And Then There Was You
***
A/N: This fic was written by two, very lovely best friends. That'd be Me, Birdy, and my best mate, Anna. We.. don't own Newsies, we however, own Shortstack, Fishface, and Kerry.. and anyone else you don't recognize. Yes we do. Yeah, we Mary-Sued, but at least we did it with STYLE. *strikes a pose*
Review, and you get a cookie.
***
Chapter One
***
Sometimes, looking back on it, I realize that it probably wasn't a very good idea in the first place. But the mist of the night had only just settled in and the city was calling to me... it was screaming out my name as if I were meant to be there. So perhaps I was, perhaps I wasn't, that's totally and completely beside the point. And the point is, it was calling to me. Calling to me as if my name were the only one that had ever graced its ears. That's of course, assuming a city could have ears.
I had left the convent with high hopes for my suddenly not-so-distant future. All my life, I'd dreamed of leaving that place, finally being free. But it only came to my realization that evening that I hadn't had any idea how to get to my destination. It was cold, and my boots were starting to dampen through to my woolen socks as I accidentally slipped into a puddle, wetting the bottoms of my skirt.
There were various buildings with lights on, and sometimes if you walked by close enough, you could smell the liquor that was undoubtedly inside and faintly hear the music playing in the background. I was wandering, with no particular destination, through what I didn't know was Brooklyn. Wherein resided Spot Conlon, Leader of the Brooklyn Newsies, The most respected Newsie in New York, and probably everywhere else, Spot Conlon. The Key.
Unfortunately, in the middle of the night, sense comes slowly to the lonely wanderer. With little more than a clue of where I was, much less where I was going, I had strayed into Spot Conlon's territory where I was clearly not welcome. With only the streetlights indicating any surroundings, I walked on, unsure of what I would stumble across. Actually, someone stumbled across me, and I felt a rough hand grab my arm. Fear shot through my heart and I was too surprised to utter any coherent sounds. Quickly, I was pulled into a dark alley, without being able to clearly see my captor. All that I could be certain of was that he was a tall man, with a broad shoulder. He said nothing to me, just kept his back turned while pulling me away from the lit streets. A million terrible thoughts raced through my mind as we reached the alley. Shoving my back fiercely against a wall, whoever it was that had so rudely abducted me held my small shoulders between his large, rough hands. Though I could not see his face at all through the darkness, the mere sound of his voice made my breath ice cold.
"What is it that you're doing here, little lady?" His speech was gruff, and it made my legs weak. I felt myself about to faint and could not respond. Shaking me terribly, he raised his voice. "I ASKED, what are you doing around here?"
"I - I..." in my shock, I desperately tried to find my voice. Closing my eyes, hoping he could not see me in the dark, I prayed my hardest that I would open them again only to find him gone, having been nothing more than imagined. When I opened my eyes again, I could still make out his dark outline and his hands had not left my shoulders. With the knowledge that this was very real, I felt tears spring up to my eyes, and my throat went dry. He shook me roughly again, and I began to cry just as I had when I was a child and could not find my favorite toy.
He continued to shake my shoulders, and I was hoping to faint and wake up later somewhere else, anywhere else. When I did not pass out, I pretended to. Closing my eyes and collapsing, I hoped that he would abandon me there in the alley and I could run back to the convent until morning. As I fell, his hands caught me and his arms held my limp and weak body. I knew that he was studying my appearance in the dim light, trying to determine whether or not I was really unconscious, and I was just barely breathing.
"I ain't an idiot, girly." My hopes were dashed, knowing that he did not believe my faint for an instant. Without opening my eyes, I choked out a few words, uncertain if he could hear my weak voice.
"Let me go... please... I -" With nothing more to say, I stayed quiet and stood there, trying to steady my breath and wondering what was to become of me. Feeling myself beginning to cry, I let out one quiet sob.
"Do you have any idea where you are?" I noticed the slightest change in his voice. It sounded almost sympathetic, though I could tell he tried to hide it. But he had betrayed himself, restoring the slightest bit of confidence to me, and my instincts told me that playing a damsel in distress would be the right way to go from here. Despite my bit of assurance, I was still more afraid than I'd ever been. I had no idea what this shadow had stolen me from the city lights for, and every new thought was accompanied by a new fear. Feeling my senses begin to return, I could smell liquor on the dark figure. Realizing that he must be terribly drunk, I feared that I would make him angrier and he would crush me between those large hands, as I knew he certainly could have done without so much as breaking a sweat. "What's the matter, you some kinda mute?" Hearing this, I knew that he had not heard me when I tried to speak.
