A/n: This was the hardest chapter I have had to write, yet. It's also got to be the longest, so far. I'm not sure what to make of it but I'm looking forward to hearing your feedback.


Much love,

Legs


WARNING TO ANYONE READING THIS: THIS CHAPTER MAY BE EMOTIONALLY INTENSE! DO NOT WORRY ABOUT ANY CHARACTERS THAT MAY SEEM TO BE IN JEOPARDY! THIS DOES NOT MEAN IT IS THE END! WE HAVE MILES TO GO! SO HOLD ON...



Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. I'm not making any money writing this story. So don't sue me, you won't get much.


Thank you to Shot Hunter, Kate Lawrence, Shorty Carter, Lady Elwen, and Raven for letting me write their characters! It's been a blast, thus far.


I do not own Ben but I am holding protective custody rights on this web site so that no one takes unfair advantage of him. (hugs Ben) And he really did say that hard things are good for you. Isn't he smart? (huggles Ben again)


I don't know anything about New York libraries or archives. So if I get lots of details wrong, I'm sorry. Let me know if I goof up too badly. :D



Shout ins:



Sapphy: Her mom knows. And yes, the sketching of Racetrack is real. Read the chapter. You'll see. Oh, and uh, read "Hidden" by Bella7 because if you do, you will get THOUSANDS of clues and ties to this story. It's also just an all-around great story. (Hugs) Thanks for being the first reviewer for the last chapter!


Racetrack: I'se ain't gonna sha'ah da lollipops and no goily's gonna make me...




Irish Rain: I'm so glad people are still saying they love this story! You'd think hearing that would get old but it doesn't. It's still completely wonderful and exciting! THANK YOU! Mwah. Racetrack? Famous? (smirks) You have no idea how prophetic your review was...(HINT HINT)



Kawaii Julie Sama: Thanks for reviewing like you always do! I will try to explain the painting and all that. You really, really should read "Hidden" by Bella7. She's on my favorites list. It's a great newsie story and it will explain all this intrigue far better than I could. :) (hugs) And curiosity is BAD. Just ask Spot.

Spot: Shut ya lid, Legsy goily!

Legs: (ignoring him) It's like they say, 'Curiosity killed the Spot.'

Spot: I'se ain't dead!

Legs: But you would be if Jack hadn't saved you.

Spot: I'se don't want ta talk about it anymoah. Ain't you got no sense a moicy?

Legs: Mercy? Me? (villainous laugh) NEVER!



snipah higgins: You're so sweet. Let's see, um, (makes note) SNIPER'S STORY IS NEXT! As soon as I'm on fanfiction.net, again, I'll read! Newsies honor. Thank you! Mwah.


Brownie/Melody: I'm afraid the updates don't come as quickly as they used to. BUT, BUT I am almost through college finals so then I'll have a bit more time to work on this! For a little while. You guys will get the end of this by the end of December or so. Which seems impossible at this point so I'm going to have to update more often. :) Yes, it's getting down to the wire with the painting and all. I've got the ending all written out. It's just a matter of bringing it to that point. :) (hugs) Thank you!

OneConfusedNewsie: Good, good, good! Read "Hidden!" It's great. You totally should. And review it because it will make Bella happy! :) Thanks for reading so far. Enjoy the new chapter!

Racetrack: I'se mad.

Legs: This is...new?

Racetrack: I'se is really mad.

Legs: About what?

Racetrack: Everyone 'as stopped sayin' I'se is adoahable!

Legs: Well, maybe it's time you did something adorable, then.

Racetrack: (suspiciously) Like what?

Legs: Well...(whispers in his ear)

Racetrack: Yeah? NO! No, no, no!

Legs: Aw, c'mon! It'll be...fun!

Racetrack: Nu uh.

Legs: Everyone will think you're adorable!

Racetrack: No, I ain't gonna dress up like an elf and give people Christmas cookies!

(Ten minutes later)

Racetrack: How do ya put dis hat on?

Legs: (arranges green pointy hat on his head) Aww, you look so...(struggles for a word) adorable! Now go pass them out to all the newsie girls!

Racetrack: (ignores Legs and reaches into basket, begins to munch on a Santa cookie)

Legs: What are you doing? You're eating all my Christmas presents!

Racetrack: I'se is da elf. I'se can do whatevah I'se want!



cabby1: Lol. I didn't run off with Racetrack . But RACETRACK (glares) has run off with my Christmas cookies for all of you! Maybe I can talk Shorty into making some Christmas brownies, instead. We'll see... Thank you! And yes...it's destiny. Bwaha...more to come...



