The Struggle for Liberty

by Liberty Andriola

Liberty Andriola darted up and down the back alleyways of Harlem. It was near sunrise, and she wanted to be in Brooklyn before it was completely light outside. Rounding a corner, she glanced across the street and took off into the next alleyway.

The Italian girl's liquid blue eyes pierced the darkness better then that of any feline's. Liberty was a runner; she was extremely short, fast and thin. She'd never been caught by the bulls, although she had been in quite a few across city chases with them, not to mention a few close calls. Speaking of close calls, she kept her black hair cut short for that reason. Once, when she'd had long hair over a year ago, it had been caught on a nail. While turning to free it, she had caught her sleeve. Thank God she'd been able to make the wall at the end of the alley, or. . . Well, that was the reason she kept her hair tight against her head in a short, boyish cut. And even that, she kept covered with her faded blue cap. Nicky had always made her promise to keep her thick, dark hair long. . . like mama's. . .Liberty sighed. But, she thought, desperate times call for desperate measures. Things happen. And so, her beautiful hair stayed hacked short.

The sun was really beginning to rise now, first peeking and then pouring across the horizon like melted butter. A breath-taking sight. Liberty squinted her eyes and frowned as she paused at the end of an alleyway. Breath-taking or not, she hated daylight. The dead of night was much more her style. And more then anything, she hated to watch the sun rise. It was like the earth was screaming to her, "Haha! Night is over! Your time is gone! Better luck next time!"

She grimaced at the bright yellow light spilling over the city, and flashed down the rest of the alley. Gladly, she retreated into the shadows that were quickly being slaughtered and dissolved by the powerful army of daylight.

"Where is she..." Nicky murmured under his breath, checking his pocket watch. Liberty was never late for her Saturday visit. Never. Unless something terrible had happened....Nicky cursed and put his watch back in his pocket. As soft as he had tried to keep it, Lucy had heard him anyways. She scolded him and then offered a helpful suggestion.

"Maybe she stopped for breakfast..." Nicky smiled down at his younger sister, and offered a ruffle of her shoulder-length, curly black hair. Lucy was ten years old - ten "whole" years old if you asked her directly. And she was a pistol. ‘Just like her sister,' Nicky though. ‘Just like her mother, too.' Shaking his head of the less then pleasant memories, he began pacing again.

"You're gonna wear out the rug," Lucy scolded in her most mature voice. Nicky offered her a grin.

"Are you gonna be replacing it if I do?" he asked. Lucy shook her head, curls bouncing around her face.

"Then don't worry ‘bout it, mio caro." He paced his way over to the window, looking out over Bensonhurst. Where was she?

It seems, in Liberty's hurry, she'd run smack into one of the many people she hadn't wanted to see.

"Well well well, look at dis, Breaker. Wat's ya name, doll?" Liberty stared at the red-headed thug in front of her. She knew him well enough, but he had no idea who she was. They called him Brick. And she knew his friend, too - Breaker Dempsey. Breaker knew her, but hopefully wouldn't remember her. She placed her bet on that.

"Maria," she lied. She could see the blonde haired Breaker eyeing her suspiciously. It wouldn't be long before it hit him. Liberty mentally kicked herself for stealing his knife a few months ago. That was one of her many problems - she didn't know when to quit.

"Maria...well what's a pretty goyl like you's doin in a neighborhood like dis?" Liberty knew she shouldn't be in Sunset Park if she could help it, but she'd never been caught before. She watched Breaker's eyes nervously as they still searched her.

"I's on my way to see family...." she said, flashing a sweet smile. She groaned inwardly as she saw a lightbulb go off over Breaker's head.

"She's from Harlem," he told Brick. The red-head turned back to her.

"Harlem, huh? Who ya go in da way ‘a family all ‘da way ovah heah, sweetface?" Liberty saw a chance, and took it.

"Conlon. Spot Conlon. Do you know ‘im?" she asked, batting her eyelashes. Brick looked her up and down skeptically, Breaker even more so.

"You's don't look like you's related to Conlon," he said slowly. It was truth - obviously. Liberty was full blood Italian, while Spot came from a decidedly Irish background. They looked completely different - skin tone, eye color, hair color, build...but if Brick was as slow as he looked, he'd buy it. It was Breaker she was worried about. He had obviously remembered she was from Harlem, but hopefully he hadn't quite recognized her as the thief who had lifted his knife quite suddenly on her last visit to Brooklyn.

"Well we's second cousins," she countered. She felt her hand fly to the cross around her neck instinctively, and she prayed silently. Brick gave her a look, but he must have realized that if she was related to Spot...it wouldn't be pretty if he found out Brick was harassing her. He moved aside silently. She took the opportunity, tipping her hat and smiling sweetly, to walk past them. Her plan was to calmly make her way to the end of the block, turn the corner out of their sight, and make a break for it.

Too bad she didn't get that far.

"Hey!" Breaker snapped his fingers. "Andriola! Liberty Andriola! Brick - dat's da goyl dat lifted me knife!" Liberty didn't wait to hear the footsteps after her - she immediately did what she did best:

Run like the wind.

Dove Parker sat on the pier of the East River, looking out. The sun had risen several minutes ago, and now hung solidly in the sky. He watched it reflect off the water, sighing.

"Heya, Parker!" Dove turned around to come face to face with the blue-eyed Spot Conlon himself.

"Heya, Spot. Shouldn't you be gettin to the D.O. by now?" The Brooklyn leader nodded, and sat down beside him.

"Yeah, I should. Waitin fer her?" Dove nodded. She was late - she was never late. She should have already gone by Nicky's by now, and be here. With him. And she wasn't. Dove felt odd - out of place, even sitting on the pier he'd grown up on all his life. He always felt odd without his best friend, even if she was a girl. She completed him - she was a missing piece. Why couldn't she have moved to Bensonhurst with Nicky, anyway? Things would have been perfect - Dove could have seen her everyday. Even sold with her. But noooooo.....Liberty Andriola was too head-strong to listen to anybody about what was good for her. She wanted to stay in Harlem with her goyls while Nicky and Lucy had a perfectly good apartment over The DeNally Theatre.

"She late?" Spot asked as he flicked his cigarette into the water, bringing Dove back to reality. Dove looked at him harshly.

"Would I be sitting here if she wasn't late?" he growled. Immediately, he knew what the repercussions would be for using that tone of voice with Spot, and his face fell.

"I'm sorry, Spot. But you know how she makes me so just....arrrggg..." To his relief, Dove saw the Brooklyn leader break out into a slight smile.

"It's alright, Parker. I un'astan. J'est don't make a habit ‘a it." Dove nodded, and sighed as Spot stood up slowly.

"You feel like actually woykin ta'day?" he asked. Dove laughed a little - Spot knew Dove took the entire day off every Saturday, when Liberty came into Brooklyn. But he figured he might as well ask - he had a few messages to run to the Bronx, and Dove was his main messenger between there and Brooklyn. Not one of Spot's little "boydees", but a messenger for both sides.

"Yeah, I do if ya need me," Dove replied, to Spot's surprise.

"Well, ahh...you wanna wait a little longer fah her, and then run a few woyds down tah the Bronx fah me - ta Splints and Lazy?" he asked. Dove sighed again, and stood up. His 5'10" figure stood a good two inches over Spot's, and his soft brown eyes met with sharp blue ones.

"Yeah," Dove answered. "I ain't waitin for her though. If she hadn't shown by now...she won't show."

Spot nodded, smiled, and started rambling off the his memos to the Bronx.

Nicky was about to explode when he heard a knock at his door. Lucy hopped off the couch to open it, and he had to restrain himself from shoving his own little sister out of the way. Instead, he gently "placed" her to the side and rushed towards the heavily dead-bolted door. The ‘click-slide-click-slide' of the bolts could be heard on the other side, and Nicky flung the door open to a panting, dirt-smudged Liberty. Although she was breathing hard, her dark blue eyes still sparkled as she smiled and threw her arms around Nicky's neck.

"Nicky!" she breathed as she hugged him hard.

"Libs!" he replied as he did the same. Liberty was the most important thing in his life; with the exception of Lucy. They never saw each other during the week, and he always had the terrible feeling he would never see her again after she left every Saturday. He always eagerly awaited her, and she'd been almost an hour late today. It was the most panicked Nicky Andriola had ever been in his entire life.

"Libby Libby," he repeated as she released him. "I though you weren't gonna show - I thought something happened....looks like it did," he added, wiping a smudge of dirt from her cheek. She just grinned up at him - she loved her older brother so much. He was the world to her.

"Nothing I couldn't take care of," she replied non-nonchalantly, stepping inside. She was immediately bombarded with a whirlwind of black hair.

"Libby Libby Libby!" was the battle-cry of this mass of dark curls as it flung herself at Liberty. Liberty, in turn, laughed and stooped down to her younger sister's height. This proved to be the wrong move, because she was immediately knocked backwards as Lucy tackled her in a hug. Liberty, still laughing, collapsed onto the floor. After the near-insane giggling stopped and Lucy resumed her standing position, (all of four feet, ten inches) and Liberty was left laying sprawled, half in and half out of the doorway and the hallway. She grinned up at Nicky as his soft blue eyes smiled back. He held out a hand for help, and she took it, pulling herself up slowly.

After dusting herself off, she made her way back into the apartment for the second time in the last passing minute. As she sat down on the couch, she noticed Nicky was dressed to go out. She frowned at this, but she knew she was over an hour late. He would have to be at work soon.

"Libs," he began. Liberty held up a hand.