Gathering all my strength, I managed to say the one word, "No." I hoped that he had heard me that time, not able to speak any louder as afraid as I was.
"Well then, can you tell me what you're doing here?" I heard his voice soften a bit more, and I hoped that my pitiful appearance was winning his sympathy quickly.
"I - I'm lost..." I felt myself a bit stronger, and tried to stand on my own feet. I managed to stand, though his rough hands did not let go of my shoulders.
"Lost are ya?" He did not wait an instant for me to reply. "Well missy, you're near the edge of Brooklyn, not far from the river. You're in Spot's area, I suppose I can take ya to him, he'll figure out something to do with you."
"Spot? Who's that?" He did not stop to answer my question, but released one of my arms. He half dragged, half lead me back toward the street by the other. Reaching the street, I wanted to jump out and embrace one of the streetlamps, only too happy to be back in light again after my terrifying moments in the dark alley. I barely remember our walk, I was so afraid of what would happen to me next. I do remember darting my eyes toward the slightest noise and movement, only to discover a hidden cat or a free-blowing newspaper. After what seemed to have been hours of nothing but walking, we reached the docks of the river. In my fearful female mind, I was seized with the terror that this man just might be drunk enough to throw me into the river, though all logical reason told me that he would not.
As we walked down one last street, a dark dock came into my view. I closed my eyes, He must have been planning on throwing me in this entire time. It was dark, and no one knew where I was. Nobody would even know. I let out a quiet whimper, I realize this wasn't the brightest idea as he shot an ice cold glare back at me that said, 'Shut up or I'll throw you in right now'. I quieted my sobs that were slowly flowing down my iced over face.
It was a moment before I realized where he was actually taking me. There was a lit house on the dock, and
I suddenly remembered what he had said, 'I suppose I can take ya to him, he'll figure out something to do with you.' I had to wonder though, who was Spot? Why was I being taken to him? Would HE be the one to throw me in the river? I shivered at the thought of it. I didn't know how to swim.
The man opened the door cautiously and told me to be quiet, not that I had said anything in the first place. We entered the small lit room and I realized who this "Spot" character was. He was a thin, yet muscular, man, if you could call him a man yet. He looked young enough to have been my brother, or one of his friends. He was sitting in the back of the crowded room; a cap shadowing his face; a gold tipped cane hanging from his belt loop, and a slingshot stuck into the opposite side. His piercing green eyes surveyed the man that had brought me there, and then they landed on me. He stood up, I could have sworn he was at least a half foot shorter than the gruff man who'd pushed me into the alley a little less than an hour ago, but the firm grip on my arm loosened as he caught site of this Spot.
"Bringing in the garbage Kerry?" He said coolly, walking towards us, I fought my temptation to take a step back and run out of the clubhouse. He came upon us, and I was right, he had been a half foot shorter than the man, Kerry, perhaps even shorter.
Kerry looked at him, obviously drunk, but managed to make a bit of sense, "She was lost. I thought we'd take 'er in for the night, Spot. Figured you'd know what to do."
Spot raised a cool eyebrow at him, "You've been drinking. I told you not to drink when you were out spying for me Kerry. I'd give ya a good soaking if there wasn't a lady present." His eyes glanced towards me, then back to Kerry. I felt a lump in the back of my throat as he paced across the room, I noticed a few things about the clubhouse. There were a few piles of newspapers sitting around, and there seemed to have been a poker game going on before Kerry had dragged me in, there were fishing nets laying around on top of some crates and a few chairs that I would have died to sit in at the moment. I figured that before this became what I supposed to be Spot's clubhouse, It had once been a fishing house, or a bait shop. Then Spot turned back to Kerry, giving him another glare, "So where'd you find 'er?" He asked Kerry. It took me a moment to register that he meant me.
