Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.


Chapter 114: A Moment of Truth

Despite the difficult start, dinner progressed smoothly enough after that. The soup - thank goodness - turned out as full-flavored as usual, and the buttermilk biscuits were perfectly flaky, slightly crisp on the outside but tender and airy on the inside. The fact that even Abby - the harshest critic in the family when it came to culinary endeavors - was impressed was especially gratifying, and Sadie found her spirits lifting as the night went on and her nerves began to settle.

Her parents and older sister were absent for most of the meal, Philip eventually returning to the kitchen to take some food so that he and Miriam could eat while Lilly recovered. The latter's seizures had abated some time after she'd moved to the sofa, and she was resting now, almost on the verge of dozing off under the watchful eye of her parents who conversed quietly as they ate their soup.

The little group in the kitchen was similarly subdued but not despondent, and the conversation flowed easily around the table. Abby, in the absence of any parental presence that would have prevented her from monopolizing the discussion, was eager to continue conferring with Davey about Jules Verne and his novels, and Sadie was only too happy to let her youngest sister gab away with their guest while she silently ate her soup on his other side.

Davey asked for seconds, then thirds, and handily consumed the same number of biscuits. Sadie wasn't sure if it was politeness or actual enjoyment whetting his appetite, but she was pleased, for it was the most that she'd ever seen him eat in one sitting, at least in her presence. He'd left off saying anything more about her capabilities and his confidence that she was far more proficient than she gave herself credit for, but she could tell that the subject had been important to him, and that he'd felt compelled to challenge her on her self-deprecation, even if his approach had been typically Davey-like: unassuming, thoughtful, and a little bit circuitous.

It had been kind of him to speak so affirmingly of her, and though she inwardly felt that his confidence was still a bit misplaced, she could appreciate the earnestness behind it and the conviction that it came from. Davey was only speaking from what he knew, after all; to expect him to think otherwise when he didn't have the full story was unreasonable. And even if his general assessment of her was slightly unfounded, it had been gratifying to hear that she'd eased his transition to Manhattan despite the inauspicious way their acquaintance had started and the snags they'd run into along the way. She'd made her fair share of blunders, but if he still considered her friendship beneficial after all that, she had to be doing something right, and the thought warmed her as she sipped her soup, further mulling over what he had said.

It turned out that she hardly got a word in edgewise over dinner with Abby's enthusiastic discourse consuming nearly all of Davey's attention, and by the time they'd finished their meal, it was already well into the evening. Sadie rose and began clearing away the dishes, thinking that she ought to get started on tidying up the kitchen, as it was a school night and everyone would have to be up early the next morning. Her father made a brief re-appearance, bringing back the empty bowls and spoons and informing the party in the kitchen that Lilly was exhausted and had retired for the evening with Miriam. He then sat down at the table to chat for a while, gently redirecting the conversation away from Abby's nearly one-sided enthusing to a more general array of topics. Eventually, though, he too took his leave, for there was still a stack of paperwork waiting for him at the office that needed to be completed before the next morning. After complimenting Sadie on a successful dinner and bidding his daughters and his guest goodnight, he left the apartment, and the group of three was once again left alone in the kitchen.

Davey offered to help with the clean up, and though Sadie initially declined his proposition, thinking he'd want to head home, he lingered, gathering up the napkins from the table and cleaning the crumbs out of the bread basket. Sadie had begun washing the dishes by this time, and he came over to join her, procuring a towel from its place by the sink and holding out his hands for the bowl she had just rinsed clean.

"You don't need to do that," Sadie protested. "Drying is usually Abby's job." She gave her sister - who was still sitting at the table - a pointed look, but before the other girl could respond, Davey reached out and took the bowl.

"I'll take a turn tonight," he said agreeably. "You don't mind, do you, Abby?"

"Not at all!" the youngest Becker exclaimed, giving him a grateful look. "I can start a new book this way." So saying, she got to her feet. "Thanks, David - you can come over for dinner any time!" And with that, she retreated to the sitting area, settling herself into one of the armchairs and quickly becoming engrossed in a novel.

"It seems that you can't escape being put to work at the tenement," Sadie joked as she ruefully passed Davey another dish to be dried, "not even when you're the guest of honor."

