

At first she was worried about living at the Brooklyn girls' lodging house. She didn't think she would be able to bear seeing Chase and Spot together. After seeing him the night of the show Prima realized that her feelings towards him hadn't changed much in the four years since she'd been forced to join her brother's gang. The hatred that she had tried to harbor for him wasn't founded on much. But she knew that she had no chance with the king of Brooklyn. He and Chase were madly in love with each other, and although two months ago Prima would have jumped at the chance to split them up, she had become good friends with Chase, who had instantly forgiven her for the pain she had put them through. Prima was resigned to the fact that the king and queen of Brooklyn would be together forever.

Prima looked nervous. "I don't think I can do this," she said.

"It'll be fine," Story said.

"Yeah," said Spark. "He will love it!"

"Prima paled at the thought. "Just- Just tell the boys I couldn't come because of- because of my menses."

"I am not going to tell them that!" Chase said, appalled that Prima would mention such a thing.

"I can't do it!" She turned to leave but not before Spark had the chance to push her into the lodging house as Story opened the door.

Prima stumbled inside, pitching into the arms of an unsuspecting newsboy. The other girls followed closely behind. Conversation in the Manhattan lodging house ground to a halt as the newsies stared at the girls, specifically Prima.

""I'm sorry-" Prima stopped when she saw who had helped her to her feet. It was Snoddy.

She drew back, completely mortified. She wished she could bolt out of the lodging house but Story stood leaning on the closed door.

It was a shock for the newsies to see Prima's once bleach blonde hair turned a dark sable brown. It made sense though. Shade was her twin brother, and the two had the same silver gray eyes, so why wouldn't they have the same color hair?

Since she moved back to the girls' lodging house Prima had sworn off using hydrogen peroxide on her hair. It would take a while but she was determined to grow her dark hair back, the way it was supposed to be. Chase, Spark, and Story had noticed that she would often frown at her reflection in the mirror, staring at the dark roots that were beginning to grow in. One morning Spark actually heard her whisper to herself that she looked like a "cheap floozy from the Bowery" before putting on her hat. Chase, Story, and Spark had saved up enough money to purchase her a bottle of Circassian hair dye (at Medda's recommendation). They had presented it to her as a gift for Epiphany, even though Epiphany had been two weeks before and Prima insisted that she was not Catholic. It took a few weeks but the girls had managed to convince Prima to let them color her hair. After the deed was done Chase had tied Prima's hair up in rags to curl it and the girls lent her some purple ribbons.

The silence was unbearable.

Snoddy reached out and touched a lock of Prima's hair. She flinched and he dropped it like it had burned him.

Chase shot her brother a look from across the room. He was standing by the poker table gaping like the rest of the boys.

Oh, um- Hi'ya girls." He said finally.

After the silence was broken it seemed like the whole room exhaled. Chase laughed a little. It was just hair, after all.

The girls received a few more Hi's from various places in the room.

"Have yous started yet?" Spark asked as she skipped over to Mush. The couple leaned in for a kiss.

"We're gettin' to that if yous spare us from watchin' yous kiss anymore," Racetrack said, not looking up as he shuffled the cards. If it was possible, since the kidnapping Spark and Mush had become even more amorous. "By the way, your hair looks real good, Prima."

"Oh, thanks." Prima said quietly.

With that the newsies went back to their own business. Story grabbed David's hand and they curled up next to the fire with one of David's books. Spark sat in her usual spot at the poker table between Mush and Racetrack. Chase winked at Prima and then joined Spot on the couch where he had fallen asleep reading her book. She smiled remembering how exhausted she had been after selling all day leaning on that crutch.

Everyone had dispersed, leaving Prima and Snoddy standing in the foyer. Prima wished she could run away.

"Race is right," Snoddy said finally. "Your hair looks good."

"You- You think so?" Prima stammered, smiling a little.

Snoddy reached out and brushed a lock out of her eyes. His hand lingered a moment. "Yeah, it suits you."


News of the fire had traveled fast. Within days of the incident Helena was on a train back to Philadelphia. When Helena's parents found out about Chase and Spark's kidnapping and the fire they made their only child return home. She had cried the whole way back.

"I knew we shouldn't have sent you to that city!" Her mother had said. "It's much too dangerous for a young woman like you."