Kerry's grip tightened again as I relaxed, it was as if he was telling me that you had to stay on your toes around Spot Conlon. "She was wanderin' the streets, Spot, I couldn't leave 'er out there for some bum to take and then toss in the river when he was through with 'er." So Kerry hadn't been planning to throw me in the river, a wave of relief passed over me as his words registered in my head, it was calming that they didn't want to hurt me.
Spot nodded, but it seemed his head was elsewhere as he relit a cigarette butt, "You're startin' to sound like one of them Lower East Side boys, Kerry.. bringin' in any poor bum you find on the street." Lower East Side.. the thought registered with me, that was where my brother was.. the newspapers all over, these were the Brooklyn Newsies! Spot! Spot Conlon.. Patrick had mentioned him once or twice before when he'd visited me. I opened my mouth.
"Do you know any of the Lower East Side Newsies?" I blurted out, stumbling on my words a bit, my free hand stuck into my pocket, clutching my rosary, my only hope was that Spot Conlon would know my brother.. know where I needed to go.
Kerry tightened his rough grip on my other arm, shooting me a glare that would have iced me over if I wasn't so eager to hear Spot's answer. Spot turned and raised an eyebrow at me, blowing out some smoke from his cigarette.
"Oh," He said calmly, looking at Kerry rather than me, "She does talk, Does she, Kerry? Why'd you hush her when she came in? I coulda sorted this out in a matter of minutes instead of waistin' all this time thinkin' about where I was gonna put 'er." He looked to me then, his eyes were laughing at me, "Yeah, I know a few of 'em. You know 'em?"
I looked around, a jolt in my stomach told me to tell him everything, but Kerry's grip on my arm said to hush my mouth before I got thrown out, I looked around nervously, "My brother.. Patrick." I said a little shakily, "And I know a few more, sometimes they came with him to the convent--"
"Whoa, we got a full blown nun on our hands here, Spot," A boy from the back of the room said, laughing a little bit and taking another drink, Spot shot him a look and he shut up quickly.
"Patrick, huh?" Spot said, starting to pace again, "I don't know no Patrick. But I can get Jack-y Boy up here tomorrow and he'll take ya down there." He gave me a once over and then said, "You must know Jack Kelly, the Cowboy?"
I nodded, I think I'd met him once or twice before, when Patrick had come to visit me. At first when we'd walked into the clubhouse I'd been grateful for the warmth of the candlelight, but suddenly I was starting to feel a draft as Spot Conlon's cool green eyes bore into mine. He had a confidence in him, a fire that hadn't gone out yet, like so many of the boys I'd met when Patrick visited me before. He took out his cane and rapped it on the floor as he slowly paced back to where he had been sitting before he had greeted Kerry and myself. He looked at Kerry and raised an eyebrow, "Take 'er upstairs, but don't touch 'er, I don't want none of Cowboy's Newsies up here makin' a racket tomorrow about how one of me men touched their baby sister.."
Kerry seemed to have gathered some courage against Spot, as he shot him one of those icy looks he'd been shooting me the whole time we were there, "If I was gonna touch 'er, Conlon, I wouldn'ta brought 'er here." He said icily.
Spot just gave him a look. I feared that this look meant that after I was gone, he was going to hurt Kerry fairly badly for that comment, and from the way Kerry's hand was shaking on my tiny arm, he feared it too. However, it puzzled me that such a big man as Kerry would be frightened of Spot, however intimidating Spot came off, he probably couldn't hurt Kerry in a physical sense. I looked around the room, however, a few of the boys in the room definitely could.
It was then that I realized that Spot was their leader. That was why Kerry feared him, because he could set one of the larger, huskier men on him, and they would beat him for Spot. To me, it seemed cold and heartless, later I would learn that that was what it took to lead the Brooklyn Newsies in anything. Physical Force. For the time being, I stared at him as if he were a monster, but kept the rest of my thoughts to myself as Kerry led me up a flight of creaky wooden steps to a dusty old room with mattresses scattered about on the floor.
There were already some mattresses taken up by either some Brooklyn Newsie or their sister. He looked around and nodded at the empty one in the corner, "We'd take you to the lodging house, but you has to be a newsie to sleep there." He said gruffly as he sat me down as gently as he could onto the small, hard mattress. I had made it out of the convent, and had a, at least, semi-safe place to sleep. For the night anyways.