"I like it better that way," he confessed. "It feels more comfortable to be treated like family. Not," he added quickly, "in a presumptuous way, of course. I just meant that I wouldn't want people to stand on ceremony because of me."

"Well, you got the full experience of dinner with the Beckers, unexpected interruptions and all! I'm sure it wasn't what you were expecting, but if you were looking for a taste of the temporary chaos that occasionally engulfs our lives, this is a part of it." Sadie paused for a moment, then added, "I'm sorry for leaving so abruptly when Mama and Papa were moving Lilly to the couch, though; I confess I temporarily forgot about my duties as hostess amidst my concerns for my sister. It's too bad that you didn't get a chance to talk more with my parents as well. Under other circumstances, I know they would have enjoyed getting to know you better. Even Lilly was looking forward to seeing you."

"I'm thankful for the time that I did have to talk with them before dinner," he said. "Your family has always made me feel welcomed, and I'm glad they felt comfortable enough to do what needed to be done for Lilly. It's...a privilege, I guess you could say, to be allowed to see what normal life is like for all of you. I don't understand the complexities of Lilly's situation, but I know she's such an integral part of your family..."

He trailed off, and she could tell that he was trying very hard to acknowledge the importance of the situation without being impolite or saying anything insensitive. It was a rather delicate subject, and especially to an outsider who had no experience or knowledge of what life with a disabled family member was like, but the fact that he was trying to understand, and that he was putting himself in an awkward position to attempt to do so was endearing, for she'd come across very few people in her life who would venture as much.

"You talked about wanting to help people with family members like Lilly," Davey said suddenly, "a while ago, that day we went to the drugstore for ice cream." Sadie snapped out of her musing to look at him curiously, for that had been months ago, and she was astonished that he even remembered it. "If you could do anything to change the way things are now..." he continued, "what would it be?"

She considered the question as she handed him another bowl. They'd talked only briefly about the subject - which at the time had been nothing more than a fledgling thought in her mind - but there were a few ideas that she had been mulling over since then, though she'd never spoken them aloud.

"Ideally, it would be a two-part approach," she heard herself saying slowly. "There's need for change in both how people like Lilly are perceived by the world and in how they - and the families caring for them - are supported. I'm not sure which one logically would precede the other, or if they'd have to be developed concurrently, but…" she hesitated.

Davey waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts, silently drying the spoons she'd given him as she considered her answer.

"Practically speaking, I think it would be difficult to change society's view of those who are disabled - at least, not without some kind of full-scale effort from multiple sources," Sadie finally said, aware that her response was coming out scattered, but unsure of how to synthesize it. "So I suppose it would make more sense to address the practical concerns first."

"What would an ideal situation for a family like yours look like?" he asked.

"Modified accommodations would help," she answered, his directed question making it a little simpler to organize her thoughts. "Larger door frames and passageways, and fewer - or no - stairs. As you could see tonight, it's difficult to maneuver Lilly when she's having or recovering from an episode. Narrow spaces and having to go up or down make it even harder and pose more of a danger to her because they increase the likelihood of tripping and falling."

"That makes sense."

"It would also be helpful to live close to other families in similar situations," Sadie continued, "partially so that Lilly could have others to socialize with who wouldn't look down on her for her condition, but also for the support that it would bring for the rest of our family. It's lonely sometimes to be misunderstood or ridiculed or even pitied by society for Lilly's condition and for our choice to keep her with us instead of sending her away. I know most people who make such remarks are only speaking in ignorance and not in malice, but still...it can be discouraging. My mother has borne the brunt of it for our family, but all of us have been affected by it in some way. I think if there were others in our circle who understood and were walking the same path, it would make the journey not feel quite so lonely."

"Camaraderie does help," Davey agreed. "It's remarkable how much easier it is to confront challenges when you have people around you who are all striving for the same thing. It helps when you can believe for each other...and when you can remind each other that it's worth it, even if the rest of the world can't see it."

She smiled at the fervency in his voice. "I hear the co-leader of the newsboy strike talking."

Davey ducked his head. "It's the only experience I have," he admitted. "Experience in making a difference, I mean - helping people on a larger scale. I wish there was more. I'd like to find a way to keep working for change...but I'm not sure how."

She could hear his unspoken dismay, and her heart went out to him.

