A.N. I just realized I haven't REALLY thanked everyone who reviewed, so here goes.

Psycho ~ Kay I shortened it but oh well, you know I love reading your reviews, glad you like the last chapter ( I'll try to have more of you and Skitt in it from now on.

Slick ~ I'm glad you like this story so much, it's not my favorite but I have fun writing it! My favorite though was the Pearl Harbor one ( What can I say? I'm a sucker for Josh Hartnett.

Gemini ~ Hey I read your other stories their really cool! And yeah I got to Notre Dame fun right? ( I live in Easton though, GO ROVERS! Although P-burg just creamed us! What a crappy game 25-0 Thanks for reviewing, glad you read it.

Fearless ~ I'm glad you like the story and from now on I'll make it a point to e-mail you whenever I update, by the way do you read any of my other stories? I'll tell you when I update them too.

Okay on with the story!!!!!

Later that night Irish was sleeping when she started tossing and turning in bed, dreaming about the attack. Jack tried to calm her down but it was to no avail, he couldn't seem to get her to understand that she was just dreaming. He tried to shake her and he kept telling her that it was just a nightmare, but she was lost in the memories of that man beating her and then searching her entire body for money. When he couldn't get her to wake up, he felt her forehead and realized she was running a fever, quickly he pulled his over shirt on and snuck up the stairs and out of the building. "Where ta go? Where ta go?" Knowing that if he went to the lodging house, the guys would be sleeping and Kloppman would be able to take care of her he headed in that direction. He ran as fast as he could with carrying Irish and when he got there he started to pound on the door, to worried to think about what would happen if any of the guys woke up.

A tired looking Kloppman opened the door a minute later and he looked at Jack curiously, but then noticed what Jack was carrying and moved out of the way so that he could take her into the lodging house and behind the desk, to where the only spare bunk was. Kloppman quickly walked up behind him and studied Irish, before saying anything he felt her forehead, "I need wet washcloths, and they have to be cold!" When Jack looked nervously toward the stairway, Kloppman sighed, "Go to the kitchen and get them, but hurry!"

Jack did as he was told and came back later with a bucket full of water and two freezing cold washcloths. Kloppman put one on her forehead and the other at the back of her neck. Then he looked at Jack, wanting answers for all of the bruises that covered her body, "I was sellin papes when I'se walked by some alley and dere she was, lyin in da doirt and I picked her up and took hoir to dis place I'm stayin at. We talked and I'se made hoir undahstand what was goin on den she fell asleep and so did I but I woke up cuz she kept turning ovah and throwin her arms all ovah da place. When I tried wakin hoir up she wouldn't and den I realized dat she had a fevah and dis was da only place I could tink of ta take hoir. I woulda gone ta Medda's but it was to far, so I had ta come here."

Kloppman nodded, "Alright, you need your sleep." Jack nodded and headed for the door, Kloppmans eyes followed him for a minute, before he went back to tending to Irish. The next morning when Kloppman woke all of the boys, he was a little less enthused, because he was still worried about the girl that was laying downstairs behind the counter, her fever had yet to break. Trouble noticed the way Kloppman wasn't really talking and she began to worry about him, she walked up to him after dressing, deciding that she would see what was wrong.

"Hey ya Kloppman, you feelin alright?" When Kloppman looked up at the kind little red head, he was struck with the thought of what he would do if she was ever carried into the lodging house, with a fever and beaten as badly as Irish had been. He hadn't known Irish that well, just knew that her and Jack were best friends, but Trouble was like a daughter to him and he didn't know how he'd be able to deal with that.

Kloppman bowed his head, he knew that Irish and Trouble were friends, but he didn't know if he had the heart to break it to her that her friend might not live. He knew what he had to do though and he motioned for Trouble to follow him down the stairs, but he didn't say a word, not wanting to alert the other newsies just yet. Kloppman might not act like this, but he knew a lot about his newsies and he knew that each one of them had met Irish over the years and some had come to care for her just the way Jack had. Skittery and Race and especially Blink, the two argued so much but they each held respect for the other. As Kloppman stepped behind the desk, Trouble followed, surprised, rarely ever did anyone get to go behind there except for Kloppman and anyone who was sick.

As Kloppman pushed the door open, Trouble's jaw dropped, she walked carefully to Irish's bed and then sat down on it and wiped a stray hair off of her forehead. She refused to cry, because that would mean that she was giving up and she wouldn't give up on Irish, no matter what, Irish would make it through this because that's what she did best, Irish didn't give in and Trouble refused to. She stood up and straightened her back before walking back out of the room and meeting up with Skittery. After yesterday, she was a little nervous about talking to him but this was important, she pulled him aside, "Skitt I need to go to Brooklyn today and I'se wanted ta know if you'se wanted ta go?"

Skittery smiled, thinking that she just wanted to be alone with him, "Soire I'll go wit you'se, is dere any special reason for dis trip."

Trouble nodded her head grimly, "Yeah we need ta go see Rage."

Skitt frowned at that, "Why?"

