Joseph Pulitzer

Joseph Pulitzer sits at his desk, glaring at the cream envelope with 'Mr. Pulitzer' written on the top in neat and loopy cursive, wishing for all the world that his gaze could get intense enough to not only erupt the envelope in to flames, but all the problems associated with it as well. He doesn't want to read it; to deal with the issues entailed inside. He knows what it will say. Knowing what it will say doesn't make it any easier to actually read.

He would recognize his daughter's handwriting anywhere. He'd searched far and low to find her the finest tutor money could hire and has fond memories of young Katherine sitting at his desk when she thought he hadn't been looking, leaving long notes and pretend articles for him to read upon his return. She had taken quickly to writing and had spent long hours making sure her script was perfect, reminiscent of her mother's own handwriting.

Glancing at the clock and deciding he's spent twenty minutes too many just staring at the darn letter, he finally plucks it from his desk and tears open the envelope to find Katherine's typed letter inside. He doesn't want to read it. He knows what it will say. That doesn't stop him from feeling disappointment in the fact that what will likely be the last communication from his daughter is typed and not in her lovely handwriting.

Father,

I've written and retyped this letter more times than I care to admit. I've wasted enough paper trying to concoct a proper response to your last letter that I might very well be solely responsible for the death of a tree. I feel more guilt at this possibility than at what I write to you next.

First off, stop referring to Jack and the rest of the newsboys as 'nothing gutter trash'. They are so much more than their appeared status and you would see that if you would just look. Jack is an employed artist. Davey has been accepted to university. The boys work constantly at trying to advance themselves; clamoring for any book they can get their hands on, eager to learn any trade someone is willing to teach them. You've been in your position for years, not advancing professionally or personally. I will admit; however, that there is not much room for professional advancement when you run your own company.

I've already rambled more than I wanted to, even in this infinite draft. I know what I have to say to you to ensure my future happiness. I also know that this statement will likely cause you pain and leave you very much alone, with just your snotty old business friends for seldom company. I've just got to get this over with, so here it is:

No.

No, I will not stop stepping out with Jack. He makes me more happy than I've ever felt in my entire life. He feels more like family; even in the short two years I've known him, than you've felt since mother's passing. If you cannot accept that his company makes me more happy than I have words to describe (one of his paintings would communicate my happiness much more poignantly, not that you would understand that form either), then I must excuse myself from the Pulitzer family, name, and reputation per your suggestion.

I concede that I will miss you father. I miss when you would support me against mother's wishes and wish you could continue to support me against your own.

If you wish to be a part of my happy family, you will always be welcome. Unless you communicate otherwise, I will keep you up to date on my address.

Katherine Plumber

He knew this was coming. He knew this is what she would say. Yet a small glimmer of hope had remained in the back of his mind that she would return to him: to his home, to his embrace.

Joseph quickly refolds the letter and stashes it amongst the growing pile in the tray at the corner of his desk. They were mainly letters from appropriate suitors' fathers, asking after Katherine and offering their son's hand. There are a great many reputable names to be found in the pile; young men who he would love to tie in to his family and entrust the future of the Pulitzer empire to. But no, his daughter has decided than a gutter rat is better for her and is leaving him without an heir.

He refuses to support this extracurricular and her association with his lowest employees. For the past two years he's idly sat and twiddled his thumbs waiting for her to bore of their company. This had worked against him. He should have acted sooner. She spends more time with them now than ever.

Joseph stops, not even realizing he has started pacing the length of his office. Glaring around at the empty space, he's only reminded of his last couple meetings with Katherine, all of which had revolved around disagreements over that boy. That incorrigible Jack Kelly. If he dares to think back even further in time, he'd be reminded of her leaning against his desk with some of the other newsies; having just brought Governor Roosevelt in to seal their victory over him, her own father.

The room is filled with too many bad memories for him to stay. He grabs his coat off the coat rack and exits the room without a backwards glance. He needs out. He muses that maybe some fresh air will clear his head of memories of his daughter and all the work her breaking ties with him will entail. He'll need to find a successor, start training them to run his newspaper when he's no longer able. His lawyer should be contacted as well to write Katherine out of his will and arrange new people for his assets to be dispersed to. He feels bad leaving her with nothing, but she has made it plainly clear that this is what she's chosen: not Pulitzer, but Kelly. He can't let himself feel bad. She's no longer his daughter. This is what she chose.

