Beyond Tears

by Hello Dee

[FIXED] Eleanor Conlon's only goal is to see her brother one last time to tell him what she thinks of him. Brooklyn's leader or not, he is going to hear the only thing he won't want to. The truth. (By the way, this has nothing at all to do with Blood

Beyond Tears

A/N: Sorry, not much has been added to the story-line...everything has just been fixed. *smiles* Lots of thanks to Clink for helping me revamp the story into making some sense!

Brooklyn, New York, 1895

"No! I'se stayin' heah! You can't make me leave! I ain't gonna!" A small boned girl shouted irritatedly as she thrust her worn leather suitcase down. The north-bound wind howled behind her, and the waves hit the docks and stones alike with a crashing intensity, but the wind and sea were nothing compared the the determination in the girl's voice.

"Ya ain't got a choice! You'se going whetha ya like it or not!" Shouted a similarly small-boned boy as he brushed his warm brown hair back. Suddenly, his tone softened, and he licked his salt-tinged lips with frustration. "Ellie...I'se really wanted ya ta stay, too, but when ya picked dat last pocket while I was sellin' me papes, it was da last straw. Ya can't go around picking folks' pockets. What would I do if ya got caught and sent to da Refuge? What would Mama say? Ya know I'se want ya ta stay heah, but ya jus' can't."

"Thomas Michael Conlon! You'se da most awfah bruddah dat I'se know! I can't believe you'se sending me away wit strangers!" Ellie continued to shout. She was outraged that he would even suggest such a thing.

"Dey ain't strangers. Dey'se family. You'se gonna live wit Aunt Meg, Mama's cousin in Connecticut. She married good, so yer gonna have a good livin'. Ya need ta loin how ta act respectable. Pickin' pockets ain't da kind of thing dat I'se want me sistah doin'. And besides, ya know I would nevah let anyone hoit ya." Thomas said, trying to reason with the girl. But he had never been very good with reasoning, which proved to be a mountain of an obstacle when it came to his sister.

"'Nevah let anyone hoit me, huh? Like ya neva let our Faddah hoit me?" Ellie said, her pale pink lips curling to a sneer. Her father was long gone, buried or in prison for all she cared. But she still remembered the smell of alcohol coming from his warm breath, and barely stopped herself from shuddering at the memories.

Thomas' blue-gray eyes turned into a slate gray from his sister's remark. Hurt, he tried to give her the coldest look he could manage. Which would have worked on anyone else. But Ellie knew her brother, and seeing him trying so hard to cover up his vulnerability, Ellie felt instantly sorry. With sincere regret, she leaped into her brother's arms.

"Oh Tommy, I'se sorry! I didn't mean it...I sweah! I know it wasn't yer fault dat our Faddah did dat ta me." She said forcing herself not to cry. She scolded herself for always saying things rashly, and let go of her brother and backing a few feet away from him.

"S'okay, Ellie, I'se know ya didn't mean it. But I'se also know dat I can't take care of ya wit me job. I can't sell papes and watch ya at da same time, and I'se know ya can't take care of yaself...afta all, you'se only 10." He said, forcing a smirk.

"And you'se only 11! But I'se still da best pickpocket dis side of New Yawk, and you'se ain't da best anything!" She said, still persisting to be argumentative. Her arguments were mostly short-lived, especially when the opposition was a loved one.

"Ellie," Thomas said with a sigh, as if he were to start something of a lecture. Thinking better of it, he said "Come heah," instead.

With great reluctance, Ellie obeyed, traveling across the creaking boards of the Brooklyn docks.

Reaching in his pants pocket, Thomas brought out a small, battered box.

"It's a goin' away present. For ya ta rememba me" He told her, trying to avoid eye contact by looking at the ground.

"Don't expect me ta jus' go off wit people I don't even know jus' 'cause you'se butterin' me up, Tommy," Ellie warned. "I'se not so easy ta win ovah."

Shoving the box at his sister, Thomas said impatiently, "Jus' open it, Ellie, 'fore I decide to change me mind."

Glaring at her brother, Ellie opened the box. Seeing the little silver lock connected to a delicate silver chain, she gasped. After a few seconds of blatant staring, she finally managed to choke out something. "It's-it's Mama's chain!" She exclaimed, still surprised.

