I'm not going to say what happens here. Thanks for deciding to read this next bit! Enjoy! :)

It is the beginning of a bright and glorious sun set.

In the Manhattan Newsies Lodging House, everyone is in a good mood, talking about the day, talking about the good selling.

Race watches them all with a fond smile.

Some of these newsies were there with him during the strike of 1899. A lot of these faces, however, are new. Most of these faces are younger than Race. Only a couple are older than him, and only slightly at that. Race, as their leader, knows and loves all of them.

Then, Race looks down at the newspaper in his hand. It's his last paper. He still hasn't stopped keeping a paper from the days where he's liked the headlines.

He's keeping this one because it's special.

May 15, 1903

The date of Race's last day hawking headlines.

Race first came to this lodging house eighteen years ago--and this is pretty much around the same time as the eighteenth year anniversary of him coming here. How things have changed since then.

He's watched people become leaders. He's watched them leave, but then still have an impact on his life. He's watched the people who raised him grow older too, and make lives of their own. He watches the people he's grown up with as his younger siblings age with him. He watches old faces go, new faces come. Every single person has a story. And Race knows them all.

Today is his last night in the lodging house. Once he leaves tomorrow in the dawn of a new day, he'll no longer to be a newsie.

He's been selling newspapers since he was eight years old. Well, now it's time to find a new path.

And he'll have Spot at his side. They had agreed that today they would sell their last round of a hundred papes. Tomorrow, they're going out in the world together.

Snipeshooter comes up to him. "How are you feeling? 'Bout all of it?"

"I honestly don't know," Race confesses. "Excited, sad, happy? All of the things."

Snipeshooter nods understandingly. "It's going to be different once you leave."

"Yeah, yeah it will be," Race agrees. "You and Boots are goin' to make great co-leaders of Manhattan. I truly believe that."

"Thanks again for saying that you want both of us to take up leader ship positions."

"Hey, no problem, really. I wouldn't have done it if I didn't believe I was leaving Manhattan in good hands. You've both grown up the right way. I firmly believe that you two will bring a lot of good to Manhattan."

"Is your mind still made up, Racetrack?" Kloppman comes up to them. "Are you still leaving tomorrow?"

"Right when I wake up," Race answers. "Thank you, Kloppman. For everything."

"Where will you go?" Tumbler asks him curiously.

Race smiles. "Wherever Spot and I decide to go."

Ever since Race became leader, Manhattan and Brooklyn's relationship has strengthened immensely. Now, sometimes, the lines blur between who is a Brooklyn newsie and who is a Manhattan newsie. 

It's just like when Ray and Stargazer were newsies. Brooklyn and Manhattan in a strong borough alliance, brought together by the star-crossed lovers that they have for leaders. And they wouldn't have it any other way.

Once the conversation is over, Race goes up on the roof. That way, he'll feel closer to the people who have left. And he'll have a great view of the sky. That beautiful sunset sky.

The very same sky that can be seen from Brooklyn.

Race touches the little silver chain he wears around his wrist. He loves the links, the texture, and the temperature of it, as well as the visual things about it and the sound of it clinking. It's worn over time, but Race treasures it nonetheless. Spot had given it to him. And Spot still has the gold chain Race gave him all that time ago. They truly complete each other.

And I get to spend the rest of my life with him starting tomorrow.

He glows at that thought. He can't wait.

Tomorrow, Spot is coming to Manhattan to get Race after saying goodbye to the Brooklyn newsies. Race will say goodbye to his own newsies, and then they'll take off.

And I'll never sell another newspaper again.

Somehow, that's the weirdest thought of them all. Being a newsie is pretty much all he knows. He knows he'll find another job somewhere. But for pretty much all of his life, he's been surrounded by newspapers and the people who sell them.

That reminds him: he still needs to figure out what he should keep and what he should discard.

Because he's been selling newspapers since 1892. And boy, have they been collecting under his bunk.

As much as he'd like to see the sunset through, he knows he can't.

And he has books, too. What will he do those? 

I think I'll keep them all, Race decides. For now.

He looks through his newspaper collection. He's read them all a million times over. But there are a few that stand out: his first newspaper. The newspaper about The Gambler. The New York Sun's paper about the strike. The World being put in a scramble with Pulitzer gone (Race had no idea that Pulitzer didn't actually create The World--he bought it). And now, his last newspaper. These are the ones he'll keep.

He's had a good selling career.

He looks around the room. He looks in the back where there was an empty storage room to set him up to sleep in when he wasn't old enough to be a newsie yet.

There's Kid Blink's old bunk right above him. Snipeshooter's next to him.

Is he really leaving this all behind?

The answer is yes. Yes he is.

This isn't going to necessarily be easy.

But Race is ready to face anything.

Soon enough, morning comes.

Race wakes up at dawn.

There's no way he's letting them all sleep in.

"Alright, everyone up!" Race starts shouting. "Time to CARRY THE BANNER!"

"It's hours before the circulation bell will ring," Boots complains.

"We ain't even sellin' until AFTER you leave," Snipeshooter adds grouchily.

Race's tongue flicks out-in, something that he's done all his life. "Yeah, well. It's the last time I could shout that."

To prove his point, he shouts once again, "CARRY THE BANNER!"

It feels good saying that.

