It was two days later, and life was back to normal. He never knew what hit him, Chloe snickered to herself as she dashed down an alley, checking over her shoulder to make sure no one was in pursuit. She had just hit an older, obviously wealthy gentleman, relieving him of his pocket watch, his wallet, and one set of gold cufflinks, all at once. She was feeling pretty proud of herself as she ran out of the alley, turned a corner, and barreled straight into someone.

�

"Hey!"

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The impact sent them both flying to the ground and Chloe let out a cry as her newly acquired prize ended up in the dirt. She scrabbled for the gold pocket watch even as she heard someone say her name. Looking up, she recognized one of the newsboys from the Manhattan Lodging House. In fact, she recognized those blue eyes a little too well; they'd been the very same ones she'd found herself staring into that night on the fire escape. She'd briefly been introduced to him the night they had broken Amelia out of the State Home, but in her agitation that night she hadn't realized then that it had been him she'd seen through the window.

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"You all right?" he asked, holding a hand out to her. Stuffing the watch away into her own pocket, she accepted his hand and let him help her up. What was his name again? She struggled to remember it. "You're Chloe, Flip Cavanaugh's sistuh," he said. Chloe nodded. Dutchy, that was it.

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"Yeah, sorry 'bout dat," she said. His newspapers had gone flying when they'd collided, so she helped him gather them up.

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"Dat's all right," he smiled at her, and Chloe found herself smiling back. "You runnin' from someone?"

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Chloe shrugged her thin shoulders. "Nah."

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"Just runnin'?"

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"Sorta. I'm meetin' me sistuh," she explained, nodding in the direction of the nearby crowd. A boxing match was going on, and people milled about everywhere. It was exactly the perfect place for a pickpocket to work. The newsboy nodded, golden blonde hair flopping across his forehead.

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"Uh, hey, listen, a bunch of us is goin' to Medda's latuh, ya wanna come?" he asked, scuffing at the dirt ground with one foot. Chloe blinked at him in mystification.

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"What for?" she wanted to know. He shrugged.

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"I dunno, just ta see da show� ya don't have to if ya don't wanna�"

"Well, all right, I'll ask my sistuh," she said.

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He smiled a sweet, sunny smile and nodded, and the two of them wandered over to the square where the boxing match was in its eighth round already.

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"Hey, Dutchy!" someone called out of the crowd, and Chloe looked up to see Jack, Racetrack, a newsboy named Crutchy (she only remembered because of the wooden crutch he leaned on), and a newsgirl called Whistler, approaching them.

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"Heyah, Chloe," Jack grinned at her as the group exchanged greetings. "Where's Flip?"

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"She'll be heah in a minute," Chloe answered, looking around for her sister. No sign of her, no doubt she'd pop up in that unexpected way that was a family trait.

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"I invited Chloe to come to Medda's tonight," Dutchy put in and Jack nodded.

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"You oughtta," he said cheerfully. Chloe smiled, ducking her head to hide the blush that lit her pale cheeks. She'd never had friends before, Amelia had always insisted on a solitary existence for the two of them, and she definitely liked having other people in her life.

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"Heyah fellas," Amelia appeared out of the crowd, materializing beside Racetrack. She smiled at them, the disagreement they'd had two nights prior plainly forgotten in her capricious nature.

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"Hey Flip, you comin' to Medda's tonight?" Race wanted to know. Amelia shrugged as she held out her hand for the result of Chloe's day's work. Chloe handed over the wallet, pocket watch and cufflinks, and her sister whistled in admiration.

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"Maybe. Hey Race, what time is it?" she grinned at him, looking up from her inspection of the stolen items. Racetrack reached into his vest pocket and let out a yowl of surprise.

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"Me watch! Where's me watch?" he demanded, searching his pockets. Amelia was snickering and Chloe almost groaned out loud. Her sister had the most twisted sense of humor.

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"Flip, give 'im his watch," Jack sighed and Amelia laughed.

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"Jus' wanted ta see if you was awake," she said, handing over the watch. Racetrack snatched it from her and stuffed it back in his pocket.

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"That ain't funny," he muttered as the others laughed.

