A/N: 31 chapters. I'm so proud. You guys realize it's been over a YEAR since we started all this? It'll be weird to read through the whole thing and see how the writing has changed. Because I know it must have. Anyway, knowing me...this story could go on another year. But I don't think it will. Maybe we'll wrap it up around Christmas or so. Just because I'm so bad about updating.

If you haven't already, go read "You Get Me" by Faith O'Brien. It's on That's the story of Delaney and Keaton (by their mastermind, Bella7 AKA Faith O'Brien) and it strongly overlaps this story. Please, please, PLEASE take the time to read some. I guarantee you'll be hooked.

Hope you like Chapter Thirty-One. Let me know. I would never have kept writing without you guys!

DISCLAIMER: Newsies...alas, I owneth them not. But I DO hold co-exclusive rights to Tanya, Darcy, and Jenny (Ben has an independent copyright on himself) which I share with my writing partner and best friend Bella7 (Faith O'Brien). I did sort of borrow one of my sentences from the movie "Uptown Girls" where Dakota Fanning says "It's a harsh world." My version is a little different but that movie was in the back of my head so I figured I better give credit where credit is due.

IMPORTANT, IMPORTANT, IMPORTANT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!: Two or three times in the text, I'm listing tracks of music that you might listen to when you read it. I know this is weird but music helps me write. I thought maybe it would make reading more interesting (background music, kind of). So I'm listing three or four songs that I think might compliment the story. I know not everyone will have every artist available and I thought it would be fun to have choices. Anyway, just a quirky new thing I'm experimenting with. If you try it out, let me know what happens.

"Sunny Days" Jars of Clay

OR

"It's Only Love" The Beatles

OR

"Moonlight Sonata" Beethoven

When we last left our favorite historian...

"I FOUND IT! I FOUND IT!"

"Del?"

"Why didn't I see it before? Man, I'm such an idiot!"

"Delaney."

"It's been right here the whole time!"

"DELANEY JO ADAMS!" Keaton hadn't bothered to hang up the phone.

His wife shoved the blueprints under his nose and pointed furiously to something, "Keaton, look at this. This is absolutely unbelievable. How did I miss it?" She traced a figure across the paper.

And for once, Keaton Adams knew exactly what his wife was talking about. And he began to shake his head vehemently, "Uh uh. No way. No. Freakin'. Way, Delaney."

"What?"

"You are NOT going to make anymore holes in the walls with that forsaken sledgehammer of yours."

"Keaton, just listen to me..."

"Look, babe, I have tried to be patient about this whole weird time warp thing and this strange obsession with Jack Kelly and your overly curious mind but please can we not..."

"Mr. Adams," began his wife sternly, "How long have you known me?"

"Three...years, I guess. But Delaney..."

"And in those three years," she continued, ignoring him, "Have I ever ONCE not finished what I started?"

Keaton sighed. "Alright. You win."

"Of course."

Another sigh, "Let me see those blueprints, again."

"Breathe in...and out...in...and out," Ben eyed the thin boy in the last row of students. Nothing seemed to stir him from his breathing. There was nothing self-conscious, nothing to mar his concentration. It was disconcerting teaching someone like that. His glance traveled to the door where he instinctively knew the casting agent would be standing. This kid was getting all the breaks, wasn't he?

And next to Race, Tanya, her slim frame relaxed, her eyes never leaving Ben's. Maybe not the natural charismatic that Racetrack was but there was an invigorating sort of discipline in the way she moved and spoke. Ben had always liked that about Tanya.

Tanya was doing everything she could to keep from tensing her shoulders. Try as she might, the jealous knot in her stomach was growing with every second that she stood there.

"Breathe in..."

She felt the air catch in her throat and fairly coughed it out. Beside her, Race went on inhaling and exhaling, completely oblivious. In her peripheral gaze, she saw his warm brown eyes empty and fill with a sort of hazy bliss and a cancerous new feeling began to twist within her. She hated him for getting all the attention from Ben. From directors. From agents. From Jenny. From her aunt. Just where did she fit into this century now that Race had come and taken over?

"I've converted you, haven't I?"

Sigh. "NO, Delaney, you have not 'converted' me. I am just trying to minimize the damage you intend to inflict on our home."

