The Newsie Princess Of Brooklyn


Going, going, gone. As she sits, waiting for the future, the world slips past her in a dizzying parade, and it is all she can do to watch.

She presses a cold hand to the colder glass of the window, searching for some fiber of truth.

She thinks of the boy who broke her heart. How he had taken his sharp knife and stripped away all the protective layers of guardedness and defense that had softened the blows until now. She been left with pure feeling. A liquid thing, it knew no boundaries. She had had to relearn the rules, to play a new game that she had only seen from afar. And she had failed. But he had left her still with something greater than she could have imagined. She was wounded now, but soon she would be stronger. Soon she would be stronger than she had ever been before.

This is not an ending. As the trains speeds on and leaves everything she has known behind, speeds on into the night and then the next morning without stopping for breath, she realizes that she has survived. She realizes that she will go on living, no matter what happens. She realizes that you can go on loving someone even if they don't love you back. Even if they aren't there; even if you never see them again. But she will see him again. This she is certain of.

This is not an ending. This we must be sure of. Just as Samantha knew that the land laid out before her would never end, she knew that her love for Jack would last just as long. And in this, at least, she was right.


Darlings, don't despair. This is not the end of Samantha Conlon. Six years translates to about a month in ff.net time, right? And when she arrives....we'll put on our vests (yes we'll put on our vests) and we'll stick out our chests (yes we'll stick out our chests) and be off! to the races again...

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you all.

XOX Dakki