Helena and her father had shared a glance. In fact, it had been her mother's idea to send her to school in New York in the first place (although they both knew there was no arguing with her now). After weeks of moping around and dozens of calls and letters to her uncle Denton, Helena and her father convinced her mother to let her return to New York to continue attending Miss Trenton's school. That was the only drawback but Helena didn't care. She wanted to see her friends again.

When Denton's car pulled up to the Manhattan lodging house Helena jumped out and ran to knock on the door.

Les, Boots, Snipeshooter, and Tumbler answered the door.
Helena!" They exclaimed in unison. The four young newsboys clamored to hug her.

The poker game behind them stopped abruptly as chairs scraped against the floor. Nearly every newsie at the lodging house crowded around.

"Get sick of your mansion, did ya?" Racetrack said.

Helena rolled her eyes. "Hi, Race."

Denton came in the door behind them. "Happy Valentine's Day," he said. He carried several thin boxes wrapped in pink and red paper. "I brought some chocolates."

"Aww, Denty ya shouldn't have," Jack teased. Sarah, who was sitting next to him at the poker table feigned an offended look. The newsies laughed and Jack planted a kiss on her cheek.

Helena loved the warmth that greeted her in the Manhattan lodging house. In the few months she had known the newsies she had learned that family was more than the people you were blood related to and your lineage. Each newsboy or newsgirl was special, regardless of who they were or where they came from. Helena entered the room slowly, taking everything in. She wanted to remember this moment forever. She was home.

Helena couldn't help but smile when she saw Prima and Snoddy sitting on the stairs sharing a bottle of Coca Cola. They were absolutely enamored by each other. After the way Snoddy had carefully looked after her following the fire and how Prima had relied on him, Helena had an idea that the two would develop feelings for each other.

As she passed the poker table she caught a glance at some of the newsies' cards. Sarah had a straight flush, she was probably going to win. Helena suppressed a laugh. Racetrack and Spark would not be happy about that. Sarah rarely, if ever, played cards.

Chase and Spot were on the couch together, she had her head on his chest and he had his arm around her. Both were sleeping soundly through the lively noise of the room. Their breathing was synchronized so their chests rose and fell at the same time. In this peaceful state the two looked more like young children than the powerful king and queen of Brooklyn. It was a strange thought because they were about the same age as Helena (and it was even stranger when you considered what they were like when awake).

Many of the young newsies were gathered around the fire. Story and David were in the middle of the group reading from a book of Greek myths. The story was about Persephone and Hades. One of Helena's favorites. She scanned the room for a place to sit and listen.

Helena stopped. The warm, comfortable feeling she had was replaced with a pang of anxiety. Skittery was sitting on the floor leaning against the wall. She hadn't seen him when she came in because he was hidden behind the couch. He was staring intently at the fire, watching the orange flames flickering.

"H-hi," Helena said finally.

Skittery looked up slowly. "Hey,"

"Do you mind?" She asked, gesturing to empty space on the floor next to him.

"Not at all."

He turned back to the fire and the two sat in silence for a long minute.

"Are you- are you ok?" Helena asked. She couldn't take it anymore. She had to know what was going on with him.

"Yeah," He didn't take his eyes off the flames.

"No you're not." Helena said. She took his face in her hands, making him look at her.

Skittery's startled eyes were wide. Helena blushed a little but she studied his face. Everyone else had returned to their usual cheery selves. Everyone except for Skittery. The bruises, burns, and cuts were gone but Skittery looked distressed in a way. He had dark circles under his pained eyes.

"Haven't been sleeping good," He admitted.

"Why not?"

Helena put her hands back in her lap, watching Skittery expectantly.

"Nightmares,"

"About what?"

He looked like he didn't want to answer. Helena looked down feeling guilty that she had asked. Obviously he didn't want to talk about it and it really wasn't any of her business. But he's my friend, Helena thought. And perhaps a little more... She quickly banished that last thought from her mind.

"I, uh-" He started. "I been dreamin' about the night of the fire and..."

"Shade?" Helena asked.

"Yeah," Skittery's voice was hollow. "You know in the Bible they say, 'Thou shalt not kill'."