"Ya rememba, huh?" Thomas said easily. "Ellie?"

"Ellie," Emily Conlon told her 6 year old daughter, "'dis lock belonged to me Muddah and now it belongs to me. Some day, I'se gonna give it ta ya bruddah, so he can give it to a goil, like me Faddah gave it to me Muddah." She continued, while putting her long brown tresses up and her sparkling gray eyes looking fondly at the a smallish silver lock. "Me Faddah told me dat when me Faddah gave it to her he told her it was 'cause she had da key ta his heart." Emily continued fondly.

"But Mama, wouldn't dere be a key, den?" Ellie wondered.

Emily smiled at her daughter's intelligence. "Yes, Ellie, dere is a key."

"Does Daddy have it?" Ellie asked innocently.

"No, Ellie, ya Daddy doesn't have it."

"Then...where's da key?" She wondered out loud.

Without answering her, Thomas pulled out the key from underneath his shirt. While Ellie was busy looking awe struck, Thomas asked her "So...ya gonna go now?"

Still upset about the idea, Ellie frowned, unsure. 'But...it's Mama's necklace' She thought to herself. 'Ya know dat Mama always wanted Tommy to give da necklace to someone he really loved...like, a wife or somethin', not jus' his sistah.' She stood stiffly on the wooden planks, wondering what she should do. She didn't want to become a lady. She wanted to become a newsie and sell newspapers, like all her friends. But...if her brother wanted her to that much, then how could she say no? Finally she gave him her answer.

"Tommy...I'se gonna go. I ain't gonna nevah like it, but I'se goin' anyway. But I can't keep da necklace. Ya know mamma wanted ya ta give it ta a goil that ya really love...like, a wife or something. I'se can't take it." She said firmly, her jaw set.

For the next half an hour, Thomas tried in vain to get his sister to take the necklace, and she continued to refuse. Finally, he came up with an idea. "Lissen, Ellie, if ya really don't want to keep da necklace, den fine. But can ya keep it for me? Until ya come back." He said, trying to use his powers of persuasion.

Thinking about it for a minute, Ellie agreed. "Okay...as long as it's jus' ta watch it for ya." She told him.

With a little smile, Thomas told Ellie, "Ya betta get going. You'se got a train ta catch."

"Yeah, I know. Can ya say 'bye ta all da boys for me?" She asked Thomas. 'Sorry fer not saying 'bye, Frankie.' When he nodded she said "T'anks. I'se gonna miss ya, Tommy." And then gave him a quick hug.

After a minute or so, Thomas shrugged off his sister's embrace to take on last look at her. His eyes glanced over her thick, honey colored tresses and drank in her bright eyes, which seemed to change from gray, to green, depending on her mood. Right now it was a slightly sad and angry gray. For one of the many times in his life, he once again noticed how different their appearances were, and once again it struck him that she looked so much like their mother, and that he looked like their father. 'Godamn da filt'y bastard.' He thought with coldly. His father was a handsome man, but no matter what his father looked like, he hated it when people mentioned the similarity.

"Ya betta get goin', Ellie. You'se got a train comin' in soon." He told her again, this time without much emotion.

***

Manhattan, New York, 1900

Eleanor Margaret Stattson stepped gracefully out of the Manhattan train yards and into the busy streets of New York. Hiking up the skirt of her dress in a most lady-like manner, she slowly walked around drinking in the busy streets and noisy crowds. As a fierce wind blew, she held onto her fashionable white hat that was laced with blue to be sure it wouldn't blow away. As the wind started to slow down, she let go of the hat and smoothed out her satin blue dress.

She stepped onto the streets with 10 dollars and some loose change in her pocket and no other belongings to speak of. The blond girl frowned as her fashionable, though painful shoes, started to hit the cobblestone in a rhythmic beat. 'Perhaps I shouldn't have been so rash, and left in such a hurry...' she thought rationally. She shook her head to clear her thoughts from the things that had been embedded in her for the past five years, knowing fully that she couldn't have stayed in that house another minute.

"Excuse me, miss?" a masculine voice said from behind her.

