Story woke with the sunrise. Her head still hurt and she hoped it wouldn't be like this for the rest of her life. It seemed like the pain was never ending.

A few minutes later Spot woke up, realizing Chase was still in his arms. He blushed when he saw Story looking at him and Chase. He smiled as she helped him get up, trying not to wake Chase. Medda gave him breakfast, the first time he'd eaten since before the rally. And he left to continue the strike with the newsies.

Spot pushed through the crowd until he found Mush

"How are the girls?" Mush asked He was so worried.

"Story's perfectly fine. R- Chase woke up in the middle of the night with a high fever, but the doctor fixed her up. It was just because of a bad dream."

"So they made it through the night." Mush was relieved.

"Yeah," Spot was having a hard time hiding his smile.

Spot turned to break up a fight between two of the younger newsies. His mood changed when he saw Jack Kelly come out of the circulation gates dressed in a new suit.

"Hey, Race, come here."

"What?"

"Tell me I'm seein' things. Just tell me I'm seein' things."

"No, you ain't seein' things," said Racetrack. "That's Jack. What's he doin'?"

"He's dressed like a scabber."

Mush wanted to cry. Jack couldn't leave the strike. Not now.

"Jack? Jack, look at me, will ya? Come on, it's me, Mush. Look at me. What are you doin', Jack?"

"He sold us out!" Spot was livid.

"I'll give you a new suit! Ya bum! I'll soak ya!" Racetrack yelled.

"Hey, hey, hey! I'll get my hands dirty." Spot ran at Jack, but the bulls pulled him away. "Come here you dirty rotten scabber!" Spot was pushed to the back of the mob, shouting curses the whole time.

Chase woke up with butterflies in her stomach. Contrary to what Spot had thought, Chase wasn't all that delirious in the middle of the night after her ice bath. She knew exactly what she was saying to him. She knew right then and there that she absolutely loved Spot. And the way he looked at her, the way he talked to her, and how he talked about her… He would do anything for her, so she hoped he felt the same way. Chase seized the day and told Spot just what she was feeling.

"Miss him already?" Story asked, peering over her book.

"Mmhmm…" Chase was staring into space, daydreaming. "He loves me." She whispered. It was strange to say. Strange to imagine someone (other than Nick, her only family) loved her and that she loved him.

"Chase? Hey, Chase!" Story had to hit her to get her to snap out of it.

"Hmm? What?"

"I think I'm gonna go out to the strike today." Story avoided Chase's eye contact, not knowing what her friend would say.

"No, you can't!" Chase said. "I don't want anything else to happen to you."

"But I have to find my sister. And, I want to- I want to go-"

"You want to see David." Chase narrowed her eyes, but she realized she would probably be the same way if she hadn't just seen Spot. "If you're going, I'm going."

Chase struggled to get up, smacking Story's hand away when she tried to help her up. She had to figure this out on her own. Finally finding her balance, Chase took a step. And then another one. And then another one. But on the third step, her crutch slipped on the hardwood floor and she fell on her butt.

"Ah!" she winced. "Never mind, I'm not going. You better take care of yourself. I'm not going to be the one that tells Davey his girl got hurt again."

Story blushed as she helped Chase back to the couch. "I'm not his girl-"

"Not yet."

The truth was, Story's head was pounding. She had to stop and lean against a wall every few minutes to keep from fainting. Priorities came first. Story knew what it was like to be living on the streets with nothing. She knew what pain was. She could sympathize with other people. And when she could think about others, her own pain wasn't as bad.

She came to the mob of newsies just as Spot was being dragged to the back.

"Spot, what happened?" She grabbed his arm as he tried to make his way to the front again.

"It's Jack, I'm gonna murder that grafter! He's a scab! That-" Spot stopped to clean up his language. "I can't take this."

"What do you mean?"

"He took a bribe from Pulitzer. He's workin' with the big shots now."

Story's world was spinning. "There's no way-"

"Yeah there is. I saw it myself." Spot picked up his cane, tapping it on the ground as a way to control his anger. He was going to kill someone one of these days.

"Why would Jack do that? He was the one who started the strike?"

