Don't own Newsies. Own plot. Own Red. Deal with it. : P

I did feel like I rushed the plot a bit, so if it bugs you, that's why I'm working on it.

- - - - - -

"Extra! Extra! Read all about it!" The cries of newsies rang from one end of the city to the other, begging old and young alike to buy a paper.

One newsie, standing on the corner of 7th and Broadway, became one of the many crying out to the crowds. Her auburn tresses were hidden under a newsboys cap, while she was dressed in boy's clothes. Anyone giving her a second glance might notice she was a girl, but even at sixteen she was so flat chested she looked like a boy. There was nothing outstanding about her features, a sunburned face and too many freckles, her eyes a dull shade of grey. Skinny as a beanpole and frizzy hair, but the kindest heart if you had the time to dig down a few layers. She could whip any Delancy silly, but taking on Blink or Jack took a little more than she was used to. Not like they, or anyone else for that matter, would attack her.

"Fire in da Hole! Thousands rescued!" Red yelled out the headline. She handed out several papers, collected a few cents, and kept going. If she was going to beat Jack today, she'd have to sell her remaining twenty papers by…three thirty. She glanced at the church steeple just at the bells began to ring.

DONG. DONG. DONG.

Three o'clock. Twenty papers left.

She limped to the other side of the street, coughing all the way. As she crossed, a short and stout middle-aged lady in a purple, feathered hat spotted her. The lady came over to the newsie doubled over, coughing her head off.

"Oh, you poor dear. Here, I'll buy a paper." Red gladly handed over the paper and received a quarter. Her eyes widened. "Thank you, miss!" The brightness in her eyes overjoyed the woman, who went on with a small smile on her face.

Red turned away from the crowds on the street to hack her guts out again. She hadn't been faking all day. Or the past week, for that matter. By the time the attack was over, five more people had bought papers, and her stomach ached so bad she thought she would retch. Well, a good part to this is that I'll have rock hard abs by the time I'm done.

Since she now only had fourteen remaining, she headed towards the lodging house, telling herself not to sell the evening edition. The next five blocks yielded ten sells. Pretty good, if I do say so myself, she thought proudly. Then she started coughing again. Four pennies and a nickel were produced on the next two streets, and by the time she reached the house, her hands were empty. But her pockets were jingling with change. Maybe I'll play in the poker game tonight.

She crossed the street to the lodging house. As she stepped across the threshold into the dim interior, another coughing attack…well…attacked her. Kloppman looked up from going over the books behind the desk. "You back already, Red?"

She grinned proudly at him, but her fatigue and headache half wiped off her smile. She jingled her pockets for him and headed around the desk to get into her box. As she poured her earnings into a small sack, she caught the quarter as it fell. She studied it a minute, then pocketed it with enough change to buy papers the next day.

"Hey, Klop? I don't think I'll be sellin' the evenin' edition."

He nodded to indicate he heard her.

As she walked up the stairs towards her room, she had to stop and cough again. She sank to the floor in front of the boy's ward, her back against the wall. She hugged her stomach, closing her eyes as she did so. If only she didn't have to walk all the way… up… the… st…

Jack came out of the boy's ward moments later, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. When he spotted Red half-sitting, half-lying on the floor, sound asleep, he shook his head, picked her up, and carried her to the attic. He glanced at her before he left, and shut the door as quietly as possible, before retiring to his bunk to get back to his nap.

- - - - - - -

She slept on for a few good hours, waking only when the evening distribution bell rang. She bolted upright and threw off her covers out of instinct, vaguely wondering how she got up there. Figuring Kloppman brought her, she ignored the thought that he was too old to lift her and walked slowly down the stairs, determined to get something hot down her aching throat. As she got to the landing, she shot a glance around the large commons room. Nothing much. It was dead as a tomb. The only life showing was the fire sputtering in the small fireplace on one end. She stoked the coals, bringing flames back into their existence, then tiredly strolled into the small kitchen and fixed herself some coffee.

As she headed back up the stairs with her mug, she stopped. Turned around. Again, nothing out of the ordinary, but there was something she couldn't quite put her finger on. She proceeded to tiptoe around the room, looking suspiciously at the friendly shadows and even giving the one luxury in the establishment, an old, comfortable, velvet-lined chair near the fireplace an incredulous glance. Giving up the search-for what, she was still in the dark-and headed over to Kloppman's desk to see if he left a note to where he'd been. A small, white envelope lay on the counter. This was unusual. If Kloppman left a note, it wouldn't have been in an envelope.

It bore her name on the front. No one gave newsies letters, and this alone was suspicious. But what name, and at this she started. No one called her that.

Torii.

That was all it said on the front. Nothing was written anywhere else. Skeptically, she slit the envelope open with the small letter-knife also lying on the counter. To her surprise, a card was inside, handmade, reading Happy Birthday on the front. There were no frills or any sort, no decorative trimmings or pictures. Just the words Happy Birthday in black stamped on a cream sheet of paper. She was surprised someone knew it was her birthday. Even she had almost forgotten that it was…yesterday. I think. She shrugged and opened it.

To one who truly deserves one.

No signature. No name. Not even an indication that the person knew her. Only her name on the envelope and then the message. That was all. It was in the same style as the front of the card.

Red looked in confusion at it, as much as her pounding head would allow her, then headed upstairs, obliviously leaving the entire thing behind, still sitting on the counter.

- - - - - - -

Across the street, from the shadows, in an alleyway of course, a figure watched Torii through the one window in the house, grinning when she found the card. It then trotted off in the opposite direction, running into Jack as it went.

Before Jack could even apologize, the small figure was up and running, as far as possible from the scene. Jack shrugged and moved across the street.