It had been four months. Spot had not spoken to or seen Gabby since the factory fight nearly eighteen weeks ago. Brooklyn had never been better, though. The newsies were on top of the world, unstoppable and more respected than ever before. The clouds had lifted from over top of Brooklyn, lifting everyone from their doldrums. Selling was not so bad as before and the boys seemed to be scoring lucky with girls from every borough. Brooklyn was very happy. They had defeated their long-time rival, putting an end to a temporary war, and placed themselves on top of New York.

It seemed like Spot had it all now; the victory, the better reputation, the position on the streets. To anyone unknowing to his life he was the greatest thing to hit Brooklyn in 1900. But truth be told, he was only slightly happier than he was a couple of months ago. He had had his heart ripped from his chest, with quite excessive force, and had it handed to him on a platter. As far as he was concerned, nothing had changed for him.

So there he was, on the bench at the Brooklyn train station, with his life packed into a suitcase placed next to him. Spot sat on the hard wooden chair outside the entrance, with his elbows atop his knees. He stared at the ground and tapped his toes around in his shoes in a such a way that suggested he had gone through a wearing and exhausting experience that had left him to ponder what had just happened.

A heavy sigh exhaled from his lips and he leaned back against the seat. He felt the feel of his slingshot still secured in his suspender, and he took it out and placed it on the bench. This was the end of his time in Brooklyn. His reign had ended, he decided. It was time for him to move on. The ticket to Boston sat innocently in his pocket and the corner of it stuck out, staring at him. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

It was difficult to leave his home of seventeen years, very difficult indeed. Even though the streets had grown him a thick skin, there was still that layer of homeliness that was easily penetrated. Brooklyn was his baby. He watched over it protectively, day and night; and now he was leaving. Leaving without the one person he wanted to be with more than ever; but she was a ghost. The girl he had fallen in love with was a mere illusion, and it made him want to leave even more.

The conductor stepped out of the train in his navy suit and scruffy grey beard, screaming "All aboard!" to the passengers waiting to load. Spot gulped down the growing lump whose presence he was trying to deny, and stood up. He picked up his suitcase, took a deep breath, and joined the others in line. With every step he took, he felt he was leaving an invisible footprint on the cobblestone. The crisp autumn sun beat hard against the back of his neck as he inched toward the train. As he stepped on, he felt a rush of something different wash over him. A breath of fresh air.

He walked about the train innocently as if he had never seen one of them before, and found an empty seat near the back. He sat down and sat his suitcase next to the padded seat. Again, he looked down at his feet.

It had taken Spot a few minutes to notice it. A girl was sitting in the seat across from him. She was sitting with her ankles crossed beneath her blue skirt, with a wall of newspaper hiding the upper half of her body. Spot shifted his eyes and sat up, and then it hit him. He reached out his hand and touched the top of the newspaper, which was upside down, and pulled it down slowly. They stared at each other for an eternity.

"Hi," Gabby broke the silence weakly. Her eyes were big and sad staring at him.

Spot opened his mouth and closed it again, unable to find any words. Movement stopped and nothingness stirred around them, enveloping them in the silent cloud.

"Hi," Spot breathed finally, both happy and enraged to see her.

Gabby shakily folded up her newspaper and set it beside her. She was notably different, Spot observed. Her face had lost most of its color but had grown some more cheeks, and, without the thinking of a cynical young man, it looked as though she had gained some weight in the midsection. A little too convenient in the midsection. Spot shook the impossible thought away. She looked like a completely different person than from the first time they had met.

"So," she trembled, "how are you?"

Spot stared at her in almost disbelief. "Fine…"

"That's good…good t-to hear." She wrung her hands within her lap and licked her lips. "You look good."

Spot said nothing.

Gabby gulped and tears began to well up subtly in her eyes. "I missed you," she breathed.

"I…" Spot started. Gabby looked at him hopefully, on the edge of her seat. "I'm leaving," he finished.

"I see that…Where?"

"Boston."

"Why?" she replied hastily. Spot looked at her, surprised and offended. "Sorry," she apologized. "I just…well, I figured if you were going anywhere you would go out west or something."

"Oh. Well, you thought wrong obviously." Spot folded his arms across his chest and situated himself so that he sat back in an interrogative and intimidating style. "Where you off to?"