"Yes that's the sixth commandment in Exodus." She said. "I didn't know you were that religious."

"I wasn't." He gave a bitter smile. "But you know it's not every day a man dies at your own hand. I ain't no Spot Conlon."

Before Helena had left Manhattan a month ago she had noticed Skittery was rather quiet. She decided to give him some space, attributing his demeanor to shock from his injuries or watching one of his fellow newsies suffer a life-threatening wound. She hadn't realized he was thinking about this.

"A beam fell on him and he got stuck." She said. "It's not like you had much control over that."

"I didn't help, neither."

"You did the right thing," Helena affirmed.

"You sure about that?"

"Listen to me," Helena said as she leaned in. Skittery looked at her again. "Do you realize you not only prevented the deaths of Spot and Chase, but you also saved Story and the rest of your friends? Shade was evil and insane. His plan was brilliantly organized. If you had let him get away his gang could have taken Brooklyn and become worse than the 107th Street Mob."

Skittery raised an eyebrow at Helena's mention of the Mafia.

"Journalist," Helena said, rolling her eyes. New York's underworld was a taboo subject for the newsies since they lived on the streets. None of them wanted to 'disappear' if they were caught saying the wrong thing. But Helena, for one, was not afraid of talking about the Mafia or any other crime organizations that plagued New York. It was her job and her passion to know and report these things.

"...Yeah, I guess you're right..." Skittery said after a moment.

It seemed like a huge weight was lifted off of Skittery's shoulders. The tension relaxed and he looked a little more like himself again. Helena couldn't help but watch him and smile.

"So about that night-" He looked at her. After going to the hospital Skittery hadn't had the chance or the notion to talk to Helena. And then a few days later she was gone. Besides the nightmares of the fire, he kept playing back their moment in the lobby of Irving Hall in his mind again and again.

"Mhmm…" Helena looked down at the weathered old wooden floor. He meant their kiss. "It was- " she began.

But she was cut off by her uncle making an announcement.

"Everybody come in here, I want to take a picture." He set up his camera and tripod.

The scene was a familiar one, newsies shoving each other as they got into position for the photograph. Spark and Mush were trying to wake Chase and Spot.

"Come on, Rosie," Mush said.

"Hey," Said Racetrack. "If they don't wanna wake up we should all gather around and pose with them like one a' those mourning portraits the blue bloods like to do."

"Race, that's the stupidest thing I ever heard," Jack said. "What's a' matter with you?"

"It's not like it would be real..."

An argument broke out between the older boys over memento mori. This threw the room into even more chaos.

"What is going on here?" Chase stepped between Racetrack and Jack. She was slightly bleary eyed and her hair was messy.

"Oh good, you're up. Now we don't have to pretend yous dead." Racetrack quipped.

Chase put her hands on her hips. "Do I even want to know?"

There was a few more minutes of racket. Once Chase woke Spot up she and Mush had to help him over to the group because he refused to take a picture with his crutch. Instead he leaned on his cane and put his arm around Chase, leaning on her as well. It was a very tight squeeze to fit all of them in front of the fireplace, but somehow they managed. The little ones sat on the floor and the older newsies were gathered behind them.

"Since this is Valentine's day I want the couples in the middle row," Denton said, ushering them into line.

Jack and Sarah were followed by David and Story, Mush and Spark, and Chase and Spot. Prima and Snoddy shared a smile and then got into place next to Jack. It was official now. Denton took a look through the camera lens.

"No, that's not right, the balance is off now." He said. "Skittery and Helena, I need you two to stand next to Spot."

"But we're not-" Helena protested.

"The difference between a good picture and a a bad one is symmetry."

"Ok," Skittery said. He took Helena's arm and escorted her to the middle row before she knew what was going on.

"Much better," If Helena didn't know any better she could have sworn she saw a glint of mischief in her uncle's eyes.

Helena tried not to look nervous as she stood next to Skittery, their arms still linked. They were so close. She attempted to smile.

"Three... Two... One..."

"The flash lit up like a star.

"That was great, let's do another one."

As Denton set up another round of flash powder the newsies went back to talking

"So," Skittery said out of the corner of his mouth. "Back to what you were saying earlier... The um… Yeah, what was that for?"