***
A/N: This fic was written by two, very lovely best friends. That'd be Me, Birdy, and my best mate, Anna. We.. don't own Newsies, we however, own Shortstack, Fishface, and Kerry.. and anyone else you don't recognize. Yes we do. Yeah, we Mary-Sued, but at least we did it with STYLE. *strikes a pose*
Review, and you get a cookie.
***
Chapter One
***
Sometimes, looking back on it, I realize that it probably wasn't a very good idea in the first place. But the mist of the night had only just settled in and the city was calling to me... it was screaming out my name as if I were meant to be there. So perhaps I was, perhaps I wasn't, that's totally and completely beside the point. And the point is, it was calling to me. Calling to me as if my name were the only one that had ever graced its ears. That's of course, assuming a city could have ears.
I had left the convent with high hopes for my suddenly not-so-distant future. All my life, I'd dreamed of leaving that place, finally being free. But it only came to my realization that evening that I hadn't had any idea how to get to my destination. It was cold, and my boots were starting to dampen through to my woolen socks as I accidentally slipped into a puddle, wetting the bottoms of my skirt.
There were various buildings with lights on, and sometimes if you walked by close enough, you could smell the liquor that was undoubtedly inside and faintly hear the music playing in the background. I was wandering, with no particular destination, through what I didn't know was Brooklyn. Wherein resided Spot Conlon, Leader of the Brooklyn Newsies, The most respected Newsie in New York, and probably everywhere else, Spot Conlon. The Key.
Unfortunately, in the middle of the night, sense comes slowly to the lonely wanderer. With little more than a clue of where I was, much less where I was going, I had strayed into Spot Conlon's territory where I was clearly not welcome. With only the streetlights indicating any surroundings, I walked on, unsure of what I would stumble across. Actually, someone stumbled across me, and I felt a rough hand grab my arm. Fear shot through my heart and I was too surprised to utter any coherent sounds. Quickly, I was pulled into a dark alley, without being able to clearly see my captor. All that I could be certain of was that he was a tall man, with a broad shoulder. He said nothing to me, just kept his back turned while pulling me away from the lit streets. A million terrible thoughts raced through my mind as we reached the alley. Shoving my back fiercely against a wall, whoever it was that had so rudely abducted me held my small shoulders between his large, rough hands. Though I could not see his face at all through the darkness, the mere sound of his voice made my breath ice cold.
"What is it that you're doing here, little lady?" His speech was gruff, and it made my legs weak. I felt myself about to faint and could not respond. Shaking me terribly, he raised his voice. "I ASKED, what are you doing around here?"
"I - I..." in my shock, I desperately tried to find my voice. Closing my eyes, hoping he could not see me in the dark, I prayed my hardest that I would open them again only to find him gone, having been nothing more than imagined. When I opened my eyes again, I could still make out his dark outline and his hands had not left my shoulders. With the knowledge that this was very real, I felt tears spring up to my eyes, and my throat went dry. He shook me roughly again, and I began to cry just as I had when I was a child and could not find my favorite toy.
He continued to shake my shoulders, and I was hoping to faint and wake up later somewhere else, anywhere else. When I did not pass out, I pretended to. Closing my eyes and collapsing, I hoped that he would abandon me there in the alley and I could run back to the convent until morning. As I fell, his hands caught me and his arms held my limp and weak body. I knew that he was studying my appearance in the dim light, trying to determine whether or not I was really unconscious, and I was just barely breathing.
"I ain't an idiot, girly." My hopes were dashed, knowing that he did not believe my faint for an instant. Without opening my eyes, I choked out a few words, uncertain if he could hear my weak voice.
"Let me go... please... I -" With nothing more to say, I stayed quiet and stood there, trying to steady my breath and wondering what was to become of me. Feeling myself beginning to cry, I let out one quiet sob.
"Do you have any idea where you are?" I noticed the slightest change in his voice. It sounded almost sympathetic, though I could tell he tried to hide it. But he had betrayed himself, restoring the slightest bit of confidence to me, and my instincts told me that playing a damsel in distress would be the right way to go from here. Despite my bit of assurance, I was still more afraid than I'd ever been. I had no idea what this shadow had stolen me from the city lights for, and every new thought was accompanied by a new fear. Feeling my senses begin to return, I could smell liquor on the dark figure. Realizing that he must be terribly drunk, I feared that I would make him angrier and he would crush me between those large hands, as I knew he certainly could have done without so much as breaking a sweat. "What's the matter, you some kinda mute?" Hearing this, I knew that he had not heard me when I tried to speak.
