Rachel was still wondering at dinner what Blink had meant, moving her food around her plate, her mind too worked up to let her eat. On top of that her stomach felt like it was in knots. Everything seemed to be working against her. Her teacher, Widow Thompson was becoming annoyed with Rachel's constantly haring off to try and save her friends from all of their messes. She insisted that Rachel needed to be more concerned with her own well being rather than that of street rats. Rachel couldn't help but feel frustrated that everyone seemed to forget that these weren't street rats. The people they spoke of so unfeelingly were her friends. On top of that she longed to throttle them each time they spoke of them while conveniently forgetting that Rachel herself had been a street rat for ten years. It drove her mad!

Alex repeated a question for the fifth time, finally succeeding on capturing Rachel's attention.

"What did you say?" she asked blankly, looking up from her uneaten supper.

"I asked, is something wrong?" Alex repeated with some amusement.

"Oh, no, I just, I guess I don't feel well. I think I was out too long today and it's affecting me strangely," Rachel lied. The truth was she hated having to pretend to be two people. Why couldn't she just be herself and have people be happy for her?

"If you want, you may excuse yourself to bed," Alex suggested.

"Really? May I be excused then?" Rachel asked hopefully.

Alex smiled and nodded. The new maid, Olivia scurried out of the corner she'd been pressing herself into all evening. The young Grecian woman nervously cleared Rachel's plates and when she'd finished Rachel stood, kissed Alex on the cheek (a custom she had come to dislike intensely) then trotted up the stairs to her room.

When the door was firmly shut behind her, Rachel dove under her bed and drew out her memento box. She shuffled through the contents hurriedly before pulling out the clips of the newsie strike. She laid out the articles, several from several different papers, and the one that the newsies themselves had printed thanks to Joseph Pulitzer.

She tapped the picture from The Sun and scanned the article that Bryan Denton had written. She ran her fingers over the picture, remembering the day the picture had been taken.

Jack had tried to make Rachel stay back at the lodging house but the girl had staunchly refused to obey this time. Last time she'd been there, Crutchy had been nabbed, but that didn't mean something would happen this time.

They'd stood outside for what seemed like hours even if it had only been minutes. At last the great iron gates had swung open and the scabbers had stood there like nervous horses, shying away but wanting to push through. She understood their indecision, torn between needing money and wanting to fight for a good cause. For these few, it had become about money. They'd stood there, both sides eyeing each other, neither wanting to make the first move. Then Jack had called out, "Let's soak'em fa Crutchy!"

That had started it all. They'd rushed in and the scabbers had fallen back before them, like leaves before a storm. Only the storm hit a bigger, tougher storm; the Crypt. Rachel's heart had turned cold and her stomach dropped to the ground as fear turned her insides to jelly. She'd looked around only to find she'd been cut off from the others. Knowing what Jack would want her to do, she'd flown for the gates only to find more of the hardened thugs. She'd pushed herself into one of the paper wagons, eyeing the battle raging around her. When a thug tried to grab her, she had raked her nails across his face, sending him reeling backwards as blood dripped down his chin.

Another had tried as well, this one coming up from behind her. She couldn't reach him and each time she tried to shift around the snake was faster than her and stronger, not letting her squirm an inch.
"JACK!" she'd cried, realizing she was in over her head.

She'd watched Jack turn to find her but he was all the way on the other side of the yard now. The other boys were too busy trying to protect themselves as well. All Rachel could think was that she had been an idiot.

Then a marble had gone shooting by her head, nailing her attacker in the jaw. His grip loosened enough for Rachel to worm away, kicking at his crotch as she moved into the fray. She knew of only one group with that good of an aim.

"SPOT!" she called as she spotted him on the rooftop. And on the surrounding flats stood the other Brooklyn boys. Jack, attracted by her yell looked up as well, as did the other newsies.

"Neva fear, Brooklyn's heare!" Spot Conlon shouted as his boys began to rain marbles on the Crypt. Within moments, the tide had turned and the Crypt was the one fleeing as Spot got to the gates and flung them open, revealing the rest of his boys marching in.

Denton had snapped the photo only moments later, as all around them newsies celebrated their victory over one of the most notorious gangs in New York City. Had he only waited a few more seconds the Sun reporter would have had a shot of more than a dozen boys being bowled over by a tiny blur that was in actuality Rachel hurtling herself at the boys in joy. She'd only hit four of them but they'd been so shocked they'd grabbed the boys closest to them and a chain reaction had started, ending in a pile of tangled limbs and expletives being shouted loudly while Rachel laughed at them.

Rachel was up and dressed early. Alex had already left to go to the shop so she had the house mostly to herself. After a few anxious minutes, she decided to get a book in the library, something to keep her mind off of all the nerves she was suffering from. With a plan in motion, she headed down the all to Alex's study, perused the shelves a moment or two and then pulled one at random when she was unable to make a decision.

Cookie came up to check on her only once.

