Disclaimer: I own nothing in this story except for the characters of Rose and Caity. The prominent newsie characters, such as Kid Blink, Jack Kelly & Medda, are copyrighted to Disney, while the story is loosely based on Gaston Leroux's novel, The Phantom of the Opera

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POINT OF NO RETURN

Love. Lies. Murder.
Nothing more than a tragic tale of a disfigured newsboy, a wealthy young man and the vaudeville star they both loved.

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Chapter Two
Think of Me/Angel of Music/Little Lotte

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She finished her final note with flourish, holding it a count longer than even Caity normally would have done. As the cheers and catcalls of the crowd erupted around her, Rose smiled and bowed demurely, the rush of performing coursing through her. She waved out into the audience and, under the spotlight, it was easy to see that her cheeks were still flushed from the stage fright that plagued her momentarily at the start of the song. Her hazel eyes scanned the patrons hastily but to no avail. Medda was not there.

Preoccupied with searching out her aunt Rose was oblivious to the two sets of eyes trained on her: an adoring pair gazing down from the rafters and a mutinous one just off to the side; Caity had felt up to watching her understudy perform and, from the looks of it, was not happy with the performance – or the audience's reaction to it.

Shoving aside Medda's assistant, Caity waited for the curtain to drop before approaching Rose.

Or, better yet, she tried to approach the girl. However, once she got past Toby, she found that she was alone on the stage – Rose had exited from the other side.

Caity placed her hands on her hips and scowled. First the backdrop came crashing down during her last number – now she had been upstaged by Medda's brat? What exactly was going on at Irving Hall?

Suddenly a chill swept over the singer and she found her hands no longer on her hips. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms to fight the wave of cold, Caity dropped the scowl and looked upward. Not for the first time did she feel that someone was watching her from way up high.

---

Stepping off of the stage, Rose, still looking for her aunt, did not halt until she walked right into someone. A smile crossed her face when she saw the smirking face of Rae Kelly, a vaudeville extra employed by Medda. With long blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, the petite girl, twenty-something though her stature denied her age, could be one of the stars of Irving Hall. Rae, however, was content in appearing in various skits and stage work to earn money. Having been living off of the street for most of her life, the money she made at Medda's was enough to garner room and board at a nearby apartment complex. Of course, though, Rae never spent her time there – she was almost always found in Irving Hall, either working or spending the night in one of Medda's backrooms.

Rose smiled up at the older girl before pushing her curls out of her eyes. "Hello, Rae. Didn't see you there."

"Of course not, Rosie. Not with those stars in your eyes," Rae teased before grabbing Rose's arm and leading her into the back area of the Hall.

Rose allowed herself to be brought backstage but when Rae began to lead them towards the backrooms, she shook her head. "Can we go get some air?" she asked, jerking her head towards the exit.

Rae shrugged, her long blonde braid resting on her shoulders as they moved. "Sure," she answered simply. She dropped Rose's hand and pushed open the back exit. "Hurry," she added, and walked down the steps that led to the outside exit.

Rose hid her giggle at Rae's pace – regardless, Rae was always quick. She assumed it was all the years served as selling newspapers in Manhattan, as well as running from the police; Rae had never gotten along with authority figures.

Her giggle caught in her throat when she followed Rae outside. The weather had dipped greatly reminding her that it was winter and the orchid dress she was wearing did nothing to keep her warm. Crossing her chest and hugging herself for body warmth, Rose grinned at Rae for the second time. The older girl, clad in a simply blouse and boy trousers – the clothes she wore when her on-stage work was done for the night, seemed oblivious to the cold. Instead, she was waiting for Rose to speak.

"Damn, it's cold."

Rae looked sternly upon Rose's innocent expression and couldn't swallow her laugh. "And put so eloquently," she added.

Rose opened her hazel eyes, and action that helped only to further her aura of innocence. "Do you expect any less of me, Rae?"

"I guess not – though, I'll tell ya, I never knew you had a set of pipes like those," Rae answered, one of her eyebrows rising in a quirk.

She felt her cheeks grew warm and wished the sensation would travel across her entire body. "Yeah, well," she began, and knew that her face was blushing even darker, "Medda needed a singer to cover for Caity, and she made me do it. I just hoped I did good enough."

