Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies or its characters, they belong to Disney. I do not own Floaty or Katrina, they belong to DT. I own Mouse, Warrior, Gunslinger, Vixen, and Bandit.

(A/N: hi everyone, thank you all so much for the great reviews. Sorry this chapter took so long to be posted….It's been a hard few days. One of my pet rabbits, Mr. Man, passed away on Saturday night. :'-( )

Vampire Conlon was only a few inches shorter than his brother, his hair a darker shade of brown, and his eyes were gray with yellow and green speckles. The newsies could see the family resemblance in the brothers, but at the same time could see the differences. Vampire's face was a little longer, his nose slightly pointed, and an aura of hate and menace seemed to float around him like a cape. Like Spot, he carried a cane; however, his was topped with a silver snake. The cane was one of the few reasons newsies in other boroughs referred to him as Snake, since one never knew when or where he would strike, or how dangerous his attack would be.

"The newsies are playin' on trickin' us tonight," Vixen commented as she walked into the room, her hips swaying. To some, she was beautiful, while others mistook her for a lady of the night. Spot knew her as a spy who had tricked him for three years, making him think she was his trustworthy second-in-command, Chancy – when really she was Vixen, Vampire's girlfriend. Like Vampire, she gave very little care or concern toward fellow man kind as long as she got what she wanted.

"Are dey now?" Vampire unscrewed the metal cap of his beer flask and took a long swig; he offered it to Vixen who turned away. Unlike him, she preferred her mind to be unclouded by the alcohol.

"A few of the newsgirls are gonna pretend to be prostitutes, while da guys ah gonna be drunken dock workers who are goin' to try to trick our newsies into gettin' drunk."

Vampire snorted, "Me brother's an idiot."

Vixen crossed her arms, "I find it ridiculous we're warring wid him because of Emily Delancey. She's a Delancey, and I thought newsies and Delanceys were supposed ta hate one another."

"Says da girl who fell for Morris Delancey while me back was turned."

Vixen tensed when Vampire slowly turned and stared at her. The atmosphere in the room was chilling and her boyfriend often scared her with his eerily calm, cool, and collected behavior. She had seen him beat a newsie into a bloody pulp, wash off his hands, and go out for dinner afterwards as if nothing had happened. Sometimes she wondered why she stayed with him, but she already knew the answer to that one. Part of her still loved him, a small part of her, and she was terrified of him. If she attempted to leave Vampire, only Lord knows what he would do. When Emily had fallen for Spot instead him, the Harlem newsies had thought he would kill her. Maybe he did kill her and Dusty, and dat's why no one's ever found dem.

"I was tryin' to keep in da character of Chancy, she took chances, remembah?"

He snorted, "No, ya were tryin' to get back at me for fallin' in love wid Morris's little sister."

Vixen swallowed, that was partly true. When she had learned her boyfriend was pining for the youngest Delancey she had been angry and jealous. From that moment on she flirted with Morris until he finally courted her – and later during the strike, almost killed her.

"Vampiah!"

Vampire and Vixen turned. "What?" he snapped at his closest friend and second-in-command, Bandit. The short boy with the shifty brown eyes had gotten his name for being a pick pocket until Vampire got hold of him, made him into a newsie, and befriended him.

"Emily Delancey's back."

Vampire dropped his flask, "Where is she?"

"In Manhattan, wid her brothers."

Vixen stared at Bandit. Emily Delancey was alive. She was back. This could be good or bad, and part of Vixen didn't want to stick around to see the outcome.

The collar and front of Spot's favorite blue shirt was soaked in sweat, he had tucked his dark gray hat into his trouser pocket, and he was exhausted. After the leader's meeting had ended, he had sold papes as if there were no tomorrow. Anything to avoid returning to the lodging house; he was afraid that one day he'd step through his bunkroom door and find Floaty cold and still. He placed a sweaty palm onto the doorknob and paused for a long moment….Maybe Floats would be awake? He pulled open the door and held his breath, hope made his heart pound faster. Walking into the dimly lit room he noticed Sport asleep in the rocking chair with Katrina in his arms. Glancing towards the bed his heart broke, Floaty was still unconscious.

