canon time — evangeline AU (poem written by henry wadsworth longfellow, depicting the tragedy of the acadian expulsion).

It was Katherine's wedding day.

Katherine and Jack's, to be precise.

It had only been two months after the strike had been settled, that Jack got down on one knee, presenting Katherine with the most valuable ring she'd ever received. It had been slightly old and rusted, and didn't fit quite right on her finger, yet it could've been a shower curtain ring, for all she cared.

It signified that he was hers, and she was his. For life.

That hadn't changed in the least, less than a year later, when the two had met up at the altar, staring, mesmerized, into each other's eyes, hardly listening to the priest who'd been droning on and on about... something. Katherine couldn't concentrate on anything else while she was gazing at her beloved fiancée—soon to be husband.

"Katherine?" The priest's voice broke her out of her trance. "Do you take this man as your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I—"

At that moment, the church door slammed open, and in stormed her father. "I object!"

"Father." Her mouth formed the word, but not a sound reached her ear.

Her father hadn't given her away. It had been the Governor who'd done the job, when she, desperate and helpless, had asked him. Her father had never even given Jack his blessing.

And now they were paying the price for it.

"Mister Pulitzer—" the priest tried, but was silenced by her father ordering dozens of cops to invade the place. Jack held her tightly, protectively.

"Get the boy!" he ordered, composed as ever, while Katherine felt like her life was going up in flames before her very eyes. "As well as the one with the crutch, and David Jacobs."

Those words were all it took for Jack to finally crack. "No! Leave 'em alone—they didn't do nothin'!"

But his pleas for his friends' freedom had fallen on deaf ears, and soon, Jack was ripped from her, and dragged out the door along with the other two.

"Where are you taking them?" Katherine demanded.

Pulitzer adjusted the cuffs on his sleeves, unbothered. "Someplace that they will never be found again. Not by you, or anyone else, and will not return to Manhattan so long as they are alive. If they remain existing in your dreams, where they roam as phantoms, so be it. But, from now on, they will never be anything more than that." He laughed. "Jack Kelly, the dreamer, that dime-novel cowboy who believed he could marry my daughter. Having no substance, he figured he could compensate with style. The moon is bigger in Santa Fe, hm? Perhaps he'll finally be able to see if he's right about that."

Katherine pressed a hand against her knotted stomach. "When did you become such a monster?"

He didn't answer her question. "One day," began Pulitzer, pinning her in place with his icy gaze, "you will thank me for this, daughter mine. You'll see."

"You are no father of mine," she choked out, stumbling back. "You're dead to me—I swear it."

His eyes narrowed. "Very well, but you'll be back sooner or later. I'm the reason you're alive and safe. Not him, or anyone else."

With that, he turned and walked out maliciously, the door slamming shut behind him. Only the sound of Katherine's choked sobs could be heard.

Alive, maybe, but not happy. Never happy.

—

Four long days and four long nights had passed, before Katherine found herself standing in front of Governor Roosevelt's door, like she'd done only a week before.

She couldn't believe how much things had changed since then.

Katherine could easily tell that the newsies hadn't ever anticipated something so terrible happening until then. Race, as Jack's second in command, had taken over as the leader of Manhattan, but it was clear that the boy had no idea how to lead his newsies, especially not with their recent losses.

Albert had quickly been elected as Race's second, and although everyone knew that their leader going missing wasn't something that usually happened regularly, she predicted that the two had been on edge since the incident, wondering if Race would be taken away, too.

The Jacobs family had been devastated when they had gotten the news about what had happened to their eldest, after they'd been able to coax the story out from Les.

Crutchie's departure tore Katherine apart, as it would have for Jack. It was her father who had taken him away. It was her fault. She should have stayed away from them, and let them live their lives in peace. But now, because of her, they couldn't.

Her three knocks rang out clearly through the air, and not long after, the door opened, revealing the Governor. "Miss Pulitzer. Come in."