Delaney Adams looked smug, "Then why are you holding the chainsaw?"

"Because it will cut more precisely!"

"Alright...If that's what helps you sleep at night."

"Delaney..." Keaton looked annoyed.

"Sorry, sorry! I just can't help myself!" She grinned, "You look so sexy with those work gloves on."

Keaton's frustrated expression became suddenly devilish, "Does that mean we're going to abandon this insanity and go upstairs and..."

"Oh, no...we're going to finish this," Delaney told him, seriously. "If we have to tear down the whole house and rebuild, we're going to find it!"

"That's a little extreme."

"It's an extreme world."

Keaton was just about to retort when he noticed the strange look flitting over his wife's face, "Honey? What's wrong?"

"Nothing..." A hand flew to her mouth and with a panicked look, Del spun on her heel and pounded up the steps and into the bathroom.

"Delaney?" Keaton dropped his power tools and took the stairs two at a time.

"Al, this is the kid I was telling you about. Racetrack, this is my agent, Alfred Hunt."

Hunt held out his hand to the boy, "Racetrack...that's very unusual. I like it. Stage name?"

"Yeah, shoah, I guess."

"So how would you feel about doing a screen test for me?"

"A...screen test..." Race tried not to sound confused.

"To see how you look on film," Ben supplied.

"Like in da movies?" the newsie's eyes grew to the size of plates.

"Yeah, Racetrack," Hunt smiled a little toothily. "Like in the movies."

Raven smoothed down the apron over her dress. An unfamiliar self-satisfaction coursed through her as she busied herself dusting the furniture.

"Michelle, have you gotten tea up, yet?"

"No," she said, then added quickly, "Ma'am."

"It should have been ready half past four, Michelle," the housekeeper told her briskly.

"I undahstand," Raven winced at the sound of her own accent. She had been doing everything humanly possible to drop it from her speech. "I...understand, Ma'am," she repeated.

Just when Tanya began to wonder how much it would hurt to hurl herself through the window she heard Ben's voice saying, "Al, have you met Tanya Farthing? One of my best students here."

"No, don't think so. How you doing, sweetie?"

She forced an incredible smile onto her face, "Great. It's really nice to meet you, Mr. Hunt."

"Yeah, you, too."

"Tanya is Racetrack's girlfriend," Ben told him.

"Oh, yeah?" the agent grinned. "So long have you been going out?"

"T'ree...months?" Race looked at Tanya.

"Yeah, I guess."

"You two go to the same school?"

"Uh, no. Race's out of high school, already."

"Oh, no kidding. How old are you, Racetrack?"

"19."

"An older man, huh?" Hunt seemed highly amused by his own joke.

Tanya was still smiling warmly but as Race watched her eyes, he saw big tears sparkling though she kept them back and the politeness remained in her voice. Something was wrong, he knew.

"So...what do I hafta do foah dis screen test?" he asked, fighting to draw the attention away from Tanya.

Though everything envious fiber within her screamed in pain, Racetrack's arm winding around her waist awakened the soothing knowledge that there was something bigger than jealousy. Love.

"I Will Carry You" Clay Aiken

OR

"Here Comes the Rain Again" Eurythmics

"7-Up? I haven't had 7-Up since I was eight!" Delaney's pale face became gleeful.

Keaton eyed her, worriedly, "It's supposed to help upset stomachs. Or as my mother used to say, 'tummy aches.'"

Delaney groaned, "Your mother...Are you TRYING to make my tummy ache?"

He put a hand to her forehead, "Well, you're not running a temperature."

"And what is your diagnosis, Mr. Adams?"

"That you're healthy enough to remember I hate being called that."

Delaney curled herself up in a ball on the couch, "I feel funny."

He kissed the center of her palm and stood up, "You are funny."

"Oh, wow, that hurts, kind of."

"I meant it in a good way."

Delaney watched him disappear into the kitchen. She picked the phone off the floor and hit speed dial.

"Farthing residence," recited a happy little voice.

"Jenny, it's your ugly old aunt. Your mom there?"

"Hi, Aunt Delaney. Just a minute. MOM!"

Delaney heard her sister's far-off voice, "What is it, baby?"

"AUNT DELANEY'S ON THE PHONE FOR YOU!"