NicNac: Heheh. I love mysterious, cryptic chapters...they make me feel so powerful. Ooh...bwa..ha...ha...haaaaaaaaaa...And there WILL be a Christmas chapter! If I have to kill myself writing it...there will be one! :D Thank you for reviewing. :) Here's another chapter...



Bella7: Mwah. Need I say more? Your review goes beyond flattering. Especially since, so many times, I feel like I fall short of making this as good as it needs to be. (That sentence sounded weird, oh well!) But thank you! And I will slowly but surely convert everyone into a Bella/Hiddenite. I must...I must...:) I'll email you as soon as I get a chance! I want to know IMMEDIATELY what you think of this chapter! But I mean that in a non-demanding way, of course. Love you!



Gryffin Parker: Aww, thanks. (blushes) Yes, Delaney is one of the coolest characters, ever! And I can say that since I didn't write her, Bella did! Bella the Genius. Anyhow, thank you for reviewing YET again! Here's another chapter! REVIEW IT NOWWWWWWWWWWW...(well, ok, after you read...heh. Yeah.) (Hugs)


AngelicOne: If you haven't gotten back to read "Hidden," yet, then GO NOW! BECAUSE IT'S BETTER THAN MY STORY! GO GO GO! QUICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (clears throat) Yes, anyway, (a million hugs) Thank you for reviewing. :)



Dreamer110: Thank you! I'm so glad I evoked sympathy for Sarah Jacobs. She's not my favorite character since she seemed sort of flat in the movie but that wasn't her fault. She's a sweet girl, all in all. Anyway, (hugs) and here's more...


Moonlights Sundance: Thank you for the cookie...and the review! And I wish I could say I was sorry for the cliffie. I know how you all feel about them but I simply couldn't resist. It was such a perfect stopping place! ;) (hugs)

Racetrack: (sticks tongue out at Moon) I'se don't ca'ah what you'se say. I just won't give you any a' my Christmas cookies! Heh. (pretends not to care, tries not to see other newsies happily munching on their cookies from Moonlights Sundance)


Artemis-chan of Redwing: Thanks for explaining about Ivy. Mush is feeling a little better since she reviewed. He actually threw a snowball at Blink! So he's feeling happier, I think. Blink's kind of mad, though, since it hit him in his good eye. He's so sensitive.

Yes, "Hidden" is my favorite newsies story and I will support it until the day I retire from fanfiction...and BEYOND!

Thank you for reviewing! Love ya. New chapter...voila...



Shorty Carter: I am so sorry to hear about your grandfather. :( Went through that not too long ago. I don't know what I could do to help but if I could, PLEASE tell me! (I'll be praying like a maniac for you.) ;)

The brownies are yum and everyone's glad to have them since Racetrack stole the Christmas cookies. Hey, we were wondering if you could make some special Christmas brownies and send them special delivery so we have them on hand for the Christmas chapter coming up in a few weeks? Is that possible? Once again, oh newsie bakeress, I thank you for your WONDERFUL, DELICIOUS REVIEW!


imaginelet: YAY! YOU'RE READING "HIDDEN!" THIS IS WONDERFUL, INCREDIBLE NEWS! SOUND THE TRUMPETS! Thanks for reviewing so faithfully, my darling! Mwah. Here's a new chapter to read...

Nevaeh: Thanks for reviewing in your weakened state. The newsies felt so bad when they heard you were so tired...(newsies crowding the screen, whispering worriedly) I told them you'd feel better after you slept and that seemed to reassure them. But Les looks positively traumatized. You should say 'hi' to him since he's too young to go in any closets. Skittery says 'hi,' too. (Hugs) Have a brownie from Shorty.

Ivy: Don't apologize! I'm just so happy you're back! The newsies made you a banner. It says, "Hi, Ivy!" I wanted them to put "Welcome back, Ivy!" but Dutchy didn't know how to spell that. So...I guess it'll have to do. Glad you're happy with the "Hidden" twist...heheh, a pun (woohoo, I'm lame). Thanks for finding time to review!

I told Mush what you said.

Mush: What's a sexy stud? (Beams) Hi, Ivy! I'm so glad ya home! And, Blink, Ivy says ta 'eat dat!'

Blink: (stares distastefully at stack of papes in his hands) A'right...(shoves paper in his mouth and begins to chew, blue eye wells up and he looks like he might cry)

Mush: Aww, Blinkey, it's okay...I think it was a...a joke...

