A/N: So! Part two...I hope the format on this sucker is better than part one. That was wicked frustrating. A few lil notes for my loverly reviewers:

Allie:I'mglad you like it! ButI think I confused you. Jimmy is Spot's (Pete's) older brother.Sorry if I was unclear...I have the bad habit of assuming if -I- know what's going on, everyone else does to. The nuns that we see in the movie -are- old...but in myover-active imagination, there is a convent of nuns in Brooklyn that do the same thing with the newsies there, and that's where Rose is at. The R rating is for future chapters...don't fret, things will getjuicy.

Tuesday:I secretly hate you too, because Rush is so freakingbrilliant. So i suppose we're equal now.Love hearing from you!

Bitter:My pusher! (that sounds likeyou're my drug-dealer, ha). but you know what imean. I promised an update today, and look at me! I"m updating! Thanks for the encouragement dearie.

Sprints 100: I always gets excited when people I don't know review my fics, cause I know they weren't doing their friend-ly duty. Glad you think my idea is clever...I have this bad habit of catching random things in the movie and sort of morphing them into elaborate storylines. Heh. Bad habit.

Without further blabbing...here's duo. I love reviews, honestly, they really jazz me up. :)

The next time I woke up I was lying in a bed in a large room with spotless white walls and tall, arched windows. It was bright, blindingly so, and my eyes ached if I kept them open to long.

"Here now, child, are you awake then? Open up those eyes and look at me."

A gentle, motherly voice caressed my ears from somewhere next to my bed. Reluctantly I opened my eyes wider. "Ah, yes, there we go. Lovely. How are you feeling?" The woman's black and white habit was all I saw.

A nun.

It took me a few tries to finally croak out a few choice words, words that made the woman beside me blush pink as a rose. She tipped a spoonful of broth into my mouth, no doubt to shut me up.

"Where am I?" The soup nearly scalded my throat, but I was determined to find out what exactly was going on. The nun smiled down at me.

"Oh, dear, you're in the Sisters of Mercy Orphanage."

"What?" I sputtered, "How the hell did I get here?"

The nun looked mildly alarmed. "You don't remember?"

If I could have, I would've reached up and smacked the insipid old bat. But my arms felt like lead when I tried to lift them. "No," I spat with as much sarcasm as I could muster, "I don't."

"A very kind pair of policemen brought you in about two weeks ago. They said they found you in an alleyway." She nodded gravely. "You were almost dead when you first arrived. Frozen solid, practically. And then you go and catch pneumonia on top of everything else... We almost lost you. Tell me, what were you doing outside at night, all alone, during the worst blizzard of the year?"

My head fell back on the pillow as memories wash over me like a tidal wave. Mikey's birthday. Harrigan's Pub.

Pete Conlon deserting me when I needed him most.

I was sitting propped up in bed, examining my trio of newly blue fingertips when Sister Mary Louise came bustling into the infirmary and threw open the curtains, allowing winter sunlight to flood the room. I scowled at the now-familiar profile: long black robes that whispered when she walked, a wrinkled, round face framed by more black, crowned by a white rectangle. In her hands was a steaming bowl of broth, which she set down slowly on the table nearby before turning to acknowledge me.

"Will this ever go away? And this, too?" I asked before she could open her mouth, touching the edge of my ear, because that had turned black-ish blue, too. Sister Mary Louise frowned at me.

"No, child. I've already told you. Frostbite is permanent," she said, her tone abrupt and somewhat harsh, a far cry from her usual maternal nature. All too quickly I realized why that was. "Well, Come on then. Where are those clothes I brought you?"

I rolled my eyes, recalling the dowdy graypinafore and whiteblouseshe had instructed me to dress in hours earlier. "Why can't I wear my own clothes?"

"Because," she said matter-of-factly, "your clothes were filthy rags. And they were soaking wet when you came in, so we had to take them off. We threw them away."

I sincerely doubted that. The Sisters of Mercy never threw anything away.

As I contemplated why exactly that was (because from the sparkling infirmary and soft sheets it seemed like the Sisters were certainly not lacking funds), Sister Mary Louise dug under my bed for the missing outfit. After a moment she reappeared, tossing a bundle of clothing on my lap. I looked at her, fingering the rough material. "Why do I have to get dressed?"

