Let me just say that I have loved writing this piece. I mean, come on, Roxanne is creepy and bitchy and tons of fun to write. Even more, I loved that you guys loved it. Seriously, this sounds cliché, but ya'll make me feel like some kind of star even on my worst days. So, for the last time, Disney owns Newsies, TCF owns Moulin Rouge...you know how it goes. Enjoy the final chapter.

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The sound of raised voices downstairs brought Jack spiraling out of insanity. He blinked slowly, unsure of what was going on, or even of who he was. It was as though he stood beside his own body, watching everything from somewhere else. His hands were slick with scarlet liquid, sticky and thick. Looking down, he began to shake. He had killed her. "Oh God," he whispered, "I didn't mean to..."

The door to the room burst open, denting the wall where it struck. The house keeper and several other girls huddled behind the police officer. Gasps of horror rang out as they recoiled at the scene. The sergeant appraised the situation with a practiced coolness: The girl lay on the floor, throat slit, blood pooling around her, a blood stained knife gleamed on the floor nearby. The boy stood over her mangled form, trembling as silent tears crept down his sickly-pale cheeks. It was obvious what had happened.

Jack turned to look at the intruders, eyes haunted and wide. "I'm so sorry," he whispered in a strangled voice, "I didn't mean to do it. I loved her...she was...I didn't..."

The sergeant drew Jack away gently, "Come on, son."

Jack came without resistance, still feeling as though he were a spectator in the whole affair, "I didn't mean to..."

"I know," the sergeant was kindly as could be, "But you have to come along."

The girl who had once warned Roxanne against Jack watched them descend the stairs while the police coroner covered the body of her ill-fated friend. Her glanced shifted between the two. The young man and the girl he had loved. The two lived shattered to pieces on the floor. She leaned her head against the door frame, eyes closed in closeted grief, "I told you it would get messy, Roxie," she said to the air, "Emotions always are."

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Ireland was in her favorite thinking spot on the rail of the Brooklyn Bridge. The river looked pretty that evening; the setting sun had finally broken through the clouds to paint the steely wavelets rose and lavender. She sighed deeply, just wishing she could turn time back to October, before Jack met Roxanne, before she had driven a wedge between all of them, before life had been so complex. What she wouldn't give just to have everything back the way it was...

A breathless approach broke her longing thoughts. She turned, sliding off the rail as she did so to come face to face with Blink, bent double and breathing heavily, "Blink, you okay?" Ireland waited impatiently as he struggled for enough air to speak, "What happened?"

"You ain't never gonna believe this," he gasped out, "Oscar's dead." Ireland's eyes widened, as her friend nodded, "But that ain't all, Charlie Pyle says it was Jack..."

There was a large crowd around the alley as they approached. Ireland and Blink skidded to s stop between Spot and Race as the coroner carried away a body in a crimson-stained sheet. Charlie Pyle was nursing a bloody nose as he answered questions.

"He was crazy," Charlie accepted the policeman's handkerchief and pressed it to his streaming nose, wincing against cracked ribs, "He was just screaming and slamming Oscar into the wall. I don't think Saint Patrick coulda' stopped him."

The policeman took notes briskly, "Did Oscar say anything that might have made Jack angry?"

Charlie shook his head, "I dunno, sir. Oscar was just tellin' me about his new girl, Roxanne from Verte Violette, and Kelly went berserk. Kept yellin' at him to say it wasn't true."

The officer glanced up at his chief purposefully, "Double homicide," he reported quietly.

Ireland went ashen. All around her mouths dropped, eyes widened. The boys exchanged terrified glances. Spot gripped her by her arms, "Ireland..."

"I have to go," she whispered.

"Ireland, it's probably too late," Race struggled over the words.

"But it might not be!" she was more desperate than certain, "We have to find him."

But even as she spoke these words, the police cart rolled up to the alley. They all turned, silently praying over what they did not want to see. Jack hung on the iron bars of the side, head hung in terrible defeat.

Ireland was the first to race past the police guard to him, "Jack!" her fingers twined about his. He looked up, a new haunted look in his over bright hazel eyes.

His gaze seemed to bore into hers; "I'm sorry," his voice was destroyed with screaming, "To all of you."

"We forgive you Jacky-boy," Spot was the first to reply; all around him heads were nodding.

Jack tried to smile and failed, "Ireland?" he looked back to her.

Silence passed between them and then she kissed his fingers, "Always, Jack."

The guard gently pulled her back as the cart lurched into motion; Jack's eyes remained locked on his friends until they rounded the corner and vanished from sight.

A dark figure watched it go from the alley, "You're going to pay for this you little Mick bastard," he growled, "When you get out, I'll be waiting."

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A crack of thunder brought everyone hurling back to the present as the stranger fell silent. They stared at him, stunned into speechlessness. "That was thirty years ago, the story of Roxanne," he finally said, turning his tortured eyes on Robert, "That's why you can't love someone who sells herself. It will kill you slowly, day by day until you hate yourself more than her." He drank deeply from his tankard, "Just remember that once it's done it's done."

