The Soldier and the Singer, chapter 1

A/N: So, if you saw the ending of Learn to Love Again, I assume you're back for more? This is my third early based 1900s fic, taking place in Manhattan as well. Central Park, to be exact. To be quick, here's a history lesson:

"Hoovervilles" were named after Herbert Hoover, who was the president during the Great Depression. As we know, this does not sound nice. "Hooverville" was the nickname of the communities of shacks and tents that were bands of homeless people, stationing themselves near free soup kitchens. The Hoovervilles were usually build on empty land, and widely ignored by the general public. Most of the residents in these towns were beggars or used public charities to get their necessities. Apparently, Democrats used to nickname beggar objects with the name "Hoover" placed in front of them. Ex: "Hoover blanket"=A newspaper being used as a blanket. Most Hoovervilles disappeared by 1940, during WWII when America's economy was saved by the War.

Just a lil' filler there. So, please, take the time to enjoy this fic, and I hope we have just as much fun reading this one as "Learn to Love Again."

Directory for strange words:
Abyssinia-I'll be seeing you. It's just said very fast.
Celestial-A durogatory term for Chinese or Japanese.
Cojones-Guts/courage

A cold wind descends upon the fire, making it dance and weaken in the daylight. Men and women bustle about the lands, faces smeared with dirt, their noses wrinkling at the digusting smell of unwashed bodies. Shacks made of metal and cardboard house starving children and their families, each of them only owning a few scraps of newspaper as blankets, or a few spoons. Fights breaking out left and right for apparent thievery in the town, and would be leaders breaking them apart, before trying to reason with the brawlers. Eyes that have lost their youth, or arms that no longer bend quite the right way. Children returning back to the green park, to hold scraps of food they have only managed to steal from store owners, before authorities would arrive and drag them off, the child screaming as they are dragged past the sign that stands high above the small community: Hooverville. Somewhere you go when there is nowhere else to go.

April 15th, 1932. It's been three years since the market crash, when President Hoover had screwed their economy up. Three years since he arrived in this park with a few friends, and it grew to be much more. Two years since more and more people began to come ot their community, and only a year since he was elected leader of the Hooverville. Yes, Frank Zhang was many things. Former middle class citizen, and now leader of the homeless, but he was rather comfortable with it. His mother, an illegal immigrant who had barely survived a journey overseas to America, and met his father, a strict, military man. They had Frank in 1907, eight years old when World War One broke out. His mother had stayed behind to raise him during the War, as his father was rushed to the war fronts. And eleven years old, when he was told his father wasn't coming home. His father had died in The Battle of Catigny, 1918, the first American offensive of the Great War. In the counterattacks that followed the capture of Catigny, only 1,067 men were lost. Small number, compared to the number already dead, but to Frank, one of the biggest numbers in the world, because his father was with those nameless soldiers that died.

After the War, though his death had devastated her, Emily Zhang continued on her way, being belittled by her spouseless life. She managed to hold some minimum wage positions, before descending into a life darker then Frank could've known. He should've seen it coming, the late nights with only a beer bottle to show, the weary smiles whenever she saw Frank come home from school. She had barely been able to keep him in school, and after five years, never came home. He searched for her high and low, and when he encountered a group of dangerous looking men in an alley, had forced them to tell the truth. It was with that assault, that he found his mother dead in an alley, holding a gun in her hand. He was sixteen.

Emily Zhang had died in 1923. He was forced to quit school and look for jobs, already a man before his time. Working hard to get his fill, he watches the years of the Roaring Twenties go by, being called "celestial" because of his skin, as he was Chinese. He had been so close to wealth on so many occasions, to have it pass by. He worked as a construction worker, building high skyscrapers, and hearing rumours about the biggest one yet to be built. The Empire State, they called it was when it was being build, that the market had crashed in New York. Frank had to be laid off, and with no place to go, had wandered into Central Park with his friends, before growing a land right then and there. He was elected leader only a year ago, in 1931, just as the building was completed. In a way, the building tracked his life in New York. He was laid off as it had begun, and become completely immersed in this small community when it was completed.

Now, watching his friends suffer as he walks through the small sort of town, he sighs, tucking his worn and threadbare gloves in his pockets. A hat covered his eyes from the burning sun above, and he takes a look around, a half smile on his face. His friends in this town was everybody, and he was everybody's best friend. Even the children that would run by and accidentally trip over his coat. Walking over to the central bonfire in the center of the town, he takes a seat on the log, watching the citizens slowly come to life in this early morning of spring.

"Hey, Frank!"

"Hey, Leo!" he calls out, waving happily as one of his friends, dressed in a collared white shirt, smeared with oil and dirt, rushes over to him, as happy as could be. Leo was one of the original citizens of Hooverville who had been there when Frank had guided them to Central Park. A happy, mischievious man, he had the heart of a child. He holds up a strange contraption, built with scraps of metal and a bit of string, for Frank to see. Frank, giving him a puzzled look, sighs.