"Good enough? Damn, Rosie, that was amazing! I tell ya, If we had known that you could sing like that, we would have told Medda to fire Costello ages ago," Rae replied, her nose wrinkling in distaste at the mention of Caity; there was no love between the pair.

"Oh," she answered quietly, willing her face to grow less crimson. For some reason, Rose grew unusually embarrassed at the mention of her singing voice.

"'Oh'," mimicked Rae, though the glint in her eye showed she was less than serious, "I just want to know where you learned to do all that."

Rose looked over at her friend thoughtfully. She opened her mouth to say something but, as if she thought better of it, closed it. She did this several times until Rae thought the girl was impersonating a fish. However, before Rae could voice such an observation, Rose was able to speak. "You know, Rae, I'm not too sure. I just started singing one day when I was alone in my room. When I was done, I could almost hear applause – I know that it sounds weird, and it happened just after I got here those years ago, so I could be making it all up now – but it made me think that maybe I could do it. Sing, I mean. I've been singing to myself whenever I got the chance, though this is the fist time I've had such an audience."

It was Rae's turn to look slightly confused. She wanted to remark on the imagined clapping, but, uncharacteristically, kept quiet. If hearing phantom cheering kept Rose confident enough to go onstage and sing, let her be slightly deluded. As long as it got Costello out of Irving Hall, she thought to herself before squeezing Rose's shoulder. When she felt the coldness of the flesh, she gestured to the door. "Come, Larkson, let's go in. It is kinda chilly out here."

"Whatever you say, Kelly," Rose answered with a slight roll of her eyes.

Kelly. Just like that patron Aunt Medda was gushing about earlier…

"Hey, Rae," she began, following her in through the exit, but pausing on the stairwell, "I know that your surname is Kelly – do you happen to know a Jack Kelly?"

Rae froze, her foot resting on the top step. "Jack Kelly? By what misfortune do I have to hear that name again? I thought he went out West?"

Rose shrugged. "I don't know – Aunt Medda said that the reason I had to perform tonight was because of some rich hot-shot called Jack Kelly. Seems he used to be a newsie a couple years ago, and the pair of you share a name, I thought you might have heard of him."

Rae turned to face the exit as she stuck her nose up, a nasty look crossing her face. "Yeah, I know him. Real ass he was back then, can I only say that I hope he changed. I hear money does that to ya."

Rose nodded. "Medda was hoping that he might share some of his money with the Hall."

"You can never tell with him, though. Even when we ain't have more than two pennies to rub together, Kelly was always out looking for himself," Rae answered. "But, I'll say this – he used to love this place. Big fan of your aunt, he was."

"Aren't all the men in New York," Rose teased, before reaching up and pushing Rae forward. "Come on, I'm beat. Are you staying here tonight?"

Rae nodded. "I guess, especially since Medda seemed to disappear. Someone's gotta make sure that you don't hear no more mysterious noises in your room."

Rose blushed again, before following Rae out into the back are of the Hall. Maybe it was a mistake telling Rae about that…

---

"Rosie?"

For the second time that night, Rose heard knocking at her door. She grimaced slightly at the sound. Having just said goodnight to Rae, she wanted nothing more than to change into her nightgown and go to sleep. However, it seemed like Medda had different ideas. "Rosie, let me in, please."

She removed her second shoe, the first already lying at the foot of her bed. She placed them both under the mattress frame before beginning to shuffle towards the door. She paused when she something resting on her desk caught her eye. For the second time that day, a simple rose adorned with a white ribbon was placed on her dresser. She knew it to be another simply because it's predecessor was floating lazily in small vase on her night table; Medda had placed it there for her after she had agreed to perform that night.

The knocking went unnoticed as she picked the rose up. As quickly as she handled the flower, she dropped it. A single thorn bit into her thumb, leading a trail of blood to drip down the digit. She placed her thumb in her mouth, sucking gently to stop the bleeding. She glanced down at the offending rose before she remembered her aunt.

Quickly, Rose stumbled over to the door, pulling it open, just in time to trip over her shoe-less feet. She fell forward and found herself caught by a pair of strong arms. Surprised that she hadn't landed on the floor, Rose remained in this awkward position a beat longer than she should have before struggling to her feet. Medda, who had been standing next to the pair of arms – which, incidentally, were attached to a man, reached under her arms and helped her regain her balance. "Rosie," she began, stepping into the room and gesturing for the man to follow, "this is Jack Kelly."