He cast a final glance around the shadowed room, letting them drink in the full extent of his meaning. Without another word he drew his coat around him and strode to the door. "But wait," came a voice from near the fire, "Whatever happened to Jack?"

The stranger paused and finally his face seemed to lighten, "He was paroled...and he's seeing his friends for the first time in thirty years tonight."

The rain had finally slowed, and the thunder was receding into the distance. Two blocks down, he could see two figures huddled under the meager illumination of the streetlight. For the first time in many years he felt a smile come to his face.

A figure stepped out of a doorway, blocking his path. A white haired man, his wrinkled face twisted and lined with cruelty stood in the way, the barrel of an ancient revolver gleaming dully in the poor light. "It's time for you to pay," his voice was dark and terrible, and yet there was something familiar about him.

"You know what she did to me was worse Albert," he did not plead with the old manager of Verte Violette, merely stated the fact.

"I don't care what she did to you boy, my daughter was the best money in the whole city," he leveled off the weapon, "You cost me huge profits, boy."

Jack did not blink, he'd known for years, "Don't do it, Albert, not over something this twisted. It's not like you loved her,"

"But I did love the cash she brought in," his eyes glinted cruelly, "No body steals from me, Kelly."

Jack caught his breath, "I don't deserve this," he was more angry than scared, "Not over her,"

"You're might be right, Kelly," Albert smirked, "My daughter was worthless, like her mother," his eyes darkened briefly, "But she earned me more money than I ever dreamed...like I said: Nobody steals from me."

Jack closed his eyes in final resignation, and his world shattered into black.

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A gunshot split the murky night viciously. Ireland's head whipped around in time to see the shape of a man crumple to the ground as his assailant fled. Her heart stopped as she flew down the block, Spot trailing close behind.

She threw herself on the ground beside him, sobbing as crimson blood flowed from his chest into the gutter, his eyes wide and staring in the final shock of the impact. An inhuman cry of total anguish tore from her chest to echo over Boston, a keening death wail for the soul of her friend.

Slowly she sat up, her blouse stained scarlet with Jack's lifeblood. With gentle, trembling fingers, she closed his eyelids. "You're free now, Jack," she whispered to his spirit, "You're free of it all."

Spot helped her to stand, silent tears flowing down his own cheeks. Drowning in knife-sharp grief the two held each other close and waited for daybreak when they all would be found. Somewhere overhead a tiny hole shifted into the heavy clouds and the silvery stars glittered down to the earth as Jack Kelly finally flew free.

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Wow! I can't believe it's done! So now that we're all thoroughly depressed, what did you think? As you see, Roxanne really did have a terrible situation that made her so cold and heartless. She also may be subject to some genetic insanity (I mean Albert's pretty freaky too). So, I just want to thank you all for being with me through this. I love you all so much...you're positive comments made me glow every time I read them. I'm putting up a new story for Christmas soon and it's going to have a CC...just thought I'd give you a head's up. And now, on to the final shout-outs:

Elyse: Thanks for reviewing! I'm so glad you liked it, but you definitely picked a very sad chapter to catch up on...and this one was even worse. But even so, I hope you enjoyed the rest of the story. Thanks again darlin'! ;)

Lady Rach: Wow! I can't believe something I wrote affected you that way! I feel so special! So, now you know why Roxanne is as she is, and you also saw Jack figure himself out...right after it was too late. Sorry on that, but it added beautifully to the dark nature of the story. Thank you for being such a faithful reviewer, and always having such nice comments. I love you girl! ;)

ChocolatesKelly: Thank you very much. He did apologize and everything was hunky-dory...except for the fact that he went to jail and then, you know, died. But you gotta admit it packed a punch! Thanks for reviewing love! ;)

Cyanne 76: Thank you so much! I can't believe how into this story everyone is! It really makes me feel like I've accomplished something. Alas, Jack has realized the error of his ways but only when he had done the unforgivable. I feel kinda bad I did that to him, but not bad enough to consider changing it. Thanks so much for your great comments in your reviews, I really appreciate them. Lots of love ;)

newsiesmoseph: Well, obviously both your questions got answered: Jack murdered Oscar and he never did move back to the lodging house...he went to another kind of house. I really wouldn't have wished Roxanne's fate on anyone, it's a terrible way to die, but it added so beautifully to my dramatic elements. Thank you so much for all your positive support of my story. You don't know how happy it makes me that you enjoy it so much. Massive amount of love! ;)

My Dog Ate My Penname: Wow, I moved you to speechlessness. I can't believe how this story affected everyone. It makes me feel so good. Thanks for all your great reviews and support throughout the piece. I might not have been able to finish without knowing I had you all at my back. Love, hugs and a thousand (chocolate) kisses. Thanks darlin'! ;)

Sapphy: Ah Sapphy-love...so it is down to you, and it is down to me...but no battle of wits cuz its late and I'm tired (Princess Bride overload!). You've been there with love and support from the first chapter and you've made those valiant efforts to garner more readers for me. I can't tell you how much I love you babe! Really, just having you behind me made me want to update just to hear what you'd say. I'll have my CC story up soon, am I correct in expecting input from you? Thanks again darlin', I'll be seeing you soon! ;)