"Nowhere," Gabby answered shamefully and she hung her head. "I just needed to see you, and Bolt said you'd be here. I needed to talk to you about something kinda importat—"

"You talked to Bolt?"

She nodded. Spot lifted his head and brought it down in one nod.

"Well, they're startin' to collect tickets, so ya might need to leave," Spot told her, more aggressively than he had anticipated.

Gabby looked up at him with swollen, red eyes. "Please just let me explain…"

Spot looked over to the side and saw the man collecting tickets at the end of the train. "Ya got about thirty seconds." He unfolded his arms and leaned forward so his hands were clasped together on top of his legs, prepared to hear the best damn explanation of betrayal he would ever hope to hear.

Gabby took in a deep breath and wiped away her tears. "I was confused. Very lost, in fact. My parents had just died, that wasn't a lie, and Tyce came to us with a proposition. I needed the money real bad."

"Us?"

"Me and Ace."

"You knew him?"

"Our families were friends in Queens. I had known him my whole life. A few years before my parents died, his parents got sick too. He had been friends with Tyce for a couple of months by then. So during that whole 'war' before the previous one, Ace was working for Tyce all along, and he helped Queens to win."

She paused and watched Spot take in the information at once. His eyes had widened, but didn't take away from the anger that masked them.

"So when my parents died, Ace came to me with Tyce, saying he could help me out with a favor. In the state of mind I was in, I didn't care what happened to me. So I agreed to help him out…" Her voice began quaking and she started choking on the lump in her throat. "I didn't know, Spot, how it would end or anything. I didn't plan on falling for you the way that I did."

Spot's jaw was clenched as he watched Gabby cry softly before him. He wanted to care about it, he wanted to place his hand on her shoulder and tell her it was okay and that they would just forget about it. But betrayal had a bite that stung far worse than any other, and he was not about to forgive that. It had taken him a long time to trust this girl, or anyone for that matter, and the task of rebuilding it was taxing and emotionally trying.

Gabby's head had fallen into her hands and occasionally a sniffle scuttled from it. "I wasn't lying when I said I loved you…"

Spot bit his lips. He reached out his hand, and, with his index finger, lifted up her chin so that she faced him. His eyes had softened a bit. "Neither was I." He rubbed her wet face with one finger and wiped away her tears emotionlessly with his thumb. "But it's gone now, Gabby. I don't even know you." He dropped his hand.

Gabby broke down even harder. "I'm so sorry, Spot," she sobbed. "I don't know if it's worth anything, but there it is. I'm sorry and I would do anything for you to forgive me. I'm even…" It was on the tip of her tongue, she had almost said it: …even carrying your child. But it would just be an excuse; he wouldn't want to hear it. "Nevermind."

Spot slowly started shaking his head in a way that proved he had reached his breaking point. His head cocked to the side and he fought back actual tears himself. He had changed from angry to sad in no time. "I don't think you can do anything…" he said in a low voice, full of sympathy and hurt.

They stared at each other for moments on end. The ticket collector reached their seats, and stood between them.

"I'll need both your tickets before we depart, please."

Spot reached into his pocket and handed the slip of paper to him. The man held out his hand to Gabby in hopes of receiving the same sort of paper. Gabby looked at Spot, not making any movement toward the man.

"No, she ain't goin'," Spot informed him forlornly. His tone was filled with the want to hand the man a ticket for her, but he couldn't. His conscience told him not to let her stay. "We're just sayin' goodbye."

With that, Gabby closed her eyes and let a track of tears fall from her eye. Her lips pressed together and her shoulders fell to their haunches.

"Then you'll need to be on your way, miss," the ticket collector told her. "We're just about to depart." He turned and left them alone.

"So this really is goodbye," Gabby said.

"It's just the way it has to be, Gabby…" Spot swallowed hard again. And then a whisper, "I'm sorry."

Gabby wiped her drenched face with her hands and stood up. "I know. I guess I just wish I understood better."

Spot stood up in front of her, choosing not to look at her growing stomach. He knew. He placed his hands on her arms, making a memory and taking in her touch. He didn't want to let her go, but it had to be done. He needed to let go. As Gabby rested the side of her face against his chest, he rubbed her back lovingly. Before getting in too deep, she pulled back and kissed him on the lips quickly.

"Good luck, Spot." She turned and walked hurriedly toward the end of the car.