Blink: (looks ready to throw up)

C. Topper Preston and Corky: Lol. Your reviews always make me laugh. Vinnie, don't give her too much medication. I need her to support my insanity. :) Thanks, my duckling! You ROCK! Have a brownie and another chapter...And READ "HIDDEN" by Bella7! TRUST ME! EVERYTHING WILL MAKE SENSE IF YOU DO!

Kristan: Thank you! (Hugs) I want to go see "The Haunted Mansion." I'll have to do that in my non-existent spare time. I'm not even supposed to be writing now. I should be working on other stuff. But am I? Noooo...because all of you are more important than U.S. History. I would be proud of that, if I were you. ;) (hands Kristan a brownie and the next chapter) Be warm, be filled.


PsYcHoJo: Hey, you're back! Skittery sends kisses. Loads of 'em! Thank you! :) Here's the next chapter...and a brownie. Mmm, mmm, yum.

harrys-gurl7: lol...thanks. (grin) Your review made me laugh. Which is hard to do. So, ANYHOW, glad you liked it! You should update your story, soon. Or maybe you have and I missed it...no, I couldn't have missed it. I put you on my updates list...(wanders off talking to herself)


WARNING TO ANYONE READING THIS: THIS CHAPTER MAY BE EMOTIONALLY INTENSE! DO NOT WORRY ABOUT ANY CHARACTERS THAT MAY SEEM TO BE IN JEOPARDY! THIS DOES NOT MEAN IT IS THE END! WE HAVE MILES TO GO! SO HOLD ON...


****

"Dat's me."

Tanya's face scrunched up in frustration, "Okay. WHAT is going on? Huh?"

She pointed a finger at her aunt, "Why do YOU have a picture of Racetrack? How come my mom knew about it? Where did it come from?"

She clenched her teeth in anger, "Why? I don't GET it!" Every confusion, every bottled up frustration, ever fear came screaming to the surface. The girl felt a strange raking sensation in her middle. The tears bit into her tired eyes, "Why-wha..." Her struggling words melted into sobs.

Keaton, ever sensitive, ever sensible, opened strong arms for his niece to step into. "Hey, hey," he muttered, "We'll figure it out. Don't cry...hey..."

Delaney looked from her husband and niece to the gangly piece of history with his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

He didn't look as lost as she had imagined he would. She watched his gaze fall back on the painting in her arms. Every question in his eyes seemed to struggle for dominance. "Did you draw dat?" he asked, at last.

Delaney shook her head, "I found it in our basement. It was done by someone named Moira Bailey. Do you know her?"

"Moira..." Racetrack rolled the name slowly over his tongue. "Moira, Moira, Moira..." He raised an extremely Italian eyebrow, "Kloppy's granddaughtah?"

"You know her?" Delaney's eyes grew dark with pleasure.

The newsie shrugged, "Yeah. But she don't tawk ta me. Just Davey."

"David Jacobs?" The historian was trying to contain the growing excitement in her voice.

"Yeah," Race frowned, turned to the sniffling Tanya, "How'd she know dat?"

Keaton shot Delaney a warning look. His wife looked torn. She shrugged helplessly, "I have to tell him, Keaton. I don't know what else to do."

Tanya sat up. Her voice was low and cracked slightly, "Would you please just explain what's going on?"

"When we got this place, I made sure to get a hold of the blue prints. Me being the fan of Victorian history that I am."

"Try obsessed weirdo," Keaton whispered.

"Try sleeping on the couch tonight," Delaney stuck her tongue out at him.

Keaton rolled his eyes, "I'm gonna order some dinner."

"Egg rolls. And bean sprouts. And..."Delaney started to follow him to the kitchen.

"I got it, babe."

"Yeah, sure you do," she said, sitting back down. "Anyway, I saw the house before I really got a chance to look at the blue prints but...we didn't have a basement."

Racetrack's curious expression went quizzical, "What's dat gotta do wit anyt'ing?"

Delaney leaned forward, her jet black hair falling in her face, "I had a blue print for the basement."

There was a sigh as Keaton walked back in, "Food's on its way but traffic's insane this time of day. It'll be a little..."

"I don't get it," Tanya interrupted.

"Why the traffic's bad?"

"No! Why you had a blue print for a basement that wasn't there!"

"But it was there."

"But you said..."

Delaney cut her off, "After I saw the original house plans, I took a walk through the house and knocked on all the walls."

"She did this while I was out," Keaton offered.

"Because you just would have walked around behind me saying, 'Who's there'."

"No, because I would have taken you to the hospital."

