So I wrote a Smalls and Sniper sisterly fic; it takes place before the strike. (I have this really cray headcanon that Smalls and Sniper are sisters, I don't know why.) This was not supposed to be this long, but here it is, almost three pages of creative word spew. Enjoy!

The rain trickled down Smalls' face like a river of tears as she sat outside the lodging house, her left booted foot tapping impatiently against the wet pavement. Splish-splash, went the puddle beneath the relentless pulsation, the sky's water soaking through her clothes and chilling her to the bone on the cool fall night. She had finished selling her papers for the evening, and, by this time she would have been inside, warm and somewhat cozy, grabbing a bite to eat and maybe chatting about the day with Specs and Crutchie. But here she was, teeth chattering, her newscap a soggy mess at her side, her short brunette hair plastered to her face like glue, and her mind only focused on one thing—

Where the 'ell is Sniper?

Her steadfast sister, two years her senior, should have been back by now from her run down on 14th Street. Sniper was one of the fastest paper sellers in the borough, only exceeded by Race and the stalwart Jack Kelly who led them all, so of course Smalls had started to worry when both the former and latter newsboys had returned at least an hour earlier and no sign of Sniper thereafter. Smalls had promised her sister she would wait outside every day for her until she came, and for the days preceding, that had been no problem (in fact, she barely had to even wait most days, because Smalls finished her routes sort of fast), but today? And in the rain? Her body was begging to go inside, to be surrounded and comforted by the warmth of the newsboys' chatter and embraces. But she'd promised. And Smalls never, not ever, broke a promise.

She sat like that, her cold back against colder brick, as the streetlights around flicked on, the sky began to darken, and the shop lights across the street began to dim. She pulled her knees to her chest and sighed, a puff of warm breath appearing. At this rate, she would catch a cold, or worse, pneumonia, like she did when she was little and her fever was so high she could barely sleep. But for Sniper… she'd wait.

Finally she heard the familiar running of worn boots coming down the street – heel-toe, heel-toe. Smalls perked up, near alighting from the wall, as the figure of her sister came into view down the street from her right. As the latter passed under the streetlights, the youngest newsie could see the flat, tired expression on her sister's face, her twin dark brown braids bouncing against her back. Smalls flinched; even from a distance, she looked wan and nothing like the sprightly Sniper she knew. Where had she been?

Within seconds Sniper closed the distance between them; she slid on the pavement and collapsed next to Smalls, shaking with cold and breathing like she had just run seven miles –which she had. She coughed, a rattling sound deep in her chest, and Smalls pulled her sister into a hug, a tight one, to keep both of them somewhat warm and in the comfort of familiar arms. When Sniper's breathing had finally slowed enough to almost normal, Smalls pulled back, wiping her nose a little as she stared gently at her sister.

"Sniper… where were ya? You were gone almost two hours past your normal arrivin' time!"

Silence from the eldest. After what seemed like a long while to Sniper, she finally replied quietly, "I… ran back to the Bronx… ta check up on things…"

Smalls gaped, her eyes wide as saucers. Her sister had run all the way back to the Bronx? In the rain? After selling papers for several hours? She shook her head in disbelief, chuckling slightly as she replied. "Why now, of all days? Ya know we're here in Manhattan for a little bit until things blow over back home. …Has anything changed?" She added as an afterthought, a small shake in her voice. Back in the Bronx, to make a long story short, their leader Max wasn't being the nicest of nice to the other newsies. Being smart, Sniper had convinced Smalls for the both of them to take leave in another borough, to still make money while Max settled down – they figured it was just another one of his wild rages.

In reply to her earlier question, Sniper shook her head. "No… in fact, I think it's gotten a bit worse. There ain't no food. Boss doesn't seem ta care anyhow – he only wants to make sure those papes get sold. Max is still kickin' up a storm. The kids have bruises all over 'em from him takin' out his anger on them. No one wants to stand up ta him. Hell, I don't want to even stand up ta him. And the boys think I'm the bravest one in the Bronx." She sighed, lamentably, as if the images of a crazed Max and terrified young newsies were flashing through her head. "It's a sorry sight… but that's not even the least of my worries."