"I know, I know, I'm late...very, very late....and I know you're off to work....so what time do you get off?" Nicky smiled and sighed. His sister knew him inside and out. Always had, always would.

"I get off at six. Plan on hanging around?"

"Of course," was the reply he got. "I might drop by old South Brooklyn, see Dove and Rise first. In fact, I was supposed to be there now, but...I ran into a few people..." she explained, locking eyes with Nicky. He nodded knowingly.

"Well Lucy and I've got to be going..." he said wistfully. Liberty looked distraught for the moment - she'd just sat down after what felt like a 10K run through the back alleys of Sunset Park and Bay Ridge. But after a split second, she was her usual grinning, happy-go-lucky self again.

"Noooo problem," she said, standing up from the couch. Nicky offered her his apartment key, but she refused it with a shake of her head and then headed for the door. Nicky and the infamous tangle of curls followed into the hallway. Hugs were exchanged, as were times and promises, and Liberty said she would be back "in this very hallway at seven o'clock," and that "you, Nickolas Andriola, better be there." Then the three split and went their separate ways - Liberty to South Brooklyn and Nicky with Lucy, off to work.

Storm, a tall, thin and also Italian girl shoved her waist length black hair out of her face. There were always a few strands that refused to stay braided or pulled back. She was calling out headlines as usual: "Dead Body Found in Harlem Riv'ah!" she yelled. "Unidentified Corpse!"

For once, this headline was true. The front page was halfway taken up by the water lodged body. Sitting down on a park bench, she opened up the paper to read the rest of the story. She pulled a spare cigarette from behind her ear and lit it as she flipped back to the front to scan the picture. There were several little familiar details - ‘Ha!' she thought to herself. ‘Why shouldn't they be familiar? I only helped drag the guy down a fire escape and to the river for the love of . . .' her thoughts trailed off.

"Hey DeSario!" Storm jerked, the loud voice startled her. Lowering her paper, she was met with the grinning form of a blonde-haired boy. His soft brown eyes met Storm's bright emerald ones. Breathing a sigh of relief, she took a slow drag off her cigarette.

"Heya Parker - How's it rollin?" Dove sat down beside her, and she offered him a drag. He looked at it for a moment.

"I really shouldn't..." Dove Parker, messenger to Brooklyn and Bronx, tried hard not to smoke. It made him cough and come up short of breath, and those were two things a messenger did not need. Never the less, he plucked the cigarette from Storm's fingers reluctantly and took a drag. He rolled the smoke around in his mouth for a moment, and then blew it out.

"Smooth," he breathed. Storm grinned at him as he handed her cigarette back to her.

"Hey," she said, her eyes lighting up. "Ain't it Saturday?" She glanced at the date on her newspaper. "It is! Why yah workin ta'day? Ain't this ya day to be wit. . . ." Storm trailed off as she saw Dove's eyes downcast to the ground.

"She never showed," he said softly. Storm raised an eyebrow and sucked on her cigarette thoughtfully. She knew Liberty was never late for anything, let alone her Saturday visit with Dove. She opened her mouth to say something more about it, but then closed it again. A moment if silence hung between the two of them.

Tilting her heah back, Storm blew smoke into the air and then proceeded to wave it away with her hand. She turned to Dove, trying to make her voice cheerful.

"So, Parker, wat news yah bringin me ta'day?" Dove broke his gaze from the ground and smiled over at Storm.

"Well you want the good messages or the bad messages first?" he asked. Storm thought for a moment.

"The good," she decided.

"Alright," he complied, "I'll save Conlon's message for last then. . ."

Liberty stood on an empty Brooklyn dock. She glanced around and cursed, kicking a few stray pebbles into the water. She knew she was late, but what could she do? She was chased through Sunset Park and Bay Ridge by two very large, very scary guys that could probably bash her head into a brick wall and not think a thing about it. Two of Spot's guys, no less. Conlon didn't like her to begin with, but she was a friend of Dove so at least he respected her. For that, she was lucky.

Leaning over the edge of the dock, Liberty studied her reflection in the water. She was a short, thin girl. Beautiful in an odd, original sort of way. Large, luminous eyes that shone of midnight blue and dark fringed eye-lashes. The rest of her face was sharply but fragilely proportioned, as was her figure. Dove always told her she was beautiful, but as she stood there on the dock, she just felt stupid.

She sighed and kicked some more pebbles and pieces of rotted wood. She'd never missed a Saturday visit with Dove. She wondered where he'd be; probably sellin papes instead. Jeeze, she hated this; it would be a whole week before she got to see him again and....Liberty's thoughts rambled off like they usually did when she was upset. She heaved a great sigh, and turned around....straight into a very tall, extremely and infamously familiar face. She gasped, although not meaning to.

Breaker Dempsey's eyes stared straight back into hers.

Sunrise Morgan ran his fingers through his raven black hair before slapping a faded grey cap on his head. He didn't bother with a glance in the mirror; he wasn't that kind of guy.

The sun had been up for quite some time when Rise left the Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging House. He should have already been at the distribution office by now but...well, he always seemed to move a little slower on Saturdays. Whistling as he walked, Rise made his way across the river's edge, parallel with the South Brooklyn pier. Up ahead, his grey eyes spotted two figures, their reflections being distorted by the waves in the water.

One of the figures was very short, and thin, with their back to the water. The other was a tall, strong looking powerhouse of a guy with his back to the pier. It was this figure that Rise recognized as Breaker Dempsey. Squinting his eyes a little more, he stared down the pier to make out the other figure. It looked sort of familiar but. . .

"Aha....ahahaha...." Liberty laughed nervously, "heya Breaker..."

Breaker, however, was not amused. He cracked his knuckles loudly, staring her down. Liberty's eyes darted from side to side, desperate for an escape.

Finding none, she forced herself to look back at Breaker.

"Andriola," he greeted her in a booming, solid voice. Liberty winced, backing up a little. She laughed another nervous, high pitched laugh. She was a runner, not a fighter. Nicky had tried to teach her a few times, as had Dove...but it had always been a disaster.

"Oh well," she thought to herself silently as she continued to back up, "it looks like I'm about to get a crash course on it right now..."

Breaker, being impatient, threw a punch at her. She at least had the good sense to duck. He threw another one - what was he doing?! He could just take her out in one shot, but he wasn't....why was he - she glanced backwards - oh God, he was going to back her straight off the pier...

"What'a mattah, Andriola?" Breaker taunted as he backed her up a few more precious feet. "Don't like to swim?" Not waiting for an answer, he took another swing at her. It was then and there Liberty made her choice.

Breaker, expecting Liberty to try and push him back, was leaning all his weight forward. That's what she was counting on - her hands flashed out and grabbed his shirt collar, pulling him towards her with all her strength. This startled him, and it was several moments before he resisted, Luckily, that was a little late.

Liberty threw herself to the left, still hurling Breaker forward. The result was what she'd hoped for - he flew past her, off the edge of the pier. That's when Liberty took off in a sprint, not stopping even to hear the satisfying "SPLASH!" behind her.

Sunrise was laughing as he watched Breaker fly off the pier and hit the water. In fact, he was laughing so hard, he didn't see Liberty racing down the pier towards him until she ran smack into his chest, head first. The two flew backwards, but Rise managed to catch himself and steady Liberty as well. He grasped her by the shoulders, glancing down into the big, luminous blue eyes that stared up at him.

"Whoah, where's the fire - Andriola?" he asked incredulously, stopping in mid-sentence. Liberty, in turn, smiled up at him. "Heya, Morgan..." There was a moment of silence between the two before they burst out laughing.

"That was you?" Rise asked.

"That was me..." she replied, standing up, out of Sunrise's arms. Her mouth was open to continue some wise-crack about the Infamous Andriola Charm, when she heard the heavy "THUD" of flesh against wood. Whirling around, she was met with the very wet, very angry image of Breaker Dempsey, pulling himself up, back into the pier. Liberty spun back around to face Sunrise,

"Been a pleasure, Morgan - as always - but I'se gottah fly!"

Before Rise could open his mouth to respond, Liberty was off like a shot.

He watched her disappear, laughing a bold, deep laugh that was a classic, well-known characteristic of Sunrise. He watched Breaker barreling down the pier.

Breaker wasn't a newsie - he worked for Jake Stones. It wasn't Rise's level to...but still. He liked Liberty. And so, he extended his leg just far enough to trip the great powerhouse known as Breaker Dempsey.

Nicky Andriola took a careful walk uptown, holding Lucy's hand tightly. "Nickyyy..." she called up to him in her eight year old voice, "I'se soooo tired..."

"Don't say I'se," he corrected her, "say I'm or I am," he scolded, hoisting her up onto his shoulders. Her face shone bright as the prospect of not only getting a free ride, but having a bird's eye view as well.

Soon, the cam e down an alleyway, to a nicely finished but obviously old backdoor. He knocked twice, once, and three times. The door creaked open a few inches, and then flew open with a rather loud, "Mr. Valentino!"

Nicky quickly slid inside, still balancing Lucy. Carefully, he handed her over to a loud, short and rather plumb apron-wearing Italian woman with greying hair pulled back into a straggly bun - Lucy's care-taker.

"Shhh...." said Nicky as he quietly closed the door. "And Mrs. Venchetti, please - we've talked about this...don't call me that..." He glanced down carefully to see if Lucy was listening, but she wasn't.

"Yes sir, Mr. Andriola, sir, sorry. It slipped. Now, Miss Lucy...it's a good thing you showed up when you did..."