"What does she want?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" The breathless little voice came back on the line, "Aunt Delaney, what do you want?"

"Just tell your mommy to get her butt on the phone before I come over there and kick it."

"MOM, SHE SAYS TO GET YOUR BUTT ON THE PHONE BEFORE SHE KICKS IT!"

"Fine! I'll just DROP EVERYTHING AND ANSWER THE..." There was a rustling noise, "Hello, baby sister."

"What does it mean when, without the slightest provocation, you run upstairs and barf up your entire breakfast?"

"Thank you for that visual, Delaney."

"Darcy, seriously, what is wrong with me?"

"I don't know. Tell me what happened."

"Nothing! I was standing in the living room flirting with my husband when I started to feel dizzy, ran into the bathroom, where I did a surprisingly good imitation of Princess Di."

"Well...are you pregnant?"

Silence.

"Del? You there? Hello?"

Delaney hit the off button. Hard.

More silence.

Then, "KEATON ADAMS, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

"So just say this line, Race. 'I know I don't come off as a real nice guy. But I think we both know that ain't what you're looking for." The director read the line straight from the page and then looked up at the actor.

Race stared into the camera thoughtfully, "I know I don't come off as a real nice guy...But I t'ink we both know dat ain't what ya lookin' foah."

"Cut. Thank you. That's all we need."

"Dat's it?" the newsie looked disappointed.

"That's it," Alfred Hunt told him as he entered the studio. "Nicely done, Racetrack."

"I don't gotta do anyt'ing else?"

"I need you to sign some papers. Legalities and technicalities...you know the drill."

"Da drill...yeah, yeah..."

"Do you HEAR me, Mr. Adams? You are DEAD! Dead, DEAD, DEAD! I am going to chop you into tiny, tiny pieces and bury you in the front yard and THEN I'm going to dig you up and...hey, what are you doing?"

Keaton didn't answer. He was tracing a thin pencil line across the dining room wall.

"Keaton?"

"I found it, Delaney."

"You WHAT?" Murder forgotten, Delaney snatched the blueprints from his hands and stared almost savagely at them. Her eyes lit up with understanding, "Oh...how could I have missed that? It's behind this wall!"

Delaney stepped back just before Keaton switched the chainsaw to "on" and pressed its edge to the wallpaper. She watched as the hole grew bigger in dimension and as an opening began to appear.

She shouted over the roar and whine of the saw, "Oh, oh! Look, Keaton! It's a...oh, wow! It's..."

As he completed his circle, Keaton cut the power and Delaney began yanking the pieces of loose dry wall and paper away from the opening.

"Del, hey, be careful, okay...I don't know how steady the structure now that we've..."

Too late. Keaton watched Delaney disappear behind the crumbling mass of concrete and wood.

"Santa Fe" from Newsies

OR

"Violin Romance No. 2" Beethoven

OR

"Here Comes the Sun" The Beatles

"Keaton, I need a flashlight!" he heard her call.

Sighing, he reached for one and crawled in after her.

The air inside was...older, he decided, standing up in the creaky blackness. Besides that, he had no sense of where or what he had entered.

"Delaney?" he asked into the darkness.

"Right here," she whispered, her voice startlingly close.

Keaton flicked on the light and shone it from the ceiling to the floor. It was a high ceiling, with winding rafters and woodwork that followed its natural grain all the way to the stained wooden floor.

"Oh, Keaton," breathed Delaney. "Look at the floors."

He swept the light across them as he stepped forward onto a twisted rug. His wife was on her knees in an instant. "Woolworth's," she almost giggled, "It's from Woolworth's."

Holding the flashlight over their heads, he let the beam cast delicious shadows across the peeling paper on the walls, across a watercolor painting that stood over a desk.

Delaney attacked it, her hands shaking as they ran over the wood, "Early twentieth century. Maybe...1910. Do you think it was hers?"

But Keaton wasn't looking at the desk anymore. He was staring hard at the painting. "Delaney?"

"Look at this! One of their kids carved up the leg with a pocketknife or something! See, right here? I bet Moira had a fit."

"Delaney, I don't think this was Moira's desk."

"Why not?"

He nodded towards the painting, "How many women put a self-portrait over their writing desks?"