"What's knockin' on da walls gonna do?" Racetrack asked, leaning back in his seat.

Tanya had switched couches to be near him and she leaned sideways to watch his facial expressions.

"I was looking for a fake wall. Or a wall with something behind it."

"So she took a sledgehammer..."

Keaton got a shove for that. Delaney glared at him, "I'M telling the story!"

"Fine, fine."

"So I when I hit a wall with a different sound...I knew..." she paused for effect, "I took the wall out, single-handedly."

"She made a mess. There was dry-wall and dust everywhere. And guess who had to clean that up?"

"I found steps and...well, why don't I just show you? I mean, it's right over here." They followed her into the hallway and through the kitchen.

"We eventually knocked out the whole wall so we could get down here easier but..." she stopped and looked at Racetrack. "We haven't moved much."

"So you found my pictchah down deah."

"We found a lot of pictures. Some of you, some of Davey, some of Jack Kelly."

"Jack?" Race was incredulous, "You got pictchahs 'a Jack down deah?"

"Well, not anymore, we hung those. Over there."

They all turned to see where Delaney was pointing. The entrance way they walked through.

Without waiting, the newsie ran towards it, brown eyes bigger than ever. When the others reached him, they found him staring raptly at it, his cap against his heart. As if it was the portrait of a saint before him There was Jack, a paper thrust high over his head, a look of intensity as he yelled headlines at a gathering crowd.

"Dis is across da street from Tibby's," said Race, his eyes never straying from the sketch.

"It's a good picture," Tanya whispered.

****

FLASHBACK


"Extra, extra! Riot in City Hall! Thousands Trampled Ta Death!"

Three men stopped to buy papers.

"T'ank ya, gentlemen. Much obliged to ya. Extra, extra!" Jack let his arm fall, "Hey, Davey, look."

David Jacobs was counting out change for a customer, "What is it?"

"Ain't that Moira across the street?"

His friend's curly head shot up, "WHERE?" He blushed and adjusted his voice to a more calm level, "I mean... 'Where...'"

"Right theah, sittin' in theah," the newsie pointed towards a small restaurant with windows that faced the street.

"She's looking this way," David observed. "Wonder if she sees us?"

"I don't wondah," Jack said, gesturing with an openly casual hand to his person. He nodded, "I know."

"Right," a chuckle, "My mistake, of course."

"Just so's you admit it."

"What do you think she's doing?"

"Prob'ly drawin' or readin' like she always is. She nevah does anyt'in' else."

"She's really smart!" David protested.

"Yeah? Really borin', if ya ask me."

"Uh, Jack?"

"I mean, goils dat read too much...dey stop t'inkin' deah's a real woild outside, ya know?"

"Jack..."

"Moira Bailey has no idea what's outside dose books o' hois."

There was a small cough and Jack turned to come face to face with "boring Moira Bailey."

"And you obviously have no idea what's inside them, Mr. Kelly," she said, contemptuously.

"What's dat you got deah, Moira?" Jack teased, hoping to get some temper out of her.

Moira pulled the rough canvas closer than before.

"What? Ain't ya gonna show me?"

"No, I most certainly am not." Moira stepped disdainfully around Jack and across the street.

"I'll talk to you later, Moira," David called.

The girl turned and gave him a small smile before she tossed her head back and carried on.

Jack shook his head in disgust and embarrassment at having been so utterly scorned. His New York tongue fought for words to throw at her retreating back, "Hoity...toity... little...MISS!" And that was his complete dismissal of Moira Bailey and her canvas.


END FLASHBACK

****

"It looks jus' like him," Racetrack declared after studying it for a long moment. "But why would Moira draw Cowboy? Dey ain't exactly on borrowin' toims wid each uddah, if ya catch my draft."

"Well," Delaney looked tense, "I found Moira's diary. And...well...later on...Moira marries Jack."

"MARRIES?" Tanya thought Race's eyes might be saucer size permanently.

"They got married. So did y-..." her face went grey. "Tanya..."

"What?"

"Tanya, you're in that diary!"

"What?"

"The diary! Where is it?" Delaney made a dive for a book shelf, "Aha!" She flipped greedily through the worn pages. "Aha, here!"

The book was shoved in Tanya's face and she read the entry slowly, stumbling over Moira's faded handwriting,

"It seems Racetrack Higgins has found a lady friend. Grandfather said he comes in at night whistling the way he used to when he was younger. He has cut back on his cigars in order to save money. David has told me he spends it at Siding Hall, instead. I have never been inside a dance hall. Mother would be appalled. Perhaps, I should pay a visit. Racetrack told me her name is Tanya. It's quite an unusual name. The poor boy is rather mad about her but I'm afraid it is just too shocking. Her being an actress, I mean."

