Red tossed and turned in her sleep, sheets flying off the bed. She fluctuated between hot and cold spells, waking up several times, coughing like crazy. The fifth time she woke up, she saw the sun rising through the window. She silently groaned and just got out of bed, knowing she'd only get a few more minutes of sleep before Kloppman came up to knock on her door.

Red grinned as she dropped to the floor on silent socked feet. Even in her disillusioned state, she still had a bit of humor. She crept silently downstairs, fully dressed, to tell Kloppman she'd wake up the boys today. He willingly agreed.

The door to the guy's dormitory creaked open. A little red head peaked through the crack and grinned unrepentantly at the damage she was about to inflict upon the boys in the room.

"Goooood Morning Good Morning! It's grand to be on hand good morning! Good Morning toooo…you!" At 'you', she attacked. Defenseless and unsuspecting newsies were suddenly scarily serenaded then jabbed the exact spot that she knew would make them double over in suppressed laughter.

Blink almost bent in half trying to protect his stomach. Jack curled into a ball attempting to hide his feet from her probing pokes. But no matter where she jabbed Bumlets, he didn't react whatsoever. Finally, she pulled off his blanket and poured a bucket of cold water over his head. He shot up and hit his head on the top bunk, making Red hide behind her hand to suppress giggles.

When everyone was good and mad at her she ran out the door, evading several grabbing hands, and slammed it shut. Everyone groaned and reluctantly climbed out of bed, making a ruckus getting to the showers.

- - - - - - - -

"Fifty papes." At a glare from Blink, she flicked a nickel onto the quarter. "Fine. Sixty."

"I'll take seventy." Blink grabbed both piles and carried them out of the gates. Red ran to catch up.

"What in da woild are ya doin', Blink?"

He glared at her. "You'se sellin' wit me taday."

Despite her protests, he carried the papers over his shoulder all the way to Strawberry Fields. Finally, when they got to his spot, he dropped the papers into her hands and started hawking the headline. She made a disgusted look at him, reluctantly holding up her papers.

At a lull in selling, she grabbed his arm. "What da heck was dat?"

"Where'd ya get dat quarter?" he asked, easily evading the question.

"Tip yesterday." She shrugged.

"Ya seem ta be gettin' a lotta tips lately."

She grinned. "Hey, jist cuz I'm a betta sella dan some people I know…"

"Dat ain't it, an' we both know it."

"'Ey, I jist got back a few weeks ago. I ain't used ta dis foine high-livin' lifestyle."

"Why doncha get a doc…you kin afford it, cain't ya?"

"I don' trust docs. Promise me, Blink. Neva make me go to a doc."

"Why?"

"Look what they did fer me pap. Nuthin'. Jist let 'im die there cuz he didn't have kale. No. I ain't goin to no doctahs."

"I still think you need a doc." He crossed his arms over his chest.

She rolled her eyes. "Ya ovareactin', Blink. Lemme alone." She tried to avoid it, but coughed into her hand, hard.

"I ain't ovareactin', 'specially when I heah sumptin like dat, goily. Spit it out," he commanded, holding out his hand. She turned and spit into his hand, a large gunk of…well, gunk—coming out as well. She smiled revengefully.

"Thanks, I was wonderin' where I was gonna spit dat."

He grimaced at the blob and wiped it against his trousers. "Goin' on, dat kinda ting doesn't 'appen cuz you'se fine, goil."

Red just put a hand on his mouth. "Shut up and yell out yer headlines. The crowds are comin' back." Blink glared at her, but saw that she was right. He kept an eye on her during the afternoon rush, at one point staring in wry disbelief that she sold fifteen papers while coughing her lungs out. Several larger coins were sent her way. But he knew she wasn't faking. He could see she was flagging. But she kept going, not saying a single word, until about four in the afternoon.

"Blink, watch me papes." She ran behind a tree. He listened to her cough, starting to get more worried than he already was. But as she walked back a few minutes later, with her head hanging down, what he saw startled him.

"Red…you're…red." Her head shot up.

"Huh?"

He just pointed. Her face was slightly smeared and her hand was spattered with blood. She glanced at her hand and grimaced.

"Oh crap. Not again."

Blink exploded. "Not again? Whadda ya mean, not again?"

"Is there some on me face, too?" she asked, wiping the forenamed feature with a shirttail.

"Yeah. But—"

"Yeah, yeah. 'Whadda ya mean, not again?'" she mimicked, coughing anew, her signature sarcasm still fringing her voice. "Usually, Blink, 'not again' means it 'appened b'fore."

He sneered in anger at her negligence. "Ya been coughin' up blood b'fore, an' I don't know 'till taday dat ya even been coughin'? Dat's stupidity if'n I eva saw it."

She turned hardened eyes to his face. "Would ya raddah sell an' be sick or be kicked out onta da streets an' be sick, Sparky?" She placed her hands on her hips. "Choose da lessa o' two evils, Blink. I get by wit what I kin. Dis be why I don' sell da evenin's anymore." She turned away, disgusted, grabbing her remaining papes. "I'll see ya at the House."

- - - - - - - -

About eight that night, he sat in a circle of laughing boys around the fire in the House, feeling more anxious by the minute. When Red walked her face through that door it was going to get a good wallop. Jack glanced over to him.

"Blink. C'mere."

Blink reluctantly rose to his feet and walked over to Jack's chair. He stood with his hands in his pockets, feet about two shoulder lengths apart.

"Whadda ya want," he stated, eyes downcast.

"Ya seen Red?" Jack asked, still reading his book.

"No." Monotonous tone.

"You worried?" He still hadn't looked at Blink.

Blink glared at Jack, a grimace on his face. "Why should I be? She kin take care o' 'erself."

Jack looked up from his book. "Go look fo' 'er. If you ain't worried, I is."

Blink nodded and started toward the door.

"Don't hurt 'er, Blink."

He nodded, not looking at Jack as he pulled on his hat and slammed the door behind himself.

Jack turned back to his book. "Don't hurt 'er," he breathed.

- - - - - - - -

Should probly go to 'er sellin' spot foist, he contemplated as he walked down the street. Blink hated looking for people, he hated the dark, and beyond all that, he hated looking for people in the dark.

He passed the Distribution Center. The lone gates held shut with a lock gave him the creeps at night. He shivered and hurried on, around the corner, past the spot where Red used to live. He almost missed the small figure lying in the alleyway. (waaaay overused, I know. Where else is it gonna be? Middle of the road? Hey, wait a sec, good idea…)

(comic relief)

"Cut!" A crazed looking guy with a beret on his head came out from behind the camera. He was waving his arms and yelling into a megaphone. "Cut cut cut cut cut!"

Trey looked up. "Come on, we was jist gettin' to the good part!"

The director shook his head, crossing his arms. "No. We're gonna take it again, this time, RED will be in the middle of the road, alright?"

Trey sighed. "Yeah, boss."

(and return)

…He shivered and hurried on, around the corner, past the spot where Red used to live. He studied the alley, and finding nothing, crossed the street, almost stumbling over a large…thing.

Blink stopped to study the figure. As its features became more prevalent, his eyes widened.

Red lay facedown. Dried blood encrusted her hand and cheek. And she didn't move.