"Damnit, Leo, if you broke another one of Mr. Jenkin's cars again, this isn't going to be the way to fix it-"

"It's not a makeup gift, and no, I only broke his car once, Zhang." He rolls his eyes, before holding it up solely by its string. It appears to be a sort of mobile, as it slowly spins in the air as Leo holds it up. "It's a mobile! I built it for Jason and Piper, cause you know, the baby's almost close-"

"Yes, I know," Frank says, smiling at the mention of life going to be born in his town. In a way, he was sad for the child, to be born in a place like this, but he was also elated. That happiness could come out of this damned town, this miserable, wretched town, "I bet they'll love it, Leo." A slight pause, as Frank slowly smirks, seeing a olive skinned woman come out from her cabin, yawning loudly, stretching her arms, before going over to the next shack over, where Piper and Jason, previously named said lives.

"So, how's it going with Reyna, then?" Frank asks, laughing as Leo's cheeks burn pink under the wide, clear sky.

"Not well. She called me an imp last night when I asked her if she would dance with me when Will Solan had finally completed the string instrument he's been working on."

"Well, she isn't exactly wrong-"

"Hey!"

"I am joking, my friend," Frank says, patting Leo on the back, who glares up at his significantly taller friend, "Go tend to the fire, or something, cause I think it's dying again."

With a huff, Leo walks over to the fire that Frank had pointed to, and begins to do his best, trying to form a flame from the barely burning sticks. Frank, smiling up at the sky above, begins to take his usual round around the town. Many people wave at him, calling his name, inviting him in for a scrap of food, which he politely declines. In a way, it was still miserable being in this situation, poor, hungry, but not alone. He had friends here. And for some reason, he had a feeling something else was coming as well.

"Hey, Frank!"

He turns head over his shoulder, just as he finished saying hello to Katie Gardiner, and sees the Stolls, Travis and Connor. Usually smiling, it was strange to find grim expressions on their faces, as they approach him. Nodding to both of them, he figures it's not good news, as their frowns are usually reserved for rather terrible situations.

"What's the matter, Stolls?"

"Another one's gone missing, Frank," Travis replies, slowly takes a shoe, mens, about size 20, out of his pocket. Throwing it to the ground, Connor copies his action, supplying the other shoe. Frank, picking up the shoes, inspects them from underneath and inside. Frank dreads to hear what man has gone missing, where the kidnapper simply takes them before they could even wear their shoes.

"Charlie Beckendorf. You know, the huge guy with the broad named Silena? Was found missing this morning. Silena's a wreck. I thought about trying to comfort her, but Connor over here insists we should wait."

"You insisted you wanted Gardiner, no use having you charm Silena-"

"A woman is distraught! Isn't it my duty to comfort her?"

"Alright, you two," Frank interrupts before they could settle this argument with a fist fight, "Whoever been taking these men has cojones, cause Charlie's one big guy. He's the third to go missing, right?"

"Yeah, right after Nakamura. But that guy had it coming."

"And still no sign of Jackson?" It hurts Frank's heart to say that name. Percy Jackson, one of his best friends and former leader of their Hooverville, had disappeared a year ago. Frank was elected leader in his place, but he couldn't quite fill the void that followed Percy's disappearance. It was quite the shock for his would be wife, Annabeth Chase, and still, to this day, spent her hours trying to find him.

"No sign."

"Abyssinia, then, Stolls. Stay out of trouble."

Sighing, Frank runs a hand through his hair, before tucking the shoes behind his coat, in one of the larger holes that could hold a pair of shoes. Nodding to the twins, he lets them go on their way, as he looks at the looming tower in the distance. The Empire State Building. Was apparently named after the nickname of New York. The Empire State. If you asked Frank, it should be called the city of lost souls, because these days, where your friends went missing and you odd jobs only to be lost in the underground sewers, it was appropriate.

She kept her head down, as she finally managed to wander her way across the city without a glare or a call to her name. Her head lifts at the sight of the slightly dim town, filled with people just like her. Tucking her hands in her pockets, she makes her way across the park, able to feel that warm glow of the fire already on her cold, dark hands.

Hazel Levesque had always had a hard life. Already, since she was dark skinned, she was already harassed and bullied because of her skin. Limited, she was used to the cold, dirty and ragged ways of the world. It was only when the market had crashed in '29, that she was forced to abandon every hope for the future. Not a particularly skilled young woman, her mother was killed for the accusation of being a "witch." Well, that was the cover story, anyway. Ever since her mother was murdered, her father nowhere to be seen, she had slowly been working her way underground, making money by a clothing company that had only taken her because they were truly desperate. Any hope of being picked up by a man has always never been an option, due to her color of skin. Also, she never thought of herself as quite a doll as the blonde, blue eyed women on the posters that she would pass by. Maybe she could be, but for now, she would continue on her way as a lonesome stranger.