"Right," Helena had hoped he had forgotten. She looked down at her shoes, remembering that night with a disturbing amount of vividity. "You were going into a burning building to fight that- that-"

"Scoundrel?"

"I was going to call him something much less... polite…" said Helena. "But you were determined to go in and I didn't know whether you would come out alive or not. And- and I didn't want to leave you without letting you know how I felt." She was struggling to keep her voice steady, holding back tears. "If I didn't see you again. If- if something would have happened to you… I didn't want to go on if you died without knowing that I-"

He cut her off. "What a stupid thing to say,"

"Helena blanched at his blunt tone.

He continued. "Of course you would see me again. After a kiss like that I'm afraid you're stuck with me, hon."

Helena smiled hoping her blushed cheeks wouldn't reveal the butterflies that were now swarming in her stomach. "It's a burden I'll gladly bear," She allowed herself to relax.

"I missed you," He said.

"Me too."

"You know," Skittery said after a moment. "You coulda told me sooner. You didn't need to wait for a near-death experience."

"Ha!" Helena said smacking him on the shoulder. "You 'coulda' told me before today! I've spent the entire time I've known you thinking you were in love with Story."

"Oh, that…" He stole a glance at the happy couple, frowning a little. "That wasn't gonna go anywhere."

Before Helena had a chance to feel stung, realizing she was the consolation prize, the room broke into 'Oooh's and applause. She looked over to see that David and Story were kissing. From what she knew about David and Story (and from the newsies' reactions) Helena could tell this was their first time. An uncharacteristically bold move for careful Davey.

"Alright, Dave!" Mush said over the clapping.

Helena was happy for them, but then she realized, what would Skittery think? She turned back to him but before she could open her mouth to speak, Skittery put his hands on her shoulders.

"Helena," He said earnestly. "I don't love her."

"But-"

"Listen, I thought I did for a while but- but when I saw the smoke in the sky over Irving Hall all I could think of was you."

"Skittery," Helena said.

"And when Story told me you were still trapped inside..." He trailed off for a second. "I- I thought my heart was gonna break."

Helena was speechless and dizzy and relieved all at the same time. She couldn't hear the commotion of the room anymore. It was like she and Skittery were the only two there.

"I love you, Helena Denton," Skittery whispered. He stared into her crystal blue eyes, still wide from surprise. He touched her cheek, and giving a small smile he bent down and kissed her.

They stayed there for a moment, their foreheads pressed together.

"I love you too," Helena breathed. "Henry,"

Neither of them noticed the camera flash, for they were lost in each others' eyes.


A/N: And that's the end! Thank you so much for following my story. I hope you enjoyed the journey, I certainly enjoyed writing it!

This chapter was way longer than I expected it to be. There were just so many loose ends I wanted to tie up. I didn't want to leave it at the hospital scene (which was the original ending). A few little pieces of trivia now! The Lancaster Caramel Company was founded in the 1880s by Milton Hershey. Although he is best known for his chocolates (yes, those Hershey's chocolates) making his Lancaster Caramels was what first brought on his success. He even met his wife delivering a caramels order!

Circassian hair dye was sold in the late 1890s, especially for women who wanted to cover up gray hairs. If you hadn't guessed, menses is another term for menstrual cycle, an extremely taboo subject at the time.

Speaking of taboos, the 107th Street Mob (not to be confused with the 107th Street gang) was a real threat to the streets of New York in the 1890s. It was started by Giuseppe "The Clutch Hand" Morello and it was one of the first prominent Mafia gangs in America. The Morello crime family still exists today, but it's now called the Genovese crime family.

As for postmortem photography, that was a very popular thing at the time. Photographs were expensive so families wouldn't get around to taking a picture until a family member died. It was a way to remember them. At the beginning people would pose their deceased loved ones to make them look like they were alive. Often the other family members would gather around to take a group picture. By the 1890s people began to take less macabre photos of the dead, and instead they would take pictures of them in a casket or surrounded by flowers, but that doesn't mean it stopped happening.

Stay tuned for some bonus chapters! I wanted to release some of my early ideas for, "The Turn".


A/N Part 2: I changed a few sentences so that this story fits with the continuity of "All Bets Are Off". Basically I just made it so the Delancys haven't gone to trial yet. That's all.