Rounding a corner towards The Sun, in the shadow of which hides his favorite deli, he hears a commotion coming from one of the dark alleyways. Yelling, the sound of fists meeting their mark, grunts of pain fill the air.

Joseph prepares to cross the street, avoid the ruffians entirely, when he hears a feminine shout that he will always recognize. Katherine. Even with how their relationship, or lack thereof, stands, he can not abandon her to whatever is occurring and finds his gait accelerating as he turns back and beelines for the alley. She will always be his daughter and he will always care for her.

He's both displeased and pleased with the sight he finds. Katherine is cornered between the wall and a dumpster, blood dripping from a cut on her cheekbone and a rip torn halfway up her skirt. In front of her stand Jack Kelly, also looking worse for wear, as he fends off three large men, all of whom are reaching around the boy and making grabs for Katherine.

Joseph starts making his way in to the alley, prepared to pull his daughter out and away from the boys, his spine bristling when he hears the downright vulgar thing the three men are shouting at his little girl. He doesn't know what exactly he'll do if they turn to him, he was an army man dammit but a great many years have passed since then and he doesn't know how well he'd be able to handle his own in this situation. Before he can further close the distance between himself and Katherine, two cops come racing down from the other end of the alley, waving their batons at all the men.

The cops catch two of the larger men off guard and swiftly get them on the ground, hands cuffed behind their back. They then make way for the third, and apparently, Kelly.

Joseph makes his way over to his daughter, who doesn't seem to be much in distress from her own injuries, but more from the fact that Kelly is being forced to the ground and cuffed in front of her.

"Jack!" She's screaming, pushing her way to kneel in from of the boy.

"Ace-" Kelly starts to responds through winces as the cuffs are snapped behind his back, but the guard whacks the boy across the back of his head with his baton before he can get anymore out.

"Stop!" Katherine is protesting, "He was protecting me! What are you doing? Let him go!" She stands from her position in front of the dazed boy and puts herself face to face with the officer.

The officer makes a grab for Katherine, but Joseph pulls her out of his reach before he can lay a hand on her. "I would suggest you keep your hands off my daughter, officer."

The cop looks up at him and from the look on his face instantly recognizes who he is speaking to, "Mr. Pulitzer, my apologies sir."

From behind him, Katherine's voice, "Father, they can't take Jack, he was just protecting me." She swerves around him to kneel in front of the shaking boy, still on his knees at their feet. "Jack." She's holding his face in her hands. "Jack, look at me. I'll get you out, okay? Please don't panic. Breathe."

Pulitzer reaches down and grabs Katherine's arm, successfully separating him from the boy. Giving the officer a look of disinterest, he asks, "Is there anything you can do officer?"

Katherine yanks her arm from his hold and is looking up at him, furiously wiping the tears from her eyes, her eyes clearly communicating that she knows he's not actually trying.

The officer seems to understand and stutters, "No…I's sorry Mr. Pulitzer. Street fighting is not allowed and I has to take 'im in. No exception sir, sorry sir." He never once looks to Katherine and Joseph tries to hide his smile.

"Well thank you officer. I'll be taking Katherine here home now," he reaches for Katherine's arm once again to find she's no longer where she had been standing, but once again kneeling in front of the boy.

"I'll come get you Jack. Promise," she's crying as the officer yanks the boy to his feet and starts pulling him away. She then turns on him, eyes wide with fire, "You-!"

"Not here Kitty. If you wish to yell at me, you will do it once you're cleaned up and in non-torn clothing," he commands, once again grabbing for her arm.

Katherine's crossing her arms over her chest, stealing glances down the alley at the boy being guided away, "You are not home anymore father. Your house is not my home. Or have you not stopped glaring at my letter long enough to read it yet?"

Joseph sighs. His daughter knows him well. "I have indeed read your letter Miss Plumber, but will you really deny me the chance to confirm your safety and continued good health?" He softly smiles.