"Then what is?" Smalls asked. She felt horrible for the state of her home borough, and even worse for bailing out on the boys when they needed her and Sniper most, but Sniper's tone of voice truly gave away that she knew more about this world of newspapers than she was letting on. Setting a hand on her sister's knee, she gave a small smile. "C'mon, you can tell me."

Sniper managed a smile back, small but sincere, before her face fell again with the news. "Pulitzer and Hearst… the bosses over here… I mean, we's never seen them, but you should hear the rumours spreading among the newsies. I've heard talk – not sayin' it's true – about the bosses raisin' the price of papes. Just talk. Nothin' more. In fact it's only come up once, and I'm not even sure that person was telling the truth. But it was enough to make me quake in my boots a little. And when the pape prices go up… that can lead to somethin' big. Somethin' bad among the newsies and the guys who write the papes." She swallowed hard, wiping rain from her forehead as she turned to look into her sister's eyes. "Smalls, what I's saying is… you's got to go home. We really can't stay here any longer. With our boys deteriorating and the rumors I've heard around here… we can't both get too involved in one place. And you's strong, Smallsie, I know that. You can handle Max, right?"

She felt the tears coming before her sister had even said the words 'go home' – now they spilled freely, mingling with the rain that flowed all around them. How could her sister just send her away? Just when she was making friends with all the other newsies over here? When they'd left the Bronx, Smalls had barely even thought of returning. The Manhattan newsies were so nice, and kind, and didn't throw tomatoes at you when you didn't give them the sixty cents you made selling papes that day. How could Sniper, just out of the blue, ask her to go back to that – to wrangle Max into his place? Alone?

"Sni-Snipes… I can't, I can't, I just can't go back… not to that… not without you… I'm not as strong as you make me out to be!" She exclaimed, gripping her sister's arm like she was the drowning swimmer and Sniper, the life saver. "I-I… I'm like you! I's scared ta stand up ta Max, he's the reason I had nightmares every night back in the Bronx! I'm not anything special, jus' a newsgirl among a crowd of rowdy boys and… where will you go?"

There was a tense moment between them. The rain had finally let up and the sisters, though soaked through, felt relief than the downpour had not turned into a storm. Finally Sniper answered, the wind blowing swiftly and rustling her braids as she did.

"I'll stay here. In Manhattan. Help out Jack and the rest of 'em with whatever's ta come… but you, Smallsie, you'll be fine, I know it." She smiled, her face brighter with slight elation. "Remember when that kid tried ta hit ya when you asked him ta buy a pape? And you took 'im down swingin', no hesitation?"

"He knew not ta mess with me again," Smalls added, smiling as well. Maybe Sniper was right… she could handle Max…

"Exactly. And that's why I think you can stand up Max and make things better in the Bronx, while I help out over here. You'll be fine. We'll be fine. I can promise you that."

Before Snipes had even finished, she had enveloped her sister in yet another hug, squeezing tight and crying hard and never wanting to let go. She'd miss Sniper, yes. But when she thought about it, it was better this way, wasn't it? Helping newsies on both side of the city. No matter where a newsie lived, he or she was your brother, your sister, your partner in paper-selling. And she knew Sniper was only trying to honor that.

Not long after, Jack came to the door, a worried look on his face. He barely even had to say a word before the two girl newsies rushed inside, shivering a little, only to be greeted with hugs all around from the others and a little bit of bread and coffee to share, as well as a change of clothes for the both of them – they were Jack's old shirts and pants, so they were a little large, but Smalls didn't mind. For a moment, Smalls felt bliss surrounding her, but as everyone got ready for bed, she felt the magnitude of what was to come crash over her like a wave. She sat in the lodging house's open space on her bed, a few feet away from her sister's, her insomnia unrelenting as the moon shone bright into the window crack. Her sister's face, calm in sleep, and the rise and fall of her breathing was comforting to watch. She knew deep within that she trusted her sister's judgment and that whatever the outcome would be of the rumors here, she couldn't stay in the Bronx forever. She'd be back, because she could feel the Manhattan newsies would need it as the whispers either did or did not come to pass. Either way, Smalls was once fierce little newsie – and you couldn't keep her back for long.

Wherever Manhattan is – so's the Bronx.

Reviews are appreciated!

~Anais