Hey guys, this is a new fanfic of mine! I promise I will work on Musketeers soon, just after I post this, actually. So, sorry if things are a little confusing, but basically what it is, is Anita (Scout) and her brother D'Andre (D) have run away from home, because their Aunt Amethyst told them to before she was arrested. Anita has to dress as a boy to sell her papes. So, yeah, there you go ;) Hope you enjoy, buon divertimento!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. If only, though... :)

~Bandit

(P.S. Oh, and this is NOT slash. Just thought I'd let you know. I hate slash :P)

Scout me Out

Chapter 1

"From every wound there is a scar, and every scar tells a story. A story that says, 'I have survived.' Keep moving!" –Craig Scott

The only thing that reached my ears in the one moment of crisis was my own heartbeat. Despite the cold hands grabbing at my already goosebump riddled arms, I refused to scream. I had to remember, I was not only protecting myself, but the King of the Newsies as well. I dived behind a cluster of barrels and boxes, in attempt to let Spot escape, but my plan didn't work so well. As they shouted at each other, their evil voices harsh, the freezing wind blowing their overcoats around and around, they raced after the fleeing kid. I cursed aloud, hoping no one would hear me, before lunging towards the men. I knocked one down by punching him in the knee, before I stood as quickly as I could, and managed to flail a bit, and knock a couple of others down. Before I knew it, however, one of them had pulled out a gleaming knife, and I didn't have time to react before he plunged it deep into my stomach. I fell with a small whimper, pain spreading through my limbs, but my mission was complete. Their attention was on me. Spot had managed to disappear into the darkness.

iIiIi

My first memory was not one of happiness, or joy, but one of great sadness and puzzlement. It was the night my mother left me. I could remember everything in minuet detail, but that was the only reminiscence of mine I could recall for the first four years of my life. I remember my mother swinging her bag around, not caring that it was hitting her two-year-olds in the face, while our nanny, Maria, begged her not to leave. My brother, D'Andre hung onto her leg, crying hard. "Mamá, please don't go, please! Te amo, por favor no nos deje como papá lo hizo. I love you, please don't leave us like Papa did. Je ne veux pas être seul, de revenir, maman, s'il vous plaît. I don't want to be alone, come back, Mama, please."

Now that I look back, I can't fathom how bright D'Andre was. The fact that he remembered Father leaving us, and the fact he spoke so fluently amazed me. But at the time, I wasn't concerned about my brother, but my own fate. What would happen when she left us? Would she leave us with Maria? Who did next to absolutely nothing to begin with? Even as I stared up at her bird-like face, and her harsh eyes, I knew I'd answered my own question.

"Get off me, you useless child," she'd snapped, smacking my brother in the mouth, before shoving him away. His tiny body flew back several feet, landing harshly on the ground. In that moment, I filled with anger, but didn't say a thing, and instead watched as my mother slammed the door behind her, and headed down the hill, to where a carriage waited for her. I stared after her, my face pressed against the window, my eyes shining with tears.

iIiIi

"You don't have to do this, you know," my brother's smooth voice comforted me as I watched raindrops slid down the barn's glass, as if racing each other. I tucked my hair back into the Newsie cap I'd bought the other day. "I know how much torture it was for you yesterday."

I turned and faced D'Andre, who towered over me, a skeptical look plastered on my face, "Don't be ridiculous, D, I'm not going to sit back and watch you work, while I make tea or something dreadful like that," the both of us were born with natural daredevil in our blood, but I was the one who could never sit still and was constantly craving adventure. I knew my brother hated me for it, "And it didn't torture me. It was nice to be up and moving again after that train ride from San Jose."

He snapped his suspenders over his shoulders, and smirked at me, "That was over a week ago, and besides, if the guys are suspicious of you, what's the point? Some of them've got half a brain, they'll figure it out sometime."

I laughed, and turned back towards the city, "Half a brain doesn't even come close."

D'Andre came to join my view, "And besides, once they find out," he continued, choosing to ignore my comment, "they'll be drooling all over you. I mean, what about that Jack kid? He seemed like a ladies man."

"You mean Cowboy?" My brother sneered beside me, knowing I'd made an effort to learn his nickname, "He's got his eye on Sarah Jacobs. No doubt about that."

"Then what about David Jacobs?" D'Andre never could give up, could he?

"Too smart for me," I stood abruptly, sending him a thousand-dollar smile as he turned, leaning against the window to arch his eyebrows at me, "I wouldn't know what to do with all that brains."