"You're not going to live an insignificant life, you know," she said softly. He glanced at her in surprise, and she gave him a meaningful look before continuing, "It isn't in you. Even when you're doing something completely mundane like drying dishes, you can't help but stir up someone else's thoughts about the future, probing them to imagine how they could bring about change in their own sphere of life."

Turning back to the sink, she added, "Perhaps that isn't the kind of purpose you're looking for, and I could see how someone with your intelligence and gifting would want to put his skills towards a more direct and tangible outcome...but it would be remiss to think that your life aside from the strike has been - or will be - aimless and without meaning. If no one had the ability to help others identify their own potential, there would be so many unrealized dreams, and the world would be the poorer for it."

It was true, and there was more that she could have said to her neighbor, pointing out the examples of his reading group and the newsie he was tutoring and the number of others ways he was already doing good in the world in his own quiet way, even if he couldn't see it - but she held back, thinking that she probably ought to give him a moment to process what she had just said.

Her instinct must have been correct, for he was silent for several minutes.

"You have a unique gift, Davey," Sadie concluded as she finished washing the final dish. "Not everyone is capable of - or willing to be - the catalyst for others' aspirations. I know it doesn't seem as noble and grand as being the one front and center enacting the change...but that change wouldn't be possible without people like you." She handed him the last bowl with a little smile.

"That's…" he cleared his throat. "That's kind of you to say, Sadie. I hadn't really considered it that way before." He busied himself with drying the dish in his hands, clearly a little flustered and unsure of how to respond, but she could tell that he was not unhappy.

"At any rate," she continued lightly, "I agree with my father's earlier remark - you won't have any difficulty finding a good situation for yourself when it comes to a job. It will only be a matter of time. And for now, we Beckers will happily benefit from your contributions towards the upkeep of our swanky tenement."

"Maybe one day when you open your own place to house families like yours, I'll stop by and help with the renovations," he joked, finding his footing in the lighthearted change of conversation.

"If you're not too busy, a visit from you would be most welcome," she replied. "I'm sure there would be much work to do to prepare such a place for occupancy."

"Are there actual facilities like that?" he asked curiously as he set the last dish on the counter. "Situations like what you were describing that offer community support and modified living accommodations?"

Sadie emptied the wash basin into the sink. "I've heard of smaller community homes being established in New York, but they seem to be privately owned, and I haven't run across any in our immediate area, though admittedly I haven't looked very hard," she answered. "It would be beneficial to see what other people have done, if indeed such places exist."

Before she could say anything more, the door of the apartment opened, and a moment later, Judith appeared at the doorway of the kitchen.

"I stopped by to see how dinner had gone," she said, giving Davey a nod of greeting. "The boys are all tuckered out, so John generously offered to put them to bed."

"Dinner went about as smoothly as could be expected," Sadie answered vaguely.

Her sister looked sympathetic. "Did Lilly have a seizure?"

"Several - Mama and Papa sat with her while she rode them out, so they couldn't eat with the rest of us, but the soup turned out well, the biscuits passed inspection, and despite the slight chaos and my rather spotty hostessing, Davey is still standing, as you can see, so I suppose I'd call that a success!"

"Dinner was delicious, and Sadie was a perfectly gracious hostess," he asserted, giving her a slightly knowing look even as he addressed Judith. "And even though it was short, I enjoyed the time I did get to spend with the rest of the family."

"Well, you'll have another chance to socialize with them soon," Judith remarked. "Our new year's party for the tenement will be coming up in a little over a week, and this is the first year my sister will be in charge of heading up the event."

"Ju's usually the mastermind behind it all," Sadie explained, "but she's been long overdue for a reprieve." She couldn't help feeling a pinch of nervousness as she added, "I hope it will go well - it's a lot to live up to, and there's still so much to prepare for."

"I can help," Davey offered quickly, "if it's the kind of thing where you could use an extra set of hands, that is. Now that school's eased up and we aren't studying for our exams, I have more time in the evenings."

"How kind of you!" Judith exclaimed before Sadie could answer. "I'm sure my sister would benefit greatly from your help."

"I would, if it wouldn't be an inconvenience to you," Sadie admitted. She gave Davey a smile. "I'll think about it more and let you know."