"Because Irish was hurt and he should know, dat's why, now let's go!" She pulled his arm and kept a fast pace all the way to the Brooklyn Bridge, across it, and then all the way to the docks, where she knew they'd be, especially now that no one was selling. She walked up to where Spot was standing, ignoring all of the other newsies and she tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around quickly and glared at Trouble, "Whadda want?"

"Where's Rage?"

Before Spot could say anything, Rage walked up beside him and looked at Trouble with curious eyes, "What is it?"

"I tink you'se should come with me ta 'Hattan, it's Irish."

Spot growled, "What is it dis time? Why won't she take him hoir messages hoirself."

Before Trouble could properly punish him for that comment Skittery stepped forward, letting his anger show, but he kept in check enough, knowing that if he hit Spot, he would win the fight. "Irish can't take it hoirself because she's hoirt, she's hoirt real bad."

Rage's face paled and he quickly headed for the end of the docks, Skittery followed quickly and Trouble was about to when Spot put a hand on her shoulder and motioned to a stack of crates. She got the message that he wanted to tell her something but just no tin front of all of his newsies. She moved over to them and waited for him to start talking, "How bad is she?"

Trouble felt pity for him, knowing he had a thing for Irish, "She's real bad Spot, you'se should come see hoir."

He nodded but made no move to follow Trouble when she left and ran to catch up with Skittery and Rage. Instead, he jumped up on the crates and turned away from his newsies, losing himself in his thoughts. The three of them got to the lodging house in record time and Skittery put an arm on Trouble's shoulder, silently tell her to give Rage some time with his sister. They walked over and sat on the bench that was right by the door, Trouble seemed to be thinking and Skittery took this time to look her over. He knew her pretty well, but he usually didn't take the time, to really appreciate her appeal.

She'd dated a lot over the years since she'd moved into the lodging house, but it'd never been serious and never for to long. She'd gone through a lot of the guys around Manhattan, but the guy she'd dated the longest was Kid Blink, which was why Skittery had talked to him last night asking about her. Blink had caught on immediately to the fact that Skittery had a crush but he had no idea that Trouble liked Skitt to. Skittery studied her, she had shoulder length red hair and hazel eyes and she was about 5'4, which was nothing compared to Skitter's 6'2, but she was fun and she always had a smile on her face. She always tried to make people laugh, that was what he liked best about her, her ability to make even the worst days fun.

Finally Trouble, got sick of him staring at her and turned to him sharply, "What is it?"

He shrugged and smirked at her, "Jist lookin you'se ovah, is dat okay?"

"No you'se makin me feel like a pape or something. So jist stop starin at me!" Then she smiled and her eyes lit up, "When are you'se gonna ask?"

Skitterys' eyes clouded with confusion, "Ask what?"

She sighed, "Ask me ta be you'se goil? Jeez what else would you'se be askin me?"

"Alright, Trouble would you'se be me goil?"

She snickered, "Soire ting." Rage opened the door and walked out solemnly, Trouble immediately sobered and stood up looking at him questioningly.

"When did dat happen?"

"I'se don't know Kloppman showed me hoir dis morning so I guess last night."

"Oh Gawd," He sunk down on the bench and covered his face with hand, Trouble sat back down next to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She knew he wouldn't cry, but she wanted to offer him any comfort she could. Skittery in the meantime had stood up and walked over to the room where Irish was and his eyes widened at the sight of her, her face was all puffy and she was covered with bruises. He walked closer and that's when he realized she was opened her eyes, he quickly yelled for the other two and they came running in.

Irish smiled up at them, "And to what do I'se owe da pleasure of see all of you'se ugly mugs da minute I'se wake up?"

Trouble and Rage hugged her tightly and Rage asked her if she was okay, "Well if you'se two would let me breath, I'se would be fine. Jeez you'se act as if you'se nevah seen any bruises on a poirson."

They let go of her quickly and Trouble glanced at Rage, "I think she'll be jist fine, I mean she's already acting like hoir old self."

Irish frowned then, "Hey where's Jack?"

Rage sneered, "Dat scabbah, why'd you wanna know where he is?"

Irish nearly jumped out of bed in anger, but the minute she sat up, she was painfully reminded that she wouldn't be able to hurt him for awhile, now. "He ain't a scabbah, he's brought me here, he took me outta dat alley."

Rage glared at Irish, "Why were you'se in da alley ta begin wid?"

Irish sighed, exasperated, "Don't! Jist don't! I wasn't tryin to get soaked, I was walkin by da alley on my way to Brooklyn, when some scabbah pulled me in and started beatin me. He was lookin for money, but didn't get any. So dere, den when I tried to stand up I'se couldn't and crawled ta da edge of the alley before passin out dere. Jack found me and took care of me den when he couldn't he musta brought me here."

Rage huffed, but sat down next to Irish and kissed her forehead, "Alright I'se believe you'se, but I'se got one ting ta say."

"Yeah what's dat?"

"If you'se evah do dat again, I'se will kill you'se got it?"

She smiled at the tone of his voice, which was the exact opposite of the harsh words. "Yeah I'se got it."