Joseph watches as Katherine, now dressed in one of her old dresses, swats away the hand of the doctor attending to the cut on her cheek. "I'm fine Dr. Richardson. Please, you've done enough," she pleads. Crossing her arms over her chest and slouching in the kitchen chair like a child, she mumbles, "Jack's the one who needs it more."

Dr. Richardson looks as if he's about to dignify Katherine's pouting with a response, so Joseph sends him a sharp glare warning him not to. He still softly pats Katherine's shoulder on his way out and Joseph can't miss the look of sympathy the elderly doctor sends her way.

Once the doctor is clear of the room, being guided out of the mansion by the butler, Katherine turns her glare back to him.

Trying to get ahead of whatever she's bound to say, he tries to calmly say, "Katherine. He was doing something illegal. He got arrested. That's how it works."

"Doing something illegal?" She spits back at him. "Since when would you consider someone putting themselves between me and men trying – trying – you know what, it doesn't matter what they wanted, but he was protecting me from them!" Tears are streaming down his daughter's face now. "If that had been Darcy or Bill, you would have demanded the officer release them immediately. You wouldn't have just stood there!"

"If you remember, I did-"

"No, that was not trying. That was a poor attempt at trying to pacify me," she refutes. "And you know what? Every time some man or group of men try to come after me, Jack's always the one who gets hurt." She's outright sobbing now.

Joseph reels a bit at the notion that men have made a habit of going after his daughter. "Every-"

"Yes father. Every time; as in this happened before. Some man gets it in his head that he should grab me on my way home from work and use me as blackmail to get money from you. And every time, Jack defends me and no matter how hurt he is, the first thing he always asks me is if I am okay. Are you so senile that you don't believe me?"

"Katherine-"

She cuts him off yet again, "Of course you don't believe me. You don't want to believe me." She rises from her chair and starts reaching for her purse.

"Where are you going?" He asks, though he can guess her response.

Katherine turns back to glare at him, "Off to get Jack. I'm not leaving him there."

Desperate to keep her from leaving, he calls, "Katherine, wait!" She stops but doesn't turn to face him. "It's late, the prison will be closed by the time you get there. Just stay here for the evening." No response or movement. "Please."

When Katherine does turn around, tears silently stream down her face. He wants nothing more than to pull his little girl in to a hug and wipe away the tears, but he knows that would not happily accepted right now.

"You're right." Katherine states and he pauses for a moment, shocked she would admit such a thing given their current status. The tears start coming faster and her face gets redder and more distraught, "I can't just leave him there though!" It's almost laughable how childish and whiney the statement sounds, but there is a desperation and weight behind it that are out of place.

Joseph gives his daughter a confused look. He knows she cares for the boy, for goodness sakes she cut ties with him for Kelly, but there is something more than caring in her worry. He would almost venture to say it is fear.

Katherine gives him a long look before walking back over to the table, throwing her purse down, and slumping back in the chair she'd vacated earlier. She tell him a story that is much less structured and more train of thought than has ever been typical of her, "Last time – we were just at the store getting food for a picnic – the man didn't believe we were shopping together – and Jack picked up a satchel of apples – we were going to make a pie – and the man called in the officer from down the street to arrest Jack for stealing even though he put the apples right in the cart and we were going to buy them with everything else – the office slammed him down and put him in cuffs – it took me ages to prove we were shopping together and had the money to buy everything in out cart," she glances up at him, realizing she's rambled. "He was really only in the cuffs for a couple of minutes, but he had nightmares for weeks." She sniffles and wipes her nose on her sleeve. "I still don't know everything they did to him at the Refuge, but it still haunts him." She looks down at her wrists, apparently fascinated by the fragile skin there, "Last time he was there, they left cuffs on him the whole time. They were so tight. He has scars from where they dug in…" she trails off, not once looking up at him.