At about one o'clock, Rachel put the book aside, grabbed her coat and gloves and went to the sidewalk where she expertly hailed a taxi and directed him to the park. She arrived several minutes early so she had plenty of time left to worry and be nervous. Thank goodness she'd brought gloves or else she'd have started chewing her nails, a habit that Widow Thompson had abhorred and had decided was the first of Rachel's many flaws that had to go.

"So ya came afta all."

Rachel looked up, a wide grin on her face that slowly died when she saw how serious Blink looked.

"Of course I came," she managed to whisper.

"Well, I wasn't sure ya would, seein' as how ya gots ev'rythin' ya wanted and all," the boy shrugged.

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked confused.

"Yeah, Alex told me bouts how ya wanted to start ova an' forgeddabout Race and Jack. And youse wanted me out of ya life too."

Alex? Alex had been the cause, the implementor of her grief and worry? It seemed strangely unfair that her so-called father had set out to alienate her from her past.

"Oh Blink. I don't want any of you out of my life. I care about all of you so much!" Rachel rushed to Blink and grasped his hands. "You're my family as much, if not more than Alex is," she soothed, pulling the shaking young man into her arms. Blink returned her embrace, clinging to her fiercely.

Rachel's heart felt suddenly lighter than it had for two months.

"ALEX!" Rachel called as soon as she opened the townhouse door. She pulled Blink in quickly as she heard Alex's footsteps on the stairs.

"Ah good Rachel, you're home. The Thurstons are coming over in--," Alex stopped as he noticed the angry scowl marring his daughter's features. "What's wrong darling?"

"What's wrong darling?" Rachel mocked. "How dare you ask me what's wrong!"

Rachel advanced angrily, Blink stepping out of the shadows, a similar rage painted over his features. Alex's eyes lit up in recognition and his features twisted with disgust. "What is that dust-bin child doing in my house?"

"Dust bin child?" Rachel squawked indignantly. "What am I then?"

Alex realized his mistake and turned to Rachel, trying to sooth his daughter's ire. "Now Rachel, you are my daughter, you're a well-bred young lady of good blood and education now. You shouldn't associate with people like him. It's, well, it isn't politic if you follow me."

"Well I have a headline for you Alex!" Rachel stormed, pulling herself up and facing Alex proudly, Blink standing behind her. "I was a dust-bin child for a good portion of my life. They taught me more about people and myself then you would have ever been able to. It's because of them I even came here! Had it not been for their urging I wouldn't have found my way to your door and you wouldn't have me here! Besides which, they're my friends! You won't take my friends away from me!"

Alex drew back disgusted, his lip curling in shocked fury. Before Rachel could react Alex's hand swung out, the back of his fist connecting with her face, sending the girl flying into the wall. Blink stepped in like an avenging angel, diving upon Macmillan before the older man could step closer to Rachel. His fists connected with Alex's face twice and the kitchen was filled with the sickening sound of bones grinding as Blink's punches broke Alex's jaws. Alex collapsed at the foot of the stairs in a boneless pile.

Rachel blinked up at the angel standing over her. A lone azure eye gazed back at her with concern and golden-red hair floated around his face like a halo of light.

"Hold on Rachel. I'm gonna getcha ta Sarah and Davey's."

Rachel wondered how the angel knew her name before she floated into the soft blank of unconsciousness.

"Rachel. Come on Rachel," pleaded a woman's voice.

"Please wake up Wren. Ya gots us all worried here," complained a young man who smelled strongly of cigar.

Race is that you?

"Come on kiddo. Wake up why don'tchas?"

Jack, Jack, I'm trying!

"How ya doin' today boirdy?"

Spot? I can hear you.

"Wren? Rachel, can ya hear me?" Blink asked. "Why's ya still asleep? Sarah told me hows ya got ya temple busted up right awful. Damn dat bastard! I shoulda killed'im. A broke jaw is too good fa'im."

Oh thank you Blink, thank you for everything! I'm trying to wake up. I just can't. Nothing seems to want to move. I can't feel anything. But I hear you! Can you hear me?

"I wish ya'd wake up soon Rache. We's all worried bouts ya. I-we all miss ya." His voice caught for a second. Rachel distantly felt someone picking up her hand. They pressed her tiny delicate fingers between their strong callused ones, rubbing them hopefully. "Rachel, I miss youse. I can't stand seein' ya like dis. Come on, just wake up an tell me I'm being a goofy idiot o'somethin'!" Blink demanded.

Noah I want to! I'm trying to! I miss you too you lug-head!

She felt stubble prickling along the back of her hand seconds before warm tears hit her skin and shattered. She felt her heart lurch.

Noah, oh poor Noah. Are you crying for me? Please don't cry. I don't want people to cry over me!

Her hand was released and she heard the faint sounds of Blink trying to compose himself. A gentle finger traced along the side of her face and her jaw. Rachel struggled to force her body to move, to give some sign of wakefulness. The door shut just as she managed to feel her finger twitch of it's own accord.