I still do not own Newsies.

Jill is still mine, as is the said DVD.

A HUGE THANKS for the reviews … I was so glad to see some good comments … very, very much appreciated.

Just One (New York, New York)

THREE

The first thing she clutched when she rolled over that morning in the streaming sunlight was the hat.

The hat.

No, still not real. Still can't happen.

She threw it against the wall.

Her red shirt was crumpled, having been slept in, and her hair was in disarray, and greasy now from not having been washed. There was a letter stuffed in the bottom of the door and when she quickly opened the heavy wooden barricade, she saw that her new clothes had been delivered. It would be wise to later tip both the tailor and his delivery boy.

She dumped them on the bed and felt the urge to really use the outhouse. But she couldn't risk the trip, she knew, looking the way she did now. Not clad in her underwear with her hair all dirty and a wrinkled bright shirt. No. That would not do.

As quickly as she could she brushed her hair and tied it back and laced up all the undershifts and then the short-sleeved simple white blouse and long brown skirt. Around her middle she tied a thick brown sash and them donned the hat. Perhaps she could find a place to bathe, too, today.

She all but ran down the hall and stole all the food she could take in one swift swipe then charged through the door. Leaving everything except her purse on the brick wall next to the outhouse, she leapt in and when she left her bladder had returned to its normal size.

All she had to do was wait and listen to hear the shouted headlines from her friend. The supper he had bought for her was still sitting uneasily in her stomach and an occasional wave of sickness rose up to threaten her stability. But it was food, and it satisfied her aching hunger.

For a few moments she sat, alone, watching the people of the city as they passed. And more than being alone, she felt it. Try as she might to amuse herself, the simple truth remained -- she was very lonely.

But the city was not barren, and it was not desolate. It was full of noise, teeming with life. All around her ran laughing children and the windows above her were thrown open one by one to reveal smiling faces, freshly, gladly meeting the new day. She waved at a few of these but tried her best to ignore the rude calls of, "Heya, sweetface!" or, "Come ovah here, lovely!" from rude young men. She wished Mush were there to shield her from the unpleasant, humiliating attentions.

And she wished Mush were there because she was lonely.

The shops were just setting up and opening their doors to customers and she could smell breads and pastries baking in hot stone ovens, the old-fashioned and perhaps best way to bake. Last night before she had gone to sleep, she had rubbed her change in the dirt in hopes of taking away the shine and making it look older. If only they could pass for the coins of the times…

"Heya there, Jill," called a familiar voice and when she turned she greeted him with a radiant, thankful smile.

"Heya there, Mush," she said simply.

He still carried his hat as a show of respect and kept a respectful distance from her. She wished he would move closer so that she could feel the heat from his naturally creamy body, so that she could be assured of a friendly, protective presence in this big, bustling city.

With Mush she felt comfortable.

With Mush she felt safe.

"Sleep well?" he asked kindly.

She had felt to afraid, so lost, so alone … "Well enough. What about you, Mush?"

"Nevah get a decent sleep in dah Lodgin' House. Not on dose beds."

"If you want my apartment at the Inn, I'll gladly get another," she offered. "It's not bad."

He blushed crimson again. Is he the only one who blushes? she thought furiously. Well, Racetrack said he is the kid of the group. It does make him innocent. Then, more seriously, Is he?

How innocent is he, exactly?

Or is this all just an act?

She glanced at him. "So who'd you see last night?"

"Race had a good game'a pokah goin', so's I jumped in an' tried a few han's."

She raised her eyebrows. "How did you do?"

"No one wins against Race. Fer alla dah back talkin' he gives us, he's a good guy. Even let me keep summa my losses, jus' 'cause he said he felt charitable. Great guy, Race."

"Yeah, I talked to him yesterday."

Mush nodded. "Yeah, he told me. Said he tinks yous a real nice goil, Jill. Likes dah way yous ain't afraid'a sayin' dah truth. Yah know, it ain't easy tah talk tah'a lady. Dey's always so scared'a not bein' proper an' everytin' I say ain't the proper thing."