Gathering all my strength, I managed to say the one word, "No." I hoped that he had heard me that time, not able to speak any louder as afraid as I was.
"Well then, can you tell me what you're doing here?" I heard his voice soften a bit more, and I hoped that my pitiful appearance was winning his sympathy quickly.
"I - I'm lost..." I felt myself a bit stronger, and tried to stand on my own feet. I managed to stand, though his rough hands did not let go of my shoulders.
"Lost are ya?" He did not wait an instant for me to reply. "Well missy, you're near the edge of Brooklyn, not far from the river. You're in Spot's area, I suppose I can take ya to him, he'll figure out something to do with you."
"Spot? Who's that?" He did not stop to answer my question, but released one of my arms. He half dragged, half lead me back toward the street by the other. Reaching the street, I wanted to jump out and embrace one of the streetlamps, only too happy to be back in light again after my terrifying moments in the dark alley. I barely remember our walk, I was so afraid of what would happen to me next. I do remember darting my eyes toward the slightest noise and movement, only to discover a hidden cat or a free-blowing newspaper. After what seemed to have been hours of nothing but walking, we reached the docks of the river. In my fearful female mind, I was seized with the terror that this man just might be drunk enough to throw me into the river, though all logical reason told me that he would not.
As we walked down one last street, a dark dock came into my view. I closed my eyes, He must have been planning on throwing me in this entire time. It was dark, and no one knew where I was. Nobody would even know. I let out a quiet whimper, I realize this wasn't the brightest idea as he shot an ice cold glare back at me that said, 'Shut up or I'll throw you in right now'. I quieted my sobs that were slowly flowing down my iced over face.
It was a moment before I realized where he was actually taking me. There was a lit house on the dock, and
I suddenly remembered what he had said, 'I suppose I can take ya to him, he'll figure out something to do with you.' I had to wonder though, who was Spot? Why was I being taken to him? Would HE be the one to throw me in the river? I shivered at the thought of it. I didn't know how to swim.
The man opened the door cautiously and told me to be quiet, not that I had said anything in the first place. We entered the small lit room and I realized who this "Spot" character was. He was a thin, yet muscular, man, if you could call him a man yet. He looked young enough to have been my brother, or one of his friends. He was sitting in the back of the crowded room; a cap shadowing his face; a gold tipped cane hanging from his belt loop, and a slingshot stuck into the opposite side. His piercing green eyes surveyed the man that had brought me there, and then they landed on me. He stood up, I could have sworn he was at least a half foot shorter than the gruff man who'd pushed me into the alley a little less than an hour ago, but the firm grip on my arm loosened as he caught site of this Spot.
"Bringing in the garbage Kerry?" He said coolly, walking towards us, I fought my temptation to take a step back and run out of the clubhouse. He came upon us, and I was right, he had been a half foot shorter than the man, Kerry, perhaps even shorter.
Kerry looked at him, obviously drunk, but managed to make a bit of sense, "She was lost. I thought we'd take 'er in for the night, Spot. Figured you'd know what to do."
Spot raised a cool eyebrow at him, "You've been drinking. I told you not to drink when you were out spying for me Kerry. I'd give ya a good soaking if there wasn't a lady present." His eyes glanced towards me, then back to Kerry. I felt a lump in the back of my throat as he paced across the room, I noticed a few things about the clubhouse. There were a few piles of newspapers sitting around, and there seemed to have been a poker game going on before Kerry had dragged me in, there were fishing nets laying around on top of some crates and a few chairs that I would have died to sit in at the moment. I figured that before this became what I supposed to be Spot's clubhouse, It had once been a fishing house, or a bait shop. Then Spot turned back to Kerry, giving him another glare, "So where'd you find 'er?" He asked Kerry. It took me a moment to register that he meant me.
