Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies or any of its characters, they belong to Disney. I own Emily Delancey and her grandmother.

(A/N: Hi everyone, thank you all so much for the great reviews and story and author adds! This chapter mainly focuses on Emily and her brothers. The next chapter will have more of the newsies in it, I promise. :-) Also, if you go to my profile page and look under the Fanfiction Trailers section, you'll find the link to "The King and I" fanfiction trailer.)

Fear coiled tightly in Emily's stomach like a snake ready to bite, she was standing on the Brooklyn Bridge. Her heart pounded as she recalled her grandmother's story of how she fell over the bridge's railing. Taking a deep breath, she looked around for anyone who may help her…But the only person who could have helped her – her grandfather – had already disappeared. Taking a deep breath, Emily reached for the bridge's railing; she'd walk back to Manhattan, back to her grandmother's brothers. Suddenly, a warm hand landed on her shoulder; turning she prepared to scream….But the scream became trapped in her throat as relief flooded through her. The newsboy, Blink, stood behind her with a kind smile on his face.

"Need some help, miss?"

Emily calmed and smiled, already she felt safe in his presence. There was something about him that made her feel everything was going to be alright. How could one feel that way for someone they didn't know?

Then, as suddenly as Blink had appeared his disappeared. Suddenly Emily found herself balancing on the railing of the bridge, her arms wildly swinging as she attempted to keep her balance. Below her a World War II soldier shouted at her and tried to grab her hand, shouting something she couldn't understand. Still trying to keep from slipping, she glanced over her shoulder at the sea below. It was strangely glowing with different hues of greens, blues, purples, and pinks, and in the center of the colors was her grandmother's face.

"When you are ready, all you have to do is let go," her grandmother's voice echoed throughout the night. "The longer you stay, the more you will forget. Just say goodbye, and then you can home….All you have to do is let go…."

What did she mean by let go? Suddenly, Emily found herself no longer struggling to keep from falling. A warm hand had circled around hers, she looked down at the soldier with the last name "Kloppman" on his uniform….Looking up from his name badge she recognized Kid Blink's face under the camouflage paint.

"Don't let go…." He said softly, "Stay here wid me…."

Emily gasped awake, her head, back, and shoulders ached. Blinking, she looked around her grandmother's room….She was lying on the floor. She realized she had cried herself to sleep. Groaning, she pushed herself up onto her feet and winced as she stood, her muscles and bones ached. Wooden floors were very unforgiving. Glancing at the window, she saw the night sky was becoming a light shade of gray, dawns on its way. Giving a sigh, she sat down on her bed – the mattress was thin and without a box spring, it was just as hard as the wooden frame holding it.

"Hey Em, ya up?" Morris called through the closed door.

Emily winced, Oh no….Not now! I just want another hour of sleep…..Or thirty minutes….Is that too much to ask? "Um….Yeah, I'm up…."

"Ya don't sound too sure," Oscar exclaimed, his voice receding with his footsteps.

"Uh…..You try sleepin' on a wooden floor and tell me how you like it," Emily grumbled. She reached for the wall where the light switch should be, and then as her fingers brushed the wall she remembered most buildings in 1899 didn't have electricity. That was only meant for the high middle class and rich. Using the grayish early morning light, Emily navigated her way towards her grandmother's dresser and found a packet of matches in a porcelain bowl. She flicked a match against the carton, but it refused to light, she tried again and still nothing. Giving a frustrated sigh she struck another one and to her surprise it lit. She lit her oil lantern and blew out the match; she was greeted by an eerie sight.

Her grandmother's dresser was the same dresser that now sat in her room in 2010. The top of the dresser was more like a make-do vanity. The porcelain bowl held two packages of matches and a pearl bracelet. Around the bowl were different shades of lipstick, eye shadow, blush, and face powder. Huh, I never took my grandmother as the kind of girl to wear makeup. But considering it had rarely been used, Emily figured her grandmother only put it on during special occasions or simply refused to wear it unless she had too.