He carefully picked Katrina up and placed her into her crib, amazed that she hadn't woken up. Smiling, he leaned over the crib's railing and placed a feather light kiss on her cheek. "I love ya, baby." Turning, he jumped almost ten feet high.

"Damn it, Jack, don't do dat!" Spot sighed and sat down on the edge of his bunk, "What ah ya doin' in Brooklyn at dis time a'night?"

"Sorry Spot," Jack shrugged, "It was an emergency." He walked to the head of the bed and looked down at Floaty. "How's she doin'?"

Spot stared at him for a long minute, "What do you think, Jacky-boy?"

"Yeah, well, Spot….Bein' bitter ain't gonna help things any. I came over because Blink just told me some news….News that may help ya feel better."

"What news could dat be?" Spot untied his shoe and half heartedly listened to his friend.

"Emily Delancey's back….She's wid Oscar and Morris."

Spot froze and took a minute to process the information, "You sure?"

"Oh yeah, Blink walked her back to da distribution center. She even introduced herself to him as Emily Delancey, only thing is she was wearin' some real odd clothin' and she doesn't remembah anythin' but her name."

"How da hell does someone forget deys entire life but remember deys name?" Spot asked and shook his head, that didn't make sense to him.

"Sometimes…..Something so bad happens….They don't want to remember…."

Spot glanced at Jack, and Jack glanced back at him. Turning, a smile crossed Spot's face; Floaty was looking up at him through half opened eyes.

"Hey you…" he stood up and gave her a long and gentle hug before sitting on the side of the bed and holding her hand. "How ya feelin'?"

"Strange….My head feels like a balloon but it hurts at da same time….How are you? Is Katrina ok?"

"I'm doin' good, Floats, even better now dat yer awake. Katrina's fine, she fell asleep on Sleepin' Beauty over dere," Spot smiled; his shoulders relaxed and the sparkle returned to his eyes as he nodded towards Sport, who was snoring so hard Spot was surprised that the paint wasn't peeling off the walls. "I was worried sick about ya….We all were. Look, Jacky-boy came all da way from Manhattan to see ya."

"Heya Floats," Cowboy tipped his hat.

"Hi Jack, Spot's a liar." Floaty chuckled, "But a kind one. I'm glad Emily's back, is she alright?"

"Except for da memory loss she's fine." Jack shrugged, "Blink talked to her and said she was speakin' crazy about 'air planes' and 'subways' – whatever dose things are."

Floaty shrugged, "Who knows….At least she's safe. How about you talk to her? See if she can help you end this war wid Harlem?"

Both the Brooklyn and Manhattan leaders looked horrified.

"You said if you could find you'd talk to her…." Floaty started, confused.

"No, no way." Spot shook his head, "She's a Delancey, Floats."

"Whose two older bruddas put Crutchy in da refuge, soak us newsies whenever given da chance, and one of whom almost killed you!" Jack added.

"So all that 'I'll find Emily Delancey and see if we can end the war with Harlem' was just a bunch of hot air? I don't believe that, Spot. You've already said she was different from her brothers…..So the moment she's away from them, even if it's for a minute, talk to her. If she can end the fighting, stop people from getting hurt, then what's to lose? Even if she doesn't talk to you, you would have tried and you can keep trying….And if you can't get through, have Blink talk to her."

"For someone who just woke up, yer talkative," Spot smirked after a minute.

Floaty blushed, "Well, I've been asleep for hours and I'm not the least bit tired."

"Good den, cause we're gonna need yer help," Jack exclaimed. He explained the plan to her to send some newsies into a bar where the Harlem newsies often gathered. "Da oddas are down stairs."

"I can help the girls get into the roles…."

"No," Spot exclaimed as he put on his old shoes, which were scuffed, muddy, and worn….What people would expect a dock worker to be wearing. He, Jack, Gunslinger, and the other leaders would sit in the darkest corner of the bar to watch the progress of their con.

"Spot," Floaty said softly and slowly, "I'm fine."

"If you were fine, ya wouldn't have been unconscious!"

"Spot, let me help. Because you know I will find a way around you."

The Newsie King fell silent, "Fine. You can teach dem what to do, but den it's straight back to bed!"

