Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. Any unfamiliar characters such as Doc, Shivawn, Mrs Grady and Honey are mine and mine alone.
Doc O'Loughlin would do anything for her sister. But when Mrs Grady pushes Doc too far, New York is about to see how far Doc would go for Shivawn.
~Help me Doc~
Chapter One
"Come on girls, get up. Up an' at 'em girlies, to the factory, sell da papes or whatever yer doin'!" The matron of the Manhattan Girls House managed to wake up the entire bunkroom of orphans and runaways with her bellow. "Dianna, get up and ready! You're oldest!" Mrs Grady thumped the top of the bunk closest to the window before stalking out.
"Awight girls, ye heard her. Up an'…" Doc O'Loughlin paused in the middle of her sentence, yawning, before climbing out of her bed. "Ugh, git up, now!" Doc flinched as her feet hit the freezing floorboard but she continued towards the washroom. She hurriedly splashed cold water on her face, hands and feet, before moving over to brush her hair as a river of girls poured in. She easily pulled her hair into two braids and promptly left, searching for her blouse.
"Dianna…" Doc started and spun around before relaxing as her little sister held up her much sought after blouse, complete with brown skirt. Shivawn's eyes twinkled brightly and Bones smiled, smoothing her hair down.
"T'ank ye Mo Ghrá." She murmured, the Irish rolling off her tongue as smoothly as English. Shivawn beamed and darted off to get changed. Doc rolled her eyes and slipped into the brown skirt before tucking the ends of her blouse in and rolling the sleeves up to her elbows. She managed to tie her boots up without falling, which was a massive accomplishment for once, before Shivawn appeared holding two ribbons. Doc sighed and straightened up before deftly tying her sister's bright blonde hair into two pigtails on either side of her head.
"Girls, yer ready?" She called out, absently smoothing her sister's skirt before shaking herself. Shivawn tilted her head and winked, smirking evilly, and Doc groaned. "I'm not t'inking aboot him, nevah have an' certainly nevah will." She flicked Shivawn in the forehead before opening the bunkroom door. "Yer not ready now, yer not gonna see yer newsboys afore work!" Bringing out the newsboys threat always seemed to work, Doc mused as a stampede of girls headed either for the factory or a seamstress or something of the like, pushed and shoved their way out the building.
"Dey're mad. Right bloomin' mad." Honey muttered, following the girls at a more sedate pace next to Doc and Shivawn. Doc rolled her eyes and shrugged.
"What else wouldja espect?" She asked, snorting as Mary-Ella managed to catch the attention of several newsboys who were on their way to their selling spots. "Hold a second?" She asked before heading towards Mary-Ella and her first victim, the Mnahattan newsboys known as Snoddy. Honestly, some of the nicknames the boys give themselves are ridiculous, she thought as Mary-Ella closed in on the unfortunate boy. Doc pushed the thought away and stepped up to Snoddy.
"Couldja gimme a pape Snoddy boy?" She asked, ignoring the poisonous glare Mary-Ella sent her. Snoddy looked thankful for the lifeline and seized it with all his might. He tipped his cap and handed her two and accepted the tip.
"Thanks Doc." He muttered. "Now, I shoah cain't leave ya wit'out an escort. So hows about I walk youse and Honey to da t'eatre?" Doc nodded and looped her arm through his before smiling sweetly at Mary-Ella.
"Run along now girl, I don't t'ink Mrs Fuller would appreciate ye bein' late none agin aye?" She asked before leading Snoddy back over to Honey and Shivawn. Snoddy breathed an audible sigh of relief as they left the vicinity of Mary-Ella and clutched his papers to his chest. Doc sniggered and reached up, tugging his cap right, before passing Honey the second paper. The English girl snatched it up eagerly and scanned the front page before clicking her tongue and turning it over.
"Aw, bugger it." She muttered. "I ain't on da front page no more. Oh, Dianna! I been shoved to da second page isstead!" Doc rolled her eyes and raised her rolled up newspaper threateningly as Snoddy chuckled. Honey glared at the both of them and huffed. "It ain't no joke. Jest yesserday, I was on da front page, wit' me old doll pitcha." She shuddered and Doc sniggered.
"At leas' it was an improvement from the original aye?" She offered, laughing as Honey took a half-hearted swipe at her. "I dinna mean offence, bhrón mhaith Honey." Snoddy cleared his throat and Doc looked up, seeing the entrance to Irving Hall, and rolled her shoulders before cracking her neck, knuckles and back in one smooth motion.
"Right, yer ready ta dance Honey?" She asked. Not waiting for an answer, Doc waved goodbye to Snoddy and headed inside to start cleaning. Medda Larkson was going to perform tonight, a special show for the newsboys of Manhattan, Brooklyn and Queens, and the hall had to be spotless.
At a quarter to six, Doc managed to leave her broom and pan in an empty room before sprinting towards the changerooms. Even though, Doc didn't perform all that often, she was still required to look nice so the dirty blouse and dusty skirt had to go to be replaced with a clean crisp white shirt and a dark blue skirt. She checked the clock and absently popped her knuckles before quickly pinning her hair back in an attempt to look semi appropriate. Though knowing Cowboy and his newsies, they couldn't care less if Doc wore a scummy old sack, she was one of them.