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"Shoah it is," Amelia snickered, then poked her sister in the ribs. "Dere's a good one," she remarked, nodding over Chloe's shoulder towards the crowd. Chloe turned to look and shook her head as the man her sister had pointed out moved around to watch the boxing match.

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"Can't we just call it a day, Amy? I'm hungry," she said. Although she never would have admitted it, she was beginning to feel somewhat ashamed of what she and her sister did for a living, and didn't wish to call attention to it in front of the newsies.

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"One more, promise!" Amelia grinned, slapping her hat onto her head. She winked at Chloe and the others and slipped off into the crush of people.

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"So do ya think youse gonna come ta Medda's tonight, Chloe?" Whistler asked. Chloe lifted one thin shoulder in answer.

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"I dunno, I guess so." She snuck a glance at Dutchy and prayed her cheeks weren't as red as they felt.

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"Ya oughtta, it'll be fun" Jack put in.

Chloe nodded, but she wasn't listening anymore. Jack's voice seemed very far away, and an unfamiliar feeling of foreboding had crept over her. Frowning, she turned around to look for Amelia. There she was, near the edge of the crowd, by the brick wall of the factory, about to hit the man she'd pointed out. Chloe craned her neck to get a look at the victim. He was short and stocky, barrel-chested, with the narrow, ruthless eyes of a reptile. He was a dangerous man; that much was obvious just by looking at him. Whatever had possessed Amy to hit him? Some strange sixth sense sent a chill shooting down Chloe's spine, making her fingertips tingle in fear, and she opened her mouth to call out to her sister, a move that would effectively abort the hit. The words never left her lips.

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It all happened in slow motion. Amelia slipped up behind the man, her hand creeping into his pocket quickly and cleanly, but from where she was standing across the square, Chloe saw his expression change and realized that he knew what was happening to him. His eyes narrowed into cruel slits and he turned swiftly; there was a flash of silver, and Amelia's eyes went huge in surprise. Her mouth dropped open, and she looked down as if confused.

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"AMY!"

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Chloe's cry reverberated across the square, as she began to fight her way through the crowd to her sister. The man was already gone, slipped away into the throng of people. Amelia took a step back, staggered, then crumpled to the ground, her expression one of astonishment at the crimson blossoming on her shirt. "Amy, oh my god," Chloe dropped to her knees beside the wounded girl.

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"The dirty bastard stabbed me," Amelia put a hand to the blood spreading across her midsection. "He actually stabbed me." She sounded more amazed than hurt as she held up a slim hand covered in blood. "Dat wasn't supposed ta happen," she added, her head falling back against the ground as if it weighed too much to be kept upright.

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"What do I do, Amy?" Chloe sobbed, yanking off her vest and pressing it to the wound. God, the blood, there was so much blood.

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"Get a doctor, somebody's hurt ovuh heah!" someone yelled from behind them and a figure skidded to a halt and dropped down beside Chloe. "It's all right Flip, jus' hold on." Jack pressed his fingers to Amelia's throat, checking her pulse. His expression was dire as he looked over his shoulder at the others.

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"Cowboy," Amelia's voice was weaker. "Listen, I knows we's even now, but can ya do me a favuh? I'll have ta owe ya one." Jack nodded as he leaned his head down to hear her better.

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"Whatever ya want, ya got, Flip," he promised. Amelia coughed, a bright crimson bubble coloring her pale lips as she struggled for a breath.

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"Take care a' Chloe for me" she murmured, closing her eyes.

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"Amy, Amy!" Chloe gasped, terror robbing her of a louder voice. Her sister opened her eyes, but her gaze was vacant. She smiled very slightly, as if that simple motion took a great effort.

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"It's gonna be all right, Chlo," she whispered, and coughed again.

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Then she was still.

Amelia Mary Cavanaugh, better known as Flip, was laid to rest in the pauper's cemetery outside the Convent of Our Lady of Charity. There was no funeral, as there was no money to pay for one. All that was left of the most infamous pickpocket in Manhattan was a small cross bearing her name. No one came to mourn her, and no flowers decorated the bare earth. It was a lonely sight indeed.

