a nutcracker's collection of newsies | newsies one shot book

katherine, katherine / jatherine

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.