Chapter One -Cinders of a Dare

Disclaimer- I don't own any of the newsies, the banging you hear in the back of my closet is NOT Racetrack wink wink. Well, I do not own the newsies produced by the creative works of the script writers at Disney, but however I do own any unfamaliar character.

With sunsets color spilt from ethereal pain it devoured his sparkling eye, swelling it shut. Caleb will not have to face this world for at least three weeks, until the greenish-yellow tinge settled, and the blood clogged in his bruise evaporated, and until then he will not have his hands around the neck of the scab that preyed upon him. Bums odds the grafter criminal will already be six feet under the ground. Some are still searching in the torrents of rain for the coward who would dare strike a child hardly of eight. Even as I trace the cloth gently on his bruise, the skin stretched away and swollen to nearly the size of my fist, my fingers itch to find that lowlife and bring him to justice, and only my maternal instincts keep me here. Caleb might never see again.

"Can I go to sleep yet?" he whimpered, wincing as I wiped the blood still dripping from his nose, and he struggled away from me. I hated holding him like this, having the chains of his life in my hands, because I knew what it felt like to never have control.

"Nah, don't ya wanna stay up wid da big kids?" I entreated but I already knew he couldn't sleep- Bryce was terrified he'd fall into a coma, and since he was the only one of us who mildly knew how to heal, I couldn't ignore him. We'd already shaken the boy awake twice, and it looked as if he was engaged in battle with the Grim Reaper's sleep, and Caleb was loosing. Amazing how the kid could sleep through so much pain.

"How come I can't sleep? Micah always sends da boys da bed aftah dey gets in a fight," he whined, again squirming from me when I couldn't tell him the truth. If only Micah were here right now instead of on some godforsaken road, searching for a man he didn't know what looked like, and would hardly be able to see in this thunderstorm.

"Hey look on da bright side. Ya can get people ta do stuff fer ya by making dem feel guilty. No one can say no ta a soaked kid!"

"Dat's not fair!" he protested, his other bright green eye opening wide in astonishment and I gritted my teeth as another cut made itself known above his eye. "I don't wanna do dat ta people!"

"Jist an option," I acquiesced, brushing at his openly bleeding cut as I stared longingly out the only window. The darkness compressed it and the rain pulverizing the glass was the only indication it was storming, but I wanted to be outside in that storm beating that dirty tightwad to within an inch of his life. Caleb was probably the kindest child in existence, and yet he was chosen and beaten grotesquely by forces out of anybody's control. If the universe wasn't careful, Caleb could become somebody just like the rest of us- investing all energy into breaking the laws of the city that had hurt us so infinitely.

"Lisolette." Reluctantly I tore my eyes from the window and looked up into Bryce's anxious face, and only held Caleb tighter. I kicked a crate by us, motioning for him to sit down, but not a single fiber within him moved and he was staring down at Caleb upon my lap with the deepest concern, forcing me to be thankful the young boy wasn't paying the slightest attention to him. "Caleb, we'se got someone ta visit ya. He's gonna make ya feel bettah."

"Who?" His excitement sickened me.

"A doctah."

"An actual doctah came heah?" I asked incredulously and Bryce's warning look only incited me to hold Caleb tighter. "Wad? Ya really expect me to believe some hoity toity doctah came all da way out heah, is coming in dis joint widout sterilization, isn't gonna tell da bulls bout you all, and is gonna help Caleb?"

"Well it ain't some rich doctah but it'll do," he asserted, his eyes icicles at my throat if I continued to undermine his authority. Caleb motioned to take hold of Bryce's extended hand but I pushed my charge's hand back down.

"Bryce, ya know bettah den dat. Its jist some scum playing doctah. He's just gonna hoit him!"

"Bettah den you'se!" he snarled and I reeled back at his stinging blow like I had been physically slapped, but I pushed Caleb from me. Bryce towered over me as I leapt to my feet, challenging him with my eyes but my thoughts were in turmoil; I didn't want to be forced to fight him, especially with the kid watching me, but I needed to defend my honor or forever my reputation would be scarred.

"Let, don't," Caleb pleaded meekly and never tearing my eyes from Bryce I hesitantly pushed the child towards him, accepting the truth. Gratefully he took Caleb by the arm and steered him from me, their footsteps reverberating down the hall until I was only left with silence as a companion. Outside the pressure in my ears boys of every age were lounging and chatting, partaking in this or that game, fighting, and just trying to survive, living their life. Perhaps that is what we all are just trying to do, even the bulls that walk their beat to rid the streets of street rat filth, are just trying to live in this blurred world.

"Weah's Caleb?"

"Wid some cheap ass doctah," I demurred without turning to see my interrogator for instantaneously I realized who it was, his voice distinguishable from the others in placid authority.

