Look who's finally back and updating! (The correct answer is: ME!) I hope that I haven't lost all of my reviewers, although I'm well aware that I deserve it, after that ridiculously long "break" from Why I needed one I'll never know. With exams going on right now, it's a lot easier for me to update, so hopefully this'll be finished soon (yes, I'm a procrastinator in school as well as fanfic). My writing style has changed a bit since my forever-ago postings, hopefully for the better, so my apologies for any awkward shifts. Enjoy!

Annie crashed down the stairs, stormed past a startled bunch of newsies playing marbles in the front room, and hurled herself out the front door, flinging it shut with a loud bang. "I hope Jack heard that," she thought fiercely as she stepped into the street on her way home. Halfway there, though, she stopped. He father seemed to be headed for a particularly bad night, and did she really want to be with him, facing his tears and madness in addition to her own humiliation and anger? Annie felt a flash of guilt at this thought; she had always been willing to help Da before she met the newsies. Through sheer force of habit, she had almost convinced herself to go home to her only family, when she suddenly turned and started walking in the other direction.

"Dat ain't a family," she muttered under her breath. Then, picking up her pace with a new sense of purpose, "I gotta find Race." She would check all of his known haunts, ask every newsie in New York if she had to; it wasn't like she had anywhere else to go tonight.

OOOOO

Forty-five minutes later, her head cleared a bit from all the walking that she had done, Annie began to reflect a bit on her sudden need to see Race. "Why?" she asked herself over and over; it wasn't as though he could do anything about Jack's idiotic behavior. She waited for another flash of anger, but, unfortunately, the long walk had cooled that, too. She couldn't really be angry at Jack anymore – actually, she was kind of flattered that he could like her that much. Then she remembered his accusations of her encouragement and his desire to turn her into a helpless little thing to take care of. "Maybe not that flattered," she admitted drily. Still, her anger – most of it – had turned into embarrassment, and regret for hurting him and, potentially, losing a friend. Her first friend in a long time.

And why was she looking for Race? "What's 'e gonna do about it?" she asked aloud, "tell Jack, 'Annie don't like you'? I don't t'ink so. Race ain't some little goil, carrying messages back an' forth. I oughta jus' go home." But the thought of going back without anyone to talk to made her feel empty. "I never had nobody before," she thought slowly, "so I don't need nobody now…right?"

Suddenly filled with panic, Annie started for home, practically running. No way was she going to suddenly start needing people. People left you if you held on too tight. They died, or walked out, or followed some beloved phantom from room to room, never seeing the warm, hopeful, real person aching to be recognized. And still you couldn't let them go. Annie winced as her reflections got too personal. "It's not jus' me," she sullenly told the empty street, "I've seen it all over da streets." She sighed, "Ain't we all?" Another wave of loneliness swept over her, nauseating and empty. "I can't go back," she said softly, firmly. "But I can't go anywhere else, eidder." Overcome by confusion and conflicting emotions, Annie wandered into a nearby ally, where she – very prudently – sat down, put her head on her knees, and cried.

One can only cry for so long before thoughts intrude on the catharsis, and Annie's relieving cry was soon interrupted by bothersome practicality. "This ain't safe," "I can't sit here forever," and "Where'm I gonna sleep tonight?" kept recurring in her mind. The final straw, however, was when the most common thought, "Damn, I'm hungry," was accompanied by a loud rumble from her empty stomach. Annie stood up, wiped her cheeks – leaving terribly attractive smudges in its grubby coating of dirt – and looked around.

With her nerves relieved by a good cry, Annie was able to reconsider the events of the night. It was hard to relive so many changes in emotion occurring over such a short time, but she did it. And, after much thought, she decided that it would be alright to find Race. "After all," she reflected, "it's OK to need someone jus' a little bit. It's when you start getting like – like Da that things turn all wrong." And, taking a deep breath, she set off to find Race. "I'se gonna see da whole city like dis," she thought wryly as she turned around yet again.

Unfortunately, Race didn't seem to want to be found. And it was getting late. And, as much as Annie wanted to throw responsibility aside, she had work tomorrow. Annie turned around with an angry sigh and plowed right into – someone. As he mumbled a quick apology, Annie tried frantically to think of his name, then gave up. "Hey, you're a newsie, right?"

"Yeah," the boy replied warily, glaring at the girl who first plowed him over, then eagerly inquired after his profession.

