Disclaimer: Okay, we're nearing the end of the road here, folks. I know, the story is kind of anti-climactic, but you all seem to like it. So good. I own nothing but Moira. And Jeff (if he appears again, I'm not sure) he owns himself. So, enjoy, because like all good things in life, this shall be over much too soon.

Chapter Eighteen

The rest of May passed in awkward silences between Moira and Jack, conversations had been substituted with nods and one-word answers. It was driving everyone else insane.

"Can't ya jus' say you're sorry or sumtin'? Dis is crazy!" Mush exclaimed, one bright late afternoon in the first week of June. Moira glanced up from her sketchbook. The sixteen-year-old boy was breaking her concentration while she tried to draw a bouquet of wildflowers Les had picked for her.

"If I had anything to apologize for, I would do it in an instant, but I have nothing. Therefore I refuse to apologize."

"Ahh. Ya jus' as stubborn as Jack." He grimaced, throwing up his hands. Moira shrugged, indifferently. She decided to save the flowers for another day, left the sketchbook on the counter and grabbed her hat. "Where ya goin'?" Mush asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Home. I'd like to be out of here before Jack gets back, if you don't mind." She told him brusquely, going around him and out the door.

Kathryn was nowhere in sight, again, when Moira got home. She sat down at the table, removed the deck of cards from her purse, and dealt herself a hand of solitaire. She couldn't play poker to save her life, but solitaire had never been a problem for her- and it was an easy way to pass the time. And pass the time it did. Moira realized she had absent-mindedly played three or four games before there was an abrupt knock at the door. Figuring her mother had just forgotten her key again, she got up and pulled it open, greatly surprised at who she saw standing behind it.

"Oh, hello Jack." She greeted, apprehensively.

"Hey. Can I come in, or is your mudda here?"

"No, you can come in." She held open the door as he stepped inside. She didn't want to admit it, but she was very glad he had come over. "Is everything okay?"

"Naw, Moira. Everyt'ing's all messed up." Jack told her, his head down. She sighed.

"Let's sit." They sat.

"Moira, what's goin' on wid you?" He asked, almost immediately.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, in da last few weeks ya hardly said a woid ta me. And what's goin' on wid you and David?"

"You have a right to talk! One minute you kiss me and the next your hardly speaking to me because I went on a picnic with my best friend! I have just as much to be upset about as you do." She told him, indignantly.

"Okay, okay, I'se an idiot."

"Yes, you are."

"But, I'se sorry, Moira. I just…I dunno." He stumbled over his words, fiddling with his hands. She smiled and reached for one of them,

"Are you apologizing to me?" He nodded. "Then apology accepted. Let's just put all of this idiocy aside, all right?"

"Dat sounds great." He smiled at her and held both of her hands. They were quiet for a minute before shook his head, "I dunno what you're doin' ta me, goil."

"Well, we don't always have to know how we feel, right?" She asked, wondering if it was such a bad thing, to be holding hands with a man that you cared about, in your kitchen, when no one was home. She could even kiss him again if she wanted to. In fact, she did want to. Moira leaned forward, across the table. Jack caught on to what she was doing, grinned, and went to meet her halfway. Just as their lips brushed one another's, the door flew open and Kathryn announced her presence,

"Moira darling! What are you doing home so early?" She asked, noticing her daughter only moments after the two in the kitchen had sprung apart, looking as though they wanted nothing to do with each other.

"Well, I got all of my work finished, so Jack walked me home, and we were just sitting…and talking." She lied quickly, glancing at Jack for support. He nodded.

"Yeah, and I'se just gonna go-"

"Wait a minute, Mr. Kelly. I'd like to have a word with you." Kathryn requested, eyeing him like one would eye an insect they were afraid of. She looked ready to squash Jack with the sole of her Italian leather shoe. "Moira, if you'll excuse us." She dismissed her daughter, who looked apologetically at Jack, mouthing the words 'I'm sorry' as she went down the hall to her room. Once she was sure Moira was out of earshot, Kathryn smiled graciously and sat down at the table, across from Jack. He wanted to die.

"Is dere sumtin I can help ya wid, Mrs. Bailey?" He asked, trying to break the ice and get out of there as soon as possible.

"I want to discuss your intentions when it comes to my daughter." She began, staring directly at him. "You may not realize it, but I know exactly what is going on here."

