Disclaimer: I have no ownership over Newsies but goodness, if I did things would be different. :)
Full summary: Robert Fitzpatrick was the leader of the Brooklyn newsies of the 1890s. When an old rival returns to challenge his reign and get vengeance for his fall, he is forced to leave town, change his name, and take his little sister Michelle on a ride she never knew existed. Eventual SnitchxOC.
And Your Bird Can Sing
"Rob–Rob, wake up! We gots somebody at da door!" squeaked Michelle Fitzpatrick, shaking the shoulder of her older brother Robert. He opened his eyes lazily, rolling them when he saw Michelle's tiny figure standing over him. Her green eyes were wide with innocence, the ignorance of the tough world to come for her, of the struggle she was to face alongside him in the economic downfall of the newspaper world. She took after him as he took after a combination of their parents, their mother's inky-black, soft-textured hair from her Celtic origins, their father's almond-shaped green eyes from his Irish origins. Robert edged out of bed with a groan, brushing by Michelle to greet whomever it was bothering them at the door. He pulled back the knob to find a boy near his age with messy blond hair staring back at him, panting with a panicked expression on his face.
"Rob," gasped Joseph, grabbing at his side. "Rob, we got trouble." Robert tensed, his primal instincts going into overdrive. He stepped out of the apartment his family shared and shut the door lightly behind him, making sure to keep Michelle within.
"What's going on, Joe?" Robert hissed, not minding the fact that a well-dressed daughter of some affluent lawyer next door was glaring at him for conversing in public with some hooligan friend of his in his pajamas. Street trash could never be trusted, she reasoned. Joseph, on the other hand, tipped his typical newsboy hat to her nervously before Robert shook him hard, glowering at him. "Tell me, Joe, what's the matta?"
"Our territory's in trouble again, Rob," Joseph stammered, and Robert's blood ran cold in his veins. He slumped against the doorway, his heart hammering against his ribcage. Not again. "Lester Raymond, from the Bronx, he's back in town and the word on the street is he's lookin' to take Brooklyn again, wit' an army an' everything." Robert struck the wall beside him with an angry fist, memories flooding back into his head of the turf wars his newsies had had with those of his Bronx rival, Lester Raymond. Robert nearly got killed by Lester Raymond but also had gained his spot as the King of Brooklyn. Being a member of the newsboys was a seldom profitable business.
"Bulldog's lookin' for me, ain't he?" Robert asked, gnashing his teeth together. Joseph's eyes were fearful as he glanced between Robert and the door. "Tell me straight, Joe, he's comin' for me, again, ain't he?"
"Yeah, Rob, he's comin' for ya," Joseph said softly, his stomach turning uncomfortably. "We got messages from him an' all that's sayin' he'll do anythin' and take down anybody that tries ta get in his way, an' he said..." Joseph seemed as though he was in pain to continue: "...he said the foist ones he's comin' for is you and you'se family." Robert's fists clenched and his eyes narrowed. No way is he getting around Mama, Papa, or Michelle. Not this time.
Robert vividly recalled the last time that Lester had come around to Brooklyn. He had jumped Robert and a few of his newsies the first time, and terrorized Michelle, leaving notes threatening her and their family's safety on the door of their apartment. Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick had spoken to the police many times, but a lower-middle-class family being threatened by the newsboy wars of New York was the last thing that the bulls wanted to get a hold on. Michelle hadn't been the same afterwards, scared out of her wits until he and the rest of the Brooklyn newsies had driven out Lester and his goons. Still, when faced with danger, Michelle had a tendency to shut down and close people out, especially Rob.
"No," Robert said firmly, his blazing eyes meeting those of Joseph's. "He ain't gonna get anywheres near my ma, or pa, or Michelle. Listen'a me, Joe, we can't let him get around nobody, alright? I'se gonna meet him up one-on-one and we'se gotta settle it, just one-on-one. I can't let him getta hold on me family, Joe. Or none'a you'se guys. You'se all is like me family. I can't let none'a you'se go down fer me." Joseph nodded understandingly, and Robert rubbed his knuckles.
"Boss...whaddaya want us to do if...if they don't listen, and we loses a man, Rob? Whatta we gonna do if we loses somebody?" Joseph asked erratically, nearly losing his senses in a panic. Robert shook his head, refusing to listen to Joseph's insane, impossible ideas.
"We ain't gonna lose anybody so don't you getcher long-johns in a twist, Joe," Robert growled adamantly, grabbing the smaller counterpart's collar and shoving him up against the wall opposite him. "Dis is my fight. Not yours, not Trip's or Ace's or nobody's. 'S my fight, 'nd I'll handle it on me own. An' if you or da boys try ta stick you'se noses in any of dis, I'll soak you good and hard. Understood?" Joseph nodded his head slowly up and down, only gaining his breath back after Robert took his hands away from his throat.
It was at that moment that Michelle chose to open the door to glance anxiously at her older brother's strained, sweaty face. He pretended to smile, and patted Joseph on the shoulder in a faux casual manner. Michelle poked her face out of the door, her dark, wet hair hanging about her face fresh from a good bath she'd just had. Her eyes were opened, wide as usual, but only Robert, who knew her better than anyone else, could read the new-found fear in them. Joseph pretended a smile.
"Mornin', Miss Michelle," Joseph said, in a smooth, charming voice. Michelle eyed him over quickly. "How'd you sleep the night, sweetiepie?" Michelle's pulpy cheeks turned a flashing red before she opened her mouth to answer.
"I slept okay, Mister Joe. Rob, Momma wanted to know if you'se was comin' in for breakfast right now. It's ready right now, ya know," she added bashfully; she had always had some kind of crush on Mister Joe ever since her big brother Rob started bringing him home for dinner every once in a while. Robert heaved out a big breath, stepping away from Joseph and joining his sister with a single backwards glance full of meaning.
"Yeah, I'm comin', Michelle. And Joe," he continued in an undertone, making sure that his little sister wouldn't hear, "keep tabs on all our boys and make sure none of 'em gets any tempted by the things Lester's got. You and me both know what he can do to a guy." Joseph nodded his head in understanding. He too had remembered the days when he and Robert had been seduced by the seemingly friendly ways of Lester Raymond, or Bulldog as he was called in the Bronx, and his girl friends, his so-called "Bronx Babydolls." Robert went into the apartment and tried to prepare himself for the upcoming battle, the final battle, he was sure of.
He didn't care, as long as this matter was settled once and for all, and as long as the ones he loved were kept out of it. Especially Michelle. Knowing her, the last thing she needed was Lester Raymond back in her life.