"Please do," he agreed. Glancing at the kitchen clock, he added, "Speaking of inconvenience, though, I probably ought to head home and let you settle in for the night. I didn't realize it was getting so late." So saying, he set the towel that he'd been using to dry the dishes back in its place and bid Judith a polite goodbye, asking her to greet Caleb and Samuel for him. He then stopped on his way out to exchange a few words with Abby, who by this time was beginning to yawn into her book.

Sadie walked him to the door.

"Thanks again for dinner tonight, Chare," he said as they prepared to part ways. "You did great." His smile was open and sincere as always, but she caught something else in his expression, too, before he gently shut the door behind him, making his way out into the cold.

She stood there for a moment longer, then walked slowly back to the kitchen.

"You must be tired," Judith remarked. She'd taken a seat at the kitchen table, and the kettle was warming on the stove. "I'm heating up some water in case you'd like some tea."

"Thanks, Ju." Sadie slid into a chair opposite her sister, feeling a sense of relief flood through her now that the night was over and nothing had gone terribly awry. "I don't know how you do it, preparing dinner each night for your family and managing the household chores besides!"

"Well, I don't have school or a job at the tailor's or tasks around the tenement occupying my time," her older sister pointed out. "It's not as though you're sitting on your hands, either."

"I've had less to do around the property now that Papa has Davey to help him."

Judith smiled slightly. "Your neighbor downstairs seems to think very highly of you."

"I'm the landlord's daughter," Sadie shrugged, reaching out to examine the bread basket which now contained only a solitary biscuit. "He's contractually obligated to 'think very highly of me.' And he entertains some ridiculous notion that he owes me for tutoring and a handful of other things."

"Does he?" Judith mused. "It's surprising that he didn't mention it at all to me when we first met."

"From what you told me, it was a brief conversation."

"In part because I honored your request not to interrogate him," Judith replied. She motioned to the bread basket. "If you're not going to eat that last biscuit, may I have it? I've been finding myself unusually hungry in the evenings these last several weeks."

Sadie complied, passing the basket to her sister before going to fetch a jar of plum preserves from the pantry. "Mrs. Gerlach made these," she told her sister, setting the container down on the table. "We just opened them yesterday, and I know you like your biscuits with something sweet."

Judith gave her an appreciative smile. "I don't understand how the rest of you can eat them plain."

"The flavor wouldn't go well with the soup." Sadie handed her a spoon. "Speaking of which, how was your own dinner? Are John's parents well?"

"Well enough," Judith answered. "They were overjoyed to see the boys."

"I'm sure they were; it's a treat to have you in town with us. We've missed you all terribly."

Judith must have caught the fervency in her voice, for she reached across the table to squeeze Sadie's hand. "I know it was the hardest on you when I left..." she said slowly, "but from what I've seen so far this week, you seem to be adjusting well."

"I'm learning," Sadie acknowledged. "But as you know, it was a rather rocky start. And goodbyes have never been easy for me, regardless of the catalyst."

"Because you love so deeply."

"Because I'm a silly, sentimental girl whose heart becomes too easily attached," Sadie corrected her, "though I am much more careful now about where I place my hopes and affections."

She thought that her sister would be pleased at the disclosure, but instead, a look of pensive sadness crossed her face.

"Don't be too careful, dear," she murmured.

Sadie pulled her hand away from her sister's grasp. "Ju, how can you say that?" she demanded, lacing her fingers together in her lap. "After what happened...after I was so careless, how can you advise me to…" She couldn't bring herself to finish.

"I only meant that not everyone is going to hurt you," Judith said soothingly. "And even if goodbyes are painful, not all of them are bad."

But some are, Sadie thought to herself. And regardless of the circumstances, they leave you empty.

She knew that she was being uncharacteristically melancholy about the subject (a feeling no doubt complicated by memories of the past that had surfaced at Judith's remarks), but she'd already begun to feel a hint of that familiar impending loneliness earlier that evening, when the discussion around the dinner table had turned to the subject of Davey's future and the possibility of him seeking employment opportunities outside of Manhattan. It had been only a passing remark, and clearly there was no concrete plan in place that would make this departure a reality, but Sadie had found herself dismayed at the realization that there would likely come a time in the near future when her neighbor downstairs would no longer be a regular presence in her life.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise; Davey had ambitions and goals that he would want to move towards realizing, and though he'd expressed a desire to stay in Manhattan, he also hadn't been closed off to the idea of venturing further. If the right opportunity came up - one that piqued his interest and would make use of his gifts and abilities - he'd be eager to take it, as he ought to be. Even if he found an advantageous work situation close by, eventually he'd move out of his parents' apartment, find his own place, and settle down to start his own family. The tenement wasn't meant to be his permanent home. In the easy rhythm of their friendship, she'd forgotten that this was just one of the many stops he'd make along the road of life as he went on to change the world in his own quiet way. It was only a temporary season, and nothing more.

