Author's Note: I saw that I hadn't updated in over two years, which horrified me—especially as this part was done. I just kind of assumed that it had gotten online. (Don't these things have legs and walk away?) Much like 'Miles to Go,' I'm determined to finish this, but we'll see what happens. I'm a fan of these characters and I want to get them to happiness/destruction/everything in the middle somehow.

Thanks to CBgirly2003, Bittah, rainbowspy, Bookie, wendybird1, Thistle, and Shot Hunter for reviewing the last part. Enjoy!

Rain was just beginning to splatter on their heads when Jack and Imogene hurried into the lodging house. Behind his counter, Kloppman raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar, pale and trembling figure at Jack's side. When Jack cast him an irritated, if somewhat helpless, glance, the older man had to hide a smile.

"Heya Kloppman," Jack greeted in a less than enthusiastic voice. "Dis heah's…ah…" He blinked in surprise, as he realized that he had never asked for the girl's name.

Imogene glanced up from her tattered boots and sniffled as she muttered, "Imogene…Imogene Gray."

"Yeah, ah, she's gonna be stayin' heah tahnight," Jack went on to explain at the sight of Kloppman's befuddled, concerned expression. "See, her bruddah's missin', kinda like all dose oddah kids, and I said we'd help her find him." Jack rolled his eyes at Kloppman, as if to add, 'although I got no idea what possessed me ta offah dat aid.'

Kloppman nodded understandingly, glimpsing the girl over his shining spectacles. "There outta be a bed free in the girl's bunkroom."

At that remark, Jack immediately wanted to smack his own forehead in frustration. Da goil's bunkroom! Hades is gonna kill me! He sighed quietly and although his expression remained stoic, he wondered how he could get himself out of such a mess. Well, da goils'll have ta deal wid her for one night. And it's jus' one night, right? How bad can dat be? "T'anks, Kloppman," he said, gratefulness illuminating his eyes, and tossed a coin at the counter.

Imogene's eyes followed the flashing coin as it rolled and finally settled on the counter. "What's that for?" she questioned softly.

The newsboy shrugged and moved towards the staircase. "Payin' for da night. A bit a night, pretty standard for a lodgin' house. Come on, dis is da—"

Becoming a statue, Imogene's dejected expression hardened. "You put down more than you need to pay," she informed him, as though he had made a careless mistake and needed her to point this out.

"Ya need a place ta stay, too, right? Now come on."

With the speed of a viper, Imogene whipped out a coin and slammed it onto the counter. "I can pay my own way," she practically hissed as she marched over to the staircase.

Shrugging indifferently, Jack led the girl to the second floor. Stubborn as hell, and twice as annoyin', he thought angrily. Maybe jus' one night is gonna be dat bad. He shook the idea out of his head, and tried to concentrate on his sympathy for her situation. Jus' keep t'inkin' what you'd feel like if Samantha suddenly disappeahed. And be real glad dat Kloppman makes shoah ta keep da boys and goils' bunks separate.

Imogene wrapped her dark cloak tightly around her torso as she followed Jack up the darkened staircase, as though hoping to become a shadow herself. Noise from the bunkrooms spilled into the hallway, reminding the girl that she had never been so close to so many young people. Every so often she and Jean would run across a teenager hitching a ride in the same train car as the siblings. On those occasions, she would nod solemnly at the young man or woman, and then turn her attentions to her own devices. Now, at the sound of so much young life, she was acutely aware of her red-rimmed eyes and hunched shoulders.

Like some weaklin' he had to pull off the streets, she thought, resisting the urge to scoff. Weak and scared and unable to take care of herself, let alone anyone else. Damnit, why did I have to go and cry right in front of him?

When the two entered the girl's bunkroom, both Jack and Imogene noticed a few curious eyebrows raise in response. The dice game on the far side of the room halted, with Racetrack's hand halfway to the pile of coins he had just won. The group quickly hushed, as each of the newsies noticed the new addition to the usual crowd.

Kid Blink's chuckle broke the tense silence. "Heya, Cowboy, new goilfriend ya got deah?"

"Nah, Blink," Jack said, attempting to sound as casual as possible and raising his voice so that everyone in the bunkroom could hear, "dis heah's Imogene. She's spendin' da night—her bruddah got lost, and I t'ought we could help her find him."

The newsies eyed each other curiously as they processed this bit of information. Generally, Kloppman preferred to reserve the bunkroom for newsies, not any street kid who ambled in off the sidewalks. If Jack had managed to get Imogene a bed, it must have been serious. All of the newsies wanted to ask if Imogene's brother had fallen to the same fate as those other missing children, but the sight of Imogene's anxious, suspicious face made them hold their tongues.

