Author's Notes: Thanks to kaitinsq swindler and stress for the feedback on the last chapter. Really, I wouldn't be sitting here trying to make the random bits and pieces in my head work if it weren't for everyone's kind words of encouragement (especially since I did put this on hiatus…). So yes, like this story's (still temporary) title, thank you!

Disclaimer: I do not own the movie Newsies, or any of the characters from it. Disney laid claim to them before I had the chance. I still love ya, Disney.

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Chapter Six
Reflections

"Time to go," Ellie said. She strode towards the group in what she hoped was a purposeful stride. She felt a nervous twitch in her calf. Maybe it was a little too purposeful?

… What am I doing?

She broke through the crowd of surprised girls. "Come on," she said to Francesca. Did Ellie just see a flicker of relief in her eyes? Couldn't be, Francesca hates me. And I don't particularly like her. So… what am I doing? What kind of stunt am I trying to pull?

"Who the hell are you?" the leader asked furiously.

She was tall. And she was angry. Even in the darkness, her eyes flashed an icy blue behind wisps of choppy dark hair. Her face was narrow; her thin lips were twisted into a snarl. Beneath her eyes were dark shadows which hinted at a lack of sleep and unrest, adding to her menacing façade.

But there was no turning back now, her mind registered. Her instinct commanded every nerve in her body to refrain from showing weakness.

"This idiot's bodyguard, apparently," Ellie muttered. She did not bother to stop and look at her, seemingly unthreatened by the girl with the knife in her hands.

In one swift motion, the leader held the knife right under Ellie's jaw.

Good god, I'm stupid. Her heart drummed inside her chest. Her mind raced at a similar pace.

"You betta mind yer own business," she warned. Her expression changed from vicious to uncertainty; she must've been taken aback by Ellie's smile.

"You must really like him to go through all this trouble," Ellie said softly so that only the leader could hear. She grabbed Francesca's arm and pulled her out of the circle.

Please, let this night end…

The young man raced to Francesca's side. He was supporting Francesca, who was trying to recover from being held at knifepoint. The three turned their backs on the group and walked away, towards the narrow street.

Ellie looked back when she heard a rush of footsteps. The group was rapidly coming towards them. The leader must have given the command. And this time, they all held weapons.

Ellie pushed the couple forward. "Run," she said as she glanced back again. They were not far behind. "Now!"

The three raced through the streets, their steps reverberating through the air. In their frantic states, they took a wrong turn and got themselves lost, coming to a dead end.

Francesca was panting. "What are we going to do?" she whispered fearfully.

I don't know… I don't -

"You two stay here," Ellie ordered.

I'm insane.

She dashed out of the dead end street, stopping right in the middle where the two streets crossed. Her breaths came in short gasps; adrenaline kept her alert, made her feel lighter.

The girls spotted her. Ellie ran up the street and made a left; she did not know where she was going. She skidded to a stop.

The leader stood directly in front of her, gripping the knife in her hand. Without a moment's hesitation, she raised her body and slashed down on Ellie's left upper arm.

Searing pain.
Ellie jerked awake. She blinked her eyes several times as the image of Blade slowly dispersed. Gradually, the haze lifted enough for her to become aware of the lumpy pillow underneath her head and the mattress that cushioned her body.

Where was she? Some girl's lodging house, she tried to recall. Mush and Blink had guided her here last night (much to her dismay, there was more walking). To her relief, the pair had remained relatively silent during the trip. Ellie sensed that she had jarred the newsboys when they asked about that Blade. It had struck her as odd – how exactly was that Blade associated with the newsboys? But it was not odd enough to force Ellie to inquire further. She had been focused on one thing only and that was to seek shelter for the night. Ellie could not exactly remember how she had made it into the bed in which she lay – she had been teetering collapse when the trio had entered the Lodging House.

The sky had turned a shade between purple and blue; the sun would rise soon. She was awake now, but a familiar, painful feeling still lingered. It wasn't her arm, she realized vaguely, twisting her head to the side and staring blankly. No, the dream had caused this feeling; funny how dreams can conjure revelations that a fully conscious mind can not even acknowledge. Or perhaps, refuses to acknowledge.

A heaviness had settled into her chest; a desolate apathy numbed her senses. Ellie closed her eyes and sunk deeper into the mattress.

Emptiness.

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The spider was either daring or just plain stupid. The insect slid down from its silken web on the overhang and froze, suspended in the air in front of her face. She blew the hair out of her eyes, reached for her back pocket and pulled out a box of matches. Lazily, she lit one match and held it under the spider, which sprung back up towards its nest. Waste of a match, she thought bitterly. She had wanted to watch it burn. Shifting her position on the crate on which she sat, she reached for the small knife that she always carried. It was her charm, her protection, her weapon. She lightly fingered the makeshift leather pouch that contained the blade. The sun was low on the horizon and for the seventh straight night, sleep had eluded her. Her mind had constantly been producing a whirlwind of thoughts, she had been on edge, restless and irritable, itching for some form of revenge. And just when she thought she was about to relieve that itch and find some peace, that girl appeared.

That was what occupied Blade's mind now. Just thinking about the interceptor made the muscles in her body tense and her fingers to curl into a tight fist. That girl had foiled her plans of revenge against the traitor, and so mutilating her seemed to be the next obvious course of action. But something was stopping Blade. Anger was replaced by unease and a laugh escaped her lips, a sort of disbelieving scoff. The damn girl had actually left an impression on her. She had the guts to smile at her, to try to rattle her. But Blade was not fooled, because in that short encounter – in the few words that were exchanged, in the ten seconds that the girl and Blade tried to stare each other down – she knew everything about her.

"Hey, you're up early."

Blade turned her head slightly towards the voice. Beth. "Couldn't sleep."

Boastful Beth was not a particularly intimidating name unless one knew the reason for the ambiguous title. Beth was, in Blade's view, a meaty piece of work and one of the more hot-tempered members of her circle. When a guy at a small bar restaurant once flicked her the finger, Beth only did what she deemed appropriate for the situation. She cornered the bastard, cut off the guilty finger, and placed the bloody mess in a jar. She still showed it off constantly.

"We better get goin' soon," Beth said. "I don't think that old hag likes us," she said with a smirk.

The old hag, Mrs. Henderson, was the owner of the Queens Home in which the girls stayed the past several nights. Henderson was a frail-hearted woman, easily manipulated because of her nervous tendencies and thus an easy target for Blade and the girls.

"Get the rest of the girls up," Blade ordered. "You girls are goin' huntin' today."

Beth smiled. "For what?"

"For Francesca Richardson," answered Blade. "And her little friend."