Nicky shook his head at the two as he hung up his coat on the coatrack behind the door. His entire staff was trained to call him "Mr. Andriola" around Lucy...why couldn't Mrs. Venchetti remember that one simple fact....

His thoughts were interrupted by his younger sister's voice.

"Why's that?" Lucy was asking in response to Mrs. Venchetti.

"Because..." I just started making cookies...and I need a taste tester, to see if the dough is right..."

Lucy nodded seriously, as if she was about to go on a secret government mission. Her black curls bounced as she followed the older woman into the kitchen. Nicky's thoughts began to warder again as he started up the stairs.

Lucy had never really had a mother - she'd been raised off the streets by Nicky and Liberty. They'd worked hard to bring her up right, but...Nicky was still glad to finally be able to put Lucy under a motherly figure.

Especially one willing to work under such....unusual....circumstances as Nicky's job description.

He continued carefully down the long hallway, nodding left and right to his guards which were posted at every corner. When he reached his bedroom, he entered and changed from his street clothes to his business suit, slicked back his hair, and gave himself a look in the mirror. Then he proceeded to his office.

The bodyguard outside his office door nodded respectably as Nicky passed him and slipped in the room.

"Nick," said a short, nervous looking, dark-skinned Hispanic man who shifted uncomfortably in his chair when Nicky entered the room. The man stood up, almost at attention, when Nicky crossed the room. Nick motioned with a graceful movement of his hand for the man to sit down. He did.

"What have you got for me, Jonny?"Nicky asked, folding his hands calmly on the desktop in front of him. The nervous man leafed through papers almost frantically, glancing up ever so often.

"Well ah...everything is fine...Manhattan is steady and the Bronx and Staten Island are up..."

"You sure they're up?" The man looked at Nicky, and blinked several times. "Yeah, yeah Nick..aha..why wouldn't I be sure.....?"

"Oh I don't know..." Nicky picked up an ink pen from it's holder on his desk, twirling it in his fingers. Suddenly, he slammed it down on the desk.

"I talked to Gino," he said.

The man gulped nervously; he was beginning to sweat. "Wat you mean, Nick?"

The pen flew off the desk, striking the window.

"I mean, Gino says Staten Island and Manhattan are down...and Gino is the one who watches the books...."

The man opened his mouth to answer, but Nicky cut him off.

"You skimming from me, Jonny?" he asked, his tone as even as if they were discussing the weather.

"Don Valentino, sir, please....I wouldn't ever - "

"Then why is Staten and Manhattan down?"

"I ahh...I don't know, they just are...."

"Bullshit. Sailors and rich people pay money for wine and vodka, my friend.

But no matter," Nicky began shuffling papers on his desk, "...go now."

The man threw his briefcase together, hurriedly standing up and practically sprinting for the door.

Nicky leaned back in his over-stuffed office chair and folded his hands behind his head, watching the door slam shut behind the man. He counted to five and slowly rose from the chair. Being fairly tall, he crossed the room in a few strides. He opened this office door and leaning out into the hallway, speaking to the guard.

"You see the man that just came out of this room?"

The guard nodded attentively.

"He's skimming profits off me...." Nicky continued, "I want him to disappear before tomorrow morning. A tragic turn of events - perhaps a trolley accident, or maybe a fatal slipping off a dock. Either way, I want him dead." His voice was concise and clipped as he spoke.

The guard nodded again, "Yes sir, Mr. Valentino, sir..." Nicky smiled a gracious smile and slipped back into his office. He shut the door quietly and sat down at his desk. Once there, he picked up the telephone and pressed the receiver twice. His secretary, Candy, came on the line.

"Candy, sweetheart..."

"Yes, Mistaaaah Valentino?" she answered in her nasal Queens accent.

"Send up some hot tea - I've got a dreadful headache."

"Yes soooir. Will do, soooir. Also, ‘dere's a mistaaah Rosenthaaaal to see you. Shall I send him in or keep him in the lobby?"

Nicky sighed and rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes as he answered. "Send him in," he said, and promptly hung up the phone.

"Liberty!"

Liberty turned around at the voice, and immediately burst into smiles.

"Dove!"

He rushed over to her.

"Hey," he said, "where were you going?"

"To look fah you - a few of the boys told me you were in the Bronx..."

"Oh....yeah...Conlon needed me to run some messages to Lazy and Splints..."

Liberty nodded. "It's a miracle I actually ran into you...hey, you up for some lunch, I'm starved..."

Dove chuckled, "you're always starved..."

"This is true," she answered, dragging him into the closest diner.

The two sat at a cheap table in the back. The place was a real hole in the wall, but hey. Two street kids couldn't afford much more, making a little over a dollar a day. If they were lucky, that is...

"Water..." Liberty told the waiter, "and a roast beef sandwich and mmm..erm...fried potatoes."

"A soda," Dove spoke up, "and well...a ham sandwich I guess."

He waited for the waiter to leave before turning to Liberty.

"Libs..." he said, smiling warmly. "Jeeze, how you been the last week?"

She shrugged, "I'se been alright..."

"I was wanting to talk to you about...you know...maybe moving back to Brooklyn."

He waited for a reply, but got none. She just sat there in silence, and then finally offered a great sigh.

"No," she breathed, "I can't."

"Libs, it's been almost a year since...well, you know...and you said you'd be back in a year. It's been a year!"

"I'm not ready to go back!"

"Are you making any friends in Harlem?" he demanded.

"Well no, but - "

"You've been there for at least six months, Liberty! And you haven't made a single friend. You belong here, in Brooklyn. That much is obvious."

"Hey," Liberty insisted, "I'se friends wit Blue Skies and Flash...'dat counts fah somthin'!"

Dove rolled his eyes and leaned across the table, "they're your lodging house leaders. I ‘spect you to but ‘least civil to them. But who do you sell with?"

"No one..." Liberty answered quietly.

"See?" he bellowed in victory. "You don't belong in Harlem. You were born and raised in Brooklyn! You belong there. We grew up together, Libs."

"I was born in Little Italy, in case you've forgotten. And I grew up there, wit DeSario an' Higgins an' Mancini an' everyone else..."

"So wat? Brooklyn is your home!"

Liberty threw her hands high into the air, hitting the low hanging ceiling lamp. The light scattered crazily over the table for a few moments as she spoke.

"I can't go back there! Not without knowing why...why he was killed..."

"You can't live your life for someone dead, Libs." Dove hesitated to actually say his name, but in a bold streak blurted out, "Orion is gone for good! He's not coming back. So why can't you come home?"

"Don't you get it?" Liberty almost screamed. Dove was taken aback by the bright blue fire in her eyes, accentuated by the swinging light.

Her thin, bow shaped lips were poised open to keep speaking, but she was interrupted by the waiter. Both newsies suddenly sat in silence, shutting their mouths quickly. That was one habit all the newises had - you shut up about any adult figure.

Once they were clear of the waiter, who had practically thrust the food on their table in the first place, Liberty lowered her voice.

"Don't you get it?" she repeated in a harsh whisper. "I can't go back there. There are too many memories and too many questions unanswered. I loved him, Dove. And wham, all of the sudden, he's gone...just like that..." she snapped her fingers. "My whole life was shattered. My future. I can't go back."

It was true. Liberty's future had been set. She was 16, and engaged to marry an up and coming man in the financial world named Orion McShane. He'd promised her financial security; something he really could provide. They were to be married as soon as Liberty turned 18 - but that never happened.

What was a good, upper middle class citizen doing with a newise, you may ask? Simple. He really had loved her. And as it has often been said, true love knows no borders, boundaries, age, color, or background.

Orion had met Liberty one night in a bar; she was out with a few old friends: Storm from the Bronx, Pockets from Bensonhurst. And he had run smack into her. The instant each other's eyes met, they knew it was fate.

They had a whirlwind romance, and were engaged two months later. Not enough time for Liberty to discover he was a real-con artist.

However, as I previously stated, con-artist or not, his love for Liberty was true, pure. As for Liberty, she was almost giddy...two years. Just two short years, and she'd have a husband to take her off the streets...away from this place....

Orion was infamous for making bad stock market deals and skimming money off people. He served as a financial advisor to some of the biggest minds in New York, and it wasn't often they noticed a few hundred missing here and there.

But....he'd made one bad deal too many.

He was found about three weeks later in his small apartment...his body riddled with bullet holes. Liberty was devastated - her fiancee, dead. Her future, gone. She withdrew into her own little world, and eventually Storm set her up at a newsgirls lodging house in Harlem with Blue Skies Costello and Flash McAllen. She couldn't stay in Brooklyn - everywhere she turned, there were sad memories of Orion and blatant reminders that she was, once again, a lost, poor little street kid with no hope of advancement in life.

Dove was sighing now. He took a bite of his sandwich, and a drink of his soda.

"I una'stan.." he replied quietly, "but I just...maybe...you outtah know something..."

Dove was one of the handful of people who had known what had really happened to Orion and why...and who had done it to him. But Dove had never told her what Orion had been involved in - or who he'd been involved in it with. It would have killed her. Except, now...maybe she did need to know...

"What?" she asked, taking a slow bite of her sandwich. He opened his mouth, but no words would come.

"I...I....just want you to know that..." he stopped. It was useless! He couldn't hurt her like this, no matter how much she needed to know what had really happened. "I just want you to know that if you ever decide to come back for good...you know we're here for you. Brooklyn is backing you strong," he finished lamely.

Liberty smiled, taking a drink of her water. "I know. Thanks, Nathaniel."

Dove smiled back, slightly blushing in a name that hadn't been used in many years.

The two continued their lunch as usual.

Later that afternoon, Nicky was meeting with his right hand man.