That's one of the major perks of being a leader.

But this is it.

This is finally it.

Race heads downstairs, a long stream of newsies following him.

He looks around for the last time. He sees the little place under the stairs he used to hide under when he got overwhelmed. He looks across the room to find the chair that he and Ray would call their chair. This place has so many memories.

And yet he keeps heading for the door.

Right before he can turn the doorknob to the outside world, Spot on the other side beats him to it.

"Morning, Race!"

"Morning, Spot-"

Before Race can finish his sentence, Spot is kissing him--still gently and soft like when they first started. Race kisses back.

"Alright, alright, cut the sappy stuff," Snipeshooter tells them. "You've only got the rest of your lives to do that away from us."

They ignore him.

Tumbler elbows him. "Come on. It's sweet."

Race is pretty sure he hears more voices. "Is there by any chance anyone out there with ya, Spot?"

"Oh, right." Spot steps aside so Race can see. "I may have gotten a few people to come see you off."

He got everyone.

Race sees aged faces that haven't been in his life forever. Morris Cohen, Smoke, Sheeny, Henry, Snoddy, Buttons.

And those that he remembers well. Itey, Skittery, Specs, Bumlets. David, Les.

And those that are more important to him than anyone else in the world: Jack, Ray, Kid Blink, Mush, Crutchy, Stargazer.

They're all here.

It doesn't matter that most of them probably don't go by their newsie names anymore. They'll always have those names in his mind.

These are all the important newsies in his life.

And they are all here, right now.

"How-?!" Race exclaims. He has no words to continue.

"I may have pulled a few strings," Spot tells him. "Okay, maybe a lot."

"Hi, Race!" all of them wave and smile at him.

He waves back with a smile. "Hi."

"Race's last day of being a newsie," Jack says. "There's no way in the world that we'd miss it."

Race grins. "Thanks for coming, Jack."

"Hey!" Blink and Mush protest.

"What are we, chopped liver?" Crutchy calls out.

"And thanks to everyone else too!" Race laughs. "Thanks for coming; all of you."

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Ray tells him.

"Are you ready to go, Race?" Spot asks, and holds out his hand for Race. "Ready to start the new adventure of our lives?"

Race hesitates for a moment. And in this moment, so much goes through his head.

He thinks about his old life, when he was just a kid, with Ray and Jack and Blink and Mush and Crutchy to care for him.

He thinks about the strike.

He thinks about how he and Spot had grown closer.

He thinks about all the adults in his life: Kloppman, Medda, Andrea and Giacomo, Denton, Signor Moretti, Jameson, Fortunato Alam Ishmael Celesto Nephus, and two of the most important ones: Giovanni Antonio and Mattia Chiara Bonoforte.

He thinks about all of his lowest moments, all of his highest moments.

He thinks about the little things that will always go unsolved. They never did quite find out why Race is still alive today rather than burning in a fire in 1885. He's grateful, though, that whatever lucky strike he somehow got had worked. None of this would have happened if he weren't so lucky.

He thinks about all of his close friends, and how they've moved on in their lives, but still think very highly of him and make sure to see him frequently. 

He thinks about becoming the leader of the Manhattan newsies.

And, he thinks about how he's grown up different from all of them. His mind does not work in the same way that any of theirs do. He can't recognize faces. He can feel words. He's overly sensitive. Yet somehow, not only do these make him unique, they make him special in more ways than anyone can ever explain.

He looks behind him. At the Manhattan Newsies Lodging House, at Kloppman, at Snipeshooter and Boots and Tumbler and the rest of them, at his home.

Then, he looks in front of him. At his adopted brothers, at his lover, and at the rising sun. A dawn of a new day. And for him, a new life.

Then, he looks at Spot's hand being offered to him. And his Blue Eyes.

They have no clue what the future will hold.

But together, they can face anything, as long as they are together.

Race takes Spot's hand. 

Together, "Racetrack" Antonio Edward Higgins and "Spot" Sean Patrick Conlon walk away from all they have ever known, and into a big new world.

They're ready.

Carpe diem.

FINIS

Everyone it is midnight and I am not okay.

My cat is worrying about me as they are also trying to sleep haha. 

So, not as long as everything else, but still long enough.

I wanted it to reflect the Prologue in a lot of ways. True, it wasn't a perfect mirror, but hey, most things never are completely symmetrical.

I love Race's character arc. How he starts out as just a young kid, and how he grows from there. How he grew during the strike. How he figured out a huge conspiracy. How he became the leader of Manhattan. And now, how he's leaving the lodging house.

I don't think my heart can take it. I really don't.

Sadly, this is the last part with story content. I hope you all enjoyed it!

But, if you're ready for a long author's note to send you off very much like the one you got in the beginning welcoming you in, by all means, read on.

Thanks for deciding to read to this part. Thanks for (if you do) deciding to read to the next part.

Well, if you want to see one author's final thoughts on this story ... continue on to the next page.

(Edit: so in the prologue, Ray tells Stargazer that he wants him alive when they're twice their age. Well, in this epilogue, they are twice that age. I didn't plan on that happening, but I'm so glad that it did.)

Please, no homophobia, profanities, hate etc in the comment section at all times.

Best,

~Your Beloved Author (who just loves it when things come to a full circle)