She straightened and followed his eyes to the picture. "Oh. Wow."

Delaney had always imagined Moira to be a beautiful woman but imagination simply had not done justice. She had been beyond beautiful. Still...something bothered the historian. Something about the painting seemed...off...unfamiliar.

"I wonder why they shut this room up," Keaton said aloud, his flashlight again wandering the length of the room.

"We really need a bigger light," Delaney told him, "I'm not getting a real sense of this room, at all."

"Do you think he just...didn't want to be reminded? After she died?"

"But why shut up the whole room?" Delaney shook her head. "No, something still isn't right." She studied the painting again, the beginnings of a suspicion forming itself.

"If I were Jack, why would I close up a room?" Keaton was still giving the beam of his light a tour of the room.

"Keaton, shine it over here, again. Look, that's not Moira's name in the corner."

"So she didn't paint it?"

"No," the historian decided, studying the signature closely. "No, that's not Moira's handwriting."

Keaton tugged on the handle of the top drawer, "Locked."

Delaney kneeled down to eye it. "There's no lock on it. It's just stuck."

Keaton pulled harder. The drawer groaned and moved forward a centimeter.

"C'mon, put some muscle into it. Ooh, there's stuff in there!"

"There better be," Keaton said, through gritted teeth, yanking at the handle.

"Careful! You're gonna break it!"

"Do you want me to open it or not?"

"Keaton, we are opening a drawer full of history! One must not tread lightly on the toes of the past."

"It's nice to know you're feeling better."

In a rush of remembrance, Delaney realized she had yet to murder her husband or eat dinner. "Hey, I thought you were going to feed me."

"The delivery place hung up on me."

"They hung UP on you?"

"Can you blame them?"

The drawer gave way and shot out of the desk. Delaney crashed backwards. Loose leaf papers fluttered through the air.

She snatched one up as it sank to the rug and read aloud, "July 8, 1903, 'My dearest Jack..."

A/N: Is everyone confused now? Yeah, me, too. Don't worry, it'll pass...at least, that's what I'm hoping. So review, read again, review...thanks for holding out for this chapter! I've got more coming VERY SOON!

SHOUT INS:

shakespearean fool: I'm afraid I'm very good at leaving people hanging. But don't be alarmed. I think this story will simply have to continue until it's finished. If you don't all lose interest, I'll keep writing it. :) Thanks for reviewing, once again. And I'm super glad you found it "suspenseful," lol. JUST what I was going for. Mwah.

Sapphy: It's so nice to hear that after all this time, you still love my story. Lol. Anyway, this chapter has some suspenseful things in it and some new twists so I'd love to hear what you think or you know, how you plan on killing me, etc. (hugs) Thanks for another awesome review!

imaginelet: But I like tangents! Lol. Thanks for sticking with me. RICE KRISPY TREATS! (grabs them and stuffs them into her mouth) YUM! Oh, I mean...gee, thanks. (of course with my mouth full it sounds like 'shgee, shanks." Yeah, I liked it when Delaney said "aha!," too. It made me laugh that's why I left it in. Sometimes I feel more like the transcriber then the author. I mean...the newsies are all still here, reading over my shoulder, and telling me how it goes.

Racetrack: No, no, no! See, dis is wheah I'se gets me pictchah in da papah so I'se get ta be famous.

Mush: A pair of new shoes wid matchin' laces...

Racetrack: (hits Mush over the head) No singin'! We'se is tryin' ta concentrate, Mushy!

Mush: (sniff) Sorry.

Spot: Wheah's my name?

Legs: (sigh) See what I mean? No peace.

CiCi: Read "You Get Me" on fictionpress (by Faith O'Brien). It's all about Delaney. You will LOVE it. Anyway, thank you so much for reviewing! I always love hearing from you! I think Race is starting to fit in. Hopes that comes across in this chapter. He and Tanya are having problems but they'll work it out, I think. Right, guys?

Tanya: (arms crossed over her chest) I don't know. Maybe if SOMEONE would start paying attention to me.

Race: Hey, I'se is da stah heah! I'se got impoahtant stuff ta do!

Tanya: (begins to cry)

Race: Wa-wait! I'se didn't mean it like DAT!