Spot ignored Story's question and continued ranting. "I'm goin' back to Brooklyn. I'll finish this strike myself if I have to." Spot raged. "Take care of Chase for me, will ya?"

"Spot! No, you can't-" But he was already gone.

Mush spotted Story in the crowd. He ran up and hugged her, still feeling hurt because of Jack. And he was still so worried about Spark.

"You ok?" he asked as she fell against his chest.

"Yeah, I don't think I'm ready for this." She said.

"You don't get out of bein' a newsie without a few scars and black eyes." Mush winced along with Story. "Want me to walk you back?"

"No, I think I can make it." As Story turned to leave, Mush spoke.

"You shouldn't have gotten hurt. That was my fault, I knew it wasn't a good idea invitin' the girls. You'd be fine and we would know where Spark was by now." Mush had been beating himself up about that since the rally. Story. Spark, and Chase's safety shouldn't have been sacrificed for the strike.

Story arrived back at Medda's about an hour later. She had to stop a lot on the way back. She thought she was going to die from all of these headaches.

"Feelin' any better?" She asked Chase as she flopped on the couch next to her. Chase had been reading her book.

"A little. Did you see Spot?"

"Yeah I saw him."

"And?"

"He went back to Brooklyn."

Chase put her head in Story's lap and cried until she fell back asleep.

Spot returned to Brooklyn twice as enraged than when he left Manhattan. No one dared cross his path. He walked all the way to the pier shouting curses and swinging his cane and kicking the ground. Everyone thought he was losing it.

Spark was up on his crates talking to a group of the older newsies. They were trying to figure out what to do next. Spot stomped all the way up to the top crate and sat down.

"Oh, Spot!" Spark cried, tears in her eyes. She had been trying to keep it together in Brooklyn, but her leadership skills were exactly as she remembered: terrible. "Is Story alright? I didn't see-"

"Yeah, she's fine." Spot leaned back on the crate (Dangerously so. If he leaned back any farther he'd fall in the river.) with his eyes closed and his entire body was tensed with frustration.

"What's-"

"Nothin'. It's nothing'." Spot gave a bitter laugh. "Just the fact that Jack Kelly left the strike to be a scab. Other than that everything's just ducky!"

Spark jumped back at the way Spot snapped at her. That, and because of the shock of hearing Jack left the strike.

"What? That's not-"

"Do I have to spell it out for you? Jack- Kelly- Is- A- SCAB!"

Spark took a deep breath, fighting back tears. It was hopeless. With their leader gone, all the newsies could do was give in to Pulitzer and Hearst or die.

"Wha- What ab- about Chase?"

Spot felt like the floor dropped from under him. "I d- I didn't-"

"Is she ok?"

"Yeah, she was when I… When I left." Spot couldn't believe himself. He promised Chase he wouldn't leave her and then he left. "What have I done?" Spot glanced at the river, briefly thinking about jumping in. That wouldn't help him or Chase though. "Go get me a cigar or a beer or somethin'"

"What?"

"I need somethin' to distract me from all this. Just go." Spot leaned back in his throne and pushed his hat down over his eyes.

Spark sat up straighter, staring at the Brooklyn leader in unbelief. "No!" She said.

"Don't talk to me like that." Spot grabbed her wrist. Hard.

Spark took all of her strength to pull herself out of Spot's grip. Almost causing herself to fall backwards into the river, taking him with her.

"I'm not getting you a beer." She flared. "My best friend and my sister are in Manhattan. This strike is a disaster. And YOU," It was Spot's turn to jump back. "You're just thinkin' about yourself. You are SPOT CONLON, leader of the BROOKLYN newsies! You're the KING! No one messes with you and no one messes with Brooklyn. You got a lot a' people lookin' up to you. People, like me, that depend on you. I can't do this by myself! I don't even know how you and Chase keep us all in order."

Spot stared at her. His bright blue eyes meeting hers with an intensity that would have scared her before. But not today. "We can't just quit now. Since when are you a quitter? The last fight you got in, you almost killed the poor guy you were fightin' because you wouldn't stop."

Spot still stared at her. He had no response to that.

"Now, get off your lazy, arrogant, butt. We've got work to do."

Spot blinked at her. "Alright, then."