"I thought she didn't talk to Race," Tanya said, confused.

"She didn't. Until later."

"So...what does this mean?"

"It happened. A hundred years ago."

"But how?"

"We're here!"

"But you were there."

Racetrack had stopped listening. He was following the wall around the corner. He gave a little cry.

"Race? Are you okay?" Tanya came around the corner after him.

The newsie stood before a long row of charcoal sketches.

Tanya recognized the pictures' subjects immediately, "Blink, Mush, Skittery, Snipeshooter, Boots, David, Les, Specs, and you, again." The small initials in the corners all read, "M.B."

"Moira did all of these," Delaney told them.

Another picture, this one in watercolor, caught Race's attention, "Look it's Jack...and he's got a baby wid 'im!"

"That's Emma."

"The first baby."

"Foist baby? Dey had moah?"

"Four."

Race laughed and the irrepressible dimples appeared, "Da scab went and got 'imself hitched AND saddled!"

Tanya was reading another entry in Moira's diary. She looked up, "What happened to Moira?"

"She died a few years back. There was a letter from Jack in her trunk."

"What happened to him?"

"I don't know," Delaney confessed. "I never tried to find him. Thought it might not be a good idea to drag up all this stuff that he had obviously left behind on purpose."

Racetrack's normally bright eyes had glazed over. There was that quality in his voice that reminded Tanya of the day they had walked to Five Points, something like...fear, "Cowboy's...alive?"

"I...I don't think so. He wrote the letter a few years ago," the historian shifted nervously. Had she been foolish to believe all this? She accepted this apparition, almost back from the grave, without question. And that in itself could be questioned. And if he was real (and he must be), what would happen to history? To time? To him? To poor Jack if he had a heart attack when he saw this ghost from his past? But...no, it had been too long. Hadn't it?


****

"You guys have a good night," Ben called to his students as they trudged off the stage and towards the door. "And let me know what Tanya says!"

"Mreh," Diane grunted, dragging her tired feet across the floor. She winced as she lifted her backpack.

"Sore?" he asked, leaning back in his chair with a yawn.

She glared at him.

"Hard things are good for you."

"Everything aches," moaned Robert.

"You're too young to say that," Ben told him. "Hey, if I can dance that long, so can you."

"I have a knee problem, though."

"So?" Ben said, callously.

"So I can't do it."

Their teacher shrugged his handsome shoulders.

"Uh, bye, Ben," Sarah said, following Diane out the door.

"Bye, Sarah. Good job today!"

****

"Well, Ms. Adams...it's nice to have you back. I heard you took a little break there for awhile."

"Just to get settled. My husband and I moved into a house in the city."

"Oh, that sounds so perfect!"

Tanya marveled at the change in the woman's voice. The librarian on the fifth floor was falling all over herself to be nice to Delaney.

"It's great. We really like it," Delaney told her politely.

"So what are you working on today?"

"You got anything from the turn of the century?"

The librarian's head shot up when she saw Race and Tanya, "But I..."

Delaney raised her eyebrows from behind her dark rimmed reading glasses, "Is there a problem?"

"Oh, no, I..." she frowned. "Right this way."

They followed her past a desk, past shelves, past displays, through a door into a large room lighted by long fluorescent lamps on the ceiling.

"You're going to want to look under the date," she began. "What year? We should probably start in..."

"I got it," Delaney told her.

"Are...are you sure?"

"Completely. Thank you very much," Delaney said briskly as she yanked a file cabinet open.

The librarian mumbled something and walked away.

"Gosh," Tanya laughed softly.

"What?"

"You were so mean to her!"

"Mean? MEAN? You thought that was mean? Mean is me in line at Disney Land! That was just...business like."

Tanya grinned.

Her aunt held up something to the light for a moment, "I kind of have this love/hate relationship with librarians. Yeah, yeah, they take care of books and all. But they're so intrusive...and sneaky!

"I mean...I finally find the book I'm looking for. I lean back to smell that great book smell. I get two wonderful sentences in...and Mr. Librarian leaps out of nowhere and starts harrassing me. 'Are you finding everything okay? What's that you're reading? Oh, that's a great one. Have you read anything else by him? You should. I highly recommend the fourth novel in the series. Well, now that I've sufficiently disturbed you, let me skip off to terrify some other unsuspecting reader!"

