Jack opened his bedroom door, squinting in the sunshine that poured in from the window to his left. In front of him was the living room, home to an L-couch, a worn braided area rug, a coffee table with matching end tables, a 46" TV with an array of stereos and game consoles they'd had from their "previous lives". Games and TV were wonderful and sometimes terrifying things; sometimes they could all play mutli-player games for hours. Other times they just left the TV off, and played cards or went out together. They had more fun doing those things anyway, always had.

For a bunch of full grown twenty-three year old guys, they were clean. Because while it was a dump of a building in the lower end of Brooklyn, it was the nicest place they'd ever lived in, and they kept it immaculate, no one ever telling someone else to keep it clean and nice. Clean running water that could be scalding hot, an oven and working lights, even a claw bathtub that reminded them of the one Medda had in her apartments…

Every day was the same faces, and it comforted Jack to see them, hear them shouting and laughing. It was like they were still alive in 1901, with just a few changes to scenery…

To the far right on the other end of the living room was the kitchen, the front door separating the two spaces. Jack and Mush cooked the most, and cooked enough food to feed an army, whether it was just them or for the others too. The guys teased them and bought them aprons for Christmas last year.

Some days they were sad, angry, upset. But they had each other, for which they were grateful every day. To be in this strange confusing world alone…they couldn't think about it. They distracted each other, supported and helped each other. They kept each other laughing. Their bond was closer than it had been in 1901, which seemed impossible. They checked up on each other throughout the day, texted each other inside jokes, sent pictures of the impressive New York City buildings, sent pictures of old buildings they had known. They were never away from each other long, if they could help it.

Racetrack, Mush, and David were Jack's roommates. Race and Mush's room was next to Jack and David's, the shared bathroom connecting them. They shared bedrooms; the thought of sleeping in separate rooms all to themselves was weird. Plus they were used to hearing snores.

Spot lived next door, with a couple of older Newsies: Boots, Snoddy, Skittery, Pie Eater, Specs, Bumlets, and even some of Spots' own Newsies from Brooklyn lived on the same floor. All together, they'd found about sixteen.

They were still looking for Kid Blink. And her…

Those two were a sore subject.

Jack ran his hand over his face again. The headaches were never ending. They all had them: their heads fine one minute and threatening to crack their skulls the next. David said it was because their brains were trying to fit two people in one, memories from the present, mixed with memories from their past… Maybe that's why they were always so irritable.

"This fuckin' thing!" Racetrack shouted at the microwave. "I punch tha buttons an' it messes up my Ravioli. Fuck!"

Jack smirked as he leaned against the door frame, observing the morning view of the living room. Nah, they'd always been this way, and headaches had nothing to do with it.

"'ey, ya missin' tha game!" Spot shouted from the couch. He lifted a Budweiser can to his lips. "An' your beer…"

"I swears, ya touch my beer an—DAMN IT!" Race stuck his finger in his mouth, doubling over with his eyes shut tight.

"Race, it's gonna be hot!" Mush yelled as he strolled into the kitchen from his and Race's room, a towel around his hips as he dried his hair with another. "'s what it does, it makes stuff hot!"

Racetrack's expression was a mixture of anger and desperation as he looked at Mush. "It's a wonderful and terrible thing, this micrawave."

Mush clapped him on the shoulder, shaking his head, "Yeah, ya tellin' me."

"Morning, Jack," David called as he dropped his pencil on one of the notebooks that lay open on his desk among the piles of books and his laptop.

David's desk that was against the wall next to the front door, the end of the desk pushed against the back corner of the couch. The guys could tease him relentlessly as they lounged, could reach out and ruffle David's dark curly hair. But mostly, the guys would turn around and lean over the back of the couch to watch him on his computer, fascination getting the best of them every time as they watched David bring up web pages about their old neighborhood, about people they used to know...