"No," she denied, putting her hands out. The sound of her last name made her wince. It meant that she was still legally a Pulitzer, daughter of a monster. It meant that, no matter how close they'd been to finishing saying their I do's, she still wasn't a Kelly, binding her as Jack's wife. Jack. "I'm not staying. Not here, or in Manhattan, for that matter. I'm leaving to go search for Jack, and I came to you for one last piece of advice."

He stared at her for a few moments, before narrowing his eyes, looking contemplative. "My advice to you is that you're going to want to have some company with you."

"Oh." Katherine blinked. "I didn't think to ask—"

"—Which is why, of course, I will be the one accompanying you," the Governor finished. "Wait here while I get my bags."

"What do you mean?" Katherine demanded. "You can't just leave! You're the Governor!"

He shrugged at her while tossing on his coat. "I'd do anything to spite your father. Even if it means leaving everything behind, and searching for the boy who reminded me how valuable you children really are. Now, stay right there. I'll be back."

"Wait—"

But the door had already slammed excitedly shut in front of her.

—

Day by day, borough leader by leader, Katherine spent her life searching for the only one her soul loved, the Governor and his horse by her side.

It certainly wasn't a normal occurrence. She still remembered her conversation with Spot Colon, leader of Brooklyn.

"What's Hattan's goil doin' around dese parts?" he had asked.

Katherine stood her ground. "I'm looking for Jack. Have you seen him? Has he been here?"

Spot snorted, leaning forward on his cane. "Jackie boy got off his leash, huh?"

"Him and two other newsies are missing."

At that, Spot turned serious. "Missin'? Whaddya mean? None a' da oth-ah boroughs have said anythin' 'bout their newsies goin' missin'. Did Jack tick someone off?"

"It was my father," Katherine told him, clenching her jaw at the memory. "On our wedding day, four days ago. He ordered the officers to get Jack, Davey and Crutchie. I'm surprised you haven't heard anything about it."

"Kathy," Spot started. "Ya should know bett-ah den anyone dat if it ain't in da papes, it nev-ah happened."

The others had been a bit more helpful, but not by much. If they had happened to see him, he had already left, going further out towards the outskirts of New York along with the other two boys.

Years had slowly passed, and Katherine had still not been able to find Jack, no matter how long or hard she'd searched.

In a particular place, Midtown, Katherine met a young woman who had clearly been through too many heartbreaks to count.

"I simply don't understand why you follow this man," Sarah Jones huffed, bringing her off to the side of the dance floor where many had been waltzing. "There are plenty of other perfectly good and handsome ones out there, Katherine. Why wait for this one?"

"Because I love him," Katherine had insisted. "He makes my life worth living. He's worth the wait, for me."

But Sarah hadn't been convinced. "All I'm saying is, don't waste your life away. There are so many men who'd marry you in a heartbeat, and if I know men—and I know men—I know that there's no way your Jack is still out there waiting for you."

"How could you say that?" Katherine demanded, her face heating in her passion. "You don't know him! He is my heart, and I his! And he is still out there, waiting for me, and I will not let him down by giving up!"

"All those papers used to ask for your hand in marriage," Sarah had finally tutted. "All for naught."

Katherine knew exactly what she had meant. The Governor had handed her countless letters asking for her to be a lucky man's—once she'd even come across the proposal of one of the Delancey's—wife, promising that all she'd have to do was cook, clean, and give the guy some children.

She recalled one particularly disturbing one. It had, in detail, described what her duties would be as a wife, and what she would have to learn to put up with if she were to marry this man, this... Nicholas. Or was it Nick?

Oh, Miss Pulitzer, don't worry! Once we meet, you ain't gonna have to sit around no more! You're gonna have plenty of cooking and cleaning to do! Plus, if you're real lucky, you're gonna get to rub my shoulders like a good little wife. I can already imagine our children!

Nicholas Walker (but you, dear, can call me Nick).

Katherine, wondering what sort of man would be confident enough to send out such a letter, had written her reply:

My dear Nicholas, or is it Nick?