So why did the thought of it make her wistful?

She bit her lip.

I'm not becoming attached to him...am I?

"What are you thinking?" Judith asked.

With a smile, Sadie shook her head. "It was nothing all that important, Ju. I was only reflecting on a reason for why I might have responded to your words so defensively just now." Her tone was lighthearted, but inwardly she was troubled. Davey was intelligent and admirable and even endearing in his own way, and she'd developed a high regard for him over time...but did her almost-immediate touch of sadness at even the thought of him leaving indicate that he'd become something else to her as well?

Despite the fact that he'd been the outsider and guest that evening, he'd managed to fit in easily amongst the family, taking the interruptions and surprises and breaches of politeness in stride, jumping in to assist where he could rather than being miffed at the disrupted dinner plans, and helping to restore a sense of equilibrium following Lilly's seizure by listening attentively to Abby's chatter and later reassuring Sadie that the evening had gone well despite its unexpected upsets. It was something that a boy less attuned to others' feelings wouldn't have known to do, but Davey seemed to fall into it naturally, his intuitive responses a testament to how uniquely thoughtful he was.

At no time had this been more clear to Sadie than at the onset of the night when she'd been anxious and flustered by the dinner preparations and had hurried from the kitchen to change only to find her guest already sitting with the rest of the family as they patiently waited for the meal to be served. His unexpected appearance - and her embarrassment at not having acknowledged him properly upon his arrival - had thrown her even further off balance, but before she'd become completely discomposed, he'd greeted her by her nickname, looking into her eyes, and in his gaze she'd read his unspoken reassurance that everything was going to be fine and that she didn't need to rush or worry or feel distressed. It had immediately put her at ease, and though she'd always, invariably loathed her middle name (and had even been indifferent to his teasing shorthand version of it), it had sounded so sweet and soothing in that moment that she'd found herself wanting to hear it again.

She had never wanted that before.

The faint stirring of emotion accompanying the memory was slightly concerning, and Sadie found herself biting her lip again as she considered the possible predicament that she was in - not a particularly difficult or vexing one, but a sobering one nonetheless. She knew that it was foolish to become attached, for people came and went, and her friendship with Davey, by nature, was meant to be transitory and short-lived…

And yet, for that very same reason, it also seemed like there was no harm in simply enjoying it for as long as she could - provided, of course, that she kept herself from becoming too emotionally entangled.

One way or another, it will all be over soon enough, she thought matter-of-factly. You have the gift of his friendship for now, and you may indulge in it as much as you like - so long as you don't forget that it's not yours to keep.

Having settled on what she considered to be a rather sensible course of action (and thinking that Davey himself would probably be proud of her if he'd known), Sadie felt better, and she immediately gave her sister - who had been waiting patiently while eating her biscuit and plum preserves - a slightly-abashed look.

"I'm sorry for being so preoccupied, Ju," she murmured.

Her sister smiled. "No need for apologies; I could tell you had a lot on your mind. And in the meantime, I've been thoroughly enjoying your biscuit and these delectable preserves." She closed up the jar and licked the spoon, a girlish move that made Sadie feel wistful all over again, for it reminded her of the days long before Judith had become a wife and a mother and had moved away, when her older sister had always been around to confide in and lean on.

"You look pensive again," Judith remarked, getting up to set her spoon in the sink.

"I'm just so happy that you're here," Sadie confessed. "I know that your visit is going to rush by much quicker than I'd like it to...but I'm determined to enjoy every moment of it as best as I can." She smiled knowingly at her older sister. "Even if that includes your sisterly interrogations."

Judith gave her an offended look. "Really, Sadie, I don't know what you mean." But Sadie could see the mirth in her eyes.

"Oh come on, Ju," she chided playfully. "I know that you didn't come over here just to scavenge for scraps. You're going to want to know all about what happened tonight, so you might as well get on with questioning me."