Kneeling down on the floor, Emily dug through the drawers. She found two skirts, three blouses, and the rest were Oscar and Morris's hand-me-downs. She combined a pair of Oscar's old black pants with Morris's old white shirt, and Oscar's gray vest. Standing up she glanced at the wall and was surprised to find a bowler hat hanging from the peg. Then, she noticed something square poking out from under the hat. Taking the hat off the wall, she was greeted by a paper photo of her grandmother with Oscar and Morris standing to each side of her with smiles on their faces. The caption under the newspaper photo caught Emily's eye: Emily Delancey rescues oddly dressed soldier from Brooklyn Harbor.

Eyebrows scrunching, Emily picked up the lamp and held it closer to the photo, keeping it at a safe distance where the paper couldn't catch fire. Shivers traveled up and down her spine; she looked just like her grandmother, the resemblance was so weird that it was borderline terrifying. Grandmom wasn't kidding when she said I look just like her. Her gaze traveled away from the photo and to the caption, she reached her finger beneath the paper to unfold it and quickly drew it away with a small hiss. Something had bit her. She watched as a small brown house spider crawled out from behind the photo and continued up to the ceiling; she'd see if Oscar or Morris could kill it later. She unfolded the article and was disappointed to find the ink had been smudged to the point the words were illegible. Damn.

Maybe she could find a copy of the article in the Manhattan library? She'd ask Oscar and Morris where it was. She quickly dressed in her brother's clothing and pulled on her shoes. As she tied her shoe, she paused, calling Oscar and Morris her brothers seemed more natural now….As if it were right. Shaking her head she sighed. I need to find the ferry schedule and go home. Grandmom said, all I have to do is let go. But what does she mean by that?

Oscar yawned as he flipped the omelet; he hoped Emily's memories would start returning to her soon. He missed her cooking….Hell, he just missed her. He was damned glad to have her home, but…somehow, she was different. It's because of dat memory loss, dat's all. She remembered livin' in Manhattan, she remembered Morris and me, so she'll remembah everythin' else soon enough too.

"Ya thinkin' of Em?" Morris questioned as he chewed on a piece of bacon. Their uncle always went out for breakfast; he hated his nephew's cooking. Either the food was cooked to a burned crisp, or so undercooked that it was disgusting.

"Yeah, wonderin' when she's gettin' her memories back. Yesterday she hardly said three words ta me after she told what happened to her."

Morris paused, "In da papes it says doctors call memory loss 'Amnesia' and when da person has it deys lucky to recover any of deys memory."

"Well, if deys can figure out what to call memory loss, den why can't deys fix it?"

Morris shrugged. He too missed his sister; he missed the mock fights he had with her. She had been one hell of a fighter too. When the strike was still in its first few stages and Pulitzer's men were getting ready to soak the newsies, he and Oscar fought the hardest. They fought for their sister. It was because of the newsies she was gone…they had either driven her away or killed her to have their revenge. Then, near the final stages of the strike, he and Oscar finally had their chance to soak the Newsie King. He was da reason Emily was on dat bridge, she thought we didn't know she was sweet on him. We were gonna let her see for herself why no Delancey likes a newsie. Morris had almost killed Spot, he had been so close, then the girl Oscar had been pining over at the time – Floaty – had knocked him over the head with a piece of old driftwood someone had thrown into a dumpster. That was the day Oscar came to the realization Floaty was just another newsie.

Both brothers looked up at hearing the sounds of footsteps on the wooden floors. Oscar's heart jumped into his throat, Emily looks like herself again! Her raven black hair hung down her back in a long braid, she wore her bowler cap farther back on her head to show off her bangs, and she wore a mix of both of her brothers' old clothing.

"Mornin' fellas, what stinks?"

Oscar and Morris glanced at one another, it was as if their wish had come true overnight – their sister was back!