Tanya shook her head, still smiling.

But Delaney wasn't finished, "And THEN...when you actually DO need them...they're all hiding in the children's section. I'm telling you, it's a plot."

"To do what?" her niece asked, amused.

"To ruin our lives," she said, opening the file cabinet again. Her fingers ran over the labels with ease. "Let's see, uh, 1885, 1887...nope."

She stooped to a much lower drawer, "1893, 1894..."

Racetrack had kept his hands shoved in his pockets as he waited. There wasn't much he could do except watch, anyway.

He found his thoughts traveling back to Jack. Jack, who thought Racetrack was worth listening to, worth keeping around. Jack, who thought Race's wisecracks were funny. Jack, who was somehow always in on the joke. He missed the Cowboy.

Tanya laughed again and the newsboy looked over at her. The soft brown curls that framed her face were falling forward as she leant over a cabinet beside her aunt. He could just make out the corner of her chiseled mouth turned up in a smile. Tanya, who seemed to think the world was as in love with life as she was. Tanya, who pretended to understand him. Tanya, who wanted so badly to understand him, to understand his life.

Maybe, Racetrack decided, that was why he was there. Why he was caught in the year 2003, a lifetime past his own. But could he make her understand what he himself could not?

"Racetrack!" Tanya whispered.

That broke the reverie.

"We found something about the strike."

Delaney help up a yellowed New York Sun that read, "Children's Crusade: Newsies Stop the World."

The newsie grinned boyishly and pointed to a face in the large picture, "Dat's me."

Tanya leaned forward to see it better, "You look mad."

"Nah, I was gettin' pushed aroun'. Ya know, so we'd all get in."

"Oh," the girl studied the photograph for a moment, then caught sight of the caption, "That must have been so exciting."

Racetrack nodded, "And we all got away wid it. 'Cept foah Crutchy." A shadow crept over his face. "But hey, we was famous all day!"

Delaney wished she had thought to bring a tape recorder. Anything to capture that voice...

"We should get started," she decided, breaking into her own thoughts.

The three turned to look at the large stacks of newspapers Delaney had found.


****

Diane Carter jammed the key in the lock. She needed artificial stimuli. Fast.

"Hey, sweetie," her mother called from the family room.

"Hi, hi, hi," her daughter ripped the refrigerator door open and began her ritual hunt. "Nope, nope, aha!" Triumph.

The plastic wrapper was off and in the trash only a split second before the Twinkie was melting in her mouth. Blessed sugar.

"Why's Victoria in the hospital this time?"

Mrs. Carter's eyes never left the TV screen, "She had a seizure when Vladimir threatened to leave her for her identical twin sister, Bianca."

"Vladimir? What happened to Ryan?"

"He and LaTecia are in the Bahamas."

"Who's LaTecia?"

"Crystal's sister."

"Isn't Crystal the one who's..."

"Having Vladimir's baby," her mother finished.

Diane finished off her Twinkie as a shirtless actor jumped off a diving board, "He is so hot."

"David? Oh, yeah," her mother unwrapped another caramel, "He's a doll."

"Remind me to skip commercial work and go straight to soaps. Cute guys, lots of money, minimal acting effort required..."

"How was class?"

"Ben made us do pirouettes for like...half an hour! I'm exhausted! I need another Twinkie."

Halfway to the kitchen, she remembered, "Oh! Gotta call Tanya tonight!"


****

Tanya was beginning to wonder if this had been such a brilliant plan. 2 hours of skimming newspapers and nothing...

"Aunt Delaney, isn't there a quicker way to do this?"

"It's called research for a reason, Tanya."

"Why we do an i-search?"

"Oh, sure, take the easy way out," Delaney scoffed. "Do you know how unreliable all that stuff is? You need to see the actual documentation to count on it. It's worth the extra work. Trust me."

"But I'm not finding...any..." Tanya stopped mid-sentence to stare.

"What?"

"Omigosh, I think..."

Race and Delaney looked up anxiously at the girl.

"Oh. No, never mind."

They exhaled.

"I mean, it's totally the wrong date."

"What?" Racetrack asked, impatiently.

"This paper...I saw the name 'Conlon' but...it's about some hospital fund and it's dated like...1970."

"Let me see that," Delaney took it from her and read, "Brooklyn Memorial Hospital has announced plans to name children's fund after greatest supporter, billionaire Patrick Conlon. The Conlon Children's Fund has been designated for the medical care and treatment of underprivileged kids in New York City. Mr. Conlon visited the children's ward today accompanied by his wife, Michelle, and an old family friend, affectionately referred to as 'Crutchy.'"


