Trigger warning: !violence and mention of rape!
January 1899
At many places in New York City
Magpies P.O.V.
I's runnin' like da devil's on my heels. Well, he kinda is. In form of two very unfriendly blond men, who is chasin' me through New York. Manhattan to be exact.
Once they had been three, but I knocked one of 'em out. But unfortunately, da other two are stronger than their, now unconscious in an alley way layin', companion.
My lung's burnin', but if I stop now, they'se gonna catch me an' I really don't wanna know, what they'll doin' ta me then.
I slip on da wet cobblestone an' realise I have reached da Brooklyn bridge. I turn ta see da two men still comin' closer. I take a deep breath, or as deep as I can, without stop runnin', an' step on da bridge.
Jack will kill me if he ever finds out I was in Brooklyn. And that I was alone, but... I have no other choice at da moment. An' maybe da men won't follow me ta Brooklyn.
They follow.
Damn it!
I try ta run faster. My legs is hurtin'.
I only ran like this once before. It was when da bulls chased me ta get me ta da Refuge... And they caught me.
I leave da bridge behind me an' enter Brooklyn. I jus' run, turnin' as often as possible, an' end up in a small alley way, hopin' they didn't saw me turnin' in.
I hide behind some trash cans an' try ta catch my breath.
My sides is hurtin'. My mouth's dry.
Then I hear footsteps an' try ta breath silently.
"Where is ya, rat? Where did ya little snitch go?", one of da men says. "I don't... Look! That hat!"
Scared I pad my head. No hat.
I fell my blood freezin'.
I's sittin' there, behind da trash cans, my hands over mouth an' nose, not darin' ta move an' knowin', I's definitely screwed.
I hear da men steppin' in my direction. They'se comin' into da alley.
"Where is ya? We know ya here! Come out. Ya can't hide from us."
Suddenly Claire lands on my shoulder.
I almost die from da shock, but then I's unbelievable happy ta see her.
"Jack.", I whisper. She opens her wings an' sets up. I watch her as she flies into da sky an' remember somethin'.
Da nuns always say that god protects 'em. Maybe he'll do it foa me too.
So, I close my eyes an' begin ta pray. "Please dear god", I silently pray. "Please help me."
I open my eyes when I hear 'em move again. Now one of da men, da bigger one, is standin' right in front of da trash can, I's hidin' behind. I hold my breath. Dare not ta move. And then all of da sudden, my stomach grumbles. I forgot ta eat again, this mornin'.
I hear da man stop an' close my eyes once again, knowin' I's super dead.
Da man garbs my shirt collar an' I lose da ground beneath my feet. I try ta hit him. Somewhere. Da stomach or da head, da legs or where it really hurts, but I's too slow. Da man shoves me against da wall an' presses his body against mine, makin' it impossible for me ta move. Somewhere in my body I hear a crack.
Da man looks at me an' a suprisin' expression washes over his face. Unfortunately, his grip doesn't loose.
"It's a goil!", he says cheerly ta his friend, after her got himself again.
Both men grin really scary.
'Don't show, ya frightened', I tell myself. 'Don't show 'em. Jack will come any moment.'
Da one dat's holdin' me begins ta kiss me roughly on da lips, while da other one runs his hand up my legs. I try kick him, but they hold me too tight.
I feel their hands everywhere. At my face, my legs, my stomach, my chest.
An' then, without wantin' it, I begin ta cry.
I's scared an' helpless. An' da worst thin': I can't even fight back.
Hot tears is streamin' down my face, blindin' me.
I hear da men laugh.
Suddenly da grip loses causin' me ta fall hard on da ground. I look up an' see, through a vein of tears, a boy with a sling shot.
An angel.
Spots P.O.V.
I had been goin' foa a walk. Alone. Through my kingdom. My Brooklyn. When I saw da runnin' Newsie. But I hadn't mind him then. I thought it had been one of mine, playin' or somethin'.
Only now when I's already about three alleys away, I realise it. I don't know this Newsie.
I head back an' about ta enter da alley way, da Newsie turned in before, when I hear laughin'. Dirty, male laughin' of two men. Carefully I climb up on da wall an' look down into da darkness beneath.
I spot two blonde men an' a dark haired, kinda small Newsie.