Floaty smirked and saluted, "Sir, yes sir!"

Emily sat down on her bed, her shoulders ached, her back hurt, and her arms felt ready to fall out of their sockets. She never knew sorting and handing out papers was so much work. It was a long and dull job handing the papers to her 'brothers', but she was glad she wasn't having to carry the newspapers all around Manhattan and trying to sell them. After allowing herself to rest for a minute, she knelt down in front of her nightstand and pulled the second drawer open and grabbed her jeans. Looking through the pockets, she finally found the folded up note she was looking for.

"Night, Em!" Oscar called from outside her door.

"Night, Oscar!"

"Glad yer home, Emily!" Morris called out.

"Me too!" She replied, trying sound truthful. I can't wait to get home, to 2010. There's got to be a way!

"Night." Weasel grunted.

"Night Uncle Weas," Emily replied and waited for a few minutes until she heard doors close. She folded the jeans and put them back into the drawer, then turned her attention to the note. She carefully unfolded it, hoping not to tear it and trying to make as little noise as possible. She didn't want the Delanceys coming in and taking the note from her. This may be my only way home.

She finished unfolding the note and began to read it; she recognized both her grandmother and grandfather's handwriting.

Dearest Emily,

If you are reading this, then you are in my home sometime in the 1900's. I assume you have met my older brothers, Oscar and Morris. I know they tend to appear…harsh, but truly they are good men who pretend not to be. Perhaps you will see them differently than I, since I am their birth sister. I need to tell you the truth, Emily. I was born in 1881in Germany; my parents were poor farmers and they wanted Oscar, Morris, and myself to have a better life. I never knew my parents, but Oscar and Morris have told me stories; mother was in poor health and father was facing jail for not paying his taxes.

When my Uncle Wiesel told my parents he was immigrating to America, he agreed to take us children with him. He raised us by himself. He raised Oscar and Morris to be tough, strong, and despise anyone who gets in their way. Uncle Wiesel, or "Uncle Weas," as we called him, had no idea how to raise a girl – so I was raised with the same upbringing. However, Oscar and Morris raised me as well; and there were certain times that they would let me spend the night with a singer named Medda. She would teach me more about being a woman. If you meet her know that she'll never judge you. However, I must warn you, I loved to sing, and I promise you that she will have you sing in Irving Hall one day. She'll probably want you to sing our favorite song we always sang to the newsies called 'Off to the Races Again' (I've included the song lyrics at the end of this letter).

Now that you know more about me, I will tell you what happened that night….

As Emily read the letter, she felt as if she were living the experience through her grandmother's eyes. First, she was walking over the bridge with a newsie named Dusty, who turned out to be her grandfather. Then, as he walked under the shadow of one of the Brooklyn Bridge's support beams, he vanished into thin air. Emily's grandmother had been terrified and hoped the newsboy was playing a trick on her; he wasn't. A minute later she had felt a hand on her shoulder, she turned to find a tall man in strange clothing, his face was painted with different shades of greens and browns, and he was bleeding from his shoulder. He wanted to know where he was and how he had gotten there. The only other thing Emily Delancey had noticed of him was his last name: Kloppman.

Horrified,she had backed away until she tripped over a small crack on the bridge and fell over the railing. When she woke up was in a hospital and the year was 1944; she had been found by one of the women riveters who helped to make the battleships in World War II. After a year of living near the ship making factory and working as a riveter, she left and tried to find her way home. It was during 1945 she found Dusty, he worked as a handyman. The two agreed to stay close together and married five years later. Then, almost ten years later in 1954 they had their first son. My father, Emily thought to herself and kept reading.

I tried desperately to find a way home, but never could until one day your father was on the internet buying tickets for an antique ferry tour. I thought perhaps it was the ferry that brought me back in time, but I knew that was impossible. There were no ferries running at that time of night in 1897. However, I knew the water had something to do with it, then I realized something about my locket….It's cover is fake. If you pry the cover off, you'll find the cover is actually made of turquoise, I don't know if my parents knew this when they put it around my neck as a baby. I think it and the water is what brought me into 1944….I don't know how your grandfather arrived back in time. But if you are back in the nineteen hundreds, then I know either the locket, the water, or maybe as your grandfather suggested the magic of the bridge, is what brought you back.