"I don't like this, Nick..."

Nicky's right hand man; his second in command, was a tall, broad shouldered man named Raphel Donachello.

"Don't like what?" Nicky asked, loosening his tie. The two men were in Nicky's office, and had been talking casually.

"This!" Raphel replied. "You walking to work, comin in tha backdoor...bringing the kid to work..."

"What am I supposed to do with her, huh?" Nicky suddenly demanded. "She's my little sister - she's eight years old!"

Had it been any other person talking to Nicky, they would have been treading on thin ice. But Raphel? You could drive a horse and carriage across the ice he had with Nicky.

"It ain't safe for you, Nick. You run one of the biggest operations in the Family. In New York for that matter...you're a wanted man from both the bulls and the underworld."

"The bulls are in my pocket," Nicky brushed it off. "And as far as the underworld...I'm careful. Real careful."

"Look, don't get cocky," Raphel replied. "All I'm saying is watch yourself."

"I do watch myself - what, do you think I'm stupid?"

"Don't play ‘dat, Nick - yah one of the greatest criminal minds in since yah father." Raphel's thick, Brooklyn accent contrasted sharply with Nicky's light, fakely educated one. However, it was not this Nicky was suddenly wincing at - it was the mention of his supposed father, Vaugh Valentino.

"But..." Raphel continued, "yah young, Nick. Real young. Ya fath'a was in the game for decades - when he died," he removed his hat and placed it over his heart, "when he died, everyone in ‘da entire city came tah the funeral. Even people he'd done wrong - yah know why, Nick?"

Nickolas Andriola shook his head, although he knew the answer. "Tell me why."

"Because! Yah fath'a was a respected man! He politiced - he knew how to play the game. People liked Vaughn. But you - you'se new tah the game, Nick. And yah still goin out in broad daylight - "

"I'm not a vampire!"

"Naw, but you'se gonna be as dead as one if you don't stop taking stupid risks! You keep goin places wit'out yah men - you realize how easy it is for someone to pick you off? If the public ever realizes who you are, and ‘dat your real name is Andriola, and not Valenti - "

"No one's gonna know!"

"They have to know eventually, Nicky. You'se gonna have to start makin' appearances if you want to keep the business going. People are gettin' edgy. Only a select few people ‘ave seen you since Vaughn died. It makes them t'ink deys investin money intah a black hole if they don't see the person that - "

Nicky was getting frustrated. He slammed his fist down hard on his desk -

"First you want me to keep out of sight - NOW you want me to make appearances!"

Raphel threw his hands up in the air, "Nicky, listen to me! You're gonna have tah start telling Angelina and Lucille - you can't lead this damned double life anymore - Andriola by day, Valentino by night. You can't do it."

Nicky fell back into his chair, exhausted. "I can't tell them yet," he said. "Lucy is too young and Liberty...God, it would rip her apart if she knew..."

Raphel kept his standin position by the window. Since Vaughn had died, he'd been instructed to help Nicky; get him to learn the business. Look out for him. And try to keep him safe.

"Nick," he sighed, "she needs tah know. You killed her fi - "

"I know who I killed, Raphel! Christ, you think I don't remember? That was the choice that blew the entire future wide open for me..."

Nicky's eyes were beginning to water; his voice was beginning to shake.

A lot of unexpected events had bust out in the last year. A lot of things had changed. The world of Nickolas, Angelina and Lucille Andriola, newsies, had become something mutilated and irreversibly altered....and Nicky was the only one who knew it.

"Look," Raphel was saying as Nick swam out of his thoughts and back to reality. "You're in like flint with the Family. But you can't keep this a secret from your family any longer. Tell them - tell her."

Nicky stood up, tightening his tie back. "I've got a meeting with Angelina...I have to go..."

Raphel sighed, "Just think about what I said. You've got to."

"Easier said then done," said Nicky, heading for the door.

"Then you'll try?" Raphel called after him.

"No," Nicky answered back.

And then he slammed the door, signaling the end to their conversation.

The alleyway was dark as Liberty slipped down it in silence. It was almost seven o'clock and the sun was beginning to set. The short, thin Italian slid in the front door of an apartment building without much incident. She waited in the hallway outside the wooden door to Nicky's apartment. His apartment number was B6.

She waited several minutes before she began to tap her foot impatiently. Where was he? She'd said seven - he'd promised seven...she walked to the end of the hallway. There was a small window, not even two feet wide. It was covered in thick dirt and grime, but she glanced through it, out at the skyline none the less. Sighing, she turned around and glanced back down the hallway. No Nicky.

"Stupid ragazzo," she muttered under her breath, and turned down the next hallway opposite Nicky's. C12, C14, C16...all the doors and numbers looked the same. Liberty couldn't help but wonder what lives were going on behind all those closed doors that looked so similar. She kept walking....C23 on her left, C24 on her right...

It wasn't until she got to C28 that she heard a gunshot crack through the air, echoing down the hallway like a cannon had been fired. She whirled around - where had it come from? Racing down the hall frantically, she stopped short at the junction of her hallway and Nicky's. Peeking cautiously around the edge, she saw two men kicking a wooden door open - oh God...she couldn't do anything but watch. She heard several more gunshots, and then the two men, looking tight-faced and disappointed, raced out of the apartment. Liberty waited until she heard the front door of the building slam before sprinting down the hallway.

Before her stood a completely destructed apartment - furniture overturned, bullet holes piercing the walls, a window broken...Liberty glanced, in horror, up at the apartment door. The lock had been blown off, but the number several feet above it shone as bright as day.

B6, with a bullet hole clean through the circle of the 6.

Dove walked quickly, with a purpose, up the street. It was completely dark now, but he was on a mission. He had to catch Liberty before she left - she was probably already gone - but he didn't want to make a long trip to Harlem tomorrow.

Liberty had taken her ring off earlier that day at lunch, and set it carefully on the table. And then, Liberty being the absent-minded Liberty she was, had left it there. Dove had pocketed it, and tried to find her afterwards...but to no avail. And so, knowing she was going to dinner with Nicky, he was now hoping to meet her at his door before the two left.

The apartment building was cheap, and of course there was no doorman. Dove went inside the place easily, climbing up the stairs to the third floor. He turned a corner - and another - he knew the way so well. He's been to Nicky's apartment - what used to be Liberty and Nicky's apartment - so many times, he could do it with his eyes closed. He really loved Liberty...truly...he thought he could easily spend the rest of his life with her. But...he would have to wait, of course. Orion's death...Dove shook his head. It had hurt her so much - he couldn't stand to see her hurting. And the circumstances - God, he shouldn't think about it now. It had constantly been on his mind the last year; it was time to let it go. She'd never find out; not from him...

He turned another corner...He was in the B's. And that's when he heard Liberty screaming.

"Nicky! Dio qui sopra; Dio nel cielo, prego, nessun...God, Nicky!" Liberty was screaming out pieces of Catholic prayer, frantically crossing herself. She had fallen to her knees in the doorway of the apartment, tears streaming down her face. "God here over; I pray, no..." she screamed again, this time in English. Suddenly, she felt strong hands on her shoulders, embracing her - "Liberty! What happened? Liberty, speak to me!"

The Italian girl's tear stained face stared up into Dove's soft brown eyes. "Non so...non so..." she rambled. "English, Libs, English," Dove prompted, his hand holding her chin up. "I don't know..." Liberty said, trying hard to get an edge on her composure. She just couldn't make herself stop crying.

Dove stood up carefully, glancing around. He stepped inside the apartment, calling out Nicky's name gingerly.

"Two men..." Liberty said suddenly from her place on the floor. "They shot the lock, kicked the door open...Dio qui sopra...they shot the place up, Nathanial. Look at it! Dio qui sopra...."

Dove glanced around at the bullet ridden room, the shattered glass...but the apartment seemed empty. He debated for a moment on leaving Liberty out in the hallway, but if he found something...like Nicky or Lucy's body...he'd rather she be out in the damned hallway. He advanced into the bedroom, sighing when he saw nothing but bullet-holes and a broken lamp. Bullet-holes, a broken lamp - but no Nicky or Lucy. He turned and exited towards the kitchen. The same situation. Washroom? Same. He gave the living room another once over, and then quickly headed back towards the door to a shaking Liberty that was no longer sobbing, but still taking ragged breaths of air.

"He wasn't home..." Dove said softly, kneeling back down beside her. "No one was home."

This seemed to dawn on Liberty for the first time. "He's not home..." she repeated. "That's right. He was late...Dio dell' qui sopra, grazie...he was late...."

Dove took one last glance at the shot up apartment, and then scooped a fragile Liberty up in his arms. Someone had finally caught onto Nickolas. And Dove would be damned if he was going to let Liberty go through anymore hell without questions unanswered.

"Come on, love..." he said in a solid voice, "I'm taking you to South Brooklyn. The old place - Spot and War will look after you. I need to talk to - "

"Nicky," Liberty's eyes, now bright blue with determination, demanded, "I'm not leaving until I know where he is."

"You don't have much of a choice," Dove said, hefting her a little to show her she was still captive in his arms. "Besides, we'll send out all of Spot's little "boydees" to find him, alright? That's better than the whole N.Y.C. Police department...." Liberty sighed, then nodded. He was right. She didn't have much of a choice.

"Spot! Spot!"

Spot turned around to see a rather thin, young boy with fiery red hair racing towards him. "Whoah - O'Neal, what's the mattah?"

The boy, called Jazz, panted, leaning on his knees to catch his breath. "Dove...Dove said to come get you. Something happened to Liberty."

