Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. All other characters belong to their respective creators.

Chapter 06. The Future and the Past

"Wait, hold the elevator!"

Upon hearing the cry from the lobby, he kicked out his foot and the elevator doors responded grudgingly, sliding back open with a low groan. Irish Flare came scurrying in - surprisingly quick, too, for someone who just a moment before was battling through the violent downpour outside while wearing incredibly high pumps. It was a wonder how anyone could maneuver around in the cruel footwear that was the style these days. But Irish, long-time practioner of trend-setting fashion, pulled those heels off with admirable grace.

Drenched, she wiped back strands of her raven hair from her face and tried to straighten her black blouse and blazer which clung uncomfortably to her skin. She wanted to kick herself for succumbing to her friends' party invitation last night—surely, had she not gone, she would not have slept late, woken up late, forewent checking the weather outside, and left the apartment this morning in such a hurry without an umbrella.

It was a fun party, though, she compensated reluctantly.

"God, I hate it when it rains," she mumbled to herself. Irish looked up to thank the person who held the doors for her. "Skittery," she said, surprised. From the way his brown eyes flitted away from her and the way he jammed his hands in his pockets, she knew he had been watching her. She swallowed and managed a smile. "Hey."

He nodded, staring at the doors. "Hey, IF."

"How are you? Awful weather, isn't it?"

"Fine. Yeah."

Irish almost sighed from his stiff responses. She wasn't blind to how strange he'd been acting in recent weeks, but she tried again anyway. "I haven't seen you in a while. You should drop by HR more often," she said amicably. Then, after a thoughtful pause, she added, "like you used to."

There was a flicker of some indiscernible emotion in his eyes, and Irish's hopes surged. Then, his eyes fixed on the elevator buttons, he became cool once again. "I'll see."

Hopes dashed, Irish became quiet until the doors opened on her floor. "I'll see you later, then," she said, smiling, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice.

"Later."

Irish Flare waited until the doors closed before turning back and listening to the elevator continue up to the Lab. She couldn't help but think there was something wrong…. After a moment, she shook her head. Maybe she was just looking into nothing—there wasn't anything wrong with Skittery, nor with their friendship. Yes, it was true they hadn't seen each other much lately, but perhaps he was just busy; after all, he was the only IT technician in the building. And, alas, it wasn't like Skittery earned his moody reputation for nothing. Half-convinced by the reasoning, Irish made her way to the Human Resources office.

"Miss Irish Flare, not looking like herself today," Dutchy announced teasingly, as Irish entered and answered Corky and Polaroid's morning greetings. Dutchy knew Irish as the type of person who never had a strand of hair out of place, but the storm was too much for even her to handle.

"Not now."

"Yes, ma'am."

She was just about to enter her small office—one she shared with Justine, the insanely anal head of HR—when, with a change of heart from a burst of curiosity, she whirled around to face Dutchy.

"What do you think of Skittery lately?" she asked before she could stop to think.

Dutchy was taken aback by the sudden and seemingly random inquiry, but only for a moment. "He's a stupid prick, as usual," he answered gaily.

"I'm serious."

Dutchy obliged. "Then, just the 'as usual' part. Why?"

"You don't think he's been acting strange?" She bit her lip pensively. "Distant?"

"No. Again, why?" said Dutchy.

"Nothing," she answered quickly, and took off towards her office.

Dutchy shrugged. Speaking of Skittery, he thought. "We haven't seen the guy up here in a while."

"Who?" asked Pie from his desk.

"Who else?"

"Ah. Yeah, he could use a good run around, I think."

"I like the way you think," Dutchy said with a mischievous grin. He stretched, cracking his knuckles. Opening his instant messaging program, he clicked on Skittery's name. Then, carefully placing his fingers upon the keyboard, he began to type.

thedutchster: you better get up here

Was that urgent enough? Dutchy wondered. He knew it wasn't when Skittery finally replied.

prodigy24: why?

Dutchy knew he had to pique his interest; Skittery was already suspicious of the HR office because of all the false calls Dutchy and Pie had reported. Skittery was a damn know-it-all when it came to computers (as if the screen name wasn't obvious enough of that fact) and no task, despite being the only IT person on hand, seemed to disconcert him. So they made up wild science fiction stories about technology going haywire to persuade him to try and stump him. Why? Because for one thing, pissed off Skittery, glum Skittery, relaxed Skittery was common, but frazzled Skittery was a rare sight, and it was worth seeing. Second, pranking him was the only way they got the fella to HR these days. Dutchy figured Skittery was busy, but if he had time to play Solitaire for hours, then he had time to visit his HR friends. And with that logic in mind, Dutchy figured he was doing Skitts a favor.

thedutchster: pie's computer crashed
prodigy24: uh huh.
thedutchster: the screen is completely black and there's a picture of some rabbit thing in the corner
thedutchster: you think someone hacked into his computer?
prodigy24: no.
thedutchster: then what else could it be?
prodigy24: I just got in, all right? I've got some work to do.
prodigy24: I'll see you guys at lunch.