"Wad da hells dat supposed ta mean?" he exploded spontaneously, storming towards me and I regarded him with a contemplative gaze until he continued earnestly, "Wads wid yer tone, Let? Da doctah ain't some fraud, is he?"

"Bryce says he ain't…"

"Den he ain't," Micah alleged, exhaling a sigh of relief and I only rolled my eyes, before observing the others returning from their manhunt. "Ya'll are hopeless. Ya jist wasted time looking."

"Don't be so quick to judge, missy."

"Did ya find anything?" I demanded, bristling at being reprimanded

"Not really."

"Ha!" I shouted victoriously and he glowered before it seemed all his strength was sapped from him and he collapsed upon the crate that had just serviced Caleb and me.

"Da woilds screwed," he propounded, rubbing his temple wearily, and I pulled a crate across from him.

"Gasp! Somebody's finally listening to me!"

"I listen," he murmured and produced a single treasure from his pocket, striking a match and the tip flickered to the orange glow I cherished, and hungrily I watched as the ashes fell like fallen warriors. Without waiting for his consent I impatiently snatched it from his thick fingers and placed the cigarette to my lips, inhaling utopia as the nicotine flowed through my veins. Satisfied, the nicotine soothing and calming to my anxiety, I allowed Micah to grab the cigarette back and indulge himself.

"Why don't ya stay heah tonight, Let? Ya can't get home through dis storm."

"I'm fine," I said shortly, foreseeing the heated argument that would rise from the murky depths of what he had just suggested. This night was compressed with emotions and hindrances, and I had to break free of the chains that bound me to these boys and leave them behind, for I could not cope with relying on others for my shelter tonight. Never would I be dependent on this 'gang', and especially not now, when the world was spinning out of control and reality. My imagination stretched to produce an image of the place I claimed as home, the smoke choking my lungs and the soot drenched floor, the room so cramped and moist it was a miracle I was still alive. Yet the furnace produced some heat on those howling winter nights, and whether I wished it to or not the music above often lulled me into sleep and a false sense of security. I had been there four years and still the benefactors and owners did not know I was there.

"Come on, Lisolette. When ya gonna join our ranks?"

"Nevah, you'se know dat. Now stop harassing me before I soak ya and make ya look like a fool in front of yer boys," I threatened, my voice trembling from keeping my voice the ghost of a whisper. He did not retaliate or scowl, but merely closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, driving all intervening thoughts from his mind. I contemplated him, understanding this would not be the last I would be hearing of this. Nearly every week, or whenever I decided to join them to deliver my news and in return gather some of their profits, this fight erupted. It was always the same, ceaseless but he never tired of it, and I knew Micah would never understand my reasoning even if I confided in him. Four years have passed since I first met this gang, but I have always known this group of boys was not a gang and merely children abandoned, governmental statistics, who would only succumb to crime in desperation. Through due course I have watched Micah's rise to power and in return he has watched my own journey's. No matter what darkened path I follow or how far I stray he will always be here, relying on this gang and carrying the responsibilities of their lives, their interdependence a mark of their trusting friendship. He has never understood why I still separate myself from them and choose to live alone, have learned to be by one companion, hardly trusting my own shadow anymore.

"Maybe you'se should learn not everyone's out ta hoit ya," he exhorted suddenly, his eyes snapping open as he snapped into an offensive state of mind and I felt the tendons holding me to calamity breaking.

"Maybe you'se should learn when ta draw da line and back da fuck off."

"It's disgusting."

"Good, just don't vomit on me."

"Why can't ya jist give up da attitude and…"

"Micah!" I beseeched, my last thread to sanity dangerously stretching. "Stop it…please, just shut up!"

"Don't tell me to shut up, Lisolette," he growled and the threatening depths of his pale blue eyes sent shudders up my spine, but I squarely met his hardened stare- I would not be dominated over by somebody who eternally places doubts in my head of my own independence, but mostly my own strength. "Look at me. When ya gonna loin dat not even you'se is invincible?"

The silver of the ever present chain at his side clanked against the hard wood as he rose purposefully and sent me a look of utter contempt, before turning his head away from me and marching to the furthest card table at the other side of the room, forgetting I was ever here. Numbly I stared at my hands, at the dirt seemingly permanently etched around my fingernails and the fine lines cracked and torn from the hardships of the streets until they became the inked lines of a novella where such characters existed; invulnerable heroines who were bold, reckless, and courageous, and I would give my life to fall into those two dimensional pages. I knew…I've known for four years, since I was eleven, that I could never be such a girl. But I'd be damned if I didn't try.