Sympathy is most certainly not the right word to describe what he is feeling. He remembers visiting Snyder's office during Kelly's last stint in the Refuge. He'd just been there to try and maintain his relationship with Katherine by pretending to try and get the boy released. Snyder had revealed the boy to be locked in the closet within his office, "Oh yes, left him cuffed and locked him in that closet right there", he'd bragged. He remember thinking the boy looked worse, closer to death (especially after Snyder had strangled the boy to the point he collapsed), than any of the prisoners of war he'd seen during his time in the army. He'd felt nothing, no reaction, except maybe a little pleasure at the sight of his kid enemy so soundly defeated.

"Katherine," he softly asks through the tension apparent in the room.

"I'm not leaving him there," is her clipped reply.

Joseph sighs, "If I call the mayor and see to it that he is released as soon as possible, will you remain here for the evening, where I know you're safe?"

His daughter gives him a look of pure disbelief and he hopes she doesn't think he doesn't care about her safety. He can understand her mistrust otherwise.

"You can sit in my office during the phone call if you insist," he appends, trying to not sound like he is pleading.

"Fine, but as soon as I get Jack back, we're going home," she concedes. He tries not to think about the fact that she just referred to her apartment as their shared home. She rises and starts making way for his office, where the phone of the house is located.

Joseph is slow to rise and follow his daughter. He can't believe he's doing this. He doesn't want to believe he's doing this. Once in his office, he finds Katherine seated on his desk, phone already in hand and held out to him. He lazily grabs the thing and slumps in to his office chair, which doesn't feel as comfortable as it typically does. He sums it up to the situation he's got himself in.

"Yes, Mr. Mayor, I apologize for calling so late in the evening," he tries to keep his voice upbeat.

"No, no, you're fine," he assures when the Mayor asks if he's about to be blasted in his paper tomorrow.

"This call is on an entirely different matter; I assure you. You see, my daughter, Katherine, was attacked by some men tonight – yes, just a scrape – and he friend who was protecting her was arrested along with the men attacking her," He pauses to listen to the man on the other end apologize for such an error.

"Yes, I'm sure it was just a grave misunderstanding. I asked the officer at the scene if there was anything he could do and he would not budge on his decision. I understand his position, of course," he assures the Mayor while trying to ignore the glare Katherine is directing his way.

"I was hoping you could have him released immediately," he prompts the mayor.

"Yes, yes, I understand," he fends off the glare Katherine is sending his way, trying to ignore the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. "No, that is not necessary. It really isn't. If you insist, how can I say no?" Really, he'd love to know how to say no.

"Thank you for everything. Have a good evening," he concludes, hanging up the phone to find an expectant Katherine staring down at him.

"They're not releasing him, are they?" Katherine asks, the wavering in her voice giving her away. She brushes tears from her eyes with the edges of her sleeves, "I'm sorry father. You tried-"

"Katherine, come here, " he softly asks, holding his hands out to her. She comes around the desk and places her hands in his. "Not tonight; too much of the staff has been sent home for them to spare someone. However, they are delivering him here first thing in the morning."

A mixture of emotions pass over his daughter's face and he's sad to see that fear and sadness remain prominent. "Thank you father, really, I'm just worried for him."

"It's only one night Kitty; not even a whole day. I'm sure Mr. Kelly will be fine," he tries to assure his daughter; bring her some peace even if he doesn't care about the boy's well-being.

Katherine gives him a look that he takes to mean she understands, but he's still missing something. She doesn't push the issue further.

"Now off to bed Kitty. I called the mayor, now it's time for you to hold up your end of the deal," he tries to tease.

She sadly smiles down at him, "I'm nearly twenty now father, don't you think I'm a little old to be sent to bed?" She doesn't give him time to respond. "I can't guarantee I'll get much sleep, but I will head off to my room. Good night father," she calls over her shoulder as she starts making her way out of his office.

"Kitty," he calls and she look over her shoulder at him. "I'll call the Sun and let them know you wont be in tomorrow."

"Jack too," she amends with a frown and fresh tears. He can just make out her sniffles as she leaves his office, shutting the door behind her.

Joseph looks to the letter sitting on the corner of his desk, amongst all the others, where he's discarded it that morning. Katherine may have chosen that boy over him and the Pulitzer name, but he can't bring himself to stop caring for her.