"Oscah's been cookin' since ya were…missin'." Morris said and started to stand up. Emily took a whiff of the burnt breakfast and wrinkled her nose.

"Okay, Morris quit eatin', you're gonna have indigestion. Oscar," Emily smiled and pulled him into a hug, her eyes twinkling, "I think it's very sweet of ya do the cooking in my place…."

"Someone's gotta do it," he smirked and hugged his sister tightly to him, almost afraid to let go.

Emily pulled out of his embrace, "True, but now that I'm back….Let the pro handle this. Ok?"

Both brothers laughed and nodded. They watched as their sister made breakfast: Pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon. She let her brothers have all the pancakes except for one. Morris took a bite of his scrambled eggs and shut his eyes, "Oh yeah, I'm in Heaven! Em is back and she's cookin'!"

"Hey, me cookin' wasn't dat bad!" Oscar snapped.

"Yer cookin' almost killed Uncle Weas!"

"Take dat back!"

"Nevah!"

Emily watched as Oscar and Morris forgot their morning meal and began punching and wrestling with one another. Then, the chairs skidded backwards and toppled over as the two brothers fell to the ground in a struggle. For a minute she wondered if she should intervene, but she had a feeling her grandmother would have let them keep fighting. Boys will be boys. She wiped her mouth on a napkin and began eating her eggs.

"Your breakfast is gettin' cold," she commented. Part of her was concerned by the fact she was suddenly so comfortable in her new environment. I'm going to have to find my way back before I start thinking of Oscar and Morris as my brothers.

The morning began with helping Oscar, Morris, and other World employees grab papers off the presses, put them into bundles of fifty, and tie strings around them. The bundles were then loaded onto 7 carts, each going to a different distribution center in the city.

"We do dis every mornin', afternoon, and evenin'," Morris grunted as he placed eight bundles of papers onto a wagon bed. "Compared to us, da newsies got it easy."

Emily wondered if that was true or not; the newsies had carry these papers around all day and try to sell them before the afternoon and evening editions were ready. It was hard work, and since there were only two handcarts – both with broken wheels – it took longer than usual. Finally, at six o'clock, all the wagons were leaving. Oscar nudged Emily and motioned for her to follow him and Morris.

"Where are we going?"

"Da second part of our job, we gotta keep da newsies in line."

"I do that too?"

"In a way," Morris shrugged, "Ya gave the warnin's. If deys didn't listen – we soak 'um…or at least try to until Cowboy gets his nose outta joint and takes it upon himself to defend dem."

"You really don't like the newsies, do ya?"

"Like we said before," Oscar said, "No Delancey likes a newsie….And no newsie likes a Delancey. It's da natural balance of things."

Emily followed the two out of the gates and watched as they were closed by four strong men. She found herself talking more freely with Oscar and Morris, who asked many questions about the 'inventor' she had lived with for two years. She based her foster parent off her Uncle Jed, who seemed determined to be the next Willy Wonka. They had walked around two city blocks.

"Why we do walk around two blocks? Why not just wait for the newsies to show up?"

Morris snorted, "Cause of dis," he walked past her and peeked down behind a garbage can. He grabbed his brass knuckles out of his pocket and banged them against the side of the hollow tin can, "Get up! Ain't no time for sleepin' ya lazy newsie! It's time for sellin' streets, get up ya guttersnipe!"

Emily jumped as a scrawny boy bolted up and ran out from behind the garbage cans. It was so sad how children were out on the streets; even in her time there were homeless children – they were often called 'feral children' or 'street kids'. She followed her brothers back towards the distribution gates, and a nagging feeling kept bothering her. For some reason she didn't feel comfortable with calling Oscar and Morris her brothers. They are my brothers; they told me all about my parents. Why should I not refer to them as my family? She stopped for a moment as a flash of her real father's face flashed in the back of her mind. I'm starting to forget. She glanced down at the locket and pulled the cover off, and there – just as her grandmother had said – was a small piece of round turquoise. I have to get home….But….Do I want too? Yes! Of course I do!