I would much prefer you kept your hands to yourself, if we ever were to meet. Although I think I've heard quite enough, and I must kindly refuse your proposal. I can tell the sort of man you are, and believe me, Mr. Walker—it is not one I wish to devote my life to. In fact, I've already found myself a husband, and he is twice the man you'll ever be.

Please refrain from writing back. If you do, I will not be held responsible for any and all obscenities I send your way.

Never yours,

Katherine Kelly. 

Although she felt much the same way about Jack when they had first met, Katherine knew that Nicholas would've turned out to be nothing like Jack, if she even bothered getting to know him.

At least Jack hadn't treated her like some sort of object, like the ones in the letters had. The thought of those very men made her blood boil and her skin crawl, when all she wanted to do was fall into Jack's safe, protective arms.

The Governor, thankfully, understood her frustration.

"Jack is a good man," he'd once said. "Your time searching for your love will not be wasted."

Although the words comforted her, Katherine couldn't help but wander into the graveyards of different places at times, scanning the stones for the name of Francis Suvillian, better known as Jack Kelly.

—

Katherine sat in the Governor's carriage, growing weary and losing hope. It had been a long time since her conversation with Sarah, but she was still never the type to give up.

Jack and the other two sat unhappy, restless and sore on the street next to them, a row of houses between the five travellers. They, too, were on a long, weary journey. They, too, had thus far been unsuccessful in their search.

Katherine had been in a peaceful slumber, when she'd suddenly jerked up to the warm air of the Bronx, inhaling sharply. "Teddy, I... I feel like he's close. I know it's crazy, but..."

She'd trailed off, and both of them knew it was because she didn't want to have any false hope.

"It isn't crazy," The Governor told her kindly. "He could very well be nearby. Keep your eyes out for him."

And so she did. But what she didn't know was that he was right there, too hidden out of sight for her to see. Katherine and the Governor continued their journey, stopping only when the day grew weary and night took its place.

"Let's stop here," the Governor spoke, referring to the inn that he had stopped in front of. "We'll get some rest, and then we shall continue tomorrow, yes?"

Katherine was only able to muster a solemn nod. She couldn't help but start to feel as though she was chasing after nothing but a mere ghost.

In the inn, much to their surprise, stood Davey, Crutchie and another man whom Katherine and the Governor did not know.

Katherine hardly recognized her two friends. Davey had grown into a fine young man with rough hands to prove that he spent most of his time working. Crutchie still had his namesake, but it had been upgraded to a much finer crutch, with more details than her young memory ever remembered there being.

Katherine watched, awed, as Davey ran up to her—Crutchie not far behind—and gave her a bone crushing hug, as if that one alone could make up for ones he'd lost in the thirteen years they'd been apart.

"Davey," Katherine breathed into his shoulder.

"It's been far too long," Davey told her. Even his voice had changed. No longer was it the quiet, proper one she'd remembered from the strike and such, but it had gained a quality of deepness and maturity. "We had to make a livin' here."

She dared to hope. "Jack?"

Crutchie limped over. "Lookin' fa ways ta get his mind off a' ya. He's been a mess since the wedding."

"He's not here?" whispered Katherine, the excitement of possibly finding him being ripped away from her all at once, leaving her feeling empty and fragile.

Davey shook his head. "He left this mornin' again, but he should be back tomorrow. It's nothin' new. We usually stay with Denton—Bryan Denton, that is—wherever he goes. He's the reason we made it this far."

Katherine didn't know what to say. She'd been reunited with two of her long lost friends, both safe and sound, but she was still missing her Jack.

"What're ya doin' he-ah?" Crutchie asked cheerfully. Just like how she'd remembered him. "How'd ya find us?"

"We've been looking for the three of you ever since the wedding," the Governor explained for her. "It took us some time, but we're here now."

But Katherine didn't care about that. All she cared about was the fact that Jack had slipped from the tip of her fingers once again. She didn't know if she wanted to scream or cry.