"You do?" He asked, quite amazed, seeing as he hardly had a clue as to how he felt about Moira.

"It's quite apparent that you have feelings for Moira and that she," Kathryn paused for a minute, fighting off a cringe, "is not exactly discouraging these notions. Am I correct?" Jack opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't have a chance.

"I had a feeling I was".

But I would like to tell you something, Mr. Kelly; Moira is a bright girl, with a bright future ahead of her. Surely you know by now that she wants to be a teacher. I can't understand why, but she does. If she's going to achieve the goals she has set for herself, there mustn't be any distractions. And there must be no chance of her getting into any sort of…trouble. And I believe you know of which trouble I speak, Mr. Kelly." Again, she eyed him cautiously, but this time he remained silent, absorbing what she was saying. "Certainly, you didn't think that this little infatuation would amount to anything, did you? It doesn't take a genius to see the immense difference between my daughter and yourself. By background alone, the disparity between the two of you is as vast as the ocean." She reached out and patted his arm. "You seem like a nice boy, Mr. Kelly. But that's no longer what my daughter needs. She needs a nice man. Someone to take care of her, you understand." Kathryn stood from the table.

A dejected Jack stood up as well, wanting to run out of there as fast as his legs would carry him-away from this conversation, from this woman, away from hearing about how he wasn't good enough for Moira, when it was so obvious that Moira didn't feel that way at all. "Can I…uh…say goodbye foist?" He asked, afraid to meet Mrs. Bailey's eyes.

"I'll give her the message. You should probably be on your way. I'm sure there are papers that need selling somewhere." She pushed him lightly out of the apartment and closed the door.

"Manhattan don't sell da evenin' edition." He muttered to the door, wanting to punch a hole in it. Instead, he turned quickly and thundered down the stairs, out the door, and across the street.

Jack didn't say anything to anyone as he entered the LH, but grabbed a cigarette and went up to his brooding spot- the roof.

This time, the roof was already occupied. By Kid Blink, who was sitting in his spot, hanging his feet over the side. Jack decided not to take offense to this, and sat down next to him.

"Gotta light?" He asked, the cigarette in his mouth, begging to be lit. Blink struck a match on the pavement and lit his friend's addiction. "Thanks."

"So wad happened ova at Moira's? She throws you out?" Blink asked, after a few minutes.

"Nope. Her mudda came home."

"What happened?"

"Ya wouldn't believe wad she told me. Says I ain't good enough for her dawta. Can you belie' dat?" Jack shook his head, still very upset.

"Well whaddya expect, Jack? I mean, you knows dat Moira don't belong wid guys like us. I mean, classy goil like her? Wid one a' us? Nevah in a million years. Mark me woids. Davey-maybe. But he's different. Dey likes da same t'ings, Moira and Davey. But you…eh, I just can't see it woikin' out. Ya know?" Jack suddenly got the strong urge to push Kid Blink off the roof. Or blind his other eye with the end of his burning cigarette. But still, he kept talking. "I mean, whaddya t'ink, her mudda was gonna be happy about everyt'ing?" He laughed, "c'mon Jacky-boy. You ain't dat dumb."

"Look, I didn't say I t'ought she was gonna be happy. But I didn't t'ink she'd tell me I was nuthin' eidah."

"And why was you ova dere in de foist place?" Blink asked, barely paying attention to Jack's last statement.

"I'se just…talkin' to her. Den her mudda came in and messed everyt'ing up."

"I don't see why you'se so upset. She's just a goil."

"No, she ain't just a goil." He grumbled, angrily. His companion looked at him, in shock.

"Whaddya sayin', Jacky-boy?"

"I'm just sayin' dat she…ain't like all dem otha goils I seen. Ya know." Jack covered up before puffing on his cigarette.

"Tell me I'm hearin' t'ings. Cowboy's fallin' in love wid Moira Bailey?" Kid Blink asked, incredulously.

"NO! I ain't fallin' in love wid nobody. Shut up, Blink. Ya don't know what ya talkin' about." He recoiled, in shock.

"Yeah, well, if ya don't wanna end up hahtbroken, you'se gonna keep it dat way. 'Cause you gots a snowball's chance in hell wid a goil like Moira." His cigarette was gone. He flicked it away before he got to his feet and patted Jack on the shoulder. "Why doncha leave her for Davey. Dey's meant for each otha."