Spot's eyes clouded over for a moment - he wasn't too fond of Angelina Andriola, but she and Nicky had been loyal to Brooklyn for years. And therefore he had a responsibility to protect her. "Show me," was all he said, following Jazz back towards the South Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging House.

Liberty was sitting in the middle of several people, sipping hot tea, when Spot entered his lodging house. War, Dove's younger sister, was sitting next to her. Next to War was River Chambers, Brooklyn's second in command, and then Sunrise Morgan, Brooklyn's third in command. Across from Liberty was Swifts, Dove's younger brother.

"Andriola," Spot called, shoving his way through the crowd. It parted for him, moving away to make room. River and Sunrise rose at his presence.

"Dove brought her in," River explained. "She was shaken up pretty damn bad, Spot."

Spot nodded; Liberty was staring straight ahead, ignoring him. "She ain't talkin tah anyone but Dove," Sunrise said, leaning over closer to Spot, speaking in a hushed tone.

"Well where the hell is Dove?" Spot demanded.

"He's out," River informed him. "He took a few of the guys - Sandpiper, Ostrich, an' Parrot - with him to comb the city for Nicky..."

"Why? What happened?" Spot asked, his voice rising. He hated to be left out of the loop, especially when it was on his own territory.

River glanced at Sunrise before answering, and Sunrise glanced back. Then both boys moved across the room, pulling Spot after them. "Someone shot up Nicky's apartment..." River said quietly.

"Why would someone do ‘dat?" Spot asked.

"Damned if we know," River replied.

"Well..." Spot said, thinking, "he obviously wadn't home if Dove's out lookin fah ‘im." He turned suddenly to the crowd. "Alright, Swifts - you run to Harlem. Tell Costello and McAllen that Liberty's in trouble and we're looking after her. Tell them to send one of their girls down." He turned to River and Sunrise - "You two - you and me, and....War. She knows Brooklyn almost as well as I'se do. We're gonna take War and find Dove before he does somethin' stupid; he's gottah be upset. Just look at her," Spot pointed to Liberty and her condition, "he'll be out for blood. Jazz," the red-headed boy jumped to attention, "you stay here. You've run enough for one day. Look after Liberty."

"Right," Jazz replied. War launched herself up from her position next to Liberty and followed River and Sunrise, who were following Spot out the front door.

"Heya, Blue! Look wat tha cat dragged in..."

Blue Skies Costello glanced up from the circle formed on the floor. A fairly tall, brown haired girl worked her way through the bunkroom, dragging a rather protesting, short Swifts Parker.

"I can walk, Mulcahy...jeeze," he said as she let go of his shirt. Blue Skies smiled up at the boy, but didn't stand.

"Well well, long time no see Parker. Wat brings you all the way to Harlem - Dove's usually the newsbringer up heah."

"Conlon sent me..." Swifts said, a little out of breath not only from running across all of New York from Brooklyn, but from being dragged up the stairwell by Fingers.

"Yeah," said Flash McAllen, her brown eyes glancing up from her cards. "We sorta gathered ‘dat. Why'd he send you an' not Dove? And wat news yah got fah us?"

Swifts sat down, hard, on the floor next to Flash, across from Blue Skies. "He said...he said..." Swifts was panting hard.

"C'mon, Park'ah, out wit it already, before this hair turns gray," Blue prompted, gesturing to her long, dark hair that was pulled back in a tight french braid.

"He said...to tell you....to tell you..."

Flash rolled her eyes. "Boy, I bet Manhattan loves having you for a messenger," she said, referring to the fact that Swifts usually carried most of Spot's messages to Jack's boys in Manhattan. Swifts took a deep breath, and said quickly, "He said to come get one of you and bring you back because somethin's ‘appened to Liberty!"

Blue and Flash's joking expressions turned serious, as they glanced at each other and back at Swifts.

"Wat do you mean, ‘somthin's happened tah Liberty'?" Blue demanded, launching herself up from the floor. Flash followed suit, her face creased with worry about one of her girls being hurt.

"She's o.k. she's j'est real shook up....I don't know all the details, Sunrise ‘an River wouldn't tell me nothin. Neither would Dove," Swifts finished, completely out of breath, as he collapsed back onto the floor. "They j'est said to come get one ‘a you anyways." Blue and Flash exchanged another glance.

"If River an' Rise didn't say anything...and Dove didn't say anything...Blue, I'se worried," Flash said. "Let's go."

"Yeah," Blue replied, "so's I. Real worried. But they're ain't no reason for us tah both go - I'll do it. You stay heah, in case someone else brings woyd."

"No," Flash replied. "I want to go."

Since Storm had brought Liberty up to Harlem earlier that year, Flash was the only one Liberty really spoke to. She was kind enough to Blue Skies, and Fingers, and Angel - her bunkmate - but Flash and Liberty were almost...friends. Not quite, but it was the closest thing Liberty had to one in Harlem. And Blue Skies acknowledged that.

"Alright, fine. You go. I'll stay heah," she said with a sharp nod to her co-leader.

"You comin, Parker?" Flash called down to Swifts.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh...." he groaned from the floor.

"I guess that's a no," Flash replied, shaking her head. "Boys are such wimps." And with that, she was out the bunkroom door, through the lobby, and out on the street towards Brooklyn.

Nicky calmly lit a cigarette outside a drugstore on the corner of Galveston Street and 5th. Lucy was with Mrs. Venchetti, he had just made a deal with his last customer of the evening, and it was only...he glanced at his watch.... “Half-after seven!” he said out loud. “I’m late!” He was supposed to have met Liberty outside his apartment thirty minutes ago to go out to dinner and - ohhh no... Nicky turned and quickly started off down the street - only to be shoved harshly into an alleyway.

“Where’s Liberty?” Flash was having to shove her way roughly through the newsboys lodging house. Of course, itwasn’t anything she wasn’t used to - she’d lived at the Harlem boys lodging house before the girls had split away and formed their own place.

“Heya, McAllen - wat you heah fah?”

“Pay the told, Little One! Hahahahaha...”

“Where you t’ink you’re goin, girlie?”

Flash stared down, pushed aside, and worked her way through to the lobby. The thick crowd of laughing and joking boys finally parted for her, and Liberty was revealed sitting on the couch, extremely quiet. It was almost surreal, in this room full of noise and jeering; bodies pushing wildly; to see this one silent and still girl sitting on a sofa in the corner of the room. It frightened Flash.

“Libs?” she asked, carefully sitting down next to the silent girl, “what happened?”

Liberty turned and stared at Flash, her eyes radiating a thoughtful liquid blue. As she opened her mouth to speak, the entire room (amazingly) fell silent. The girl’s tone rang clear and solid through the air.

“I was waiting in the hallway....Nicky was late. I walked down a ways and turned down the next hall, and then I heard gunshots. Looked ‘round ‘da corner and there was these two men...shot the lock off the door and kicked it in. Every room was j’est...it looked like swiss cheese, eh? You know?” A few of the boys nodded as Liberty concluded, “Then they left.”

As she became silent again, the boys began a slow rumble of words between themselves, then it grew quickly back up to the general roar. Flash stared at Liberty with raised eyebrows. “Are you alright?” she asked. Liberty nodded.

Suddenly, the front door burst open. Spot strutted into the lobby, followed by River and then Sunrise.

“Where’s War?” asked Jazz as he rose from a chair near Liberty.

Spot nodded respectfully to Flash - “Heya McAllen,” - before answering. “She didn’t wanna come back wit us. She’s still out looked fah Dove.”

If you looked at the two, it was easy to tell they were brother and sister. Having slighly Swedish decent, it showed in their light brown eyes and blonde hair. But the resemblance stopped there - Dove was an easy 5’10”, where as War was a fair amount shorter. Dove had full but straight lips, whereas War’s curved into a pouty bow - a feminine feature she resented almost as much as her rather large chest. War was in love with activity - energy - conflict. Dove was always a little worried about what could happen, and forbid his younger sister strictly from drinking, smoking and gambling in any form or fashion.

Liberty nodded again, “That figures.”

Spot raised a single, cocky eyebrow at her - “Since when is you tawkin?”

“Since I felt like it. Now you gonna be a gentleman an give me a room to tawk tah my girl in private in, or do I hafta beat one outtah yous?” Saying this, she stood up.

Spot towered over her by at least six inches, and this caused quite a snicker from some of the Brooklyn boys. Spot’s light, faded blue eyes stared back into her sparking crystal ones to see if she was serious - but he caught a hint of a smirk in her thin lips. It apparently hadn’t taken Liberty too long to recover...

“Yeah, you can use any of my guys rooms upsta’s.”

Sunrise broke in - “You’s can use my room, Libs.” Rise was a fast friend of Dove; his best in fact. Liberty nodded once more, standing up. She headed for the stairs, pulling Flash behind her.

God, the pain - his nose was broke. Obviously.

“You’re gonna tell her, you worthless son of a bitch...”

Nicky was pinned roughly against the wall by two very strong arms. It took him a moment to realize who’d hit him - he inhaled sharply when he found Dove Parker’s normally peaceful, sweet and honest eyes staring back at him.

“What are you talking about?” Nicky shot back. It brought him another punch across the face.

Nicky was almost 20 years old - Dove was a mere sixteen or so. However, even though he was almost even with Dove in height, he was no match for Dove’s strength. Nathaniel Parker had been carrying heavy stacks of newspapers for as long as anyone could remember. He, along with Issac and Kirsten (later known as Swifts and War) had grown up on the rough Brooklyn streets with the Brooklyn newsboys. He’d seen two seperate leaders, before Spot, rise to power and fall back again. He was a Brooklyn Veteran. And all Brooklyn kids knew how to hold their own.