In the end, she had only lain silent in her bed in the inn, hands clutched tight over her aching heart.

-

The next day brought no joy to Katherine's heart.

While the sun was still bright and new, she'd learned that Jack had still not come back, and instead—according to the owner of the inn he had stayed at—had taken the roads leaving the Bronx, and that he had claimed to wanting to start the next of many chapters of his life in Flushing.

Katherine hadn't been the only one to feel distraught. Davey and Crutchie had both felt betrayed by the news—that Jack had gone ahead without them, without a single word. Katherine didn't blame them, but it didn't dim her yearning for him in the least. The other two were slightly more hesitant.

But still they searched, and searched, and searched, and all they managed to find were bits and pieces of him in his wake, like some of his beautifully detailed paintings.

The Governor, having grown weary with age, had finally settled down back in the Bronx with her two friends, and Denton had gladly stepped up to fill his shoes. She had felt surprisingly comfortable with the man, even though she hardly knew him, feeling that he could be trusted after keeping Jack, Davey and Crutchie safe. The two had talked about love, righteousness, and both of their passions—writing. In some ways, Katherine felt like they were the same person. It had been sometime since she'd found herself a kindred spirit, which Denton now was to her.

One night, in the dustier parts of Flushing, Katherine had stumbled into Miss Medda. She had noticeably aged, but somehow still looked as radiant as the morning sun, and drew all eyes to her like moths after a flame.

"Why aren't you back in Manhattan?" Katherine had asked her. "It seems that everyone is close to here these days."

Medda had explained that she was only temporarily there for a show, and that she'd secretly held on to the possibility of finding Jack.

"Without him, it's just not the same," Medda had mentioned sadly. "There's only so many people who can paint like Jack can. I learnt that the hard way."

"I'm still looking for him," Katherine tried to assure her, but didn't know who exactly she was trying to convince. "I've spent all this time following his trail. We'll get him back."

Medda gazed at her sadly. Katherine couldn't fathom why the look was suddenly being aimed at her, until Medda began to speak once more.

"There was this story once," she started softly, taking one of Katherine's hands and squeezing tight, "this girl fell in love with a phantom, and one night, it lured her into the forest with its whispers. No one ever saw her again."

Katherine spent a moment in silence, thinking about what she'd said. "You think I'm like her? Like the girl who disappeared?" Medda didn't nod, but the grave look on her face was all the confirmation Katherine needed. "What if I'm cursed to look for Jack for the rest of my life? What if... what if I never find him?"

Medda shook her head. "I don't know, honey."

Katherine swallowed hard, looking away. Medda always knew everything. If she had no straight answer for this... how much hope for ever finding Jack could there really be?

"What now, Miss Medda?"

"Go to the Eastside," Medda advised. "Good things await you there. I can feel it."

And so she and Denton set off again, heading towards the Eastside, where they found Jacobi who'd joyfully invited them into his home.

"What brings you here?" Katherine asked. "Don't you have a diner to run?"

Jacobi laughed and told her that he'd long since retired, and moved away. When she proceeded to ask about Jack, his face lit up.

"He was here just six days ago," Jacobi told her brightly. "He told me he was going down to Richmond to pursue his painting career, but that he'd be back by autumn."

"Then I will wait here for him," Katherine declared, having but a single string of hope left in her. She pushed Denton to go back to the others, telling him that she had finished her travels at last, and so he left her with Jacobi.

But Jack hadn't returned by autumn. Nor had he by winter, or spring, or even summer. Tired and disappointed, Katherine set off once more, and after a long and exhausting journey, found only a deserted cabin in his name. She couldn't help but let her body rack with devastated tears, as she was left to roam the outskirts of New York City, just like her very own phantom. She certainly wished she possessed the ability to lure others back to herself.

Many a weary year passed, and she still hadn't succeeded in finding Jack. However, she had sworn all those years ago to not give up, and so she continued on with her believably hopeless journey.