He glanced away from me for a moment, obviously contemplating his next sentence, "How about Racetrack? The kid who always talks about horses?"

I pulled a face, "Too young," D'Andre shrugged, a grin spreading across his tanned face, "Though that amazing Italian accent might just win me over."

It was his turn to shoot me a disgusted look, "Don't even joke about that stuff, Scout, it makes me want to vomit." I bit my cheeks to keep from smiling; I loved it when D called me 'Scout'. It was the nickname our Aunt Amethyst gave me before she was arrested.

I calmly deflected his comment, adverting my green eyes, so I was instead once again looking out the window, "We should get going," my voice was dry, "The Newsies will be up soon, and we can't let them know we're not staying in a lodging house."

He nodded his agreement, and shuffled the few coins we had around in his largely sized hand, before sending me his infamous grin, "Perhaps the bulls will leave us alone this time, huh?"

"Maybe," I smiled back at him, opening the rotting door of the barn for him, before making my exit. We headed down the dirt road, which was nearly a mile from the actual city, our shoes kicking up dust, and sending it everywhere. I blocked my eyes against the newly risen sun with my hand, and spotted the Brooklyn Bridge. I couldn't hide my smile.

"What?" D'Andre prodded my arm, "What's got you so happy, girl?"

"Nothing, I'm just thinking," I dodged him as he tried to poke me again, "Why do you care so much?"

"You're my sister, and I want to make sure you haven't got your eyes on a guy already," he snapped playfully. I rolled my eyes. I liked to believe he got him immaturity from our parents, but I knew childish behavior didn't exactly run in the family.

"There isn't even a guy out here," I protested, spreading my arms wide, "There's no one out here, but us of course."

"That's 'cause only the Newsies are awake, and I bet half of them are still reluctant to get out of bed," he smirked, and caught my eye. I couldn't help but laugh.

I looked back at the abandoned barn we'd been staying at, pleased to find we were a good distance away from it. The wood was rotting, and a great deal of the roof had collapsed. Some of the windows were smashed in, by some Newsies, no doubt, and I'd found millions of bugs and rats using the corners of the old thing as a house. I grimaced even as I walked. It was the best place we'd stayed in since our journey from Tocula, but I knew we wouldn't be coming back to it. We were on the run, hiding from the police for something stupid like stealing food, and they'd been on our trail since San Jose, when we'd stopped in California for the first time. I knew they'd probably already found out our location, we're not that hard to miss, and were heading our way right now. I was glad we were leaving. It gave me a false sense of security. I liked it.

"Do you really think they'll ever find out?" I whispered, my heart fluttering as we neared the city.

He shrugged, "It's possible. Like I said before, some of them are smart." Some being the key word here, I thought to myself, "And besides, we have a good enough cover to trick them for a couple of weeks. We'll be out of this town by then."

My mood dropped slightly at his careless words. We were going to leave? We strode in a moment of silence, welcoming the warm sun on our backs, the clouds finally clearing. After spending a freezing night in the barn, I smiled at the bright golden rays. She looked up at her brother, and laughed. His expression was absolutely hysterical as he stopped short, and warmed himself in the sunlight. I laughed, and looked around, the smells of the city growing closer. The delicious aroma of freshly baked bread filled my nostrils, causing my empty stomach to rumble. I smiled at my brother reassuringly as he eyed me. "But I haven't gotten to see how wonderful that Italian accent really is."

"That's disgusting," he winced, "And besides, it's not as if he'll be checking you out with you all dressed like a boy and stuff."

I sniffed protectively, "I don't look like that much of a boy," I paused, and considered, "Do I?"

"It's kinda the point, Hun, so it's alright," he smiled warmly at me, placing an arm around my shoulders, his brotherly-instincts coming out, drawing me close to him as we strode around the city, "You ready to become 'Andrew Kaiser'?"

I nodded numbly, my throat feeling as though someone had just poured cement down it, "I suppose I'll have to stop talking."

"This is your second day," he winked at me, "You know what to do."

I nodded again, understanding filling me. Let's roll, I thought as we spotted the Newsies, all dressed and formal, gathering around the group of Nuns that came every morning to hand out breakfast. My stomach reminded me that it wasn't happy with me for not feeding it. We raced over, and instantly blending into the group. I was quick to get in line, and before I knew it I was reached for my own chunk of bread. I licked my lips, and looked up at the Nun who handed it to me in silent thanks. She met my eye, giving me a knowing smile, and shooed me off. I was just about to head the crowd to find my brother, when Jack stopped me.