The amount of history and progress they'd missed was enough to make them dizzy. Their "previous persons" already knew these things, and the knowledge was already in their heads…but it amazed and confused them all the same.

Headaches. Constant headaches.

They each had jobs: Spot worked at a used car dealership, Boots was a taxi driver, and David was a construction worker by day with Jack, Mush, Racetrack and the others. But by night, David was in charge of research, everything from searching for old places they'd known to searching Facebook and social media for other Newsies, for Kid Blink, for…

"Anything on Ira?" Jack asked straight, his expression blank.

David paused, looking at Jack evenly. Every morning Jack asked the same question, and every morning David gave the same answer.

"Not yet, Cowboy," David said with a small smile.

Jack nodded, dropping his head as he thought. He looked up, clapped David on the shoulder and turned to get some coffee.

"'ey, what time is it?" Spot asked through a mouth full of cornflakes. "I gotta get to tha dealership taday 'cause some numb nuts forgot to file some paperwork or somethin'. Bein' manager ain't easy."

"Manager at twenty-three," Race said loudly at Spot, waving his fresh cigar before putting it between his lips. "I don't wanna hear it."

Spot laughed and flicked milk off his spoon at Race.

Mush glanced at the clock on the oven. "'s almost 11. Mornin', Jack."

Mush nudged Jack in the ribs, his eyes bright with mischief. Mush had to pick his days to push and tease Jack; it was obvious to him when Jack was and wasn't in the mood. But sometimes he knew he had to, had to distract that brain of his from over-thinking.

Jack looked up, the same brightness appearing in his eyes. They stood motionless for a moment, watching each other.

Jack feigned a move towards Mush and Mush jumped instinctively out of the way. They began circling each other, their hands outstretched and ready to tackle.

"Ya wanna dance, Cowboy?" Mush asked with a broad smile.

"Ya tha one in tha towel," Jack challenged.

Mush lunged and they were locked together in a tangle of muscled arms and throaty laughs, the guys in the living room laughing as Mush kept one hand on his towel.

But David wasn't paying attention to the horseplay. His eyes were growing wider, his mouth dropping open as he studied the laptop screen. He couldn't believe it.

"J-Jack…" David felt his palms clam up, the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He was caught between feeling sick and feeling like he could fly. "Jack!"

The boys stopped instantly, everyone looking to David who was unable to turn his eyes away from the screen. David slowly rose from his chair, his fingers tangling into his curly hair on either side of his head. He started to laugh in amazement and disbelief, sounding half crazy. The guys looked at him in confusion.

"I...I found her," he said.

Everyone moved at once, crowding around David to look at the computer, the light from the screen shining in their eyes. It was a web page for New York University's Dance Academy. The front page had a picture of the junior and senior honors class, all lined up on the main stage with a dark red velvet curtain behind them, all wearing tight barely-there dance clothes.

Each of their eyes scanned the faces of the students, one by one, and each of them rested at last on one face.

Jack felt his stomach drop.

"I was researching more of the campus, where our new construction site is," David's voice sounded far away, like he was under water. "I thought maybe out of the 58,000 students, she'd be there and.…Who knew? We've been working there for over a month already and she's been there the whole time."

None of the others could speak. The last time they'd seen that face was in 1901, that sly smile and those glinting icy blue eyes...It was like they were looking at a ghost, a ghost they were beyond happy to see.

"I'll be damned," Spot said tightly, his throat dry.

"I can't believe it," Mush said, turning his stunned face to his friend. "Jack, that's her."

Jack's face resembled stone.

"No mistakin' it," Race said. "David, anyway ta get a betta picture?"

The boys began talking then, needing a better photo to use, more info about the dance building and classes. But Jack couldn't hear them; he studied her picture over and over. And when David zoomed in, her face filled the screen, making everyone go quiet again.

Jack felt sick and full of energy at the same time. Those eyes stared right at him, her lips slightly lifted in a charming smirk. She still had the dark freckle on her collar bone. He could almost hear her voice, teasing him. Her dark hair fell just past her shoulders and she looked as Russian as ever, the most beautiful and the most terrifying face he had ever seen.