—

A time came when Katherine had no other choice than to abandon her hunt, as a treacherous war had begun, and so she returned to Brooklyn. This is where she stayed as a nurse for all those who had been injured in battle.

She could still recall the conversation she'd had with Spot Colon, now married with a child, when they had run into each other.

"So, yer jus givin' up?" he had demanded after she'd told him her story. "Dat ain't like tha Katherine dat came ta see me all those years ago."

"What else can I do?" Katherine had shot back. "He could be dead, for all I know."

Spot didn't have anything to say at that, only telling her to keep safe during the war, before parting from her. But Katherine had regretted the words as soon as she had said them. Jack wasn't dead—he couldn't be. She was all but hopeless, but she was sure she would know if he had died. His death would spread around the city, she was sure of it. Jack Kelly would not allow himself to die silently and alone. And neither would she.

Katherine sighed, pulling herself back into the present as she passed through the rows of beds where all the hurt soldiers lied. There, she came by a bed that made her halt. A tremendous shudder ran through her, though she knew not what had caused the tremor. She understood all at once, however, as she gazed at the man in the bed, who'd seemed to have been shot in the stomach.

It was Jack.

Despite having changed so much over the years, and his wound causing him to have lost the majority of the colour in his face, she could still easily tell that it was Jack, now aged and dying of a bullet wound.

Katherine gasped, and fell down next to his cot. "Oh, no! Not you! Not now, Jack!"

Jack opened weary eyes, turning his head to see his angel, his ace. "K-Kath..."

Katherine caressed his face in her hands, watching as the life slowly faded from his eyes. Tears fell from her own as she recalled all those days they'd spent together as young adults. His charisma, his love for her... his now failing heart.

"Oh, Jack," she sobbed in despair, before bending down and pressed a long overdue kiss onto his dying lips. He whispered one last thing, Katherine, my Katherine, before his mouth failed him and his breaths ceased to come.

As she pulled away, she felt suddenly freed from all the pain of searching for him, like her mission in life had finally been accomplished. She had found her Jack. She could now live in peace.

But sometimes, we're only meant to truly fall in love once.

—

Back in Manhattan, the two lovers lay sleeping side by side next to each other's graves. Though they may be unknown by many, they're still held close to the hearts of all the newsies—past, present and future ones alike, where the winds quietly sing, 'Katherine, Katherine' through the trees of the forest, grazing the peaceful waves of the oceans where she had once passed by.

After learning what had become of Katherine and Jack, Les had packed his bags and taken off in search for his older brother and Crutchie. Thanks to Katherine, the young man's path had already been made, and it took less than a year to be reunited with the two.

Some say that there are days where Katherine and Jack are spotted walking next to each other across the streets of New York, wedding rings present on neither of their fingers. It is also said that the lovely Katherine sometimes helps guide others to their long lost loves, so that they may live happily ever after for the rest of their days, like she wanted so badly to with her Jack.

And in some ways, she did.

"THE END."

"What's dat?" Albert asked, coming over to the desk which Henry sat, eyeing his tear-streaked face oddly.

Henry swiped quickly at his damp eyes and slammed his notebook shut, hiding it from Albert's view. "Nothin'."

Albert raised an unconvinced eyebrow.

Sighing, Henry passed him his writing. "Fine. He-ah."

The boy curiously cracked open the book, gazing somewhat at Henry as if he wasn't sure what to expect. "It was Katherine's weddin' day..."

(4004 words)

Guys, I'm not kidding when I say this has been in my drafts for years. I posted it once on Tumblr, but took it down shortly after because it was—quite frankly—awful. I hope none of you happened to read that version.

I got a physical version of the Evangeline poem for Christmas, and it reminded me of this one-shot, so I quickly shaped it up, and voila! The original poem is in English if any of you were interested in reading it. Did any of you notice Henry writing it at the end, as in Henry Longfellow, the original author? I like to pretend I'm much more clever than I am.

~ nutcracker645