"Dianna, um…" Doc looked in the mirror and saw Shivawn hovering near the door, fiddling with the buttons on her shirt. The thirteen year old opened her mouth before closing it, frowning, and Doc hurried over and kiss her forehead.
"No worries Mo Ghrá, every'tin is fine." She whispered reassuringly. "Ye know, I seem ta recall Jack tellin' meh that Rabbit was gonna bring Cookie wit' her. That make ye feel bettah?" Shivawn nodded and Doc laughed before tucking the smaller girl into her side and heading down towards the theatre. It was about ten minutes until Medda start and newsies were milling around the stage, catching up with friends and smoking. Shivawn pulled on Doc's sleeve and pointed frantically to the small knot of newsboys standing near the middle aisle.
"A'right, go on an' greet 'im." She said, pushing her in the direction of Swifty Li. Shivawn had a soft spot for the tall lanky Asian boy, and vice-versa. And while Doc tolerated it, she didn't fully approve either. She watched with narrow eyes as Swifty swung Shivawn around in a wide circle before lifting her onto his back and locking his arms around the back of her knees. Doc gritted her teeth and counted to ten in her head before turning on her heel to come face to chest with a familiar key.
"Ease up mhíle, it ain't been dat long." Sean raised an eyebrow and Doc smirked, sitting back and resting one hand on her cocked hip.
"Whatta yer doin' here Conlon?" She asked waspishly, trying to hide a smirk from her cousin, despite knowing it was worthless. Spot Conlon was one of the best poker players in New York and he knew how to read people. So Doc gave up and pulled him into a hug. "It has been dat long Bhfód." She said, tugging at his key. "Shivawn was getting' worried a'cause we hadn't heard from ye in a while." Spot rolled his eyes and wrapped his arm around Doc's waist before heading towards the small congregation of Manhattan newsies.
"Only Vawn?" He asked teasingly. "Dat hoits Doc, dat really hoits." He slapped his hand over his heart and winked at her. "Ya cut me real deep. Heya Jackie-boy." He directed the last statement at Jack Kelly, who eyed the arm around Doc's waist apprehensively, and the Irish girl rolled her eyes.
"Git yer mind outta the gutters Cowboy." She hissed, whacking his arm. "It ain't like dat an' ye know I ain't evah goin' fer a boy like Spot." Spot smirked knowingly and she elbowed him in the side, but Jack's curiosity was peaked.
"Is dat so?" He drawled, leaning against a seat and ignoring the death glare she shot at him. "If ya ain't inta Spot, den who are ya into?" Doc scowled and elbowed Spot once again as the Brooklynite went to answer.
"Yer not sayin' a damn word Conlon." She said. "An' like hell, I'd tell yer Cowboy. Some t'ings ye jest gotta earn." She looked away as someone shouted her name before distangling herself from Spot. "If yer escuse me. Shivawn! Backstage now." The thirteen year old looked up and Doc pointed to the stage. The blonde hair rocketed past and disappeared as Doc turned back to the Manhattan newsies.
"Youse got good seats Doc?" Spot had replaced Doc with a blonde bombshell. Doc vaguely remembered her as a backup dancer for one of the backline choruses, but she couldn't be sure. "By da way, dis here is Misty. Misty, dis is me cousin Doc." Misty looked Doc up and down and smiled brightly, holding out a hand.
"Pleasure to meet you." She said before pulling her hand back. "Nice to finally see who sweeps the floors here." Behind Misty, Jack and the Manhattan boys tensed, but Doc just rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, I know. It's a right pain ta git all da scuff marks off the stage from when you slip and fail." She said casually, fixing her sleeve. Spot looked up at the ceiling while Misty turned pink.
"So you've noticed me dancing?" She asked, smirking. Doc snorted-Misty looked appalled- and shook her head.
"In all honesty sweetheart, we'd hafta be blind not ta notice yer bumbling." She replied before patting Misty on the shoulder and pushing past her. "Cowboy, if yer wanting ta git good seats, wouldja follow meh?" Jack sniggered and nodded as Doc turned back to Spot. "Real sorry 'bout this Spot, but I don't think we have a big enough seat fer yer…partner's ego." Spot hid a smile and Misty turned an alarming shade of purple.
"Why do you get off on insulting me like this?" She cried, stamping her foot like a child. Doc sighed and straightened up, narrowing her eyes in a fearsome glare, and Misty flinched slightly.
"Tha's where I get off on tellin' ye what ta do." She said coldly. "Ye may be a back up chorus girl, but dis is my territory so back off and go sit in a corner." She smiled at Spot before roughly pushing past Misty to lead the Manhattan boys to their seats.
"Ye'll be wantin' ta get up an' dance wit' Medda I'm assuming." She said, pushing past a couple of unfamiliar newsies, before holding her hand out at the front row. "Buggers o' Duane Street, I give ye the best yer gonna get." She beamed at their expressions before darting up onto the stage and disappearing behind the curtains.
"So Cowboy, is dat the girl youse were tellin' us about? The Irish one who's sweet on-OW! What the hell was dat for?"
Translations:-in order-
My Love.
Good grief.
Sweetheart
Spot