She watched as Oscar and Morris shoved one another, fighting over God knows what. But she liked the two, she liked joking around with them and feeling like one of the pack. It was a feeling she never had back at home. Her oldest sister, Lori, was a successful research psychologist; and her oldest brother, Matt, was on his way to becoming a doctor. Both her older siblings had no time for her or their youngest brother, Trace. Oscar and Morris had time for her, they talked to her, and they always made her feel welcome….They were more than brothers, they were friends….Which was something else Emily didn't have much of back at home. Maybe Grandmom was right….But….I miss Trace. She glanced up to see her 'brothers' waiting for her to catch up. But do I really want to leave them? The playful mock-punches she received (and gave) to her brothers when she caught up answered her question, No.

The three Delanceys continued and twice her brothers stopped to wake up a newsgirl or boy sleeping in alleyways. Finally, they arrived back at the distribution center where the newsies, including one with a cane in his belt, were singing and dancing.

"Deys do dat every mornin'." Morris grumbled.

"Deys too chipper in da mornin'," Oscar exclaimed and placed his hands on his hips. Smirking, he pulled Emily between them. "We're gonna have a surprise for dem!" Emily walked between her brothers as they shoved their way through the human ocean of newsboys and girls. The newsies had obviously not appreciated the Delanceys interrupting their morning song.

"Somethin' smells rotten," exclaimed an Italian newsie as he waved his black cap in front of his nose. "Maybe da sewers backed up again last night."

"Nah, too rotten!" Laughed another newsboy.

"It must be….Da Delancey brothers!" Exclaimed a tall boy who was hunched over and leaning on a crutch.

"Woah!" A muscular one exclaimed, "Dat ain't all! Da rumor was true!"

"Emily Delancey," a few of the newsies muttered and stared as she walked with her brothers toward a boy dressed as a cowboy. "She's back," a few whispered as she past them, "Look at her, she's so pretty!" Whispered a short and pale blonde boy. The one who had been waving a cap in front of his face stared at her as if she would disappear at any moment. Then, Emily glanced over next to him and met the eyes of the newsie she had dreamt of the previous night….Blink.

He stared at her, holding her gaze for a long minute. Emily felt her stomach twist as she stared into his one blue eye. He was handsome and mysterious. Could he really have been that soldier Grandmom saw? He looks so young….Though boys in both the World Wars could pass as 18 if they looked old enough. Suddenly, Blink looked away and Emily did as well. Her heart was pounding and her cheeks were beet red. What is it about him that makes me feel this way? I don't understand. I don't even know him.

"Well, it's nice to see ya reunited wid yer sister, Oscar." The Cowboy exclaimed. He turned and looked at Emily, "Nice ta see you again, Emily, even if ya are a Delancey."

Emily stared, blankly, "Do I know you?"

The cowboy glanced at Blink who muttered, "Told ya."

"Ya really don't remembah me?" The cowboy seemed to be insulted. "It's me, Jack 'Cowboy' Kelly, da leader of da Manhattan newsies….Da one who told ya you'd never be a newsie."

Emily shrugged, "No idea. Right now, I'm only remembering the important people, like my brothers." Why am I being so mean? I'm never like this.

Jack put his hand over his heart and stumbled back as if Emily had shot him. He smirked, "Welcome back, Emily Delancey. Glad to see yer still tough as bricks."

"Yeah, yeah," Emily grumbled. Then to her surprise, Jack continued.

"Listen, Oscah, Morris,…Emily, we can't be fightin' with ya. We're at war wid Harlem, and deys leader, Vampire, is after you, Em. Ya got dat? He wants you, and he's puttin' all our newsies in danger…."

Oscar suddenly pushed Emily over to Morris. "Listen here, Cowboy! Ya don't threaten me sister. We know what's goin' on wid ya newsies, we know that Vampire wants our sister, what else is new? We ain't helpin' ya."