Lightening illuminated the window for a nanosecond and I could see the haunting tree branches' shadows dancing in the gale, scraping against the shards of glass. The thunderstorm did not frighten me, I courted it, and the eerie ghosts of my imagination did not influence my decision. Logic, which I hated and if ever given the chance I will fight the abstractness, only chose my path for me. That and the crates and shattered bottles directing my cautious lane towards the card table. The younger boys grinned broadly and waved to me while the elder one's observed my passing with a tip of their hats or a slight nod of acknowledgement, and only rarely did I return such a greeting, my mind intent upon the leader with the cigarette. At least in these lands I wasn't just a wallflower.

"Deal me in," I ordered, shoving Robbie over and I took my place beside him on his crate, directly across from Micah. His icy gaze was unwavering as he studied me skeptically, until a ghost of a smile appeared when with our eyes we came to an understanding. I would stay the night, and only the night, and no further discussion of my life would ensue. As I gathered my cards their course of bad luck ran through my veins, and I knew that soon I would come to regret my decision.

The candle was rekindled as the last raindrop fell, the vibrations of the walls settling under the sky's gray blanket, without the soothing stars and moon, and only the empty oblivion of night. Overhead the younger boys muttered in their sleep, the rustle of them squirming echoing on the ceiling of the first floor, and it was evident some were still awake but nobody rose to tell them off. Whispers encompassed the room, still a dull roar without minding those who knew the significance of sleep, and lazily I traced the knotholes on the floorboard. Sitting had become too dreary, so I lay comfortably upon the floor with others sprawled here and there, all amusing each other until one by one each would be claimed by the sandman.

"Caleb's fine. Doc gave him something ta help him sleep, since it's been too long fer him ta fall inta a coma now," Bryce informed us all, appearing from the curtained room, and a boisterous ripple of relief reverberated throughout the room. He settled behind my head, sitting as he watched me absent-mindedly trace the lines of the floorboards. "He'll make a full recovery. Da doctah was made fer stuff life this, so he won't tell nobody bout us or wad happened. And he's good at wad he does." I knew he was awaiting my response, but I couldn't formulate anything adequate to the relief I was feeling, so I remained silent. "I'm sorry fer wad I said earlier. It wasn't true. I just needed Caleb da visit da doc."

"Fine."

"Spending da night?"

"Yeah, da apocalypse has come," I whispered sardonically but I silenced his chuckles with a distraught look. "Wad was Caleb doing out alone? At night nonetheless."

"He said he was meeting somebody. Won't tell us who," he responded timidly and I knew that the thoughts filtering through his mind were just as ominous as they were in mine. "He's too young ta be sneaking out to see a goil. Micah thinks its cause of Diamond Poison or wadevah dey call demselves dese days. Won't say why…just a hunch, I guess."

"I thought dey had more integrity den ta soak an eight year old."

"They're a gang, Lisolette, they'll do wad dey have ta to survive."

"You would nevah do something like dat," I pointed out and he shrugged nonchalantly.

"Well, we'se ain't exactly a real gang, ya said it yerself. You'se more a gang den we are."

I recoiled at the thought of soaking somebody that young, but in an obsolete sense I was a gang of my own, and vividly I was taken back to that day's survival. Whatever it cost to survive I've probably committed the crime, pick pocketing or thievery, blackmail, fighting my way through this abyss, just to live through the day. Of course, I hardly cared anymore if I lived or died.

"It could've been loads of oddah people besides da Poison's," Micah interjected, formerly deep in conversation with Robbie but close enough to overhear our conversation, and he slumped beside me with a hardened glint in his eye that only appeared in the harshest of situations, in the cruelest of worlds. "It might have just been some random drunk or…"

"A newsie," I chimed in enthusiastically and Micah watched me appraisingly as like lightening I sat bolt upright, eager to endorse on my theory, but from Micah's and Bryce's disbelieving looks I already knew they wouldn't be convinced. "No, listen. Dere sort of a gang and dere everywhere round heah and dey have ta have seen Caleb at least once."

"Don't start, Let," Micah chided but even as he scolded me for my accusations my mind reeled with all the vast possibilities of why the newsies would commit such an unforgivable crime. Perhaps they knew I associated with Caleb, and in vengeance to a grudge formed long ago attacked him, yet both boys seemed to know where I was going before I said another word.

"Come off it, dey wouldn't do something like dat for revenge. Dey don't even know wad ya look like," Bryce argued and I couldn't deny that as the truth in his reasoning. Perhaps those wretched newsies claimed they know who I was, what I looked like, but in honesty they hadn't a clue to my appearance or in passing did not know that I was Lisolette, who had soaked their comrade near death many moons ago. Two years ago was that awful occurrence, and that would be the one fight that I'd forever regret, his bloody image heaped to the gutter still a vivid memory. The news had spread like wildfire, and my associates had quickly learned that I was shunned from the society on the streets, and that despite my gender if ever I was caught my punishment would be severe. Even if the fight had never occurred, the newsies would still wish me dead.