I know it is selfish of me to send you back a time you are unfamiliar with, but I need you to say goodbye to everyone for me. But first, please get to know them, you may like the 1900's better than 2010. If you don't, use the same method to get home that brought you here – put on the locket and get back onto the ferry. I wish you the best of luck, your grandfather and I love you so very much….I hope you will forgive me one day, Emily.

Love you forever,

Grandma Emily and Grandpa "Dusty"

Emily swallowed, that was it? Her grandmother had sent her back in time to say goodbye? She inhaled a deep and shaky breath and couldn't stop herself from crying. Her grandmother had never been able to return to 1897, so what hope did she have of returning to 2010? Damned right you're selfish, Grandmom! Shoulders shaking with silent sobs, she scrunched the note into a ball and threw it to the corner of the room. She was angry and scared. She didn't want to be in this time, away from her family and brother. She wanted to be home, safe, in her own time!

"I don't know Spot, dey just weren't there!" Mush shrugged, he and other newsies from Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx, and Midtown were just as baffled that the Harlem newsies hadn't arrived.

"Damn, dere's only one reason why dey wouldn't be here, Jack." Spot scowled as he paced around the dock outside, "Vampire found out about our plan. Someone's spyin' on us."

Jack paused and glanced to the other leaders. "Well, we'll just have ta find whoever it is, now won't we?"

"Don't move!"

The leaders and the newsies jumped and watched as Bandit walked forward with one of Gunslinger's newsies trapped in a headlock.

"River! Let her go!" Gunslinger growled, "Put her down, Bandit."

"I don't think so. If yer all good, she'll be back to you in one piece…" he smirked and tightened his arm around the struggling blonde newsgirl.

"What do ya want, Bandit?" Sport sneered as he stepped in front of Spot.

"Outta me way, Sport," Spot muttered and took a step forward. Bandit tightened his grip on River's neck even more, almost cutting off her air supply. Spot stopped in mid-step and threw his hands into the air. "Just don't hurt her."

"Pathetic," Vampire chuckled as he walked out of the bar's shadow. "Me brother, the tough king of Brooklyn, puts his hands in the air and freezes at da sight of one little newsgirl about to get hurt. Ya know nothin' about real leadership or power, Spot." He spat on the ground in front of his brother and looked at the leaders and the few newsies surrounding them. "Ain't dis amusing? At one sign of danger you all crowd togedda like a herd of scared animals. But dat's all you all are, cowards."

"You gonna get to da point, or are you gonna keep monologuing?" Spot snarled and glanced towards Warrior; once again he seemed too calm. He just hoped the Queens leader was true to his calm before the storm fighting style, and he wasn't the spy.

"I monologue as much as you do, brudda." Vampire paced, "How's Floaty?"

Spot flinched, "Awake."

"Oh good," he smirked, "Dat means she'll see me killin' her!"

"You bas…."

Vampire glanced at Bandit who began to tighten his arm to the point River was gasping for air.

"Stop!"

"Den clean up da language, I demand respect, I don't wanna be talked too like a piece of trash," Vampire snarled and gestured to Bandit. The other Harlem newsie loosened his arm enough so River could breathe.

"What do you want?" Gunslinger growled, "So help me, Vampire, da moment he lets dat girl go I will kill ya!"

"You kill me? I don't think so," the Harlem leader laughed. "Ya see, if ya even try somethin' real bad will happen."

Spot stared at him.

"You should be more careful on who you leave your Queen with, Spot." Vampire's lips twitched as if he were attempting not to smile.

"Floats….." Spot paled, "What did ya do?"

"Let's just say Floaty, Wolf, and Hatter ain't alone in da lodgin' house." Vampire shrugged.

Spot inhaled and struggled to keep calm, "What is it ya want," he reached for his cane.

"Ah-ah, Spot," Vampire scolded. Spot put his hands to his sides and sneered. "You want to know what I want? Hmm…Well, for starters ya humiliated, maybe even dead. Dat would be a good start. I want Brooklyn. I want da crown. I'm da rightful King of New York…And soon, I'll be gettin' me Queen."