“Two guys came ‘alookin fah you’s today, Nick....dey shot up yah apartment...” Dove could see slight shock in Nickolas’s marble-blue eyes - they reminded him of Liberty’s. This caused him to give Nicky another rough shove against the wall; Nick could feel his back scraping against the bricks through his thin shirt.

“Liberty was ‘dere, Nick - waitin fah you...”

Nicky’s blood ran cold - his sister... “Sweet Mother Mary,” he said quietly, although his words boomed in his own ears. “Is she - she’s...”

“She’s fine. J’est really shaken up. And she’s gonna want some answers.”

Nicky nodded; words didn’t really need to be spoken between the two boys. Nick had always suspected that Dove knew he was connected with Orion; this confirmed it. He knew. “I’ve been meaning to...you know I’ve wanted to tell her...oh, God, I never meant to - ”

“Shut up,” Dove said harshly, shoving Nicky back onto the street. “J’est shut up. You don’t need to be tellin’ me ‘dat. You need tah be tellin’ her.”

“Yes,” Nicky said, admitting it to himself for the first time, “I do.”

“I’se been t’inkin a lot, Flash...”

Liberty cautiously closed the door behind her as Flash sat down on Sunrise’s bed, folding her legs up underneath her as a modern-day kindergartener might sit down on a classroom floor for story time.

“Ye-ah, so?”

“It don’t add up...all ‘dis...all ‘dis stuff...”

“Like wat don’t add up?”

Liberty sat down next to the Flash, “Like the fact that Nick’s poor.”

It took it a moment to connect with her fellow Harlem newsgirl. “Soo?”

“So, he’s poor...why would two hitmen shoot up his damn apartment? He ain’t nothin’ special - an’ you know, I’se nevah ever, not once, seen wheah he woyks...it makes me wond’ah if someone ain’t tellin me somethin...”

It was all beginning to come together for Flash as well - “You’se right, Libs. It don’t add up. Somethin’s missin - like some piece tah the puzzle’s been shoved under the bed an’ forgotten ‘bout. And now the whole thing won’t woyk cause we don’t have ‘dat one little piece, yah know?”

Liberty shook her head vigoriously - “Exactly. Except...” she leaned over Sunrise’s bed and glanced around to empasize her point, “I don’t know if I wanna find that little piece or not...”

Dove reached the Brooklyn Lodging House before Nicky. The Brooklyn newsie had left the Mafia leader in the alleyway, with a broken nose. “I’ll break more then that if he don’t show up heah soon...” Dove murmured to himself as he opened the main door into the lobby. A loud chorus of “Park’ah!” and “Dove!” rang out as he entered the lobby. War practically sprinted up to her older brother - “wheah you been?”

He offered no answer, just a quiet, “where’s Liberty?”

War shot him a cautious look, and pointed towards the stairs - “She’s in Morgan’s room.”

Dove nodded, but didn’t head up there. Instead, he sunk into a chair in the now almost empty lobby, cleared of excitement. Spot opened his mouth to ask a question or two, but was interrupted by the lobby door opening again.

“Hey Andriola. Long time no see - good tah know you ain’t a ghost yet.”

Nicky entered the room, cracking a smile at Spot, his old leader. Before he moved up in the world and got out of the business of being a newsie. “Heya Conlon...naw, you ain’t rid of me that easy.”

The two exchanged a respected newsie spit-shake, and Nicky glanced at Dove. Dove nodded, and said, “Up the stairs - third floor. Second door to your left.” That was the end of the exchange between the three, as Nicky started up the stairs. He ran smack into Flash about the fifth step up.

“Ow - look wheah yah goin..jeeze...” Flash found herself staring up into the biggest, most beautiful pair of blue eyes that perhaps she’d ever seen. The man flashed a charming smile that made her knees weak, and replied, “Terribly sorry. My fault,” as he squeezed against the wall so she could get by. But she didn’t move.

“You must be....Nicky....” Flash said, looking the man up and down. Yes, he had to be. The same blue eyes, the same build as Liberty.

“Why, yes, I am. And you must be......?”

“A friend of Libs,” Flash found herself saying. The man nodded; she could feel him watching her as she walked past him, down the stairs. An un-nerving feeling. But a charming, un-nerving feeling. None the less, it made her quicken her step.

“Libs?” Nicky knocked on the door cautiously. No answer. He checked the door - yeah, it was the second one on the left alright. Just as he debated going right back down the stairs, he heard Liberty’s soft but solid voice from the other side. “C’min.”

Nicky turned the doorknob and pushed the door open carefully. His sister was sitting on the window seal of the only window in the room, smoking a cigarette. She had her back up against the frame, one knee tucked up to her chest and the other leg hanging over the edge, into the now-night air. He crossed the room towards her.

“Those things are bad for your health, you know...” he said, leaning against the wall, facing his younger sister.

“Yeah, well, so are bullets,” was the cynical answer he got, “but you don’t seem to mind.”

Nicky sighed, running his fingers through his dark hair. “Look, Angelina...there are a lot of things I haven’t told you....”

“No shit.”

“Don’t swear.”

“Don’t lie and I won’t swear.”

“I don’t lie - ”

“Your silence is a lie in itself,” Liberty turned her eyes up to face her brother. “You never told me anything wrong - you never told me anything at all. That is a lie.”

“Angelina - ”

She cut him off, standing up from her place on the window, “No, Nickolas. We promised each other, after Mama and Papa died....we promised we’d always be honest wit’ each oth’ah. In a woyld full of dis-honest people, we promised that we could always trust each oth’ah. We promised, after Storm left; we promised we could trust each oth’ah. When we left Little Italy...we promised. When things got rough, we promised. Why’d you break our promise, Nicky?”

Nickolas Andriola looked down at his younger sister...in a world of pain. Her trusting blue eyes staring back up, wanting to believe there was a legitimate reason for all of this, but her mind knowing there probably wasn’t. And it made his heart ache.

“Do you know why Orion died?”

Liberty’s gaze fired up; if you could set the ocean on fire, it would have mimicked her eyes.

“Don’t you dare bring him up, he doesn’t - ”

“He’s already in this, Libs. Just answer me.”

“You know I don’t know why he died.”

Nicky bit his lower lip - how was he going to do this. He’d rehearsed it all the way over here, and now all that just didn’t seem to apply. Suddenly, he spoke before he thought. “I killed him.”

Liberty, in that instant, seemed to die. Through her eyes, Nicky could see a piece of her heart, soul and body dying seperately, her mind refusing to accept it. She was like a deer, still suffering after being shot. Lying there in pain and not being able to even understand why she was lying there in pain.

“What?” were the only words Liberty seemed able to push out of her mouth.

“I killed him,” Nicky repeated. “I shot him six times. There was so much blood....” he stopped himself quickly. The last thing he needed to do was ramble when it concerned Orion’s death.

Liberty stared him down for a moment from her place on the window seal. She went through several stages of emotion in such a short few seconds - hurt, anger, rage, denial...but never acceptance. They say you’re supposed to eventually hit acceptance, but she didn’t.

“You’re lying....” she said instead. “Why do you lie to me?”

“I’m not...Liberty - Angelina - please...I’m finally telling you the truth - don’t accuse me of lying...”

Her eyes were tearing up now...God, he didn’t want her to cry. Please, don’t cry. But she was...tears were breaking the barrier of her beautiful blue eyes and sliding across her cheeks, on a downward journey towards her chin. Nicky carefully put his arms around Liberty - “Please don’t cry. I can’t stand to see you cry.”

Liberty didn’t scream, or cry out. She didn’t push him away. She didn’t put her arms around him in response. She just stood there, shaking and crying in silence. “It’s not like you think...I’m...a part of something. Something big, Libs. You remember reading about when Vaughn Valentino died? How no one knew what was going to be done with his estate and then suddenly, wham, some kid shows up?”

Liberty’s tear-stained face nodded; she remembered the bold headline vividly. She remembered calling it out on the street. She remembered selling papes with that headline.

“I was that kid.”

She stared at him for a moment, not sure what to say. She’d always figured Nicky was in over his head in something...those bullet shots had confirmed it. But this? Never.

“He took me in as an...apprentice. Running errands at first. Little things. I did it for the money. But then errands became attending meetings with him. He started introducing me as his son: Nicky Valentino. I started learning the business...making more and more money. And then one day, he just up and died. Suddenly, life changed over night. Everything changed. His entire estate - money, business associates, everything...was left to me. Out of the clear blue sky. It was a blessing and a curse. I wanted to tell you so bad...I wanted us to move up town; you and Lucy and me. I wanted things to all be alright; it was a wonderful thing...to have so much money after such a hard life on the streets. But then, Orion came into my office one morning...”

Liberty's heart ached at his name. Nicky could feel her shudder against his body. But he continued anyway.

“He threatened me. Orion had worked for Vaughn for years before I came into the picture. A hitman, loyal to the end.”

Liberty shook her head - “You’re lying again. Orion was a business man...”

“That’s what he told you...he was one of the best hitmen New York had ever seen - or not seen, for that matter. He kept a rather low profile. He was a jewel to Vaughn...a prodigy. And then all of the sudden, this kid off the streets winds up with everything that should have been his - the house, the business, the money. And so he threatened me - he wanted a cut of everything. A rather large cut. 55% of everything. The stock, the liquor, the prostitution, the gambling. Everything. Or else he’d take my story to the press and expose Valentino’s operation for everything it really was.”