Jack glowered as Blink went inside. He stared across the street, where the windows of Moira's apartment were open. Voices floated across the street to greet his ears, but he was too far away to hear what they had said. He scowled as he remembered the sound of Kathryn's voice: She needs a nice man…not a nice boy.

Glaring across the street, Jack finished his cigarette and sat in silence for a very long time. Things weren't working out quite like he had planned.

"What did you say to him?" Moira implored furiously, when she'd found out that her mother had sent Jack away.

"I simply told him what he had to hear. Calm down, Moira, I did it for your own good."

"ENOUGH WITH MY OWN GOOD! I am eighteen years old, Mother! I can decide what is best for me!"

"Moira Elizabeth Bailey, that is quite enough. You may be eighteen, but as long as you are still living with me, I have the final say in what is best for you. And if I might add, no daughter of mine is going to run off with a filthy newsboy. Not while I'm around." Moira let out a sound of frustration,

"No one is getting MARRIED! I enjoy his company, that's why I spend time with him. How could you just sent him away like some sort of stray dog? What did you say?"

"I told him that he was beneath you." Kathryn said, in a cutting voice. Moira's mouth hung open, in utter amazement. "Well? Aren't you going to degrade me for telling the truth, shattering whatever plans that sordid boy had for you?"

"I just…can't believe you would do that." Tears formed in her eyes. "He may not be up to your standards, Mother, but he's still a person." Kathryn sighed,

"I can't, for the life of me, understand why you're so attracted people like that."

"He's my friend. He cares about me. Don't you see that I need friends? Isn't that what is best for me?"

"It's friends like those that you could do without. There are plenty of lovely girls your age around the city who would graciously welcome you into their circles." Moira wiped her eyes and shook her head.

"I sometimes wonder if you care about me at all, Mother."

"Don't get dramatic, Moira darling, of course I care about you." She said, in such a passing voice that Moira wished she had slapped her instead. And for a moment, she no longer cared what Kathryn, or anyone else, for that matter, thought.

"Do you know what I was about to do before you came in?" She asked, wanting very much to see the look on her mother's face. "I was about to kiss him." Kathryn looked horrified, then disgusted.

"Oh, Moira." She grumbled, obviously displeased.

"Yes, Mother. And it would not have been the first time, either!" She added, triumphantly, before turning on her heel, stalking back to her room and slamming and locking the door. Her night was not going all that well either.

***

"So, uh, Jack," Racetrack began, the next morning as they stood in line for their papes.

"What?" A surly Cowboy snapped, jaw set, arms crossed in front of him.

"Uh- Blink, he told me 'bout whad happened at Moira's." The Italian paused for a second, before deciding he might as well continue. "Maybe it's for da best, Jack. I mean, you and Moira…just don't make sense, ya know?" Jack only raised an eyebrow and slammed his coin on the counter,

"Hundred." He huffed, grabbing the papers; he walked down the plywood ramp with Racetrack close behind.

"Don't be gettin' mad at me, Jacky-boy." He warned, holding up his free hand in surrender. "I'se just sayin' dat she might be happier wid someone who…at least likes da same stuff dat she does. Someone like-"

"David?" Jack finished, bitterly, suddenly wanting to curl up and die.

"Exactly. See? I'se jus' lookin' out for ya." Racetrack patted his shoulder, before going off to seek out a Sheepshead-bound carriage.

Jack sighed and shook his head and flipped through the paper, looking for a decent headline to yell through the streets of New York City. Who was he kidding? He and Moira didn't make sense together. Race and Blink were right, so was Kathryn, as much as he hated to admit it. If any of the newsies were Moira's 'match' it was David, not him. He'd just been fooling himself.

So when Moira asked to talk to him up on the roof when he got back to the LH around three, it was with a heavy heart that he went, knowing that she was going to tell him the exact thing he'd been hearing all day.

"So, what's up, Moira?" He asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. She chewed her lip and looked at the ground,

"I wanted to tell you something. But please, just let me finish before you say anything, because you'll interrupt me and I'll lose my nerve and I'll start babbling…Oh, Lord, I'm already doing that." She paused for a minute, took a deep breath, and started again. "I know that we got off to a rather bad start. I mean, for heaven's sake, my hair's only just grown all the way back." Jack smiled slightly, wondering what she was doing. "But, over the last couple of months, I-I've realized what a…w-w-wonderful person that you are."

"Moira…."