He watched her vanish away from his reach. A pain in his chest told him he was to jump off the train and get her back, but his head was telling him to sit back down in the seat and enjoy the ride to his new life. So, he did. He plopped back down onto the seat and held his forehead in his hands.

Just as the train began to start up its engines, Spot's hand flew to his key necklace.

"What's the story behind this thingy?" Gabby inquired curiously.

"Well, I'd hardly call it a thingy."

"Sorry."

"When I was little my pop gave this to me. He said it was their key to the house in Ireland before they came ovah here."

Home. The feeling he got when he touched his key, and the never-ending feeling he got when he was with Gabby. Home. With Gabby he felt home. It wasn't about Brooklyn. It was her. Gabby was his home. He was leaving his home.

The engines began chugging along ever so slowly. This was his last chance, his only chance. But he couldn't; he was going to Boston! He had to leave Brooklyn to start his new life! Conlon smirked. He flicked the imaginary Spot away from his shoulder and listened to the thing that truly mattered, the thing that beat uncontrollably in his chest when he was around her.

Without a single thought running through his head, he grabbed his suitcase, jumped to his feet, and flew down the train car, turning heads of the other passengers in the process. The employees on the train looked at each other in bewilderment and raced to go stop the crazy young man. Spot yanked open the car door and without hesitation, leapt from the train and onto the cobblestone again.

He looked around in confusion at the puzzled and curious faces about him, sifting through them in hopes of finding the one that really mattered to him. His head spun in different directions until he found her. He dropped his suitcase immediately and sprinted towards her, clearing people out of his way in the process.

The wind blew back his hair as he ran to her, calling her name like a mad man. He could hear his heart pulsating within him until she turned around, still clearly distraught and miserable. He reached her finally and pulled her in to a tight embrace.

"What is it?" Gabby asked, baffled.

Spot pulled her to face him. A smile came to him as he answered, out of breath and shaking, "I can't start a new life without you in it. I know, I know it'll be hard, and I'm gonna have to learn to trust you again….but, dammit Gabby, these past months have been the worst of my life, and I got all that I thought I needed. But I need you. Without you, I'm a mess. Just a big, fuckin' mess."

Gabby smiled quivering with a different type of tears rolling down her cheeks. "Spot, I can't not be near you. I love you too much to let you go again." She let out a laugh that mixed with a joyful cry. Leaning in, she whispered, "I think this is where we kiss."

Spot laughed and brought his hands up to the back of her neck. With a slight smirk before, he pulled her in a passionate, deep, loving kiss. After a few earth-shattering moments, he pulled back and kissed her on either sides of her cheeks, on the forehead, on the lips, on the nose. A cloud of misery had cleared over his head, something that had lingered above him for almost a year.

"So what now? What do we do?" Gabby asked.

"I have no fuckin' idea," Spot laughed. He wiped away her tears and held her cheeks. "Don't cry. It's all gonna be okay now."

She nodded and not a single tear fell from her eyes from that moment on. "Well, I don't think I can do this by myself. I mean, I sure as hell didn't make it on my own…" She pointed and nodded down to her pregnant stomach.

"Ya won't have to." He stared at her stomach in astonishment, feeling as though he were about to faint. That was his.

After a couple of wavering moments, Spot brought his hands to the chain around his neck and removed it. He held out the necklace in front of him and proceeded to place it around Gabby's neck. "Now ya know I'll nevah leave you."

All his life Spot assumed that everything he ever needed was Brooklyn. He walked Brooklyn, ruled Brooklyn, spoke Brooklyn, and breathed Brooklyn; and from the looks of it, he was about to raise another Brooklyn. But when his baby's life was on the line, something more important came along and left a bigger imprint on his heart. It didn't matter where she was from or the crazy path that had led them there. Now, even though it took a lifetime of searching and plenty of battle scars along the way, Spot Conlon realized what all he needed for his Brooklyn to be complete. And all he needed was her.

A/N: The End! I hope you liked it because I sure liked writing it. I hope you all liked the ending, because I had 5 ideas for alternates going on in my head. I've been throwing around the idea of a sequel, and I'm still on the fence about it. (The baby thing is not only supposed to leave it open for a sequel, but also to elaborate on the feeling of "home"). So, leave me some comments! To sequel or not to sequel, that is the question.

Thank you BUNCHES to my loyal reviewers--honestly, without you guys, this story would have died. Shout-outs to all of you and tons of hugs your way!