****

FLASHBACK


"This is a great thing you're doing here, Mr. Conlon. It must have been quite a sacrifice. To give up so much...to suffer, for the sake of children," a reporter was pushing a mic in the man's face.

Crutchy smiled, the bags under his eyes heavier with age. He leaned back in his wheel chair and shook his curly steel-gray head. It was almost funny to him how little people knew about this thing they liked to call, "Suffering."

Patrick Conlon may have been eighty-eight years old. His mouth might have drooped a little farther. His blond hair had long since turned a dirty silver and thinned to almost nothing. But when he smirked, Spot's eyes rekindled with the cry of the newsboy in his soul. With the passing of years comes the passing of memory. But the one thing Spot would not, and could not forget...he was a newsie. And he always would be.

He smirked again, his voice shaking a little as he spoke, "It's funny da t'ings ya t'ink ya gonna do. Until ya do'em and realize they ahen't so impoahtant, anymoah."

He watched Raven bend over a little cancer patient across the hall.

"But so much money! Millions and millions of dollars...truly remarkable that you would give so much away."

"It'd be moah remahkable if I didn't."


END FLASHBACK


****

"Spot is a billionaire now?" Tanya sounded surprised.

"He's got moah money den Pulitzah!" Race stared hard at the photograph of a weathered old man sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, his hand in the hand of a little girl with polio. Spot looked so...old.

"Had," Delaney corrected. "This article was written over thirty years ago."

"Oh. Um...yeah," Tanya felt all the discomfort of trying to skirt a subject that would bother Racetrack. "What year are you on, Race?"

"Nineteen-hundr'd and foah."

"Anything interesting?"

Racetrack handed her the paper.

"Peter Pan? Wow."

"What is it?"

"It's a play. Famous, famous play."

"Did you know Barrie wrote that for Maude Adams?" Delaney put in.

"Didn't she play Peter Pan?"

"Hundreds of times," her aunt peered over her shoulder. "But that doesn't look like Maude."

Tanya felt her heart speed up, "It isn't. It's...it's Kate."

"Kate? Da one you was tryin' ta find aftah...?"

"Yeah!"

The girl in the picture wore dark tights with leaves sewn into them, leaves around her tight bodice, and wound at her throat. Her dark hair had been caught up in a net so that it appeared short like a boy's. Her hands rested on her hips as she stared defiantly outward. In every way, she looked like 'the boy who wouldn't grown up.'" Below, the caption read, "The captivating Kate Lawrence of London dressed as J. M. Barrie's sensational 'Peter Pan.'"


****

FLASHBACK


"Miss Lawrence, give us a smile!"

"Miss Lawrence, do you plan to play any theaters out West?"

The bulb flashed again. Click, flash. The scratching of pens. The cigarette smoke that stung Kate's nose.

"I'll play anywhere they'll let me," she told the reporter, flashing a brazen smile behind him to the numerous cameras focused on her slender form.

"Have you had any contact with Mr. Barrie?"

"I haven't."

"What do you enjoy most about performing as Peter Pan?"

"The freedom. I love feeling free," Kate pursed her lips in pretended amusement. Every word sounded so much like the last time she had said it. In Chicago.

"Miss Lawrence?" There was a strong arm at her elbow, guiding her back towards her dressing room. "That will be all gentleman," Dubose announced.

Randolph Dubose, the tall manager with the hook nose and the snuff in his cheek, opened the door for Kate.

"Is there anything else you'll be needing, Miss Lawrence?"

"No, thank you. That will be all."

The manager turned to leave.

"Oh, but...has Mr. Brooks wired?"

"Yes, miss. He's arriving on the ten o'clock train."

"Very well. Thank you, Mr. Dubose."

"Of course."

Kate seated herself at the small vanity, faded and cracked with time. The powder puff in her hand dabbed her already white nose.

Her dark green eyes fell on the photograph that sat stiffly propped on the dresser. Skyford's usually humor lined mouth was straight and set. Still the laughter never left his eyes.

Kate pulled open the thin drawer in front of her and removed the lace gloves and handkerchiefs. And there was the small gold band laced in sapphires. She brought the cold metal to her lips, to her cheek, willing it to cool the feverish blush there.

A secret ceremony in the captain's cabin. A secret marriage of three years. A secret child tucked away with the trusted nanny, deep in the country. A secret husband so often away at sea. A well-kept secret considering Kate Lawrence was in the public eye so much of late. The sensational actress, the women's suffrage activist, the bold writer of scandalous magazine columns, the great beauty. No attachments, it was said. No family, it was said.