Damn it all, Skittery had figured out their agenda. And, Dutchy thought with a sigh, he's in a bad mood.

thedutchster: prick. get your ass up here. I'm serious
thedutchster: pie's throwing a fit. He just chucked his mouse at me. You sure its not a hacker? This rabbit seems like a hacker signature or something
thedutchster: shit the screen just went blue
thedutchster: its like the freakin matrix!

Skittery took a while to get back to him, and Dutchy was afraid he decided to ignore his messages. But then:

prodigy24: I'll be down in a minute.

Victory. Dutchy leaned back in his seat with a smug look, his arms crossed behind his head. He glanced at his watch and began counting down. Bounding out of his seat, he walked over to Corky and Polaroid's cubicle.

"Hi Snorkel Cork, Polaroid the Android," he greeted. "Wanna see me predict the future?"

Polaroid gave him a curious look while Corky excitedly responded, "I didn't know you could see into the future."

Dutchy grinned and showed them his watch. "In exactly… ten seconds, the IT Guy is going to come running in through those doors."

Dutchy led the countdown. Precisely after "one," someone came rushing into the room. But it wasn't Skittery. Instead, it was a tall and lanky curly-topped kid with bushy eyebrows. As if this Not-Skittery character wasn't enough to throw Dutchy off, he was even sporting a goofy, wide grin. Who is this kid and what the heck is he smiling about?

"Wow, Dutchy, that's amazing!" Corky whispered in awe.

"Someone called IT?" the kid said.

"Yeah…" Dutchy answered slowly. "Where's Skitts?"

The kid gave a dumb salute in response. "The name is Snitch, reporting for IT duty." When Dutchy just stared at him blankly, Snitch continued. "I'm an IT intern. Skittery sent me up here to fix Pie Eater's computer."

"That little smartass," Dutchy muttered, imagining the smirk on Skittery's face. "Thanks, Snitch. You can take a seat over there," he said, motioning towards the couches in the corner that served as the waiting area.

Snitch was obviously confused. "But what about the computer…?"

"Just… wait over there for a sec," Dutchy said, trying to think. He knew he couldn't send Snitch back down, for Skittery would surely send him back up again if Dutchy called for his help. He had to hold the intern hostage in the meantime. He sat back down at his computer, frowning. His instant message box was blinking.

prodigy24: how's it going?

Prick, Dutchy thought.

thedutchster: snitch is working on it
prodigy24: good.

Dutchy waited a good five minutes before typing a response.

thedutchster: crap
thedutchster: snitch says you gotta see this

Exactly a minute and a half later, another curly-topped kid appeared in HR, asking if someone called for IT. This one was named Itey. Dutchy sat him down at the couch, too.

thedutchster: man no one can figure it out
prodigy24: give them some time. These aren't simple fixes.

Stubborn prick is probably just sitting around playing Solitaire. It was time for some drastic fibbing. And Dutchy knew just which button to push.

thedutchster: Justine found out
thedutchster: she's giving IF hell right now.

Dutchy didn't use this ploy often, because the more often he used any single method, the more wary Skittery became of it. Dutchy didn't know exactly why this tactic worked so well, but he did have a nagging suspicion—a suspicion he kept to himself, unless he never wanted to see Skittery in HR again. He waited a full minute for a reply. When none came, he began to type another message; just as he was about to hit "Enter," though, a whoosh! came from the door.

Skittery. He was grasping at the door jambs, catching his breath. He brought with him his emergency messenger bag—filled with installation CDs and various software—a small toolbox, and a flashlight.

Dutchy and Pie jumped from their seats, arms raised high victoriously. They gave each other high fives and came round to greet their friend. Skittery took one quick look around, and he knew he'd been fooled yet again. Shoulders slumped in aggravation, he wheeled around to return to the Lab and came face to face with Irish Flare. She was just returning from the ladies room, where she went to dry herself after dropping off her things in the office.

"Skittery?" she said, eyes wide in surprise.

"Skittery!" Dutchy and Pie exclaimed. "Come have breakfast with us."

"IF," Skittery acknowledged curtly before allowing himself to be dragged off by his two friends.

"Irish Flare," Snitch, still sitting on the couches, said dreamily.

"Idiot," said Itey, still sitting next to Snitch, rolling his eyes.

Dutchy released the intern hostages, telling them to go take a well deserved break from work—even though they hadn't even started the day's work. Both Itey and Snitch stood and while Itey made to move, Snitch remained rooted to the spot.