Kerry's grip tightened again as I relaxed, it was as if he was telling me that you had to stay on your toes around Spot Conlon. "She was wanderin' the streets, Spot, I couldn't leave 'er out there for some bum to take and then toss in the river when he was through with 'er." So Kerry hadn't been planning to throw me in the river, a wave of relief passed over me as his words registered in my head, it was calming that they didn't want to hurt me.
Spot nodded, but it seemed his head was elsewhere as he relit a cigarette butt, "You're startin' to sound like one of them Lower East Side boys, Kerry.. bringin' in any poor bum you find on the street." Lower East Side.. the thought registered with me, that was where my brother was.. the newspapers all over, these were the Brooklyn Newsies! Spot! Spot Conlon.. Patrick had mentioned him once or twice before when he'd visited me. I opened my mouth.
"Do you know any of the Lower East Side Newsies?" I blurted out, stumbling on my words a bit, my free hand stuck into my pocket, clutching my rosary, my only hope was that Spot Conlon would know my brother.. know where I needed to go.
Kerry tightened his rough grip on my other arm, shooting me a glare that would have iced me over if I wasn't so eager to hear Spot's answer. Spot turned and raised an eyebrow at me, blowing out some smoke from his cigarette.
"Oh," He said calmly, looking at Kerry rather than me, "She does talk, Does she, Kerry? Why'd you hush her when she came in? I coulda sorted this out in a matter of minutes instead of waistin' all this time thinkin' about where I was gonna put 'er." He looked to me then, his eyes were laughing at me, "Yeah, I know a few of 'em. You know 'em?"
I looked around, a jolt in my stomach told me to tell him everything, but Kerry's grip on my arm said to hush my mouth before I got thrown out, I looked around nervously, "My brother.. Patrick." I said a little shakily, "And I know a few more, sometimes they came with him to the convent--"
"Whoa, we got a full blown nun on our hands here, Spot," A boy from the back of the room said, laughing a little bit and taking another drink, Spot shot him a look and he shut up quickly.
"Patrick, huh?" Spot said, starting to pace again, "I don't know no Patrick. But I can get Jack-y Boy up here tomorrow and he'll take ya down there." He gave me a once over and then said, "You must know Jack Kelly, the Cowboy?"
I nodded, I think I'd met him once or twice before, when Patrick had come to visit me. At first when we'd walked into the clubhouse I'd been grateful for the warmth of the candlelight, but suddenly I was starting to feel a draft as Spot Conlon's cool green eyes bore into mine. He had a confidence in him, a fire that hadn't gone out yet, like so many of the boys I'd met when Patrick visited me before. He took out his cane and rapped it on the floor as he slowly paced back to where he had been sitting before he had greeted Kerry and myself. He looked at Kerry and raised an eyebrow, "Take 'er upstairs, but don't touch 'er, I don't want none of Cowboy's Newsies up here makin' a racket tomorrow about how one of me men touched their baby sister.."
Kerry seemed to have gathered some courage against Spot, as he shot him one of those icy looks he'd been shooting me the whole time we were there, "If I was gonna touch 'er, Conlon, I wouldn'ta brought 'er here." He said icily.
Spot just gave him a look. I feared that this look meant that after I was gone, he was going to hurt Kerry fairly badly for that comment, and from the way Kerry's hand was shaking on my tiny arm, he feared it too. However, it puzzled me that such a big man as Kerry would be frightened of Spot, however intimidating Spot came off, he probably couldn't hurt Kerry in a physical sense. I looked around the room, however, a few of the boys in the room definitely could.
It was then that I realized that Spot was their leader. That was why Kerry feared him, because he could set one of the larger, huskier men on him, and they would beat him for Spot. To me, it seemed cold and heartless, later I would learn that that was what it took to lead the Brooklyn Newsies in anything. Physical Force. For the time being, I stared at him as if he were a monster, but kept the rest of my thoughts to myself as Kerry led me up a flight of creaky wooden steps to a dusty old room with mattresses scattered about on the floor.
There were already some mattresses taken up by either some Brooklyn Newsie or their sister. He looked around and nodded at the empty one in the corner, "We'd take you to the lodging house, but you has to be a newsie to sleep there." He said gruffly as he sat me down as gently as he could onto the small, hard mattress. I had made it out of the convent, and had a, at least, semi-safe place to sleep. For the night anyways.