Kate pushed her wedding ring back between the folds of linen. Back into the drawer of well-kept secrets it went. Well-kept, indeed.


END FLASHBACK

****

"So that's what happened to Kate," Tanya said, letting the paper fall from her hands. She shook her head, "What does all this accomplish? I mean, what...what do we do next?"

Delaney frowned, "We need to narrow it down. We're grasping at straws."

Racetrack scratched his head, "So whatta we do?"

There was a pause. The woman's frown deepened but then she nodded, "Obituaries."

They knew what she meant.


****

Diana flipped through her notebook. Where had she put that number...aha!

Great. No answer...


****

Silence, the rustling of paper, frustrated whispers.

Delaney sighed, "I'm an idiot. I don't even know who to be looking for."

"Phillip Ferdinand Estanelli," Tanya read then looked at Race. "Why does that sound familiar?"

Racetrack's eyes went wide and he shrugged.

"Estanelli...Esta...isn't that Kristen's last name?"

"So who's...Phillip?" Delaney stared at the page.

The newsie squinted as he read over the faded obituary, "It's Bumlets."

****

FLASHBACK

"Don't cry, Krissy."

Kristen smiled faintly, salt stains across her cheeks, "You know I can't help it,"

Bumlets coughed and his tanned chest heaved with the effort.

Kristen bit back another sob as she wiped blood and spit from the corner of his mouth.

A little redhead appeared at her elbow, "Daddy, look what I made you!"

Her father chuckled before falling into another spasm.

Fiona continued, uncertainly, "It's a kite, Daddy, see?"

"I see," he smiled, leaning back against the pillows. "Thank you."

"And when you get better, we'll go flying."

Cough, "We...go...flyin', Fiona."

Kristen chewed her lip anxiously, "Fiona, go into the kitchen and play now. Your father needs to rest."

The little girl walked reluctantly from the room and Bumlets watched, a twinkle in his unnaturally bright eyes, "She looks like you, Kristen."

There would be no stopping the tears then. Kristen's mouth fell, her face crumpled inwards, and an unwanted cry ran through her lips. "I need you," she moaned.

Bumlets opened his mouth to say something but another fit of coughing ripped the words away. "I...I..." he struggled, to push himself up off the bed, floundering on the mattress like a drowning man. "Krissy..."


END FLASHBACK


****

Delaney felt her phone vibrate, "Keaton?"

"No, this is Diane Carter. I'm a friend of Tanya's. Um, is she there?"

"Sure...Tanya?"

Tanya looked up at her aunt, bewildered and aching, "What?"

"It's for you."

"Hello?" she asked dully.

"Tanya, it's me! Diane!"

"Oh, Diane...hi."

"Hi! Hey, where were you today? Ben said you signed up for this class!"

She had forgotten about it, "Oh, the theater workshop...I totally forgot."

"You forgot," Diane repeated.

"Yeah, I...a lot's been happening."

"Are you gonna come tomorrow?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"What? Why not?"

"Why not...because..."

"You have to come!"

"Why?"

"Because! It's not the same without you! And Ben actually misses you! I can tell! You have to come back so we can gloat together! C'mon..."

"But..."

"You'll have fun. You KNOW you will. Please, please, please..."

"I have a friend staying with me right now. I don't know if..."

"Bring her with you."

"It's a guy."

"Oh, really?" Diane grinned, "Well, fine! Bring him with you! Just...you HAVE to come! Please!"

"But I..."

"I mean it, Tanya," Diane told her seriously, "You need to be here. Really, I mean it...you..."

Tanya felt like screaming. Her voice fought to stay calm, "Okay, okay! I'll come, okay? I may be a little late but I'll be there, alright?"

"Great! I love you! Buh-bye!"

Click.

****

Tanya glanced back at the obituary page.

"Died: Phillip Lorenzo Estanelli....Tuberculosis... He left behind a wife and daughter..."


****


a/n: I'm done. (Silence) (cricket, cricket) Review if you didn't give up half way through! :D Thank you guys for sticking with me! Love, Legs


WARNING TO ANYONE READING THIS: THIS CHAPTER MAY BE EMOTIONALLY INTENSE! DO NOT WORRY ABOUT ANY CHARACTERS THAT MAY SEEM TO BE IN JEOPARDY! THIS DOES NOT MEAN IT IS THE END! WE HAVE MILES TO GO! SO HOLD ON...