Itey waved a hand in his face. "Hello?" He followed his friend's line of sight and saw Irish Flare at the end of it, whom was staring after the trio of employees now at Dutchy's cubicle.

"Hi, Irish Flare," said Snitch, the adoration evident even in his voice.

Irish turned to the interns, realizing they were there for the first time. "Oh, hey there."

"My name is Snitch. I'm an IT intern," Snitch introduced proudly.

"Hi, Snitch," she said. She sensed the awe in his voice and, a bit uncomfortable by his rapt attention, took a step towards her office.

"Miss Irish Flare!" Snitch yelled out suddenly, which made Irish jump and everyone in the office stare at them. "You're soaking wet! Did you get caught in the storm? Don't you have an umbrella?" he asked dramatically, obviously concerned. Itey smacked his forehead, ashamed of his friend's lack of self-respect.

Irish politely excused herself and scampered into her office. The sound of Justine's nagging voice was heard almost immediately, as she piled on the day's tasks on Irish. Irish rapidly took a seat and began to work, jotting down all of Justine's instructions.

Snitch sighed, looking longingly into Justine and Irish's office, and Itey clapped and grasped his friend's shoulder. He pushed Snitch out the door so they could return to the Lab.

When Dutchy, with narrowed eyes and a stupid smirk Skittery couldn't figure out, asked him why he refused to visit them lately, Skittery immediately changed the subject to the rumors going around about a second Bring Your Kids to Work Day Jonathan was supposedly organizing. It got the two HR guys protesting and yapping nonstop, and Skittery took himself out of the conversation for just a moment, gazing in Irish's direction…

Last Year, August

4:56 PM.

Skittery clutched at the pair of tickets in one hand, the other tapping impatiently and nervously on the keyboard. Then, carefully, he reinserted the tickets into his backpack, making sure they didn't wrinkle. He began putting the finishing touches on the finance report spreadsheet, confident he could finish the task in the next four minutes. From the corner of his eye, he saw his fellow interns, David and Specs, both getting ready to leave. He made a show of having trouble with the report, knitting his brows and sighing once in a while.

"That must be a hell of a spreadsheet," Specs said, leaning over his cubicle. "You almost done?"

Skittery shook his head, jaws set. "You guys go ahead," he said, typing rapidly.

"You sure?" asked David. "We can hang around for a bit. Play a round of ping pong…"

"Nah, I'm fine," said Skittery. "This might be awhile."

"All right. Don't work too hard," Specs said, teasing.

Skittery waited until they were out of the office and on the elevator before he hastily shut down the computer and began packing his things. He was the only person left in the office. He threw on his tan lightweight jacket, slugged his backpack over his shoulder and slipped out of the Finance Office. Skittery powered off down the hall to Human Resources. He hoped he didn't miss her…

He had been walking so quickly that, upon reaching the doorway, he nearly collided into her as she stepped out of the HR office. They both jumped back in surprise, then laughed at themselves over the near accident.

"Hey, Skittery," she said, nudging him in the arm playfully.

"Hey. You taking off for the day?"

"Yeah, finally," she sighed. "How about you? Leaving early for once?"

"Just finished," he said. After a brief pause, he asked, "So, are you going out tonight?" He knew Irish liked going out for drinks as they had gone out several times as a group, with several other interns. He scratched the back of his head, suddenly all too aware of how much he sounded like a bashful, doting schoolboy.

Irish Flare didn't seem to notice, though. "No," she answered disappointedly. She loved going out after work to relieve the stress of the day. In addition, she was recently having some boy problems and desperately wanted to vent. Each and every one of her girl friends, however, had bailed on her for some reason or another—most excuses having to do with plans with the boyfriend. Irish had been thinking she'd have to go home and spend the rest of the evening frustrated and bored out of her mind. She wondered if Skittery would want to go out for one or two drinks—they had become good friends throughout their summer internship, so maybe he could even enlighten her as to the workings of the male mind. She was just about to ask him if he was busy when her phone started ringing. She took one look at the caller ID and sighed. Speaking of boy problems, she thought.

"Sorry, one second," she said to Skittery and flipped open the phone. "Hello?" she answered nonchalantly. "Hi," she said, trying her best to sound unenthused by his attention. "No, no plans today. What?" she shouted."How? Those tickets sold out the first day!" She listened to him boast his own genius and the great lengths to which he went to procure the tickets. Then she listened, appalled, as he practically demanded she meet him at 34th street by six o'clock. The nerve of this guy! "I don't see why I have to go anywhere with you," she said icily.