Things were hurling themselves at Liberty faster then she could comprehend them - the last year of her life had been a lie.....how could he....

“Why’d you hafta kill him?” she asked quietly, tears now dripping off her chin into Sunrise’s thin quilt comforter.

“He threatened me. Threatened to expose me. He was loyal to my father, not to me. I can’t have people like that - ”

“Vaughn Valentino was NOT your father! Your father was a kind, loving man named Antone Andriola - not some...Mob boss who steals and lies and...and kills people!”

“Don’t raise your voice to me Angelina! I did what I had to do to survive. This is my real chance! Yours too - I’ve got an endless supply of money burning a hole in my pocket!”

“To hell wit yah money an’ yah pockets! That won’t bring Orion back!”

“Orion was not the wonderful person you make him out to be. He killed people too - more then I! Women, children - ”

“Don’t try and make yourself out to be better than he was because you’re not...” she growled.

“You can’t compare us,” he argued, “we’re two totally different matters entirely...”

“How’s it different?! Don’t you think he was a scared, little boy once? Just like you? Don’t you think he did what he had to do to make ends meet? Do you think you’re the only one in the world who’s ever suffered? It’s no different, no matter how much you want it to be!”

For the first time in his life, Nickolas Andriola could not answer his sister. So he averted his eyes.

Silence settled in the air for a few moments as Liberty’s mind mulled over all this new, appalling information.

“I never want to see you again...” she said slowly, yet firmly.

“Liberty, don’t be - ”

“NO!” she screamed suddenly. “You killed the one person in the world I had a chance with - that I loved - I was gonna have a future! A real future, with a white picket fence...and a marriage! I was gonna get married, Nick. And have a house, and a family! God, a family...and you took it all away with one conscious choice you made. And NOW,” she strutted around the room, gesturing violently, “NOW you expect everything to be suddenly o.k. because you finally coughed up the decency to tell me!” With this, she flung open the door and directed her gestures to the hallway outside. “Get out...”

“Angelina - ”

“Get OUT!”

A dejected Nicky Andriola shuffled into the hallway to have the door slammed behind him.

Dove sprang from his chair was Nicky flashed through the lobby. Not offering a glance at him, Dove sped up the stairway towards Sunrise’s room, leaving a worried Sunrise, River, Jazz and War behind him.

He didn’t bother to knock as he turned the rusted old doorknob to the room.

He found her on the floor, back against the bedframe, with both knees tucked up to her chest. She was no longer crying, but her face shone with the familiar glisten of dying tears. She looked like a vulnerable, small child. Dove had never seen her like that; not even after she discovered Orion was dead. Not even that. She’d still been the same strong, wild spirited Liberty that Dove had always known. And here she was, broken. Completely, utterly broken.

“Liberty...” he whispered, dropping to his knees beside her. All he got in the form of an answer were those midnight-blue eyes, turned cold, staring at him. So he did something he’d been longing to do for a long, long time...he scooped her up in his arms and kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and that lovely, soft place, right above her collarbone, on her throat. But never her lips. And she let him.

“I love you,” he murmured. “Angelina Liberty Andriola, I love you; I’ve always loved you, I just never had the...courage to tell you.”

“Oh Dove, don’t do this now,” she said muttered suddenly, pulling back. Dove stared at her - this young girl, with her back pressed so desperately up against the bedframe. Wanting someone but accepting no one.

“W-why not now?” Dove stuttered back. “If not now, when? I’ve been waiting years to tell you, Libs...years. And now - ”

“He killed him!” she burst out, her voice shrieking - breaking the quiet, tender silence in the room. Dove was startled - he actually gasped - but then held her head in his hands sternly.

“I know.”

Liberty stared back at him for several seconds, not comprehending...

“You...you know?”

“I know. I’ve known...”

“You’ve...aha...you’ve known...”

“Since...” he sighed. “Since it happened. I wanted to tell you, but -”

“You knew!”

The scream was unexpected, but it was there. In an instant, she was up, screaming, kicking - he had to jump up to prevent her kicking him in the head.

“My entire life I thought I could count on Nicky, only tah dis’cover he was the one...the one to take everyt’ing away from me! And I still knew that I’d always have you, but no! You knew!”

Jumping up proved not to be the smartest move in the book; Liberty was now pounding her fists against his chest; a rage he’d never seen in her - a rage he’d never witnessed in anyone.

“You knew! You knew you knew you knew...” her words were beginning to run together. Dove wanted to scoop her into his arms, hold her tight against his chest, like he’d seen Rise do to Storm so many times...except he didn’t get the chance. She was at the window - heaving the window up-

“Liberty!” he yelled at her as she stepped out onto the ledge.

Sprinting towards the window after her, he watched in horror as she planted both feet shakily onto the edge.

“Nooooo!” he screamed, eyes watering. She turned back around and gave him one last glance....he lunged at the window. But it was too late. And she was gone.

Sunrise’s head snapped around at Liberty’s first scream. Spot gave him a reassuring look.

“Let Dove handle it...”

It was the scream from Dove that brought a worried glance from River to Sunrise, and from Sunrise to Spot, and back around again. That was all that passed between the three as they flung themselves out of their seats and raced up the stairs.

Sunrise was first in the room, followed by River who ran smack into him and Spot who ran into him.

“Part the way, part the waaay....” Spot called out, shoving his way through the room. When he did, he wished he’d stayed back into the hall.

Dove stood, paralyzed in fear, shaking violently. Spot glanced at the window - and around the rest of the room.

“Christ...” he whispered, tossing his cane on the bed and climbing quickly out the window. River followed, and Sunrise stayed behind, embracing his best friend who refused to be embraced.

“Liberty,” Dove murmured under his breath.

“Rise!” Spot’s voice echoed from the window, through the room. “Jesus, Sunrise, get out here...we need some help...”

Dove couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. It was his fault - all his fault...

“It wasn’t your fault...”

Flash was holding his hand between both of hers. He was scaring her - he wouldn’t look at her, he was barely breathing.

“Dove! It wasn’t your fault...listen to me...”

But he wasn’t listening. He wasn’t blinking.

Flash shook her head - she wasn’t good at this. Blue Skies was better at this - Liberty was good at this....but Liberty was upstairs. God, they wouldn’t even let her in the room....what was she doing down here? She couldn’t do anything down here...Dove was barely coherent...what right did they have to keep her out of the room of one of her girls, anyways? She gave Dove one last glance and quickly worked her way up the stairs.

“Open this damned door before I kick it in!”

River, who was standing by the door, glanced at Spot. Spot rolled his eyes.

“No one needs to be in heah right now...”

A steady shudder of the door as Flash kicked it on the other side interrupted his sentence. Sunrise glared at River from his place beside Liberty’s figure on the bed.

“Look, this is my room - and I don’t wanna be dressin’ in the mornin’ wit no door so the entire hallway can see intah mah room - fah tha love ‘a God, let tha goyl in....”

River shrugged and opened the door, quickly stepping away as it flew open. Flash shoved her way in.

“She’s mah girl and I have more of a tie to her ‘den any ‘a yous do! An’ da one guy who’s got more of ‘a responsibility to her ‘den I do is about to keel over on da couch in the lobby, so let me through!”

“Hah! She’s a Brooklyn goyl, not a Harlem whor - ”

A strong hand clamped over Spot’s mouth. There was only one thing that fired Spot up more then a woman who thought she was as strong as the Brooklyn leader, and that was one that actually was. This accounted for his not too fondness of the Bronx and Harlem girls.

“Shut up!” Sunrise hissed as he pulled the Brooklyn leader back. “For once, this isn’t your place...”

Spot opened his mouth to continue, but clamped it shut again when Liberty’s thin voice struggled out over the room.

“Flash?” she asked. All four fighting figures in the room turned their heads to the fragile looking girl propped up on Sunrise’s bed.

“Libs...” the Harlem co-leader rushed towards the bed, clutching her friends hand. Liberty’s eyes were simple blue slits, fringed by dark lashes and framed by flushed cheeks.

“What happened to her?” Flash demanded, not taking her eyes off the midnight colored crevices that Liberty was looking at silently through.

“She jumped,” River said quietly from his place by the door.

“She jumped?” Flash questioned roughly.

“She hit the fire escape instead of the ground...she’s gonna by fine, we think...”

“You think?” Flash was beside herself. She would be damned if she was going to lose one of her girls...especially Liberty, who was so quiet and so kind and...

“Go get a doctor!” Flash bellowed at the three Brooklyn newsies.

“No...” Liberty’s reply was so close to silence that it was a miracle anyone heard it. “I don’t need a doctor askin’ no questions...please, I’m sorry...I slipped...”

Flash stared at her. “You slipped,” she repeated in a hushed, sad tone. In an instant she was clutching the delicate girl in a tight hug.

“She’s gonna be fine....she hit the fire escape feet first, it just knocked her knees up. No real harm done. Really, McAllen...” a pause followed before Spot continued with, “she can stay here as long as she needs to. Then you can take her back to Harlem.”

Flash glanced up at the hardened Brooklyn leader. “Thanks, Conl - ”

“No, I wanna go home...” Liberty’s voice rang out more clearly now.

“Libs, you can’t walk all the way back to Harlem,”

“I wanna go home...”

“You are home,” Sunrise said.

“No...I’m not. Brooklyn is not home...” Liberty shoved herself off the bed, struggling to stand with weight on both her knees. But she did it. “Harlem...is home...”

War’s arms were thrown around her older brothers broad shoulders, holding him tight even though he was several inches taller than her. But they were sitting down, and he was frightening her....he wouldn’t cry. It made her sob. He wouldn’t talk. It make her babble.