Raven: Here you go, babe. A new chapter. And LOOK! There's new stuff about YOU in it! (gasp) Hope you liked this chapter. I want to know what you thought since you are still one of my originalest readers and characters! Amazing how long I've dragged this one out, huh? Thanks for always reviewing. (thousands of hugs) Oh, and give Spot a smack for me.

Lehcar Sundance: Sorry it took me this long to update. I know this makes you unhappy. I've been trying to update for awhile. Had some serious writer's block going, though. Anyhow, here's a new chapter. So you just sit down and write and tell me what you thought. Yeah, even if it sucked. Lol. NO EXCUSES.

Race: Dat's right. No 'scuses.

Oxymoronic Alliteration: Aww, thank you. Glad you like the different stories all running together. Because...well...there are many. Lol. And some new plot twists appearing. Anyhow, thanks for reviewing yet AGAIN! Tell me what you thought of the new chapter. :) Mwah.

sniper higgins: You asked how one writes a time travel fic and gets rave reviews for it. Lol. I have no idea. Because you see, the only time I ever write is when I'm possessed by aliens who come down and take over my body...uh, okay, so I just made that up. I guess when I started writing this story, my goal was to sort of "suspend disbelief." I wanted people to sort of think of it as a feasible fantasy. Like, okay, no one can actually walk into a building in one time and come out in another but wouldn't that be great if we could? I felt like connecting certain places that had historical significance made it seem more "real." Like, instead of something random like getting sucked into a television screen or building a time machine, there's a sort of feeling that it couldn't be helped. Like it was destiny that drove Tanya back and Racetrack forward. I just saw the coolest movie called "The Love Letter." It was a Hallmark movie. A few years old. But if you haven't seen it, watch it. It's so good. Anyway, it sort of reminded me why this story was important to me. Well, thanks as always for your sweet review! Love you, too. (hugs)

Artemis-chan of Redwing: Yes, I like Race, the actor, too. (sigh) Mucho cuteness. Anyhow, Blink says he has no money as "I'se is only a poah newsie" but Skittery made spaghetti if you guys want some.

Racetrack: Don't eat dat looney's spaghetti! He wouldn't know pasta if it went up 'is nose!

Nevaeh: The cameo is uppermost in my mind. And it should be... "soon." Lol, I'm guessing...it'll be in...two chapters. Which may not arrive until Thanksgiving (holds head). But yeah, we're winding this baby up. I think. Heh. But then, of course, we'll have a special chapter dedicated just to all of you guys (my crazy-wonderful readers). So...who knows? Christmas, maybe? Glad you liked the chappy. Thanks for reviewing it. :)

AngelicOne: So glad you found "You Get Me." Oh, and Faith (Bella7) and I are getting ready to unveil a BRAND NEW STORY about Darcy and Jake. So...I'll keep you posted if you want to read it. :) Thanks for another wonderful review and I demand to know what you thought of chapter 31! RIGHT NOW. Lol.

Bella7: Are there even words at this point? We've created a monster. A genuine out of control, messed up, twisted, terrifying soap opera! Okay, so the messed up part is mine...the twisted is yours. Heh. You already read most of this but do pay attention to the end (because you haven't read that) and no, this does not mean you don't have to review. Lol. K, so...get moving. I mean it!!!!!!!! Uh oh...(looks over at newsies)

Jack: (standing on the kitchen table singing himself hoarse) Bella, you'se my love and my life! You'se is my IN...SPUH...RA...SHUN!"

voided: Wow. I can't believe you stayed up that late reading this! I'm honored that you lost sleep for my silly little serial. Anyway, flattered that you enjoyed it! If you ever get a sec, I'd love to hear what you think of the new installment. :) (hugs)

Racetrack's Goil: You know, when I started writing this, that was my only goal: to write a decent Racetrack fic and a decent time travel fic. I never dreamed it would go this far or stretch this long or that it would become TWO stories or...however, many it is now. Lol. I didn't realize it was going to become what it has become but I'm so glad it did (since I met my best friend Bella because of it). It's been a privilege to share my writing with all of you thus far. Thanks for such a kind review. Hope you keep reading. :) (hugs for the road) (newsies gather around, not wanting to be left out if there's going to be any hugging)