"Mother Superior wants to see you," she announced, pulling the blankets off of me and slipping my nightgown over my head.

I shivered slightly, feeling exposed in only my underclothes. "She does? Why?"

"I don't know, dear. Perhaps she is sick of you taking up space in this infirmary."

"So then let me go home. I won't take up no more of your space." This had been my request for weeks. A request that had fallen on deaf ears.

"Any." Sister was to busy buttoning my shirt buttons to look at me. I suddenly felt very much like an infant.

"Huh?"

"It's any more space, not 'no more space'. Honestly. Where did you learn such atrocious English?" She looked at me sternly, and I glared right back. After a moment of this silent battle, she sighed, knowing I wouldn't relent until the question was answered. "You can't go home, child, because you don't have a home to go to."

"Yes I do!"

"Rose," she said with an exasperated sigh. "We've checked. Your parents are dead, and your closest living relatives are in Chicago, and frankly, they were not very interested in taking in a child they didn't even know existed until now. You are our responsibility now."

"But Theresa Con—"

"Rose Nolan, stop this nonsense at once. Act your age."

A long string of very unladylike words were on the tip of my tongue, but I was distracted when Sister Mary Louise began to yank my hair back in a bun. "Ouch!" I shrieked, shoving her hands away, "I can do it myself."

With another grim look she obliged to this demand and backed away, turning instead to retrieve a pale pink ribbon that was hidden in one of the pockets of her robes. With a gentle touch, she tied it in my hair. "There. We want to look nice for Mother Superior, don't we?"

I made a face and scooted off the bed, slipping my stockinged feet into a pair of boots that were two sizes to big for me. Another lovely gift from the Sisters of Mercy.

"She ain't the bloody queen 'a England," I muttered as Sister Mary Louise began to lead me down a long hallway.

The nun was to busy murmuring prayers for my salvation to hear me.

Mother Superior's office was a large room, with dark, expensive looking wood paneling and a massive fireplace on the right wall. A thick carpet covered the floor, and a hulking desk faced me, it's surface covered with papers. I was staring, entranced, at the roaring fire that crackled to my right when I heard a door open and shut softly. Raising my eyes to the desk, I discovered that a woman was now sitting behind it, studying me with hard gray eyes that glinted behind half-moon spectacles. Like all the other women I had seen since I had gotten out of bed she was dressed in a black nun's habit, yet unlike her companions her dark uniform seemed to make her larger than life, huge and intimidating as she sat behind her fancy desk. An involuntary shudder racked my thin body, and for a moment we sat in silence, appraising one another with cold gazes.

"So you are the infamous Ms. Nolan I've been hearing so much about."

I immediately decided that I would not let her frighten me. "I dunno who you've been talkin' to, Mrs…ah…Superior. But I ain't infamous. I don't even know what that means." I smiled slyly as I caught an expression of shock flicker across her wrinkled face. She was obviously not used to people–children, especially–talking back to her.

But after an instant the expression was gone, and her eyes, like chips of steel, bored into me. "You will address me as Mother Superior, Ms. Nolan. And I don't believe I have given you permission to speak yet, so do not interrupt me again."

Now I was the one caught off guard. Sitting limply in my chair, my mouth hung ajar. The monster behind the desk seemed appeased by this.

"Much better. But close your mouth, child. It is rude, not to mention unflattering. You look like you belong on a Fishwife's cart."

My mouth snapped shut. She continued, a smile that had no hint of warmth to it twisting her lips. "I've called you in this afternoon because I wanted to talk to you about your future. Sister Mary Louise has informed me of your…current situation." she paused to rifle through a few papers on her desk. "Parents deceased, no relatives in the city, or even nearby, to take you in. Such a pity. There are so many orphans in the city these days."

I began to say something, but Mother Superior barreled right along like a locomotive, ignoring me altogether. She looked up at me suddenly, announcing, "it would be a blemish on myCatholicconscience if I were to simply release a young, helpless girl such as yourself back into those filthy, sin-filled streets."

I held my breath. I knew what was coming next. An orphanage stay for me until age eighteen. It might as well have been a death-sentence. My fingers clutched the arms of my chair as if it was a life preserver.

"So in order to save your dear soul from certain demise, I have made a decision."

I looked at her suspiciously. "Decision?"