“Dove, please, what happened....Nathanial! Please, tell me....Nathan...Nathan...”

His eyes seemed to burst into a bright brown flame as Liberty stepped down the stairs, into the room. War turned her head to glance over her shoulder; and in that moment she was knocked off the couch, onto the floor as Dove flung himself into a standing position from the couch.

“Liberty...”

She stared at him strangely with her normally joking, glistening blue eyes turned to cold and unhappy stone. She made her way carefully towards the front door, helped by Flash and backed by Sunrise and River; the entire thing followed by Spot.

“Liberty, where are you going?”

She stopped in her tracks. He came up to her; she did not back away. She simply stood there.

“You lied to me...” she said in a calm voice.

“I’m so sorry - please, I didn’t mean to - ”

“I’m sorry too,” Liberty said, reaching out and giving Dove’s hand a squeeze. That did it. Tears flowed forth from his sweet hazel eyes. He reached out and pulled her into his arms, running his fingers through her short black hair. But she was stiff. Awkward and rigid in his embrace.

“Don’t do this...” she murmured softly in his ear. “I can’t deal with this right...n-now.”

Her now was finished with the hiccup of tears of her own. He pulled away from her. She didn’t gaze into his eyes - she didn’t kiss away his tears. She backed up towards the door like she didn’t know him.

“I love you!” Dove cried out, startling everyone in the room. Flash was opening the door for her as Liberty made her way down the steps.

“I know,” was the last thing she said as the door shutting behind her signaled a curtain drawn on their relationship.

“Parker....”

Dove shoved Sunrise away. His rage was blinded with tears; his desperation blinded with desire for everything to miraculously be “o.k.” again.

“Dove....”

He shoved away River, and Spot after him. In the middle of a now-deserted, empty lobby, his blurred vision fell upon his younger sister. In that one face, he saw his mother. And that’s...when Dove Parker completely broke, for the first time in his life. First time after his parents death. First time since raising his younger brother and sister. First time ever.

“Kirsten...”

Dove threw his arms around War so gravely, it knocked her shorter frame back onto the old couch in the center of the room.

“Nathanial, Nathanial...it’s alright...”

Spot, River and Sunrise stared at the picture before him. Something they’re never seen from any of the Parker kids, no matter how passionate Dove was. No matter how big a front War put up.

No matter how tough Swifts acted, and they all knew it was an act. They never through they’d see any of them brake. And here it was...War sitting on the couch, her hair creating a curtain over her brother’s head. Dove, on his knees in front of the couch, weeping in her lap. Her fingers tracing lines on his forehead, murmuring comforting words.

And then, to the amazement of all of the Brooklyn newises present, War did something Dove (or anyone for that matter) hadn’t heard her do since her mother’s death.

She sang.

“L, is for the way you Look...at me...”

Sunrise’s eyes began to tear.

“O, is for the only One...I see...”

River put a careful arm around around his friend.

“V....is Very, Very...extra-ordin-ary...”

Spot put a hand up over his eyes as he closed them.

“E, is even more than anyone that I adore and Love, is all that I can give, to you...”

Spot motioned to both River and Sunrise to head upstairs.

“Love, is just a simple game...for two...”

They did so quickly, out of respect.

“Take my heart but please don’t break it - Love, was made for me and you...”

Liberty carefully made her way beside Flash, back towards Harlem.

“We’re barely gonna make it before curfew,” Liberty said, speaking the first words she had since the two left the Brooklyn lodging house. Flash laughed.

“Yeah, barely. It’s a long walk to Harlem. But you’re the one who wanted to go home so...”

“I know. I know.”

Silence hung in the air for a few more moments before Liberty stopped abruptly and sat down on a park bench. Flash hung around, standing for a while before she sat down beside her.

“What happened back ‘dere, Andriola?” she asked quietly. Liberty sighed, laughed a short laugh, and shrugged, dropping her hands dismally into her lap.

“A lot of t’ings. J’est...a lot ‘a t’ings.”

“Oh. Well if you don’t wanna tawk about it, den dat’s -”

“Did you know I was engaged?”

Flash stared at her. “Wha?”

“Not...now. Before I came to Harlem. I was engaged to this guy...a real wonder’fal guy. His name was Orion.”

“Like the ah...the constel'lation?”

“Yeah.” Liberty sighed and brought her feet up under her. “Like ‘da constellation. We’se was engaged tah be married when I tuyned 18.”

“Did yah love him?”

“Yeah,” Liberty said again, in a more quiet voice. “I did. He wadn’t...I mean, I always knew he must be uptah somethin’. Dat his woyd wasn’t honest. But...hell. Dove found him in his apartment. Shot to death.”

Flash gasped, then mentally kicked herself for it.

“No one knew what happened...no one. My whole...life was just gone. In a shot. Yah know?”

Liberty didn’t give Flash a chance to respond.

“So Storm - from the Bronx, yah know her...set me up in Harlem. Said you guys had room. And I just...shut the woyld out. I needed to move on but I couldn’t ‘cause I didn’t...know what happened to him. I just couldn’t. So then I mean...I meet Nicky this mornin’ as usual, yah know? And we agree tah have dinner cause I was so late, cause Breaker Dempsey was chasin me and...”

“Whoah whoah, back up tha soul train,” Flash displayed a grin. “Slow down.”

“Look, it’s not important - I was j’est late. So Nicky’s on his way tah woyk and I told him I’d meet him in the hallway at seven this even’in. And I come in, at seven, like I said I would. Only he ain’t there. So I wonder down the hallway just...day dreaming. And then I hear gunshots.”

Flash’s eyes went wide, but she said “go on” anyways.

“So I look around the corner and there’s these two guys, bustin out the door of Nick’s apartment. They shot up the place and left. I just...went crazy. I don’t know. I started sobbin’ and...Dove found me. Brought me back to the lodging house. Look, I don’t wanna tawk bout this no more, I just wanna tell you the simple stuff and get it over with. In short, Nicky ahh...hah. Nick shot him. Orion, I mean. Nick was the one...who shot him. He’s been workin’ for this big Mafia guy for a while...Vaughn Valentino. Yah know ‘im?”

“I’se read ‘bout him in the papers. He kicked tha bucked a while back; over a year ago.”

“Yeah. He was big in the alcohol trade. Prostitution. All ‘dat stuff. Nick rose up and took his place as his...son, I guess. I mean, dat’s wat he told me.” Liberty sighed. “A lot has ‘appened ta’day. A lot has come togeth’ah that...explains the past yea’ah of my life. And Dove - he knew. He knew all along that Nick was the one who...well the one. It’s just like...everyone knew but me. Everyone is against me. It’s always been me an’ Nickolas, against ‘da woyld. And when it wasn’t me an’ Nicky, it was me ‘an Dove. And both of them j’est turned their back on me.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t like that...”

“It was. I just feel really betrayed and I...I don’t know why. It was crazy, I just ran towards the window and jumped. And all of the sudden, there was this pain in my knees and I blacked out and...I don’t wanna tawk bout this anymore,” she repeated suddenly. “I j’est need someone tah und’ahstan. And not tah ask no questions ‘bout me past. So now you know about it and I nevah want to tawk bout it again.”

“O.k. You don’t hafta.”

“Don’t tell the goyls, alright?”

“Alright. Deal.”

Liberty nodded. She’d cried all the tears she could cry. “Look,” she said, unfolding her legs from beneath her and shifting her gaze up towards the sky. “I got all my answers ta’day. Some I didn’t want. Some I did. I j’est wanna go back tah Harlem and live my life ovah. Make a new beginnin’, fah real this time. Not as Angelina Andriola, Nicky Andriola...Valentino...whoevah’s sistah. Not as some...refugee from Brooklyn. Just as Liberty.”

Flash reached out and gave Liberty’s hand a squeeze. “O.k. I won’t tell anyone. We’ll make up some story for the girls on why I had to come and get you. You can start over as...Liberty.”

Liberty Andriola smiled up at her new found friend. Flash smiled back.

“Now c’mon,” said the Harlem native, standing up. “Let’s go. Blue Skies is gonna be worried. So is the rest’a the goyls.”

“Worried?” asked Liberty as she stood up.

“Yeah, worried,” said Flash, mimicking her voice; a smirk spreading across her face. “You’se still one ‘a our goyls. We worry ‘bout you like we worry ‘bout everyba’dy else.”

“Really?”

The two started walking.

“Really.”

Silence passed between the two until they finally reached the outskirts of Harlem sometime later.

“One ‘a the goyls...” said Liberty, suddenly. “I like ‘dat. I really like ‘dat.”

Flash laughed. “Good. Cause ‘dats wat you are.”

“Yeaaah...” Liberty replied slowly as she glanced around at the familiar Harlem buildings and streets. “I could get used ‘tah ‘dat. Yah know, you’se was real “take charge” back ‘dere, McAllen.”

Flash laughed out loud, “yeah I guess I was. I’m not all that good at takin’ charge, usually...Blue’s real good at it. I mean, she runs t’ings, really.”

“Yeah, I noticed. But...it’s good tah know...hell, it’s good tah know someone cares. When no one does, suddenly you appear out of the wood work to be there for me. So j’est lemme say t’anks. A lot.”

“Don’t mention it,” Flash grinned back. Then she turned and gestured down the street; the way to the Harlem newsgirls lodging house. “Now let’s go home and get some sleep, before Blue goes ballistic.”

Liberty chuckled. “Yeah,” she said, suddenly leading the way. “Let’s go home.”

And so they did.