"I think it's plenty proper." she replied truthfully. "You've never said anything but the most respectful, eloquent of words. You must attract the attention of a million girls."

"Some, but none dat are real tough, like. Yah know dah kind I'se talkin' about?"

"You mean you can land cheap whores?" When he nodded, she said. "That isn't true. I mean, it is, but you could have others too."

"And I do, but dey always turn out tah be dah wrong kinda goils. Yah know? Like dey seem all great and all nice and den sumptin' happens an' when 'sall over an' done, dey ain't great an' dey ain't nice."

She wondered faintly why he was telling her this.

He's probably landed a hundred skirts.

And gotten inside every single one.

He's a guy, guys like that sort of thing.

… and he probably gets hurt more than he hurts others.

She shook her head. This is how he does that, how he weaves this magical spell. All he has to do is to proclaim his innocense, smile a few times, show some respect. And everyone falls for it at some point or another.

Even me.

Fool enough to believe it.

And besides, she hardly knew him at all. He could have been the worst tempered, most vile creature and how would she know? She wouldn't, simple as that. Blinded by that white smile and that strength in his build, she would never know.

He was looking down at the ground. "Maybe I'se talkin' too much," and he didn't meet her eyes as he spoke now. A feeling of shame flooded her and she was suddenly very aware of herself, of her body and of her none-too-graceful movements. This kid, though, this kid was the most graceful, most fluid, most wonderfully aesthetic young man she had ever seen. Her feeling of inadequacy was extraordinary just then …

"I still got me mornin' papes tah sell," he said, his voice quiet with shame and embarrassment. Pity rose in her heart again and she swore silently at him. Damn him! Look at that, how can I be angry with that?

"I'll come, if you'd like the company," she offered.

And would you laugh at me if I told you I am lonely?

His face brightened a little. "If yous can stand dah walkin' I'll be glad tah have yah."

"Walking is about the best thing I can imagine right now." The hard ground felt good beneath her feet and her stretched legs felt better already. It was still early morning and the day was not yet hot, a slight breeze blowing in off the waters of the harbour. There was a strong smell of fish in the air and she could hear the bells of boats slipping silently almost silently from their moorings, cutting a soft, lapping path through the murky water. No wonder Mush liked to sell here. This was a good place, full of life and strength and color.

He gave her a paper and as she trotted along behind him, she folded it and scanned the contents. Once or twice, with a guilty and yet a slightly sly look to his face, he explained from where his shouted headlines came, and for sure there were not from the paper. But this was his trade, and whatever he needed to say she would let him. This was his trade, and he was very good at it. She would not begrudge him the money that came his way. Racetrack's words were still fresh in her mind.

"Mayah seen dancin' wid neighbor's wife!" he shouted, brandishing a paper above his head. "Dat's right, folks, dah shockin' story of betrayal righ' here!"

This seemed to interest several people and they bought papers, each flipping through the contents before settling on a story that interested them. Mush had sold most of them already, and with only a few left riding high on his broad shoulder, it wasn't long before he was done and leading her away.

"Yous want to see sumptin' neat?" he asked, already turning to make his way through the crowd. Even if she had said no, she would have followed anyway … where else did she have to go?

They strayed to an alley which was none too clean and none too good-smelling, but Mush seemed quite at home as he placed an unfinished board of wood across two barrels. "Here, take a seat," he told her quietly before sneaking over to a window and opening it the slightest bit.

She had been tired and hungry, scared and alone, and more than anything she wanted to go home (Still not real, half her mind screamed while the other half was agonisingly numb at the prospect of this new reality). The thought of money had been worrying her, as had the thought of hygiene, but as Mush silently opened the window, a soft music filled the air and her mind went blissfully blank, filled with nothing other than the sound of the strings and the beautiful lament that rose up from them.

"Mush--"

"Sometimes dey play in dah mornin's before dah day gets too busy," he said softly, and smiled at the look on her face. "Sometimes when I'se done in dah mornin's, I come 'ere an' listen."