It was always hot and cold with him. He hadn't called her for an entire week after their first date several weeks ago. Said he had been busy with work, like she wasn't. Then he called her every day and acted like a really nice—if not slightly possessive—guy. She had no idea if they were still just dating, or if he wanted to commit to a relationship, and it was all just very confusing. Irish wasn't particularly one for regulations, but this guy seemed to completely ignore all the unsaid rules of dating and relationships.

He was very firm about meeting at six. Irish stubbornly held her ground as well. Skittery leaned his head against the wall, patiently waiting for her to hang up.

Irish Flare began to weaken. He was telling her how many hours he spent looking for these tickets after she had casually mentioned them on one of their first dates. He was softening, too, asking her to please accompany him tonight. Hot and cold, Irish thought.

"Okay," she said finally, giving in, but her lips widened into a delighted smile; to be honest, she really wanted to go to the concert—she had been talking about it for months. "I'll see you at six. Yes, fine, I'll let you buy me dinner," she said, shaking her head at how charming he was being, and feeling like a very spoiled but very happy Queen.

She closed her phone and apologized to Skittery for making him wait. "Sorry, that was… this guy, I'm sort of seeing," she explained.

"Oh," was all he could say, crestfallen. He recovered quickly. "So, um, you're busy tonight, huh?"

"Yeah, it seems." She groaned. "I just can never figure out what he's thinking," she blurted. "That Spot Conlon. He's lucky he got those tickets or I wouldn't even think of seeing him again," she mumbled, even though she knew in the back of her mind that this was just hot air.

Skittery frowned, his brows snapping together in consternation. "Spot Conlon?"

"Yeah," she said. "Do you know him?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, he's a friend of mine."

"Really? Well, can you please tell him to get his act together and stop being a tease?" When Skittery didn't answer, she placated him with a grin, explaining that she was just kidding. Irish glanced at the clock in the HR office and let out a gasp. "I have to go," she said. "You're done, right? Want to walk to the subway together?" she asked.

"No, I just remembered I have something to finish up back in the office," Skittery said, a bit lamely than he intended.

She gave him a fierce frown. "They work you guys too hard in Finance. We're just interns! There is no reason we should be staying later than the paid employees," she said resentfully.

"Ha, yeah."

She punched his arm lightly. "Don't stay too late."

"I won't."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She bid him goodbye and rushed towards the elevators. She waved at him once more before stepping into the lift, and he waved back feebly. The doors finally closed, and he let out the heavy sigh that had been building up inside him.

Skittery stood just outside of Human Resources for several minutes, leaning against the door as he took in the office setting, the afternoon sunlight streamed in from the windows. All offices appeared strangely alien when they were empty like this. His eyes stopped at Irish's small and cramped corner desk, the surface littered with dozens of scraps of scribbled notes. A small, melancholy smile tugged at his lips, but it disappeared as regret and disappointment overcame him.

He dug into his backpack and pulled out the two tickets. Skittery held them for a while, thinking of all the time he spent trying to find them after finding out how disappointed she was when the concert sold out. He tore them in half, then, and tossed the pieces into the wastebasket.

Skittery headed for home.

It was still raining, hard. The summer downpour was unforgiving today. Irish Flare wasn't looking forward to going outside again, after the fiasco this morning, but it was almost five o'clock, and she was desperate to be out of Justine's reach. Irish was also unusually tired today, as Justine had her running around the building all day, and she couldn't wait to go home and collapse on her bed.

She took one last look out the hallway windows and trudged back to Human Resources. Most people had left already; understandably, people were trying to avoid the inevitable heavy traffic due to the terrible weather. She entered the office and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Justine had checked out. Irish set her handbag on her desk and tossed in her phone and notepad, straightened her blazer, tied her long hair into a neat bun, and braced herself for the deluge. It was at that moment when she realized there was something on her desk that didn't belong to her. She had been so exhausted she didn't even notice it sitting there at first, but there it was, purposely set in the middle of her desk:

An umbrella.

Author's Note: Who left the umbrella for Irish Flare? I shall leave you to your own conclusions for now. :)

Thank you everyone for the feedback on the last chapter!
Adren - I want to jump into this make-believe world, too. Who wouldn't want to work with these boys?
Elizabeth95 - Thanks so much! Glad you're enjoying it so far.
Acorn - Department store supply room horror stories? I'd like to hear them!
Repeat - I'm glad the last chapter made you happy! For me, that's what makes writing this story worthwhile.
Eavis - Thanks! Hopefully there will be other good chapters to come.
Stress - I'm so relieved that you like your character! It's always been difficult for me to write other's characters (especially when putting them in such semi-ridiculous situations) so it means a lot!
Song For A Rainy Day - Wouldn't want to be rid of you - your reviews always make me laugh! I've never worked at a publishing company, but I did look up job and internship positions as part of my little research. :)