No wait, it's a goil. A goil Newsie? Who has goil Newsies? Bronx got one... oh, an' Staten Island. But they'se both blonde. Who else? Of course! Manhattan! Dat's Jacky's Newsie.
One man's kissin' her hard on da lips an' da other's touchin' her. She's cryin'.
I take out my sling shot, aim skilfully an' shoot. I hit da kissin' man at da temple an' he goes down unconscious. Da goil falls on da ground an' our eyes meet foa a second before da other man grabs her, takes out a knife an' holds it against her throat. I sigh, as I hear her quietly cry out.
'Louder!', I think. 'Ya have ta scream louder. No one will hear ya, if ya don't.'
"Come out, little rat.", da man says, adessin' ta me. "Come out or I'll kill her."
I can hear her sob.
I aim once again.
"I's not bluffin'.", da man grins, and as to proof his point, he takes da knife from her throat an' cuts her cheek. Blood starts runnin' over her face, as the knife wanders back ta her throat.
I shoot, hit again an' da man goes down, pullin' da knife over her throat. My eyes wide in shock, I jump down ta her. She raises her hand ta touch da cut, lookin' at me, also in shock.
"I's so sorry. I's-", I want ta apologise, but she just backs up against da wall, one hand at her throat, da other raised against me.
"Hey, I's really sorry. I'll fix ya. Come." I hold out my hand, realisin' how dumb dat is. She doesn't know me. "I's Spot. Spot Colon. From Brooklyn. Remember me? We saw each other on Christmas."
She seems ta remember because she looks up ta me.
"Come.", I try again. "I get ya outta here."
This time she takes my hand.
I pick up her hat, dat's layin' on da ground an' give it ta her. She takes it and puts it on.
I lead her ta da Brooklyn Lodge House, never lettin' her hand go, an' bring her upstairs, where I got my personal room.
My newsies look at us, whisperin'. I shoo 'em away.
"Sit down here.", I say as we reach my room an' point at my bed.
She sits down, her whole body shackin'.
She's still cryin' from da shock, but I think she's getting' better.
I wet a handkerchief an' begin ta clean da cuts at cheek an' throat. Luckily, they'se not deep.
From downstairs I hear loud noises.
"Stay up here.", I tell her. "I'll be right back."
Jacks P.O.V.
I had been walkin' through da Lodge when Claire came in. She seemed disturbed an' pulled at my hair.
"What's da matter?", I had asked her. "Where's... Wait. Did somethin' happen?"
Claire moved her wings one single time. 'Shit!', I had thought an' when she led me ta da Brooklyn bridge, I was seriously worried.
I followed her over ta Brooklyn an' into an alley way. Two blonde men where layin' there unconscious. One of 'em had a bloody knife. Both had been taken down wit' a sling shot.
Da Brooklyn Newsies had been here. Or at least one of 'em.
I ran ta their Lodge House an' now I's standin' in front of da door. I knock an' a little redhead opens an' looks at me with big eyes.
"Where is my Newsie?", I ask when he doesn't say anythin'.
He still doesn't answer an' backs up, so I can enter. Inside da other Brooklyn Newsies stand.
They is all starrin' at me. Of course. I normally announce my visits.
"Where is my Newsie?", I repeat my question.
No one answers.
I's about ta snap out as I hear a small creak on da stairs an' spin around.
Spot Colon is standin' there, leanin' against da ledge.
"Where is my Newsie?!" This time I almost shout.
"Upstairs.", Spot answers calmly an' turns back up. I follow him.
As we stand in front of da door, he hesitates.
"Be careful, Jack. She ain't really stable at da moment.", he warns.
I raise an eyebrow, but he ignores me an' opens da door.
Magpie sits on da bed.
Her body's shakin', her eyes is red an' puffy like she had cried. She has a cut on her cheek an' one on her throat.
I rush over, kneel before her an' take her hands in mine. She looks at my hands an' then slowly up at me.
"Jack?", she whispers.
"Yes.", I say softly. "It's me."
She forces herself ta smile at me but winces. Her cheek seems ta hurt badly.
"What happened?", I ask rather Spot than Mags.
As da 'King' of Brooklyn answers me, Mags begins ta cry, so I sit down beside her on da bed an' hug her, while I listen ta him.