A faint blush came to Rose's face as she looked up at the man. Tall and tanned, his handsome face smirking, he wore a dark suit, complete with a cowboy hat that covered his thick brown hair. She could hardly control her staring, especially after he bowed in front of her. As a friend of Medda's, Rose had assumed him to be much older, yet, the man seemed hardly over twenty-three – though every air of a wealthy gentleman, albeit new wealth, surrounded him, nonetheless.

"Rosie," he said after checking his reflection in the dresser mirror, "I must say that was one hell of a performance."

Her blush deepened; she didn't even notice it when he called her by her nickname. "Why, thank you, Mr. Kelly."

"You're welcome, Rosie. And, please, call me Jack."

"Thank you… Jack."

Medda smiled knowingly at the tension that seemed to have filled the small room. "Rosie, dear, Jack asked me to introduce the two of you to each other after your performance. He was quite taken with your singing," she added.

Jack laughed heartily. "I'm sure Medda remembers how much I used to love watching the closer at the Hall. It's one of the things I missed the most about New York after I moved out West."

Rose nodded, lowering her eyes demurely. She remembered what her aunt had said about Jack Kelly becoming a patron; disregarding Rae's less-than-flattering comments about him, Rose didn't think it would be a bad thing to see more of the man around Irving Hall.

Medda noticed the air of quiet that huddled around her niece. She nudged Jack in the side with her elbow before speaking. "Well, I think I hear Toby calling. Jack?"

"I'll be right behind ya, Medda," he answered, catching the hint behind the poke. Medda nodded once before stepping outside of the room. Jack rolled his eyes at Medda's tactlessness as he addressed Rose. "It's so nice to be back in the City, but I seem to be without a companion. Would you care to accompany me tomorrow night during the Hall's performances? Medda seemed eager to give you the night off, granted you perform the closing number tomorrow night. What do you say, hmm?"

Rose lifted her eyes up in surprise. This man was not asking her on a date, was he? Surely Medda had convinced him that her niece would be a sweet companion during his stay.

Either way, though, Rose found herself unable to deny his request. Shyly, Rose nodded.

A broad grin crossed Jack's face. He tipped his hat before stepping out of her room. "Til tomorrow then, Rosie."

"Til then… Jack."

---

It had been a stupendous evening. With a simple cut of a chord, Caity had been dispatched. With Medda's reluctant assistance, he was assured that Rose would secure the role of closing performer.

And, the young dear had risen to the occasion magnificently. Wearing a silk dress whose pastel color offset her own delicate features, he had been hard-pressed to focus on her voice rather than her beauty. In the middle of the bridge he had actually shut his one good eye so to resist other temptations. And he had been rewarded – her voice was exquisite.

He had assumed that the stage fright he had detected from her early on in the song would have resumed when the crowd cheered and that she would return to her quarters for the night. He was surprised when he observed her leaving the Hall with Rae. Rae. He remembered Rae – she had been kind to him before…

Disallowing thoughts of the past to cross his mind, he left the rafters and climbed down the rope that led to the small cove between Rose's room and a second spare room. Not shortly after her arrival as Medda's ward, he had installed a special two-way mirror so as to watch her sing. At least, that is what he told his conscience as he kept near-constant vigils behind the glass. Even to one so distorted by pain as he, he remembered the social standards. It was seen wrong for a man his age to leer after a young girl.

However, Rose was not a young girl any longer. And, unfortunately, as he viewed through the mirror when Medda brought that man along to her niece's room, he was not the only one to notice.

He had just clasped the mirror shut, leaving a token of his affection behind for the singer, when Rose returned to her room. Through his position on the otherside of the mirror, he saw Rose's puzzled expression at his gift. He felt for her when the thorn pinched her delicate skin and grew furious as he watched Medda enter the small room, a handsome man wearing a cowboy hat following shortly behind. The man had made quite the impression on Rose when he caught her as she fell; he nearly gave away his hiding place by reaching past the swinging mirror and grabbing Rose out of the man's arm. When the man paused to look into the mirror after bowing in front of Rose, he was able to catch a glimpse of the man who was to become his rival in the singer's affections; with a start, he recognized him – and he was glad that the gasp and growl he emitted were not heard by the room's occupants.

Cowboy was back in town – and he had asked his Rose out on a date.