"Oi, Scout! Andrew, ain't it?" he called me over, his bright eyes gleaming slightly in the Spring sun, an adventurous look about him. I squared my shoulders, I would be no use to him looking like a measly little girl, I had a cover to keep after all, and obliged his silent command. He was my superior after all. He led me through the crowd, everyone parted for their leader, and towards a nearby bench. He plopped down arrogantly, relaxing carelessly against the wood, and biting off a huge chunk of his breakfast. He waved a limp hand at me, a sure sign for me to sit down next to him, which I did. He studied me a moment, I tried my best to look not feminine, before, seemingly satisfied, he returned to his bread. "We'se Newsies got sumtin' ta ast ya, kid."

I cringed trying to make sense of the Newsie accent, and his use of the horrendous word, before realizing, by the way he was peering at me, that Jack wanted me to answer him. It felt as though someone had poured cement down my throat. I swallowed with difficulty, mustering the burliest, deepest, most man-like voice I could, "Yeah?" I instantly wished I hadn't spoken in the first place. I could've answered in a nod. Instead of the deep voice I had been wanting, I spoke with a small speak, the shrillest I'd ever heard my voice; it reminded me of a three-year-old who'd been caught doing something naughty. I gulped, and glanced at Cowboy, who was shooting me a puzzled look, a look of repulsion spreading through his face as he tried to make sense of it all. I save him the trouble, "I'se gotta sore throat," I continued, speaking in my normal tone, but this time taking my usually smooth, fluent dialect, and exchanging it for the rough, harsh Newsie tongue. It wasn't half-bad, and it seemed to all register out with Cowboy, so I was pleased.

"Well, we'se wanna get ta know ya bettah. You'se knows that da Newsies are a tight-knit family, and we always wanna know strangers bettah before we let 'em in," I nodded, but shot him a heated look that clearly said, 'Get on with it'. He looked as though he'd just been scolded by his mother. I smiled and took a bit of my bread, confidence overwhelming me. At least I could speak with my eyes. I took another bite, my stomach reminding me just how unappreciative it was of my neglecting it.

My eyes strayed to a scene across the way, however, and I instantly froze. A mother held the hand of a little kid, trying to make their way through the thick crowds, but the child would stop every second or so and ask a stranger for food. He would beg and beg, but no one would give him any. His mother tried to drag him the other direction, but he must've been stronger for his size, which was diminutive, because he just kept towing his mother towards yet another wealthy person. I frowned, trying to advert my eyes, but one thought burned in my mind.

I used to be one of those wealthy people

I refocused my gaze on Cowboy as he began to speak again, "So's uh, I'se need ta know some things 'bout ya."

I used to not care about people.

I stood abruptly, ignoring Jack's words, and searched around. I finally smiled as I spotted the little toddler, who was crying into his mother's skirt. I knew how hunger panes felt, and I filled with sympathy, something I'd acquired quite recently. I walked forward, despite Jack's protests, and greeted the mother for a second, I didn't want to draw any suspicions, before kneeling down before the little boy, and tapping his shoulder to get his attention. He turned to be, his eyes still red, and sniffled, before running a hand under his nose. He stared at me as though I were an alien. I handed him the piece of bread—my piece of bread, which I'd been hiding behind my back up 'til now. There was a huge bite out of it, and it had looked so appetizing, but the pure look of joy on the child's face as his blue eyes lit up with delight, and his crying instantly ceasing, was worth it. I grinned, tussled the child's hair, and stood to walk back to Cowboy. He stared at me as though I wasn't human as well.

"What?" I managed as he continued to gape at me. I sat down next to him on the bench, a funny feeling running through me. Had my cover been exposed? Had something gone wrong?

"You gave your breakfast to that snotty little kid!" he burst out, and his eyes widened. And suddenly, it hit me. He wasn't concerned about how I looked—I was still just a little rookie Newsie to him—he was concerned about my manner of charity. I guess he wasn't expecting me to have much.

I shrugged, and looked away from a second. I could still feel him gawking at the side of my head. I sighed, and glared back at him, sending him yet another heated look. Move on with it, Jacky, I said inwardly. We don't got all day. He finally shook himself out of his trance, and was about to continue on, when D'Andre, who'd apparently been listening in on the conversation, stepped out of the shadows. He looked only slightly intimidating, but Jack started, and forced himself to calm down. Perhaps I'd just spent too much time with D.

