The part lasted all night and into the early hours of the morning. While all the working class kids returned to their jobs that evening the newsies from all over New York immigrated to Irving Hall for the remainder of the evening. I must have danced and sang so much that by the time I could get back to my apartment and sleep I decided not to open the shop the next day. I hadn't slept in over 48 hours; it felt good to just rest.

Things eventually returned to normal- or at least as normal as you can get when you're friends with newsies. Jack and Sarah got together (finally) and David hooked up with a girl from Queens he'd met on the strike a few weeks later. By then it had been over a month and I'd given up all hope of seeing Spot ever again. On this particular Friday afternoon I was alone in my apartment with Jack, David, Les and Sarah, whom I now invited over for dinner on a regular basis. We were laughing at Les's crazy antics and commenting on the headlines in my living room when the conversation abruptly turned to Spot. I tried to stay out of it and dug even further into Sarah's chocolate cake she's brought over with her but was inevitably drawn in.

"So Shadow, have you heard anything from our King of Brooklyn yet?" David asked casually. I shook my head. "Not one lick. I ran over to Brooklyn yesterday to make sure they were alright. Ink and the rest of them haven't taken no for an answer just yet. Ink's been acting as temporary leader for now. He says he'll return to being second as soon as Spot gets back."

Reader, you're probably wondering why I was in Brooklyn in the first place. You see, now that I was all known to the newsie boroughs and all I was considered the Guardian Angel of New York instead of just Manhattan. In between the dress shop and running all over the city checking up on the borough's once a week I rarely had the amount of time I used to. Since Theodore Roosevelt had made my shop pretty popular around I was getting orders from all over the state, leaving such dinners like this the most I saw of my friends unless I was in the Manhattan lodging house. But that's beyond the point- back to the story!

"Personally I think they need to move on and accept the fact that Spot's not coming," I continued. "They've gotten too used to the way he's ran the place at any rate." "But you believe he's coming back, right?" Les piped up cheerily. The kid adored Jack, Racetrack and Spot and had grown to think of them as extended family. He always saw the best in everyone. I turned to look at him sitting on Sarah's lap and smiled a bit sadly. "I'm sorry Les," I replied softly. "It's time to move on."

But Jack wasn't done talking about this just yet. "Shadow, he loved youse!" he insisted. "Isa saw it in his eyes. Anyone could. He'll never forget about youse." He crossed his arms and leaned back on the couch. "He'll be back, Isa guarantee it." Sarah agreed with her boyfriend. "Elizabeth, you can't just give up!" she added. "It's not fair to Spot and it certainly isn't fair to you." I finished my cake and got up to set it in the dish tub. "Sarah, he hasn't written me in the month he left, not even sent word he's alright. Trust me; he's not coming back to New York." I set it down and gathered up the remains of our meal, glancing at the clock on the wall. IT chimed 10 o'clock.

David heard it and stood up. "I think we should get going Sarah. Mom's gonna start to worry soon." Sarah nodded and Jack gathered up a sleeping Les in his arms so Sarah could get up. I walked them to the door and we said our good-byes. They left and I shut the door, then hurried the clean up and get to bed. It had been a long night. It was about 10:45 when I had finished all the dishes and was heading off to bed. I was so tired that I wasn't going to bother to change, just collapse and drift off. Tomorrow I had to check on the boroughs after work, a job that while I enjoyed took away from having dinner in the peace and serenity of my own home. At least the Bronx appreciated me enough to serve me dinner before I headed backā€¦.


I was jostled from my thoughts by a sound at my door. I didn't think much of it, just thought it was my mind playing tricks.

Knock knock knock!

The noise continued, this time more urgently. I groaned, cursed, and went to open it. I swung the door open and was about to start screaming at the person calling on me at this late hour- and stopped once I saw who it was.

Spot Conlon, trade mark smirk a mile wide, was standing before me.

I blinked and expected to see nothing after I did, but he was still there, plain and real as day. "Shadow," he said. "Youse gonna let me in 'o' what?" I just stood there in denial. "You came back," I finally said lamely. Spot snorted. "Youse think Isa would leave ya like dat?" I shrugged. "You've done it to most every girl you've come across. He frowned. "Shadow, ya not most every giorl an' youse know dat," he reminded me. I turned around and walked back into my house. Spot followed me and shut the door behind him.

I sighed and crossed my arms much like Jack had done earlier, still refusing to meet his blue eyed gaze. "You didn't write," I began. "You didn't even send word to me you were OK, didn't check up on any one of your friends-" I was cut off by Spot slipped in front of me and lifting my chin up to face him, storm gray eyes once again on deep ocean blue. "Den let me make it up ta youse." He leaned forward and kissed me on the lips, soft, smooth and passionate. It brought memories flooding back from when I had first fallen in love with him, that warm feeling and wonderful bliss that had encompassed us both. Spot wrapped his arms around my waist as we broke apart and pressed his body to mine. "Forgive me?" he asked quietly. I smiled up at him with my eyes. "Always."

As we swayed back and forth silently I couldn't help but feel whole. It was like a missing puzzle piece was found and placed inside my heart, like I could finally rest in peace.

I could only find one word to describe it: UNITY


K, there, done! For the love of all worlds of newsies fanfiction and the final time please REVIEW!

Good day,

Miss Mad Hatter