"Well if you insist," her older sister smiled, "then perhaps I shall."


A cold breeze gusted past Davey's face, and he shivered a little as he felt the wind ruffling through his hair and seeping into his coat, chilling his nose and his fingertips.

He'd come straight up to the rooftop after leaving the Becker residence, reluctant to let the night end even if delaying its conclusion meant a venture out into the cold, and had quickly found cover behind one of the raised support structures that offered some shelter from the wind. It was there that he'd found himself lingering for an indeterminate amount of time, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, listening to the sound of the wind blowing past as he tried to clear his mind.

It was a ridiculous thing to do; snow was predicted for that evening, and he should have been seeking the warmth of his family's apartment and preparing for bed. It would be another full day of selling tomorrow, and he needed all the rest he could get...

But at the moment, he was far too distracted to even think about sleeping.

As he looked up at the darkened, cloud-covered sky, the first of the evening's snowflakes began to fall, and he watched as they drifted downward, landing on the rooftop and settling onto his coat. The sight reminded him of the snowball fight that he'd had with Sadie several days ago behind the tenement, and he sighed, letting himself slide down the wall just a bit as a smile stretched across his face.

Sadie…

He couldn't get her out of his mind.

It wasn't an unfamiliar preoccupation; she'd been constantly in his head ever since that afternoon on the rooftop when she'd caught him staring at her, and though the incident had taken place weeks ago, his memory of it was as vivid as if it had happened only yesterday, that deluge of confusing feelings that had flooded in from all sides, drowning out everything that had formerly kept their friendship so simple and straightforward and safe.

In the wake of that chaos, however, a quiet voice had emerged, a voice that had probably been speaking all along but that Davey had become unused to hearing after years of pushing it aside. He hadn't recognized it at first, too flustered and confused to discern what it had been saying, but as the days had passed and his emotions had settled, he'd slowly become reacquainted with it, and now it was as familiar to him as any of the other thoughts that regularly filled his head.

It was this voice that was speaking now, the faint and subtle stirring of something long ignored, a call that he hadn't had the courage - or the opportunity - to answer for quite some time, for necessity had required all of his energy and attention, and experience had told him that he wasn't cut out for it, and everything sensible in him seemed to say that such thoughts were only foolishness that ought to be set aside...

...yet each passing day had found him more and more willing to entertain that very foolishness, and now here he was, standing on the rooftop under a shower of gently falling snow, finally ready to answer the call of that quiet inner voice. Strangely enough, he didn't feel flustered or scared or confused anymore. He felt warm instead, wrapped up in the exhilaration that was enfolding him from all sides as he let it take him with the willingness of one who no longer had any real desire to resist.

Unconditional surrender, he thought, remembering the terms of victory upon which he and Sadie had agreed to commence their snowball fight before eventually coming to a truce without a winner being declared. But the truth was that he'd lost that afternoon, lost whatever remaining will he'd had to pretend that he didn't know what was happening to him when she looked into his eyes or said his name or simply smiled at something that made her happy. He'd spent weeks trying to deny those feelings, to downplay their effects, to quiet the part of his consciousness that knew exactly what was going on, even if the rest of his mind had refused to acknowledge it...

But he was done lying to himself. To keep up the pretense of ignorance or indifference was impossible now, and it was time to stop running and admit defeat.

There was no other way around it.

He was in love.

Irrationally, absurdly, hopelessly in love, in love with his landlord's daughter, in love with the girl who lived upstairs, in love with his very first friend from Manhattan, in love with his classmate and tutor and confidante...

...in love with Sadie Becker, the girl who had fallen into his life that auspicious afternoon in June and since then had never really left, despite the fact that he'd been completely unprepared for her to set up residence in his heart. He didn't know how it had happened or why he had let her in, but he had, and now he had to face the fact that he was no longer that cautious, level-headed boy who knew better than to let his heart be swayed, who was too serious to fall in love, who'd promised himself years ago that he wouldn't repeat the mistake of misplacing his affections, and who'd never intended to become so very fond of this girl who had found her way in despite all of his defenses.