"Yes?" Jack said steadily, but I knew something was up with the look he was shooting D. I didn't like this at all. D'Andre was my brother, but I wanted to get to know Jack. Apparently D'Andre didn't think it was acceptable for me to have both of them. And Jack just was intimidated, why else would he be so hostile? He had to protect his place as leader of the Manhattan Newsies. I sighed.

"Any questions you ask he—Scout, you can ask me. I'll answer for her," D'Andre sent me a nervous, fleeting glance as he almost blew my cover.

Jack shook his head, "I'm sure Scout will be perfectly fine answering for himself," I could never get used to the whole 'him' 'he' thing, "And you couldn't possibly know everything about him."

"We're twins, Jack, brothers. Everything in his life has happened to me. I could tell you Scout's life story, and, no pun intended, it'd be identical to mine. It's that way families work, Jack, if you didn't know. We stick up for each other," D'Andre replied coolly, keeping his composure, but obviously stinging Jack. I wanted to kick him right then and there. It was obviously hurting Jack, so why did he look so smug? Why did he bring it up in the first place? But I refrained from beating D'Andre to a pulp, even if he could probably take me.

"Yeah," Jack kept his emotions from his words, "I know how a family works. We protect them with our lives, and if we can't, we get revenge on the person who managed to get through us. I got all the family I need, right here," he gestured to the Newsies, who were spread out around the square, playing all kinds of games as they waited to get their papers, "And even a few in Brooklyn," he muttered under his breath.

He watched Les for a moment, it was hard not to. He was the cutest thing, and we kept our eyes glued to him. He was dancing around with Crutchy, Race, and Boots, with Davey watching over him, a look of pure happiness on his face. Les was such a little angel. Too bad Jack was steering him in the wrong direction. I glanced at Cowboy, who was smirking at the kid, before he turned to me, and then shot a judging look in D'Andre's direction. D just sneered. I sort of wished he'd stop being so protective. It wasn't as if I was going to go run off with the guy. He didn't even think I was a girl!

"So's, wheah do ya both come from?" the question seemed to fill up the empty space in the air, "I'se mean, you'se don't really talk much, but from what I'se can tell, Scout heah talks with a New York accent, and you'se don't. So wheah you come from?" He was talking more to D'Andre then to me, but I wasn't supposed to talk for several obvious reasons. The only thing running through my head was, don't do anything stupid, D, oh God, don't let him do anything stupid.

"We're from Spain or France, whichever you decide is best," with his booming voice, D attracted the attention of several other Newsies. Racetrack was the first to pad over to us.

"How's that so?" Jack leaned back against the wood of the bench again.

"We were born on the border, between France and Spain, so we keep people guessing. We grew up in Spain for a while, and then in France, before we moved to Tocula," there were a few mutters of 'where's that?' between the crowd which had gather around us. D'Andre didn't answer their question, and instead leaned against the bench, next to me, "We stayed in Tocula for a couple of years, before we moved to Brooklyn, and we've been there since. Well, until now."

My eyes widened, but I pulled down my Newsies cap to hide it. He'd basically just told our entire history in moving, well except the Brooklyn part. We basically hadn't stepped foot into the United States until a couple of weeks ago. We'd been on the run for a while now, but we'd never once been to Brooklyn.

"Brooklyn, eh?" that certainly got Jack's attention, "Really? Then you'se must'a 'eard of Spot Conlon."

"Yes," NO. "We've seen him once before. But, I really don't think he'll remember us."

Dear God, D'Andre what were you getting us into?

"Well, you'se must'a obviously 'eard stories," Racetrack called from the crowd, and I whipped around to look at his cocky expression. He grinned.

"Of course we have," D'Andre replied confidently. By now, all the Newsies were gathered around us. The mention of Spot Conlon sent them flying over to the bench. What was this kid like? Why were they so interested?

"Den what've you'se 'eard?" Jack sat forward in the bench, peering at the two of us as though we had brought the happiest news they'd ever heard.

"That 'e was terrifying?" A voice called from the crowd.

"De most frightening newsie around?" Shouted another.

D'Andre shook his head, happy about all the attention he was getting, "That he was soft on the inside. That he could be nice."

I felt like kicking my brother in the head. We had no clue who the heck Spot Conlon was. We had no clue what he was like, nor if he was horrible, mean, nasty, or, God forbid, actually gently and caring. We had no clue what he was, if he was a Newsie or not. We had no clue if he was a kid or not. We had no clue in general. I held back a sigh.