"No. Let me finish. What I'm trying to say is that…well…I think I'm starting to fall in love with you." She rushed out, marveling that she didn't explode before she got all of that out.

Jack was shocked. Love? She was in love with him? Not David? But what about security and protection? She couldn't love him- he wasn't the one for her, despite how they both felt. He shook his head. He couldn't let her do this to herself. Everyone was right. She didn't need him, even if she thought she did.

"I- uh- can't let ya do dat, Moira." He cleared his throat, feeling awful. She gave him a confused look.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…we ain't right togethah. You'se a classy goil who needs someone ta take care a' ya. I'se just a nobody. You can do bettah dan me."

"I don't understand…."

"It's just da way t'ings woik, Moira. I ain't your match. Davey is." He told her, with finality.

"What if I don't want my match?"

"Don't be stupid, Moira. I ain't what's good for you."

"I don't want what's good for me! I want you!" She exclaimed, more hurt than angry. "I just want you."

Jack said nothing as she shook her head, tears welling up again, turned away from him and trudged slowly, back down to the ground level, and out onto the street. Leaving Jack up on the roof, feeling like the worst person in the world.

Moira didn't realize where she going until she looked up and saw David's apartment building in front of her. She looked at her watch, which told her she had two hours to be cheerful again before her interview. It had taken almost three months, but Moira had finally managed to schedule an interview with her last school, Adamsworth. So far, things were not looking up.

"David will cheer me up." She told herself, hearing his voice from the open window. He was talking to Les. She climbed the stairs slowly, fighting off tears. When he opened the door, David was shocked to find her in such a state.

"What happened?" He asked, letting her in. She shook her head. She couldn't tell David about what had happened with Jack. It wouldn't be fair.

"I-I just had a bad day." She told him, which was very true-Jack shrugging her off definitely counted as a bad day to her. David nodded and quickly pulled her into a hug.

"I'm sorry." He said, as she felt more tears come to her eyes.

"Don't say that, it's not your fault."

"I know, but I hate to see you cry."

"It's still not your fault. I don't know what I'm doing here- you don't want to listen to my problems."

"Well, actually, I'm glad you're here. There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about." Just then, Les appeared from the fire escape, where he'd been shouting to someone.

"I'm gonna go play with Joey." He told David, running out the door past both of them. His brother shook his head and closed the door.

"What were you saying?" She asked, as they sat down on the Jacob's worn sofa.

"Moira, I love you." He said, quite abruptly. She smiled,

"I know, David. I love you too." They told one another they loved each other all the time. The way friends do.

"No, Moira. I mean…I love you." Moira was certain her heart had stopped beating as David took her shaking hands in his. "The way Romeo loved Juliet. Or how Browning loved Elizabeth." She blinked away tears. Of all days. The irony was killing her.

"I-I-"

"No, you don't have to say it back. Just know that I love you, and that I have loved you from the first day I met you."

"You can't love me, David."

"Why not?"

"Because I am a vast, colossal, emotional mess." She told him, hollowly, looking at the ground.

"I don't care about that. I love you, and that's not going to change." She began to cry, miserably. "Why are you crying?" He asked, concerned.

"Because I can't love you as much as you love me!" She cried, covering her face with her hands. David looked like he had been punched in the stomach. "I'm sorry." She murmured, through her hands. "Please don't hate me." He looked away.

"I couldn't hate you, Moira." She pulled her hands away from her face,

"I have an interview at six-o-clock. I-I have to go home and get ready for it." Moira choked out, getting awkwardly to her feet. David said nothing as she walked slowly to the door. When she got there, she turned around, "You know, I do love you, David." She told him, softly.

"I know. Just not enough." A new wave of tears glazed over Moira's eyes and crashed down her cheeks as she closed the door softly and made her way slowly home.

***

The Headmaster of Adamsworth Private School glanced over her resume and smiled.

"Well, Miss Bailey, your background and education certainly seem to speak for themselves. But we're looking at more than just an application, here." He said, pressing the tips of his fingers together at the end of the interview. A greatly distracted Moira looked up from her hands and blinked a few times, trying to think of a reason to be there.

"You are?" She asked, in a daze.