When he's done tellin' da story, Mags had fallen asleep.
"I'll kill 'em!", I growl, clenchin' my fist. Then I pick her up. "I don't like ta say it but...", I sigh. "But thank ya. We'll be on our way now."
Da Brooklyn Newsie nods. "Carryin' da banner.", he says.
"Carryin' da banner.", I answer an' carefully walk down da stairs.
"Wait!", Spot suddenly calls an' comes after me.
"What?"
"I'll give ya protection."
"What?"
"Here." He points at a big, muscular Newsie. "Bull, ya'll go wit' 'em. Make sure they come home safe."
Da big guy nods an' comes over ta me.
I sigh. "Thank ya again, Spot.", I say wit gritted teeth. He smiles satisfied.
In da end I's happy, Bull joined me. Although Mags is very thin an' light foa her age an' hight, because she eats too little, she's still a sleepin' goil of fourteen, almost fifteen years. After da bridge Bull is carryin' her.
At da lodge house we say goodbye, I take her again an' carry her inside.
Da others is still awake an' play an' laugh an' smoke jus' like every evening. But da noise dies when I come in. Nobody says something. They jus' look at us. I can read thousands of questions in their eyes, but no one asks.
I walk past 'em, havin' some kind of flashback, an' carefully lay her down on her bed. I take off her shoes and cover her up.
Magpies P.O.V.
I wake up. My cheek hurts an' my throat burns. It takes a while, 'till I remember yesterday.
It seems like Jack brought me home, because I lay in my bed behind da curtain.
Da other's still sleepin'. I can hear 'em snoring. Then I hear steps on da steps an' a moment later Mr. Kloppman begins ta wake up da boys. I sit up an' yawn.
Then, after Mr. Kloppman looked after me, or rather my cuts, I follow da boys down.
No. Actually, I try ta follow da boys down.
I's stopped by someone grabbin' my arm so sudden, I almost fall down da stairs. But da someone catches me.
"Sorry.", Jack says. "Didn't mean ta scare ya."
"Well, ya failed miserably.", I answer playfully, smilin' at him.
"Sorry again." He smirks. "So, how's ya?"
"Me or my cuts?"
"Both."
"Perfectly fine."
"Ya sure?"
"Yes, of course. I's home, wit' my family. How can't I be fine?"
"Ok.", he laughs. "Wanna sell wit' me today?"
"Um..."
"Ya don't have ta.", he says quick, already turnin' away.
Now I grab his arm. "I'd love ta sell wit ya, Cowboy."
I peck his cheek an' smile at him. He smiles back. I love these moments.
I let his arm go an' we walk down together.
"Does it still hurt?", he asks as we cross da yard an' shoves a piece of his bread in his mouth.
"What?", I ask confused.
"... Ya cheek an' ya throat?"
"Oh dat. Um, no. Not really."
"Not really?"
"I can barely feel something."
He nods slowly. He doesn't believe me. He thinks I's playin' things down again. And he's right, my cheek an' throat is burnin', but I ignore him anyways an' get in line.
"Mornin' sweetheart.", Romeo greets me.
"Mornin' skirt chaser.", I smirk.
"Hey!" He playfully smacks my shoulder, orders his papes, takes 'em and goes.
I's da next in line. "Good mornin', Mr. Wiesel.", I greet politely. "Da usual, please."
He turn ta his nephews an' yells: "80 foa da bird."
I lay 40 pennies on da counter. He takes da money an' I da papes.
"Thank ya.", I say, smile an' walk away, countin' my papes.
Eighty.
Good.
I see Crutchie, standin' a little away, an' decide ta join him.
"Mornin' Crutchie."
"Mornin' bird." He smirks at me.
Smilin' I shake my head.
He may seem ta be an angel, but, when he wants, he can be a real beast.
"What happened? Yesterday, I mean.", he asks.
"Nothin'."
"Don't wanna talk?"
"Don't want ya ta worry."
"Well, ya failed. Now I's worried."
"Damn!"
"So, tell me."
"Nothin' big, really. I jus' had a little... um... disagreement wit'... um... some men."
"How many?"
"... Three."
"Three grown up men? Mags!"
"Only two of 'em were fully grown up.", I defend myself.
"Whatever. How did ya manage dat?"
"What?"