She eyed me the way one might have contemplated a very annoying, very small insect. "Yes. Instead of remaining in the orphanage, you will be moved to the Convent."

I was utterly confused. "The convent? Why?"

"The convent is the only proper place for a young woman training to be a Bride of Christ to live."

My heart was pounding in my ears, and for a moment I tried to convince myself that I had heard her wrong. "I don't—I don't understand."

"What is there to not understand, Ms. Nolan? Records show you to be a properly baptized Catholic…your parents did that much, at least, before dying. From this day on consider yourself in training to be a Sister. A truly wonderful way to live your life." Mother Superior sat back in her chair, folding her hands across her lap and waited for my reaction with a sanctimonious smile.

The room began to spin before my eyes, and before I could help myself, I threw up all over Mother Superior's beautiful forest green carpet.

"And here is your room, Rose."

It was a week after my disastrous meeting with Mother Superior, and I was standing in the doorway of a low-ceilinged room, my eyes still a bit puffy and red from the temper-tantrum I had thrown earlier that day. Rose Nolan would not go down with a fight, no sir. I made sure the Sisters knew that this decision was a bad one on their part. A very bad one.

The room was as bare and uninviting as a prison cell. There were two large windows taking up the wall across from the doorway, a rather large and imposing crucifix hanging on the wall to my left, and three beds lined up like obedient soldiers against the right hand wall. I eyed them cautiously.

"Why are there three beds?"

My guide peered at me from out from under her habit. "Mother Superior didn't tell you that you had roommates?"

Shaking my head, I sighed in disgust and threw myself on the nearest bed. "No. I bet the two sisters had to do somethin' pretty awful to get stuck with me." This was getting better by the minute. My gaze wandered to the hulking cross adorning the wall. It was huge and dark and gruesomely detailed.

"Actually, they're not sisters. They're Novices. Two other girls around your age who are training for the Sisterhood."

"Wonderful. We can be just the best of friends."

The sister pursed her lips at my sarcasm and made a motion to leave. "They're out helping the Sisters with the orphans, I'd imagine. They'll be here shortly." She started to retreat from the room, then seemed to change her mind, leaning against the doorjamb. Her face was full of pity as she gazed at me.

"Try and be nice, Rose. It can only help." And with that she was gone. I could hear her rosary beads clinking as she made her way down the hallway.

Alone in the room, I found it impossible not to stare at that mammoth cross that was sitting up on the wall. Like a magnet it drew my eyes, and for awhile I found myself having quite a staring contest with Jesus Christ.

But the room was warm and the bed comfortable, and soon I was finding it hard to keep my eyes open; with a defeated sigh I snuggled down into the covers and fell into a dreamless sleep.

"Hey!" Someone was tapping me hard on the shoulder. "Wake up, will ya?" I opened my eyes and sent my best glare out into the dim room, toward whoever had the nerve to disrupt my sleep. Above me stood a girl, her sillouhette tall and slim in the weak light. I must have had slept for hours; the sky outside the window was a deep, dark blue, punctured every so often with twinkling, far away stars.

The girl kept poking me, and I quickly tired of this and smacked her hand away. "Relax, will ya? Jesus Christ."

She stepped back, lacing her arms across her chest. "That's my bed you're sleeping on." She paused, appraising me with dark eyes a bit more carefully. "You're the new girl?"

I sat up slowly, shoving hair out of my eyes. "Yeah. Rose..."

A new figure stepped out from the shadows, interrupting me. "Nolan, isn't it? Sister Bernadette told us you'd be coming." This girl, petite withpale blue eyes, turned to light a candle that was sitting on a short bedside table nearby.

"Um, yeah. That's me. What's your name?" I focused my questions on the girl by the candle. She seemed a tad more friendly than her scowling partner who's bed I had stolen, and the watery light from the candle had illuminated a kind face, one with a hint of a smile at her lips.

"I'm Rebecca, but you can call me Becky," she said, offering a hand. I took it slowly. One could never be too cautious with good-mannered people.

"And your friend?" I asked, tossing my head toward the sulking girl, who had since taken to leaning against the wall and shooting daggers with her dark eyes in my direction. "What's 'er name?"

"To the likes of you it's Hades," she spat, pushing herself off the wall and stalking over to stand next to Becky, the glare still on full-blast.