It made no sense, for he and Sadie were as different as night and day, opposites in temperament and in their approach to life, and there was still so much about her that he didn't understand, so much that confused and dismayed and even frustrated him at times, for she was breezy and impulsive and impossible to figure out. But for whatever reason, she'd captivated him anyway, this confounding, cheeky girl who was always a step ahead of him, always just out of reach, yet so gentle and sweet and inviting that her evasiveness didn't discourage him in the slightest from wanting - needing - to know her better, to discover the depth of her heart that he sensed he'd only just gotten a glimpse of in the several months that he'd known her.

But hold on, came the sudden thought. Wasn't he talking absurdly now? It was completely illogical, this fanciful notion of giving in to his feelings, for there was no possible way they could lead to anything other than heartbreak, and rather than indulge them, it would be better if he focused on trying to reverse course while he still could. It wouldn't be easy - he was already in too deep - but if he gave himself time and really put his mind to it, he knew he could undo the process and eventually find his way back to solid ground. It was what he would have certainly advised someone else in his situation to do, and he knew that it was sound advice.

The rational side of him continued speaking, warning and urgent.

There's nothing to gain from going down this road; you ought to turn around now while you still can.

Remember the last time you let this kind of affection get the better of you? It didn't end well, and you told yourself that you wouldn't make that mistake again. You promised you'd pay attention to the signs, and that you'd heed them.

If you insist on keeping this up, you're going to get hurt. You know that...right?

He knew that all of it was true. It was unquestionably, inevitably true. And he ought to listen, for his rational side was what had kept him out of trouble for all these years.

But, try as he might, he couldn't stifle the defiant response of his less-rational side, that quiet voice that in the past had rarely spoken up but now was asserting itself more and more due in no small part to the influence of the impulsive girl he'd unwittingly fallen for:

I know it's true...but I don't care.

Davey shook his head in amazement and dismay. "What's wrong with me?" he muttered aloud. The response wasn't like him at all. The David he knew - the David he'd been for so long - would never have thrown caution to the winds. And yet it was him, undeniably, unquestionably him. He didn't want to choose the safe way out this time. He didn't want to be guarded and sensible and circumspect. He didn't want to build up his walls again, didn't want to back away and shut her out.

He didn't want to stop falling for her. Even if it meant getting hurt.

...so what should he do now?

Davey rubbed his arms briskly, trying to ward off the chill of the wind. He would have to be very cautious going forward. He didn't think that there was anything wrong with quietly admiring Sadie and taking pleasure in her company so long as he didn't let her find out how truly deep his feelings ran - she was the landlord's daughter, after all, and he couldn't let himself lose sight of that fact. But as long as he was careful and respectful and didn't overdo it, they could continue their friendship as usual, and everything would be fine. His affection would not be a problem so long as he made sure not to give voice to it.

(Here his rational side interjected yet again with the observation that this plan was in no ways a helpful or realistic long-term solution, but he ignored the thought).

And so it was that Davey eventually left the rooftop that night having chosen a course of action that was decidedly illogical and ever-so-slightly ridiculous. His thoughts were still swirling around like the tiny eddies of snowflakes, and the reality of the unknown was something that he knew he would have to face in the weeks to come, but at the moment, his heart was surprisingly light, and he found himself completely content as he made his way down the stairs and out of the snow.

He'd always been defined by his roles and responsibilities: David, the reliable son. David, the watchful older brother. David, the conscientious student. David, the co-leader of the newsboy strike. David, the landlord's hired help. But tonight - at least for this moment - he didn't have to be any of those things, didn't have to be defined by what he did or what he'd accomplished.

Tonight, he could simply be David, the boy who was in love with Sadie Becker.

And for tonight, that was more than enough.


A/N: It took 114 chapters and 460k+ words, but utterly smitten Davey is finally here - and finally acknowledging what we knew was going on a long time ago. I'll admit to feeling a little regretful that I didn't stick with the initial plan of keeping this a 30 chapter story, mostly because I know that I haven't been successful in holding most of my initial readers' attention long enough for this subplot to truly develop, but for the few of you who are hanging in there, I hope you're not too disappointed, and thank you for sticking around. There's a lot more ahead for Davey and Sadie, so if you're still game and if I can keep my own flagging motivation up, I'm going to do my best to give you a deeply rewarding romance subplot. Thanks, as always, for reading this chapter, and if you have time, I'd really love to hear what you thought of it. :)