It was getting dark. Spot, Mitts and Vito, three of the original five walked side by side. They had a purpose. They were going to retrieve their fourth. None of them had voiced their destination, but they all knew it. They would find their fourth where the fifth lay.

The graves were side by side. The turned earth was still dark and moist. Vin sat with his back against her headstone. Leaning his head back against it, staring up at the darkening sky.

"Vin. Youse can't sleep hea. C'mon let's go back ta tha warehouse." Vito said quietly.

Vin stared around at him, as if he had only just noticed they was there.

"Dis is all my fault." He croaked.

Spot sighed. People always seemed to want to take the blame when they felt bad about something, even when it wasn't their fault. He remembered Soap had said the same thing.

"No, it's not."

Vin shook his head.

"I was the one who pushed Soap on." He sighed. "I was the one who made him a target."

Spot's eyes found the other grave stove. Beneath the dirt, what was left of their friend lay lifeless and breathless. He wanted to be angry at someone; wanted to blame someone for what had happened. It was true that Vin had started it all. Mitts had brought them the information that they had acted on without thinking. Even he, himself, had left Soap's side.

He ran his hand down his face, sighing heavily. They were all to blame.

"I'm gonna disappear into 'Hattan." Vin said suddenly.

"What?"

"I ain't stayin'."

Spot's fists clenched involuntarily.

"I don't think I can walk by the bar every day."

Vin's hand reached out to touch the cold stone that marked the place where her head lay. He had wanted it to be warm and soft, like her, but it wasn't. He felt stupid for wishing it. After a long silence, when it became clear that Vin was going to stay like that until someone did something, Vito put a hand on Vin's shoulder again.

"Vin, if ya leave, all dis is gonna come crumblin' down. Scraps is at tha warehouse. Blue sent word he's comin'." Spot licked his dry lips. "Youse was second-in-command. We need youse."

Vin shook his head slowly.

"It ain't me dey want. It's youse." Vin met Spot's eyes. "Youse know it's true."

Spot swallowed hard.

"I can't do it alone." He said quietly, almost pleadingly.

"Youse have to." Vin said matter-of-factly. "Brooklyn needs one leader. A leader dat'll do right by her. Dat's what dis has always been about. If I stay, there'll be two and it's gotta be one."

"It was supposed ta be Soap." Spot whispered.

A slight breeze ruffled their hair and seemed to take the words away, blowing them on. None of them spoke for a long moment.

"But now it's youse."

The three boys stared at the fourth. There was truth to his words; weight to their meaning.

"It'll be like I neva existed in Brooklyn."

"People are gonna remember ya face; ya name." Vito murmured.

Vin shrugged.

"Youse know newsies, tha boys'll come and go. In a few years, no one will remember my face."

Spot stared at Vin. His eyes were distant; sad, but resolute.

"And as for tha name, youse can call me Jack Kelly from now on."

"Vin-"

"Jack Kelly." He corrected, with the tiniest of grins.

He held his hand out to shake Spot's as if they were meeting for the first time. Spot's eyes lit on the hint of smirk that twitched the left corner of his mouth. It looked like the shadow of his old friend shining through the haze of pain. Spot shook his hand.

"Youse gonna lead dem now. Youse gonna have ta carry dat weight."

"Why me?"

" 'Cause ya can."

Jack Kelly wheeled around and strode away from them. His hands in his pockets, whistling a tune they knew all too well.

Spot glanced to his right at Mitts. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, but he was watching Jack go with a satisfied expression. Spot glanced left at Vito. His eyebrows were knit and he was frowning.

"I'm goin' wit' him." Vito said suddenly. "Someone's gotta look after him."

He glanced at Spot and then Mitts.

"Don't look so serious youse two! He said 'Hattan. Ain't dat far away. 'Sides you know I can't stay away from tha tracks for too long."

He offered a hand to both Spot and Mitts, who shook.

"Plus, he's right, ya know. Youse gonna lead dem." He gave Spot one of his rare serious stares.

"I don't wanna lead dem." Spot answered truthfully.

Vito shrugged and turned to catch up with Jack. Then he hesitated and turned back.

"Oh, and while were makin' up names. Youse two can call me Racetrack from now on. I always wanted ta be called dat."

Spot grinned slightly as they watched Racetrack run after Jack, catch up with him and clap him on the shoulder.

"Dey'll be fine." Mitts said after a minute.

"Yea." Spot nodded. "I know."