"I'm just sayin', Oscar, we newsies….We…."

"Need yer help," the kid with the cane finished, looking angry with himself for admitting that.

"Well, Hell must of frozen ovah," Morris sneered, "Spot Conlon, da King of Brooklyn, needs our help. Forget it."

"Yer brudda almost killed Floaty!" Spot shouted and Emily watched as he threw a punch at her brother. She struggled to get past Morris, but he held her back. Oscar shoved Spot away, and the newsboy was restrained by his friends.

"I would have nevah killed her!" Oscar snarled, "At da time I was told ya had me sister's body!"

"What?" Spot shouted.

Morris sneered, "We were told ya killed her….We were even brought dis…" he reached into his pocket and took out the most beautiful ring Emily had ever seen. It was made of a thin band of gold with a small circle on the front; in the circle was a cameo of a cherub. "It was our mother's ring, how did ya get yer hands on it?"

"I've nevah seen dat thing before!" Spot shouted.

"If yer accusin' us of lying, Oscar, Morris…." Jack sneered, "Ya should well remembah dat we don't steal from sewer rats." With that, he pushed Oscar's hat off his head. Emily watched as Jack ran off, her brothers in pursuit. Do men ever grow up?

"How was yer first morning here?" Blink asked.

Emily blushed and looked over at him, "It was um…interesting. Oscar can't cook."

Blink burst out laughing, "So dat's why Weasel's always sick to his stomach! Ya know, ya don't gotta be so mean to Jack. I know ya two don't have a great history…." He winced, "Sorry, I keep forgettin' ya don't remember dat."

She shrugged, "It's fine. Why don't you tell me?"

Blink sighed, "Okay, I can until dose gates open, den I gotta get me papes. We're in middle of a newsie war, Emily. So it's not gonna be da usual 'fun and games' kinda attitude wid us." At seeing her confused expression he blushed. "Well, ya see, Jack and you…..You've never seen eye to eye. From what I've been told, from da moment ya two first met ya hated one another."

"That's it? I hate him for no apparent reason?"

"Dat's one version, but Mush's version is da one I believe. When you all first met Jack nine years ago, he drove yer brothers crazy – just like he does now. He knew who ya all were, hired muscle, and you all knew who he was, a newsboy leadah. Den, one mornin' you tried to talk to a few newsies, but he wouldn't let ya. It was den and there he created da rule 'No newsie likes a Delancey' and to dis day…."

"It's been true, until now." Emily smiled.

"What do ya mean?"

"I like ya."

Blink fell silent, "Yeah, looks like we both broke dat rule….Cause I like ya too. But it wouldn't work, as friends….Or anythin' else. Yer a Delancey, I'm a newsie….And right now ain't da time for relationships anyway….Not with Harlem…."

"Yeah," Emily replied, "But no harm in bein' acquaintances."

"Huh?"

"People who know one another, talk, sometimes do things together but aren't really friends."

"Den, here's to bein' acquaintances." Blink smiled and spit into his hand; Emily followed his lead and did the same, then both shook hands.

"Blink, yer gonna be in trouble when Jack and Spot find out about dat!" Warned the kid on the crutch.

"Maybe, but it's worth it, Crutchy." Blink smiled to Emily, she blushed and found herself wishing that they could be more than acquaintances.

When her brothers returned and her attention was focused away from him, Blink turned to Crutchy and whispered, "How'd I do wid the ice breaker?"

"Great," Crutchy smiled, "Keep it up and ya two will be friends fast...If ya can get her to be friends with ya, den maybe da Deanceys will help us like Spot and Jack want."

Blink nodded, only he, Crutchy, Mush, and a few other newsies knew about the plan to befriend Emily Delancey. But Blink was the only one who knew that he wanted to be actual friends with her, and maybe one day, something more. He really liked her, she wasn't like her brothers; though she was quickly returning to the Emily he and all the other newsies remembered. Let's just hope she won't be just like her brothers...