"Don't play dumb. How did ya get three grown up men ta soakin' ya?"
"Well, it wasn't a real argument... one wanted my money, so I kicked him... in da nuts. I had ta do it, he wouldn't let me go."
Crutchie, now speechless, stars at me. I smile an' continue.
"His friends unfortunately saw it an' cased me ta Brooklyn, where they caught me an'... yeah. Then Spot rescued me an' Jack brought me here. Ya asked."
Before Crutchie can say somethin', Jack joins us.
"Hey, ya two...", he trails off as he sees Crutchie's face. "Mags? What have ya done ta him?"
"Nothin'. He asked me about yesterday an' I told him."
"Mags!", Jack says half laughin', half angry. "Stop scarin' my Newsies. An' now come. Da papes don't sell themselves."
I roll my eyes, but follow him, leavin' Crutchie standin' there.
"Wait!", he shouts after us. "We ain't done yet."
"We'll talk later. I promise.", I yell back.
Today's a good sellin' day. Da headline stinks, as every day, but we manage ta sell everything 'till noon. Jack heads back home shortly after, while I head towards da market. I walk through it for a while, but without money it ain't really fun. Eventually I find somethin', more or less steal it, an' smilin' make my way ta Brooklyn.
Spots P.O.V.
I's sittin' by da water, lookin' over da river, when one of da younger Newsies disturbs me.
"What?!", I ask without turnin'. I hate it to be disturbed in my 'alone-time'.
"I's very sorry, Mr. Spot, sir, but there's a 'hattan Newsie. He wants ta talk ta ya.", he answers timidly.
"A 'hattan Newsie?" I turn.
Behind mine another Newsie is standin'.
I send da young one away, stand up an' walk over ta da newcomer. "Who is ya?", I ask.
"I's Magpie.", da stranger answers. "Da goil from yesterday. Ya remember?"
Of course I remember her an' now I can also see da cut on her cheek. I smile. "Oh, yes. Sorry", I say friendlier. "I didn't recognize ya. Wanna sit?"
She smiles an' we sit down by da water.
"I came ta say thank ya.", Magpie say quietly.
"Foa what?"
"Savin' my life."
"Oh please. I's a Newsie, you'se a Newsie. We help each other.", I play it down.
"Well, ya know, da boys always say ya a very hard leader, womanizer an' very unfriendly... but ta me ya seem pretty nice."
"Only ta guys I like." I shouldn't have said dat. Dat was a mistake. Can I please press rewind?
She looks at me, confusion in her eyes. "Ya like me?"
"Well, I.... um... I..." I look away.
Then I hear her laughin'. "What's so funny?", I ask offended.
Magpie jus' smiles. "Well, actually I came here ta thank ya an'... um... I wanted ta give ya somethin' foa what ya done... but I don't have any money... so... well" She sighs. "I got ya flowers." She opens her hand an' reveals a bunch of forget-me-nots. "I know, it ain't much an' that you'se a respectable 'King'...", she pronounces da last word like she finds it funny. "but I like flowers an' thought it's a nice gesture." She holds da flowers up an' I take 'em.
"Um... thanks.", I say surprised. "No one ever got me flowers before."
"I thought so." She smiles slightly.
Then I hear a church bell an' Magpie jumps up. "I have ta go now. I promised Jack I'd be home at five."
I nod. "Carryin' da banner."
"Carryin' da banner.", she replies an' starts walkin' up ta da bridge. I stand up an' run after her.
"Wait.", I shout an' she turns. "I'll walk ya home."
She looks confused, but nods. "Ok.", she smiles.
Foa a while we walk in silence.
"So ya Jacky boys goil?", I ask as we reach Manhattan.
She laughs. "No. Or at least I think so. We'se siblings."
Dat wasn't was I expected. "You'se siblings?"
"Not really. It's jus' so, dat I's like a sista ta da boys, ya know?"
"I see."
Aaaand... here's da silence again.
As we reach da Lodge House of Manhattan, we say our farewells.
"Thank ya again for yesterday.", Magpie says, smilin'.
"Thank ya for da flowers." I smile back.
Then she heads for da door.
In front of it she stops, turns ta me, smiles again, opens it an' is gone.
I stand there foa a second, smilin', before I turn an' walk back home.