And she was alive.

Jack turned to the front door and grabbed his keys, not caring that he was barefoot and shirtless.

But David was quicker; he slammed the door shut with his body, his frantic eyes staring into Jack's as he held his hands up defensively against Jack's chest.

"Move, Dave," Jack said evenly. This scene was a familiar one; David was always there to stop Jack, to talk reason, Jack's walking talking conscience.

David was breathing hard and he spoke carefully, "Jack, just wait a minute-"

"I've been waitin' for four years," Jack bellowed. "Fuck, I've been waitin' since 1901. I'm not gonna wait one more God damned minute."

"Jack, guys, we gotta be smart about this," Spot said loudly, trying to bring his and the boys' excitement down. "We can't be stupid. She might not…be 'awake' yet. We don't wanna spook her."

Jack read David's eyes while he listened to Spot. As the minutes passed, his muscles slowed relaxed.

The others knew his impatience; they wanted to see her too. And they'd been looking at the same determined and wild look in Jack's eyes for too long, and hated to see the disappointment beginning to show through him. But now they knew she was here in the city, alive. That wild look was only intensified now in Jack's dark eyes, all disappointment gone and replaced with a determination that would break down doors. They wanted him to see her as badly as he did.

"Spot's right," David said carefully to Jack. "We've found her, Jack. We've found Ira."

Jack stiffened at her name.

"But for now we have to figure out how to get close to her without freaking her out. Maybe she is awake, but there's a strong possibility that she's not. And who knows what our presence could do to her. Hell…it might not even be her."

"It is her," Jack said darkly. "And you know it."

David searched Jack's strong eyes and nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah I know it. It is her. Has to be. I just...don't want us to get our hopes up and..."

Jack breathed out a huff of hot air, relaxing more at David's confirmation and understanding where his friend was coming from.

"I know, Dave," he squeezed David's shoulder, feeling David relax.

But as Jack thought more, his irritation returned, building up inside him. He shut his eyes tightly, his hands squeezing his skull, his thoughts overwhelming him. She was here. She was here.

Like a gunshot his hand punched the wall next to the front door, making David jump. But David's expression didn't change; he understood Jack's struggle, and he wanted so desperately to let him go. But he had to prevent damage. They had to do this delicately… for Ira.

Jack paced for a minute, like a tiger in a cage looking for a way out but debating if he should escape. He went to the wall across from the front door and put his head against it, trying to calm his breathing and his pounding heart. She was out there, walking around New York City, unprotected and still as gorgeous and desirable as ever. The thought of someone getting to her like last time…

The thought of Garrison Rockefeller being out there too…

He shut his eyes tighter. He couldn't think about that. Not right now.

Spot squeezed Jack's neck, "At least we knows where she is, Kelly. And we'll make her remember. If she's still asleep…maybe you'll be the one ta wake her."

Jack let out a gust of wind. "What do we do, Dave?"

David slouched a little against the door, rubbing his face before lacing his fingers together over his head.

"First, we gotta get everybody else in on this. Text the guys, text Boots."

"Right, texting, sure," Racetrack said, quickly leaping over the couch and into his and Mush's room. "Where is it, tha thing?" he called from inside his closet, throwing articles of clothing everywhere. "'ey, I found ya pants."

Mush, standing next to Jack and his and Race's bedroom door, caught the jeans Race threw at him.

"It's a cell phone, Race," Mush shook his head laughing, pulling his own cell phone from his pants pocket. "Need me ta call yours?"

"Found it!" Race held his black iPhone up in triumph as he reentered the living room. He shook his head as he typed, scratching his brown hair. "I hate this thing."

The guys that were home next door, the ones who were out at the gym down the block, Boots in his taxi cab all heard their phones go off and read the same text: WE FOUND HER.