"Sorry bout dat," Annie waved her hand at him. "Listen, d'you know where Racetrack is tanight?"

The boy squinted at the sky, thinking, then gruffly answered, "I t'ink 'e said somethin' bout a poker game on 45th and 8th."

"Poker. Right." Annie thought for a moment, then looked up. "Thanks," she said brightly, before heading off to the poker game, where she would hopefully find Race.

OOOOO

Despite the fact that she had sat through several games of poker with the newsies, Annie never had really gotten the hang of it. The boys planned strategically, created facades like it was a war; Annie just picked up cards and put them down with high hopes and desperation for money. Besides, those card games had all been friendly ones, with an easy camaraderie between the newsies and their friends. So it was with much trepidation that Annie walked into the dim-lit, smoke-filled room and gazed around at the tight clusters of men – and, she noted with surprise, a few women – intent on their cards.

Nervously, Annie stared around, lurking as close to the wall as she could to avoid notice, waving away all offers of drinks from the waitresses, and ignoring appraising leers from drunk men, until she spotted Race. He looked pretty involved in the game, though, and there was no way Annie was interrupting him with all those big men around. She found herself smiling at the way they dwarfed him, and how unconscious he appeared of his scrawny stature. Finally, Race got up, and, though she couldn't understand what he was saying, she watched him smirk and shake hands with everyone at the table, then turn to go.

As he walked out of the room, Annie moved toward him, and he looked startled as he noticed her. "Annie, what da hell are you doin' 'ere?" he asked. Then, as she started to answer, he said, "Hold up, let's go outside. I jus' relieved dose fellas of a little cash, an' I don't wanna be around when dey have time to think about it."

He led her outside, waving at one of the waitresses and shouting, "G'bye John. Take care!" across the room, then turned to her. "So what's up?"

Annie looked at him for a second, then remembered why she had come to find him. She suddenly realized that telling him she had rejected one of his best friends might not be such a good idea, especially if Race had known about and encouraged Jack's attachment.

"Um…nuttin'," she lied, "Jus' got bored an' thought I'd see what you guys were up to."

"Oh. What's everybody else doin'?"

"I dunno."

"Wow," Race said, "I was da easiest to find? I didn't know da boys all knew 'bout dis game. An' Jack said 'e was jus' hangin' round da Lodgin' House tonight. None of us could get 'im to do nuttin! I wonder what e's really doin…"

Race looked like he might be a little peeved, so Annie felt the need to say something. "Oh, well, actually, um, maybe Jack was at the Lodgin' House…sorta."

"Sorta" Race peered at her curiously, "Annie, eidder 'e was or 'e wasn't. What's up wit you?"

Annie took a deep breath, then expelled it, and with it seemed to go all of her confidence and determination not to trust Race. Her face crumpled, but she managed to hold back any threat of tears. "Aw, God, Race, I dunno. Well, I mean, I do know, but…I just-"

"Annie, you alright?" Race looked positively frantic, "Is it your Dad? He didn't hurt you, did 'e? Or was it somethin' Jack did? Dat boy's always messin' things up." Then, seeing her flinch at Jack's name, he yelped, "What did he do to you?"

"Nothin', Race," Annie reassured him softly, "he didn't do nothin'. He jus' – God, this is so embarrassin' – he told me dat 'e – dat e', y'know, likes me. A lot. Like, more'n 'jus' friends.'" Annie could feel herself blushing and sent up a grateful look to the dark sky for hiding it before realizing that her stammer let Race know pretty well that she was embarrassed.

"Oh." The wind seemed to have gone out of Race, transforming the belligerent young man into a solemn little boy. "So – so, what'd you say? I mean, are the two of you, y'know…" he trailed off.

"Me an' Jack?" Annie stared at him incredulously. "I'se sorry, have you never seen the two of us together? We'd kill each odder. Dere ain't know way I could be the sweet, shy little thing he wants, an' ev'ry time 'e tries to take care of me, I blow up at 'im!"

Even Annie couldn't mistake the dawning joy on Race's face as he said, "So you turned 'im down, then?"

"I had to," she sighed. "He didn't, um, take it too well." Then, seeing his angry expression, "Not like dat, Race! He jus' got a little mad is all. I think 'e was embarrassed. I was, too."

"So – so you don't like Jack," Race mused. "I always kinda thought you did. Ever since dat foist night we met you, when you was so happy to see 'im an' all."

"No happier dan I've ever been to see you guys."