"Yes. What do you think you would bring to our school, if we were to hire you?" Moira stayed quiet for a long time. She was suddenly filled with a feeling of being lost. She didn't want to be there. She didn't want to bring anything to that school. She wanted to be back in the museum, being led by Jack. She wanted to be his artist again. She still wanted to teach, it was her dream, but at that moment, she would have given anything to be back with Jack in the Met. Back before all of this craziness with love started. "Miss Bailey?" The Headmaster brought her back to reality. Moira was beginning to hate reality.

"I like to draw pictures." She told him, in a voice that sounded so unlike her own.

"I'm sorry?" He asked, confused.

"Pictures. I like to draw pictures."

"Right. Well, you'll be hearing from us, Miss Bailey. Thank you for your time." He told her briskly, handing back her portfolio. That was obviously not the answer he was looking for. Moira collected her things and left the school, not caring, at the moment, about anything that happened to her.

It wasn't until she got into her carriage and was on her way home that the full weight of the day hit her. Jack had rejected her. She had broken David-her best friend's- heart. And now, she had blown her last chance for a job in New York. She was a waste of a human being- even her father would be disappointed in her- Moira was sure of this. She hugged herself tightly and began to sob, bitterly.

"You goin' ta be okay, miss?" The driver asked, concerned as he pulled up to the apartment.

"How much do I owe you?" She asked, digging through her change purse.

"No, miss, it's not a problem." He told her, giving her a smile that revealed a few missing teeth. She nodded, wiping away her tears. "Why don't you go in and get some rest- t'ings'll look bettah in de mornin'. You'll see."

"Thank you." She muttered, before he tipped his top hat and drove away. Sleep. It felt like forever since she had slept. She climbed the stairs, dragged herself through the empty apartment, changed into her nightgown and fell into bed. And she stayed there for ten days.

***

"MOIRA! I demand that you get out of this bed!" Kathryn exclaimed on the fifth day.

"No!" She shouted, from under the covers.

"Why not?"

"Because, I'm sick. Deathly ill."

"If you're sick, I'll just have to call the doctor."

"Do what you must, woman. But know only that no medicine will cure this disease that has manifested itself in my very soul." Moira exclaimed, dramatically. She had no wish to get out of bed. If she did, she would have to face Jack, and David, and the prospect of not having a job-or a future for that matter. But in bed, she could pretend, for at least a little while, that none of those problems existed.

"You're impossible." Her mother exclaimed, throwing up her lovely hands. Moira rolled over in bed and fell back asleep.

"Moira, please. I'm sure it's been at least five days since you've bathed." Her mother tried, a few days later, after the doctor had examined her and found nothing wrong.

"It's been eight." She muttered, not caring if she smelled. She didn't think she smelled, but she wasn't sure.

"I don't know what you're trying to prove by doing this."

"I'm sick. I wouldn't get too close to me. You may also catch this dreaded disease."

"And what disease do you claim to have?" She heard her mother ask, sarcastically.

"I am my own disease. I affect all of those near and dear to me."

"Stop babbling nonsense. Those filthy boys have come calling on you almost everyday. At least tell me what I'm supposed to say to them."

Moira thought about this. "Tell them that I am very sick. And that I don't want to see them because I don't want to ruin their lives the way I've ruined mine."

"Oh, well now you're just being ridiculous." Kathryn left it at that and swept out of the room, exasperated.

On the eleventh day, Kathryn walked into the room, with a last-ditch attempt. "You've got a bit of mail. Why don't you come out and get it?" She asked in a sugar sweet voice. Moira stuck a hand out from under the blankets.

"Bring it to me." Her mother sighed and handed the two letters that had come for her. She pushed the blankets off of her head. Kathryn smiled a little bit, it was the first time she'd seen her daughter's face in several days. Moira tore open the first letter, from a place called Sumter-Heights Preparatory School, in Portland, Maine.

Dear Miss Bailey,

We, at Sumter-Heights wish to extend an invitation for you to join our staff as the newest teacher of our faculty. We received you application and list of credentials by mail, as well as a glowing letter of recommendation by Elizabeth Sutherton, the headmistress of our sister-school. She regrets not hiring you herself, but has assured us of your shining character. We sincerely hope you will accept our offer and join our staff. We look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Edward B. Sumter. Headmaster.

Moira put down the letter, in shock. The second letter was a rejection from Adamsworth- it barely phased her. She reread the Sumter-Heights letter. Elizabeth had done this for her, she knew it. And at that moment, she knew exactly what she had to do.

There was nothing to stay for anymore.