Hades, however, marched over to Jack once she got over her initial shock. Dragging him into an isolated corner, she hissed, "Is da smell of ink gettin' to your brain? 'Cause I know ya didn't bring her in heah wid a level head."

Expecting such a protest, Jack held up his hands challengingly. "What would ya have wanted me ta do, Hades? Leave her out deah in da rain, sobbin' hysterically because her bruddah's lost like a lotta oddah kids are?" When Hades studied a hole in her boot, he continued in a gentler tone, "Look, I know ya ain't thrilled wid da situation—and honestly, neiddah am I. She's one of da most annoyin' people in da world, but who else has she got? And besides, it's only for one night, right?"

"I guess." She scowled. "But if she starts insultin' me again, she might end up disappeahin' along wid her bruddah."

Chuckling, Jack nodded. "Okay, I won't hold it against ya. Just try ta leave her alone, all right?" When Hades rolled her eyes in response, Jack smiled gratefully at the newsgirl and went to join the others, who were still studying Imogene curiously.

Imogene's shoulders were hunched and her eyes were lowered as she stared at the room full of newsies. For a moment she considered darting into the hallway and disappearing in the rain; then she remembered Jean, who might be alone in that rain, or worse. I'll have better luck of findin' him if I have someone to look with, she reminded herself, but carefully kept her distance from the crowd.

"Dey ain't gonna bite," Jack practically hissed when he noticed her reaction to his friends. Imogene turned to stare impassively at him. Sighing, he went on, "Come on, I'll introduce ya ta ev'rybody." Dragging her forward a few steps, he nodded towards his friends. "On da bunk's Skittery, and Briar's next ta him, and den Snitch. Racetrack's da one wid da dice, and wid him's Spin, Cutie Pie, Boots, and Specs. Blaze and Cyanne are by da windah, and Dutchy's on da floor next ta dem. Dat's Gypsy, Kid Blink, Mush, and Holiday. And"—he cleared his throat nervously when his eyes came to rest upon one particular newsgirl—"I t'ink ya know Hades. And dat's Crutchy by da washroom…"

Imogene nodded slowly after Jack had finished his introductions, hoping that her eyes were not bloodshot and her hands were not trembling. "Hi there," she murmured, wishing that she could crawl into a corner and sob hysterically.

Across the room, Gypsy's forehead furrowed. "Where are ya from?" she inquired, curious about the girl's accent, somewhat like the Kentucky accent she adopted when angry.

"Louisiana," the dark-haired girl admitted after a second of contemplation. "New Orleans. Just outside of New Orleans."

A muffled snort managed to slip through Skittery's lips. "And what made ya come heah?" he inquired in a combination of confusion, pity, and derision. Briar smacked him smartly upside the head, but Imogene answered anyway.

"Work," she replied, voice trembling as she fingered the edge of her tattered black shawl, "and the last train out of town."

(((((((((This is a time and space break. I don't know why it's not picking this up))))))))

"Check his pockets."

At first, Jean imagined that he was still unconscious when he heard the rough, unfamiliar voices around his head. His aching arms and head brought him unwillingly to reality. He was being carried by two strong men, although, behind closed eyelids, he had no idea where he was or where he was headed. He was still too dazed to attempt to open his eyes, much less fight, so he listened to the voices as though listening to a dream.

"Do it yahself."

"Damnit, what's your problem? Ya used ta do dis for a living."

The second voice paused, and then continued in a vaguely hoarse tone. "Not like this."

"What's da difference?" the first man demanded, pouncing on the display of weakness. "Like anybody evah wants ya ta take what's deirs."

"Dis is different. Dese are kids."

Jean heard a contemptuous snort. "And takin' dem's any different."

"Just shut up and check his goddamn pockets, will ya?"

Not my pockets, Jean thought and moaned in protest. Not what I made all on my own today.

"Hurry up, the kid's waking up."

"Do ya wanna do it?" When there was no response, the first voice continued, "Den shut up." Jean felt a large hand in his pocket, and then heard a soft cry of triumph. "Not a bad haul." The man chuckled deeply and hoarsely, like Jean imagined a rattlesnake would laugh. "Well kid, t'anks a lot."

The next thing Jean felt was a rush of warm, stale air, and the cold cement hitting his already weakened body. He was grateful when darkness enveloped him once again.

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