"Why did ya come see me?" Race asked quickly. "I mean, Blink's da one who knows all dis kinda stuff, not me."

"I dunno, it jus' seemed –" Annie shrugged. "Blink's prob'ly out wit Samantha, anyways."

"Oh. Yeah." Race put his hands in his pockets and looked down to where his feet were kicking the ground, then glanced back up. "So where are we goin', anyway?"

Annie stopped suddenly. "Race –"

"Yeah?" he stopped short, too.

"Never mind," she hurried on.

"No, wait, what Annie?" Race persisted, quickening his pace to match hers. "I wanna know what you were gonna say."

Annie walked in silence for a few more steps, then whirled on him. "C'mon, Race, you know perfectly well what I was gonna say. An' I ain't gonna say it an' embarrass myself twice in one night, so you can jus' forget it." She stared at him for a moment, then muttered, "I'se goin' home."

Race stared after her, eyes wide, then started to run, shouting, "Wait! Annie, wait!" She finally stopped without turning around and allowed him to catch up to her. He put his hand on her shoulder and asked, "How was I s'posed to know what you were gonna say when I always thought you had it for Jack?"

Annie's jaw tightened, and, encouraged, he dropped his hand and continued hoarsely, "I never could – I thought dere was no point in it, in thinkin' dat maybe –" he looked down, "you were Jack's, y'know?" After a moment, he looked back up, hopefully, to catch her response. Noticing her shaking, he put an arm around her and asked, "Are you OK?"

Nodding, she turned to him and put her head on his shoulder, trembling with the effort to hold back tears for the second time that night. Finally, she calmed down, but it just felt so good, so right, to be wrapped in Race's arms that she just stayed there for a while, until he spoke.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," she pulled back and righted herself. They both took a minute to calm down, then she turned to him. "So…what do you wanna do?"

"Well," Race thought for a minute, "It's actually kinda late," he said apologetically. "I jus' dragged myself outta dat poker game in dere cause I gotta be getting' back to da Lodgin' House."

Annie nodded, "I better be gettin' back, too. I got woik tomorrow."

"I'll walk you back," Race offered.

Annie bristled, "I can take care o' myself, y'know."

"Yeah," Race grinned, "but it's a lot o' fun watchin' you get all upset over it. Besides, I wanna walk you back. But don't worry," he said solemnly, "if any big goons attack or anything, I'll let you handle 'em."

Annie rolled her eyes, muttering, "Gee, thanks," and forcing herself to relax as Race slung an arm around her, and they set off.

The two joked the whole way to Annie's apartment – during which time no goons, big or otherwise, attacked – and Race insisted on walking her up the stairs. This time there was a laugh in Annie's voice as she insisted that it was unnecessary, and Race persisted in his theories on "big goons" commonly hiding in staircases, "particularly in 'partments on dis side of da city."

Turning the doorknob, Annie asked, "are you gonna come check an' make sure no one's hidin' inside, too, or is it safe?"

"Maybe I jus' better take a quick look," Race responded, stepping in and performing a cursory look around. Annie's laughter was interrupted by Race suddenly stepping back with a startled cry. He grabbed the door to swing it closed again, but Annie rolled her eyes and shouldered through the doorway.

There, on the kitchen floor, lay her father. "Da," Annie breathed, wide eyes taking in the pool of blood trickling from his still body, the gun at his side.

"Annie, let's leave. You shouldn't see dis, Annie," Race's authoritative voice was lost on Annie, as though it was floating above her.

"Look," she said, in the same breathy voice, "there's somethin' in 'is hand." As she bent forward to see what it was, her vision blurred, then focused sharply on her mother's smiling face, still clutched firmly in her father's hands, before darkness closed in.

koodles: hope you haven't given up hope, because I'm still hanging around. Surprise! I will eventually finish this story, even if I'm married with children by the time I do! Wow, I've missed getting the Rachel to Rachel reviews.

antiIRONY: great name. I didn't even notice Annie's accent shifts. They're just such a pain to write; I think I'm quitting on the next story I do. If I can ever get cracking on that. Your reviews are tres similar to mine...I'll have to check out your favorite stories list. Those 2 statements go together in my head, if not on paper. And my apologies: I hate it when I get hooked on a (seemingly) permanently unfinished story. I tricked you though...it's only temporarily unfinished!

NEWS OF THE YEAR: I'm in college! Woohoo!