Finally making it to the entrance of the Central Park Hooverville, she waits quietly by the posts, seeing men and women looking at her with curious eyes. Not hostile, just curious. It's been passing on, through ears and mouths of the outcasts she's met, that this was a Hooverville with no judgements made on your skin. The rumour even was their current leader was a Chinese! It seemed impossible to Hazel, but as beautiful olive skinned woman passed by, a hand placed on her stomach, she couldn't help but believe the rumours. The woman stops, seeing Hazel hovering near the entrance, and beckons her closer, a warm smile on her face. Finding no reason to disobey, Hazel complies, and stands next to the woman. They walk over to the central fire, and Hazel is glad for the heat, rubbing her hands together in front of the fire.

"You're new, I suppose?" The woman's voice was comforting, warm, welcoming. Hazel nods tentatively, becoming quiet in the light of a potential. The woman smiles, offering her hand, leaving her left hand to rest on her rather large belly.

"My name is Piper. Piper Mclean. You?"

"Hazel."

"Nice to meet you," Piper says, smiling as she gives her hand a firm shake. Letting go of it quickly, Piper gestures around the calming village, the residents preparing for another sleepless night, "This, is the Central Park Hooverville. Run by Frank Zhang, and been running since the crash. I guess you've had it bad for awhile now, huh?"

"Yes."

Piper laughs, her laugh not unlike a ringing bell. Hazel slowly allows herself to smile, as Piper begins to point out the residents in the town. Hazel listens carefully, hearing Piper go on about stories, how these men, women and children arrived here. Katie, The Stolls, Solan...all these names float around in her head, as she tries to understand how they are all one community.

"And there's Frank actually!" Piper says, pointing to a large man coming their way, a smile yet rigid sort of determination in his stance. Nodding warmly to Piper, he shakes Hazel's hands, taking the tour from there. She watches for a moment, how he glances at Piper's swelling stomach, and is sure he is worried about her. Hoovervilles were not the right place to deliver a child. Hell, she wasn't even sure if anyone here knew how to deliver children.

"Frank. Frank Zhang," he introduces, and for a moment, Hazel is sure she hears a quiver in his voice, "Leader of the Hooverville-"

"Yes, I...I know who you are," Hazel replies slowly, shaking his hand in a soft grip. She watches as his cheeks get red, and he pulls his hand back, trying to speak.

"Oh, uh...well...I suppose Piper told you..." he fumbles for a moment, before regaining his composure. Must be the nerves. "Anyway, you're welcome here. Anyone of any color, race, gender, sexuality is welcome here. As long as you don't mind bad living conditions and a lack of food-"

"Don't worry, I'm used to it."

Frank laughs, as they make their way to the cabin at the edge of the town. It nearly disappears into the darkness, but it's still as warm and as welcoming as every other cabin. Walking inside the cabin, Hazel finds herself in a small, yet cramped shack. There is a small pile of newspapers, to use as blankets, and she places the pot that she's been keeping ever since she left her original house, on the ground next to the corner. Folding out the newspaper, she makes easy conversation with Frank, both of them discussing the living conditions and the rules of the Hooverville. After she's made herself well enough at home, she stands up, and shakes his hand."

"Thank you, er, Frank..." she says softly, unsure what to make of this man still. Would he be a friend? Or someone she would rather not cooperate with? "I'm glad to have been taken in, for once."

"Aren't we all?"

They both laugh softly, genuine laughs. Making eye contact for a moment, Hazel can't help but notice the warm, rich chocolate color his eyes, before tearing it away. Why was she noticing this? He wasn't even her friend! Blushing for a moment, Frank awkwardly takes a few steps out the door, before running back to the central area of the town. Hazel, watching with a half smile on her face, takes a look out the window. Sunset. It would be rather nice to finally sleep with a roof over her head, for the first time in awhile. Slowly stretching out on the floor, she stares up at the roof overhead, it occuring to her that usually, Hooverville citizens built their own houses. Why did this one have multiple ones already built? She shakes her head, such trivial things not relevant. Maybe she'll ask Frank tomorrow. It wouldn't be so hard.

As for Frank, he stumbles along the rest of the day, thinking about that small woman that had arrived. God, she was beautiful. He knew today would bring something knew, and he had hoped for something like this happening. A woman he could love. And he knew, he knew deep down, since it's been so dark and terrible and miserable, that fate had deemed today that day, when hope would come rushing back in in the form of a quiet, enchanting, and curious woman named Hazel