"Ya leave Floa…"

"Floaty?" Vampire scoffed, "She's your queen, I wouldn't want dat loud mouthed pest. Nah, I'm talkin' about da woman I love….Emily Delancey."

"Yeah, Vampire, yer a king alright….Da king of da rats!" Gunslinger scowled.

Spot watched as his brother turned to Gunslinger, fire in his eyes. He saw a distraction and leapt forward, he pushed Vampire away. At the same time, Warrior suddenly dodged forward and had somehow removed Bandit's arm from River's throat. The two struggled before Vampire gave an ear splitting whistle. Bandit turned and joined his leader, who was backing away from the other newsies.

"Here's yer warnin' Spot….I've been easy on you all….I haven't hurt many people yet….But dat's about to change real fast. And I won't stop until I'm da Newsie King!" Vampire shouted as he ran off with his second-in-command.

"Rivah, you ok?" Spot dodged over to the newsgirl. Her hand was over her throat and tears were falling down her cheeks. She gave a small nod.

"What are we gonna do, Spot?" Warrior placed his hands on his hips, his face bright red from anger.

"We can't just defend ourselves and let dat lunatic brother of yours run wild!" Gunslinger snarled as she knelt beside her newsgirl and friend.

"I agree wid da others, we gotta do somethin'," Mouse said as he dunked his bandana into the ocean water, rung it out a little, and wrapped it around River's neck to help soothe the pain Bandit inflicted.

Jack paused, "We gotta do somethin', and we gotta find out wat dat 'something' is and fast."

Spot paused, "I think I already know….We need ta get to Emily Delancey before me brudda does. First thing tomorrow we tell da Delanceys what's goin' on….I gotta talk to her. You all may not like dis….But we're gonna have to find a way to ally ourselves wid da Delanceys, all three of them."

"Why? What will dat do?" Gunslinger wrinkled her nose.

"Dat's insane! Da Delanceys hate us just as much as yer brudda does!" Mouse argued.

"Have ya lost yer mind?" Warrior asked.

"Shut up! No, I haven't! But somethin' ya all don't realize is this: In me brudda's mind, da only way for him to be da Newsie King is for me to be dead. He will kill me if he's given da chance. Since he believes dat about bein' da king, he probably thinks da same thing about the queen…..And dat puts me entire family in danger…..Floats and I are da first 'king and queen' to have a princess."

The newsies paled.

"He wouldn't hurt Katrina?" Jack seemed stunned and disgusted.

"I don't know, Jacky-boy….I can't put anythin' past him at dis point….I just can't."

"I know a place we can take Katrina," Mush said softly. "I met dis girl, her mother runs an orphanage. Floaty and Katrina could stay dere safely until all dis is over."

Spot nodded, "Can ya talk to yer friend tomorrow Mush? I need her to take Floaty and me daughter into deys home as soon as possible. But, is it safe dere? Can me brother get to dem?"

"Considerin' dat girl's father is da chief of police…."

"Yer friend's wid Chief Monahan's daughter?" Warrior's eyes went wide.

Mush blushed, "Not really friends, just acquaintances. She likes to ask me questions about what it's like bein' a newsie."

"Alright…." Spot paused, "Harlem is off limits to everyone, ya understand dat? We can't just march in dere….Da only way to get me brother off da streets is to get him in jail….Dat's da only way dis is goin' to stop."

"But how?" Gunslinger asked in frustration, "He's careful to hide everything he does so he can't get in trouble."

"Yeah, he's smart, but he's gonna slip up. I know me brudda, Gunslinger. Da first step is taking what he wants da most: Emily Delancey. Wid da Delanceys on our side we'll have even more help since deys have friends who hate da Harlem newsies."

"Let's just hope they're actually willin' to talk to us, Spot." Mouse frowned, "What time should we meet at da distribution center?"

"You all won't be dere," Spot replied, "It's gonna be me, Wolf, Jacky-boy, Mush, and a few others. If everythin' goes well I'll send a few of me newsies to tell ya. Alright, let's get River home, I'm goin' back to me Lodging house, I need to check on Floats and Katrina."