It was a couple of months before Blink was able to save up enough money for a train ticket. It had been especially hard for him to save because every now and then, he'd see Evie in the street with her husband, and he'd have to go blow two or three dollars getting piss-drunk just to forget. But now he had the money, and while he wasn't anywhere near ready to leave his friends and his life behind, he knew it was now or never.

He'd spent the night before celebrating and saying goodbye to his friends, and had just gotten rid of the terrible hangover it had produced. Now, he stood in the lobby of the Duane Street Newsboys Lodging House, shaking hands and giving hugs for the last time.

"You sure you gotta leave, Blink?" A wide-eyed Les Jacobs looked up at him, sadly.

"Yeah, I'm sure, Les." Blink ruffled Les's hair, looking down into those big, helpless brown eyes. "I'm sorry. I'll be thinkin' about you, though."

"Where are you goin'?"

"I'm not sure yet. I was thinkin' maybe New Mexico, or maybe even California. Someplace warm, and far away."

"Are you ever gonna come back and visit?"

That question tore through his heart. "Um... maybe. Maybe someday, if I get real rich workin' out West, I'll come back and visit you. Okay?"

"Okay, Blink." Les wrapped his arms around Blink, squeezing tight. It took all of Blink's strength not to break down and cry.

Race and Mush walked over to Blink, each clapping a hand on his shoulder. "I'm gonna miss you guys," he said, his voice getting a little thick. "But I promise I'm gonna learn to write real well and send you guys some letters, huh?"

"Sounds good, pal," Mush said, pulling him into a hug.

"We'll be watchin' the post." Racetrack shook his hand, then pulled a long cigar out of his pocket. "I bought this for ya... it'll give you somethin' to do at least for a little while on the train, and when you smoke it, I want you to think of me, okay?"

Blink laughed, loud and strong. "Whatever you say, Race."

After saying his goodbyes for what seemed like the eight-hundredth time, Blink set out with one of Race's cigars in his pocket, Skittery's walking stick in hand, Spot Conlon's beloved key around his neck, and one of Jack's Western Jim novels in his ragged suitcase. He couldn't have thought of better going-away presents. Taking one last look back at what he'd called home for longer than he could remember, he headed off in the direction of the train yards.

When Blink was just a few blocks away from the train station, he heard a commotion in an alley. Knowing this would be his last opportunity ever to do so, he walked down it to check out the source of the sound. A grinning prostitute strolled past him, giving him a knowing nod. He peered around a doorway to find a very familiar man buttoning his trousers.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The man looked up. "What the hell do you think I'm doing?" William Post straightened his clothing, wiped lipstick from his mouth with the back of his hand. On a closer look, he smiled. "Oh, I remember you. You're Evelyn's little street rat, aren't you?" He laughed. "Here to sell me a newspaper?"

"Ain't you got a wife at home to take care of what that hooker just did?"

"I have a wife, yes, but the damned wench won't let me anywhere near her since our wedding night. I don't worry about it much, though, seeing as I'm not missing a whole lot with her." He shrugged. "She's just not worth the trouble of trying."

Something inside Blink broke. He dropped his suitcase and swung the walking stick at William, hearing a satisfactory crack as it landed across his teeth. Before William could even think to fight back, Blink had pounced on him and was beating him with the stick and his fists.

William's head collided with the brick wall behind him, and he slid down to the dirty ground, unconscious. Blink, however, didn't take this as a sign to stop, and continued beating him while he was down. It was several minutes before Blink stopped and let his vision clear, and it was then that he realized William wasn't breathing. Blink felt his chest, his throat; there was no heartbeat to be found.

Panicked, Blink scrambled back, staring in awe at William Post's lifeless body. He'd promised himself he'd given up on Evie, and now, he'd just killed her husband. In a rush of adrenaline, he grabbed his suitcase and ran toward the train station.

Sinking into a seat on the train, Blink leaned his head against the window. The conductor passed by, stopped, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right, son?" The elderly man had a kind face that reminded Blink an awful lot of Kloppmann.

Blink stared at the man for a few seconds, then nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm fine now."

As the train pulled out of the station, Blink stared down the road he'd run from, at the bleak, painful past he was leaving behind, until it disappeared from sight. Then he looked forward at the tracks, and his brand-new life in the sunshine of the West Coast.

He realized then that he had gotten what he'd wanted: Evie was no longer a married woman, and he was finally free. Free from the pain of his first love, from the brutal streets of New York, and from the scrappy, struggle-to-survive life of a newsboy.

Things were going to be okay.

A/N: You're all going to hate me, but this is where our story ends. Not every story can have a happy ending... but not every unhappy ending has to be completely tragic. I'm happy that this story falls comfortably between the two. I know the ending seems kind of abrupt, but that's the effect I was going for. I want to thank you all for reading. Your reviews and your support have kept me going very strong throughout this story, especially one of you in particular - you know who you are. I hope all of you have enjoyed this story in its entirety, and I really hope you'll come back to read more of my work. Thanks again, guys. And keep carryin' the banner. -Layne