She closed her eyes … how had she ever worried? This music stirred up a deep feeling of contentment, a deeply satisfying silence of her own mind …

And that Mush enjoyed it too was all the greater gift. This was beautiful, this was … this was wonderful …

"How 'bout we's have some breakfast while we listen?" His voice was soft, molding to the needs of the situation. It sounded so perfect for him to use, and she envied him for that.

"Of course." She dared hardly speak above a whisper. With slender fingers she unwrapped the cloth napkin and spread it out between them. He moved closer.

How many other girls has he done this for?

She shot a sideways glance at him, full of suspicion. His naturally sympathetic, naturally innocent face was filled with thoughtfulness, a distance in his eyes that showed how intent he was on the sweet sound which had drawn him in so totally. She wanted to ask him, wanted to know, but a single spoken word and the magical moment would be broken … and with that caressing sound, her evil thoughts were fleeing, scattering like frightened deer …

"Why does it sound so sad?" she whispered, forgetting herself with the flow of the chords, the cascading simple harmonies.

"Dat man playin' dah violin just lost 'is foirt baby to influenzah," Mush answered in a low, sad voice without looking at her. His eyes were still glued to the window as if he could see through the wooden shutters. "I hoird dem talk about in when dey was all together one day. He ain't been dah same since."

She nodded, breathless with the emotion in the music. Each note was lingering, agonising in its fullness. At long last, the final note ended and she could hear shuffling inside the room as the men went to find their belongings. A low buzz of conversation drifted through the window but the words were indistinguishable.

"It was real sad when dey lost dah baby," Mush said into the comfortable silence. His voice had a roundness to it that gave it sincerity, real genuine emotion. "A little goil, just a couple'a months old. Dey buys papes from me sometimes," he added and she understood that was how he was familiar with them.

"What was her name?"

"Emma, and she was a real pretty little thing, too," he glanced over at her. "When yous gets tah live here long as I have, yous gets to know dah people around yah. Each a'dems got a story, an' they's all differen', too." Then he smiled. "I'se must be soundin' crazy tah yah --"

"No, no, not at all." She tried to see in the house through the tiny opening in the shutter. "I wonder what they look like --"

"Handsome faddah, pretty muddah, tidy home." he told her. "Dey's a real nice family, I was sorry tah see bad t'ings happenin' tah dem."

She nodded. "They sound like good people."

He turned his head to the side a little so that she could not see his eyes. "Dey fed me sometimes, when t'ings got real bad fer us durin' dah Strike. Always treated me good, dey did, just like a son an' everythin'. Dah Rosemonts. Yeah, dere good people."

It was as if worlds collided when she made a daring gesture and touched his hand. When he swung his head around, she could see the pain in his eyes.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No, no," he said. At the exquisite look of emotion in his eyes she felt all her powers of speech dry up. "Dey knew me muddah. Showed me some old photographs'a her when she was real young an' real pretty an' all."

"What happened?"

"Nevah asked," he rubbed his eyes but she could not even see any redness in them. "Don' wanna know. If anyt'in', I'se likes tah tink she died havin' me 'stead'a abandonin' me tah dah streets."

She felt terrible for having asked. "Why would you ever think that?"

He swallowed -- she saw the muscles in his throat move. "Dey's nevah told me. Showed me dah photographs but dey ain't nevah told me how I came tah be livin' on dah streets. Offered tah take me in, but dey don't got enough money tah be supportin' extra people." He picked up the last piece of fruit on the napkin. "Mind if I have dis?"

She stared at him. Then, with a snap back to her senses, she said, "No, no, it's all yours."

So that was how it happened, how he was orphaned. He just poured his heart out to me … and all this time I've only worried about myself … the thought affects him so much he can't even show his feelings at it anymore …

It had been a small breakfast to begin with, and because she had given most of it to him, she was left with the pains of hunger in her stomach … he's got it so much worse, though …

He took her past the Lodging House that day, and they had a very very light lunch and then an even lighter dinner. But it was after they had parted, when she was alone in her room and the lights were out and she was standing poised on the edge of the cliff of restfulness that she really considered his words … he had told her things, things that hurt him …

…Was it trust, then?

And it seemed to her that as she lay in the darkness, staring at the wall she knew was there, she could see Mush's smiling face on the pillow beside hers …