"Hades, huh? That's quite a name for a soon-to-be Nun, ain't it?"

Becky quickly intercepted my question. "It's not really Hades. Obviously. Her Christian name is Gabriel. Like the angel." She smiled again, an expression overwhelmed somewhat by the frown Hades' had going behind her.

"The angel, huh? Sure, ok." I rolled my eyes and got up off the bed. "Well, Hades, please forgive me for takin' a nap on your bed. You seem like the type of girl who's a little um…particular 'bout her space."

Before Hades could get out a retort, a bell sounded from somewhere downstairs. Her biting return interrupted, she settled with shoving me back onto the bed as she brushed past me and out the door. Once she'd gone, Becky reached down to help me back up, grinning.

"Oh Rose, you have no idea."

The hallway was as silent as a tomb as we made our way toward the staircase, and Becky looked nervous. "Oh, rats. Now we're late. It'll mean two weeks of kitchen duty, at least."

"Late…to dinner, you mean?" If I was going to live here, I figured I might as well learn the schedule. Rules would come later, if at all.

She nodded, saying, "dinner's every evening at five-thirty, sharp. Breakfast is served at eight o'clock, lunch at noon. All meals are taken in a vow of silence. Out of respect."

"Respect?" As we rounded the corner I lowered my voice a little, whispering, "for what?"

Becky paused to look back at me as we approached the dining room. "For—" she stopped, considering the question again. "Well I guess I've never really thought to ask." With an easy smile and an accepting shrug, she ducked into the large, silent room, and I followed suit.

The long table was already filled with Sisters, bent intently over their suppers, with Mother Superior at the head, taking note of my late entrance with angry, disdainful eyes.

Life in the Convent of the Sisters of Mercy wasn't all that bad, compared to what my life could have been like. I was guaranteed three good meals a day, a warm bed, clean clothes, and a roof over my head. But in gaining all these things I lost something more important to me than anything else: my freedom.

I was a prisoner, and Mother Superior was a warden comparable to no other. The woman ruled with an iron fist and a divine right, and no one dared to challenge her.

My days drifted by in a dull, tedious haze, and it didn't take long for me to realize what a bad choice it was, making Mother Superior my enemy. She seemed to quickly adhere to the belief that she could instill obedience and piety in me by assigning me the most thankless and tiresome of jobs, from mending clothing for the orphans to the ever popular kitchen duty, all in the name of saving my soul and improving my conscience. I imagine I spent more time in that kitchen peeling potatoes and washing dishes then any other place in that awful convent.

The worst part was that it seemed like Hades, my less-than-welcoming roommate, and Mother Superior were in cahoots with one another. One wrong step, one tiny little curse word, and there went Hades scurrying off to Mother Superior's sumptuous office, snitching on me like doing so would unlock the gates of heaven for her.

At least Becky was my friend, although I was wary even of her, despite her kind nature. My record with friends was not very outstanding, after all. Needless to say, I kept mostly to myself. And it didn't take me long to realize that doing such was not very amusing. Not very amusing at all.

I had been at the convent for four years.

Four years without stepping foot outside those rusting iron gates that surrounded the property.Four years without seeing Pete, or Jimmy, or even Theresa Conlon.

I was seventeen. Practically a grown woman. That was when Mother Superior thought up a new and inventive torture for me.

It had taken me about three months to figure out the process of becoming a full, professed nun, and I was relieved at the length of it, until it dawned on me that I didn't need to be a full professed Nun to be miserable.

The days, heavy with monotony, went in a blur. Everything was in grey-scale; the charcoal of the Orphanage uniform that I wore while attending classes as a Postulant, the colorless faces of the children who sat around me, blank eyed and terrified of the priests who literally beat our education into us. The somber black dress and veil that indicated my Novice status. The gray eyes of Mother Superior, glinting like steel blades as she assigned more menial tasks to encourage my obedience, to wear down my stubborn willpower. My world was devoid of color, restricted to the Convent and it's meager property, where it seemed to me like even the grass and garden vegetables were painted in watercolor, faded and dull and lifeless.

I was a Novice still when Mother Superior assigned me a new and creative punishment. She called it a "duty", but I knew better. There was no way she could hide it, no matter what label she stuck on it. To the likes of me, it was pure, unabashed, agonizing punishment.