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The newsies took Chloe back to their Lodging House, and that was where she'd been for the past two days, since that awful afternoon in the square. She'd barely said more than a few words and hadn't even cried yet. All she could do was sit by the window and stare out, her expression as vacant as Amy's had been as life fled her body. It would have been a minor injury, except that the knife had sliced into one of Amy's lungs, causing her to drown in her own blood. No one knew the man who had done it, and it was unlikely he would be punished for the murder of a street urchin named Flip.

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"You gonna sit there all day again today?"

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Chloe looked away from the window to see Jewel, in the process of braiding her hair, frowning at her. "So what if I is?" Chloe muttered, turning back to the window. It was first thing in the morning, the bunkroom was alive with activity as the group readied themselves for a day of selling newspapers.

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"Ya can't just sit dere for the da rest of ya life, ya know," Jewel sighed.

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"What's it to ya," Chloe mumbled. Jewel rolled her eyes.

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"Nothin'," she said, looking around at the other girls for help.

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"You need to snap out of it," Sunshine announced unsympathetically. "You need to get on with things."

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Chloe ignored her. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Amy was dead, that was all that mattered.

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"C'mon, come learn how to sell papes wit' us," Matchbox put in. Chloe finally looked away from the window at them.

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"Fine," she said quietly, standing up. She brushed past them and headed for the door.

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"Where youse goin'?" Jewel wanted to know.

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"Away, back to me own life," Chloe muttered. She was getting sick and tired of these obnoxious harpies sticking their noses in where they weren't wanted.

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"You ain't got a life no more," Jewel informed her brutally. "All youse got is dis, and you're luckier den you t'ink."

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Chloe paused and turned to look at her. "What are you talkin' about?" she asked. Jewel sighed.

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"You lost your sister, dat's tough, but you got a chance heah, a chance for a new life an' a new family. You can start makin' an honest livin'," Glory put in earnestly.

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"I made a livin' just fine, " Chloe replied. Anger was beginning to penetrate the cement wall of numbness that had been surrounding her since that afternoon in the square.

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"Yeah? Look at what dat livin' did to ya sistuh," Jewel shot back.

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"Don't talk about me sistuh," Chloe warned the other girl in a low voice.

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"Why not? She ain't gonna stop me, is she?" Jewel goaded her. "She's dead, Chloe, she was a lousy thief and it got her killed -"

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Chloe let out an inarticulate cry of rage and swung at the other girl, hitting her directly in the left eye. She tackled her, and they fell to the floor, punching and kicking and yelling for all they were worth.

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"What's goin' on?" The boys came running at the first sound of the fight to find the two girls in the process of tearing each other apart.

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"Hey, break it up!" It took the combined efforts of Jack, Blink and Mush to pry Chloe off of Jewel.

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Chloe jerked away and turned her back to them, struggling to get a hold of herself. It wasn't working. Jewel's words had ripped a gaping hole in her tight control, and her precarious grasp on her emotions was slipping dangerously.

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"Chloe, you all right?" someone gently touched her shoulder, and the dam burst.

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Burying her face in her hands, she sobbed like the heartbroken child she was, crying for the sister she had lost, for the tragedy of it all, and especially for Amy, who would never see the culmination of the many hopes and dreams she'd had. She cried for the loneliness, for the sorrow, for the pain, until she couldn't cry anymore. The tears petered off, fading to watery hicoughs, and she looked up at the person who had held her the entire time she had been crying.

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Dutchy gave her a lopsided smile as she stepped out of the circle of his embrace. "Feel bettuh?" he asked. Chloe wiped at her face with her sleeve and looked around. The room was empty, the others had already gone ahead. "So, ya gonna come learn how to sell papes?" he asked. Chloe took a shaky breath. She could almost hear her sister's voice in her ears, what have ya got to lose, kid?

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"Yeah, I guess so," she managed to say in a wobbly voice. Dutchy nodded and smiled that sunny smile.

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"Ya need a newsie name, ya know," he said and Chloe shrugged. "I gots one for ya too," he added with a grin.

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"What is it?" she whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

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"Ghost," he answered proudly. "'Cause a' dat night on da fire escape."

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"You knew that was me?"

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"A' course," he grinned. Chloe looked at him for a moment, and found herself starting to smile back. He held a hand out to her, and she placed her fingers in his grasp. "It's gonna be all right, Ghost," he said.

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And it was.