"Lisolette, I know ya aren't exactly fond of da newsies but dey aren't like dat," Micah tried to calm me but he knew the blaze in my eyes would not be doused until I had tired of my theory.

"You two come off it. I mean, da newsies lie and cheat ta sell their papers. Even if they don't want revenge, Caleb could have heard something dey want kept quiet of know something they wanna know. We just don't know wid dese newsies."

"Let!" Micah said sharply, and my words fell from my mouth at the fury quaking in his voice. "You'se know we'se know da newsies, and we know dat dey'd nevah do something like dat. We'se all on good terms, even friends, so don't be tawkin bad bout me friends especially cause ya don't even know dem! Stop judging dem fer yer own stupid mistakes."

I glared at him fiercely for I would never back down, and I will never have him come to see that I knew I was wrong in presuming the newsies were those who had preyed upon Caleb. But I knew the mischievous glint in his eyes well and he avoided my penetrating look, turning to Bryce who seemed confused but ready to follow his leader into whatever depths Micah was plotting on falling into. My stomach fluttered and twisted itself into a knot as I prepared for the worst. I had known hours before that I would come to regret agreeing to spend the night in the warehouse, yet I don't ever seem to listen to that nagging voice in the back of my head.

"Ya wanna make dis a hell of a lot more interesting?"

"Make wad more interesting?" I demanded, rising to the challenge almost without hesitation, and my curiosity gnawed when he paused dramatically.

"Ya don't know da newsies at all. We do. Ya can't take spending more den a night not on yer own. Ya insulted us all by accusing da newsies. So maybe ya should see things from our point of view."

"And how am I supposed to do dat widout getting a sex change?"

"Nah, she'd nevah go fer it," Bryce piped up, and I looked anxiously between the two, too absorbed in whatever scheme they were hatching. I nearly shook him and cried out for whatever I'd never go for, but I resisted. I shrugged as if I truly could not care less, but Bryce caught my eye and I couldn't tear my gaze away. "She ain't brave enough."

"Screw it," I snapped. They knew they had me.

"You should…No, I dare ya," Micah began, his grin widening as I prepared myself for the executioner. "I dare you'se ta go live wid da newsies. Fer at least a fortnight."

"Have ya lost yer mind?" I shouted, leaping to my feet and anxious heads snapped towards us, eager for some drama and gossip. Bryce hauled me back to the ground as Micah told everybody off for not minding his own business and properly chastised they continued whatever they were doing, but their ears were still trained on our conversation. Leaning closer, the three of us putting our heads together, I repeated, "Have ya lost yer mind?"

"No, doll, I'm perfectly sane," he retorted with a cocky smirk that I longed to brush from his face. He was daring me to do the impossible, because even if I joined the newsies they would never accept me. "Wad? I thought ya wanted some adventure in yer life. Well, dis is it. Wads a mattah? Can't take it?"

"I can take it just fine, thanks," I hissed, my voice shaking from the strain of whispering when really I wanted to scream and shout and create a huge production. "And how am I supposed to do this? If I did join them wad makes ya think they'd accept me? After wad I did?"

"Dey won't know its you'se," Bryce chirped enthusiastically, thoroughly enjoying himself at my discomfort. I was nothing more than an injured wild beast backed into a corner with nochance for survivalbut to fall into their trap. "Dey don't know wad ya look like, remember?"

"You'll create a new name, ya don't even have to create a story or nothing. You'll be yerself in somebody else, if ya get wad I mean."

"Wad are da terms?" I was falling into their bubbling excitement and they smirked triumphantly now, but they knew they had captivated me with their plan from the start, because never do I remember declining a dare.

"Ya have ta stay dere a fortnight. Ya have ta woik as a newsgoil, ya can't be an ass dem, and ya have ta associate wid dem a lot."

"Define a lot."

"Lisolette," Micah warned and I grinned despite myself at his annoyance, fully comprehending what his terms consisted of. He extended his hand to me, giving me a few seconds to fully understand all of the implications of accepting such a dare. "Deal?"

"Deal," I breathed.

If I hadn't been so disturbed by what I was being asked to do, what I was being challenged to do, perhaps I would've seen the look the two boys exchanged, and the depth between them suggested they surmised all of what I would go through. Their hidden agenda unfolded as they locked eyes while I stared into the distance, mentally preparing myself. Yet I know now that not even they had anticipated all I would endure. Of the laughter shared and the stronger than steel friendships formed, of the heartbreak that would consume my very being, of the betrayals and anecdotes that would shape me, and the love that has altered these haunting years. They did not know of how the small band of newsies would change me forever.

A/N- Sorry if I offended anybody with the cussing and I hope you enjoyed it. But this is my first fanfiction, so could you please review. Say anything you want, really. Constructive criticizm is appreciated though. C'mon, I'll give you a cookie! With Mush swirled in chocolate!