His answer resulted in several whispers among the crowd. I glared at D'Andre, telling his it was not okay to tell lies. He laughed softly, and I knew what he was thinking, he'd voiced it many times before. I was just like Amethyst; I always tried to do what was best, and yelled at people who didn't take my side. "Really?" Jacky whispered, his eyes gleaming, "No kiddin'."

D'Andre shook his head, "Real soft. We heard he fell for a girl a couple of years back. We heard she left him for Queens or something like that." He never could stop, could he?

"De person dat spread dat rumah must'a had some courage," Racetrack laughed from the crowds, "Spot knows about everythin' dat goes on in dat town, he must'a 'eard about dat."

So, he was feared, and he was powerful. Great combination. Race's statement earned a couple of 'yeah's and nodding of heads. "Hey," Jack stood up, clapping his hands together, "Time ta sell, Newsies."

"Yeah, Chief, whatevah ya say," Kid Blink called, and then, as if nothing had happened at all, the group was off towards the distribution office. I stared at my brother, before smacking him hard in the arm.

"What?" he laughed, his green eyes glimmering. "What did I do that deserved your horrible wrath?"

I hit him again, "That was for telling them things that weren't true and bringing me into this mess. Was it all really necessary?"

He shrugged, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, and leading me towards the distribution office, "Aunt Amethyst always told us to be specific when we lied, so I was. What harm could it do?"

I punched him once more for good measure.

iIiIi

"Don't worry, you'll love her," these words were the only thing that reached my ears as he lead me towards the meeting place, "She'd outgoing, and raucous, the complete opposite of you."

I was too lost in his wonderful eyes to register anything he said, but he didn't notice my staring. I really gotta get used to being a 'boy'. Night was falling as the Manhattan Newsies made their way towards the building we were meeting in; Medda's place. I had no clue who this 'Medda' was, nor if she was on our side or not, but from the way Jacky talked about her, she must've been pretty wonderful, and from the stories all the Newsies spread around as they sold, Medda had been a big help during the strike. They were all incredibly excited to see her again, and I hoped it was worth it, and they weren't just thrilled because she was another pretty face. I allowed Jack to place his arm around my shoulders, just like D'Andre had done earlier that day. Hopefully this entire ordeal would be worth it. I grinned as we neared the brightly-lit show-house. My kind of place.

We stepped into the doors, and Jack let his arm fall, as he scurried off to go meet the star. I grinned at my brother, but I received an icy look in return. He must've saw me with Jack. I gave an inward sigh as he turned away, to talk to the other Newsies. I wrung my hands. This was going to be a fun week.

iIiIi

By the time the exciting show was over, all of us were all pretty wound up. We were still singing and dancing; I was quite sure a portion of them had a little too much to drink. But at least they were all having fun. I sat in the corner, watching, inflicting self-pity upon myself. I wanted nothing more than to go over and dance with Jacky, and Racetrack, and maybe even Mush. But I couldn't. I couldn't give myself away. D'Andre eventually settled down next to me, after talking and laughing with a few of the guys. He wrapped his arms around me, after checking that no one was looking, and kissed my temple, before relaxing.

"So you're not still mad at me?" I chuckled lightly.

"How could I stay mad at that innocent face of yours?" he grinned at me, "Just don't let it happen again."

I was preparing myself for a long, over-protective brother lecture, when I spotted Medda, making her way through the crowd. I pulled my cap lower over my face, before scampering off after her, cutting D'Andre off mid-sentence. I could hear him sighing as I dashed off. I followed her, weaving through the rowdy boys, before noticing her enter her dressing room. I slipped in after her.

She turned at my sudden entrance, her hands up to her hair, prepared to take it out of it's fancy style. She raised an eyebrow at me, "Hello, darling, I'm glad you liked my show, but now's not the time."

"I need to tell you something," I stared at her, "And don't call me darling."

She paused her eyebrows furrowed, "What is it?" I could tell she was expecting me to attack her, she was glancing at the knife on her dresser. I sighed, and took the hat off my head, letting my brown hair fall all over my shoulders in graceful waves. I sometimes liked to think my looks were a curse, but that was only because I hated being so fragile.

"I'm not a boy," I muttered the obvious, resisting the urge to laugh at the star's expression, "I'm a girl, but I can't tell anyone because no one wants to buy from a girl doing a man's work. I didn't want the Newsies taking advantage of me, and my brother and I need the money, so I had no option other than to disguise myself. They just wouldn't respect me. No one would."

"No kiddin'."

A/N: And there you go, hope you enjoyed it. I'm rather proud, and expect updates soon... and please review! It keeps me writing! :)