Turning around, she saw a tall boy with greasy brown hair standing there with a stack of newspapers.

"Would ya like ta buy a pape? It's only a penny a pape." He said charmingly.

Studying his black cowboy hat and red bandanna, she felt as if she recognized him. "No thank you," she said politely.

"Please, miss? Me muddah's sick and I got a liddle bruddah ta look afta." He said pleadingly, and brought out a little boy about 8 or so, who had been hiding behind him.

"That's too bad." Eleanor said quietly, while thinking 'Newsie liar,' and again told him "No thank you."

Smiling entirely falsely, he tipped his hat politely and turned around and walked away with the little boy. For the next few seconds she thought about it, 'I know him...come on Ellie, who is he? That hat...the bandanna....it's almost like he's a-'

"Cowboy!"

The boy's head snapped around looked at her curiously. "Heya...goil, how'd ya know me name?" he said, losing his previous formalities. She should have guessed that politeness wasn't the boy's first nature.

"Who's da goil, Cowboy?" The little boy whispered loudly, tugging on the older boy's shirt.

"Does it really matter, Cowboy? I need to speak with Tho - Spot Conlon. Do you know where he is?" Eleanor asked the boy with barely concealed agitation. 'Spot,' she reminded herself. 'That's what the newsies called him before I left,'

"Yeah, I'se knows wheah Conlon sells." He asked cockily, pushing back his hair, and knocking his hat off his head in the process. "Whatdaya do for me if I show ya to him? Ya wouldn't even buy a lousy pape."

Sighing, Eleanor said "Alright. What if I buy a newspaper from you?"

Grinning, the cowboy said "Make it 5, and we'se got a deal."

"What am I going to do with 5 newspapers!" Eleanor exclaimed. 'Frankie always drove a hard bargain,' she thought to herself.

"I dunno...sell 'em?" Cowboy suggested, still grinning. "Hey, I don't even know yer name! 5 papes and a name, and I'll help ya."

Reluctantly, Eleanor agreed. "Here's your five cents," she said, bringing out a nickel.

After waiting a little bit, the cowboy said "And yer name?"

Eleanor started thinking fast. 'I've always hated the name Eleanor, and I can't use Picks, but Cilla always used to call me-' "Nora." She said easily. "You may call me Nora." Eleanor, now Nora said, and they started walking.

"See now? Was dat so hard?" Cowboy asked. "By da way, da name's Kelly. Jack Kelly, and dis heah is Les. Sometimes I'se called Cowboy. But you'se already knows dat." He continued conversationally. "By da way, how'd ya know me name?"

Giving Jack a cold look, Nora replied "I would tell you...but that wasn't part of the deal."

***

At around noon, Jack had finished selling all his papers and asked Nora if she wanted to eat at Tibby's, a small, newsie-infested diner.

"It doesn't really matter." Nora replied coolly.

Grinning, Jack led her to Tibby's, and said "Maybe Spot'll be dere. Sometimes he comes heah ta tawk ta me."

Raising a skeptical eye-brow, Nora asked "And what makes you so special?" She asked.

"Hey now! I'se happen ta be da leadah of da Manhattan newsies! Ya betta watch what you'se say ta me, goil," Jack warned, as he grinned playfully at her.

"Gee, are you threatening little ol' me?" Nora asked in a mock innocent voice, getting into an old routine of theirs, that Jack obviously didn't remember.

"Nah, me friends would soak me if dey thought I'se was bein' any less den respectable to a fine lady like yaself. And since we'se heah, I'se betta behave meself, huh?" Jack said, as they walked into the diner.

***

Spot Conlon looked up from his meal to see what all the commotion was about. Glancing around the diner, his gaze finally landed at the door. 'So...seems like Jacky-boy's got himself a new goil.' He thought as Racetrack whistled and called out "Heya Jack, I'se thought you'se were still seein' Sarah. Whatcha doin' wit dis doll? Or maybe we should ask her what she's doin' wit you."

"Lissen up everybody, dis heah is Nora. She's me guest, so be nice." Jack announced.

"When ain't we'se nice, Cowboy?" Snipeshooter asked with a crooked smile, as a few other comments were made.

Normally, Spot would probably be saying something, too. But his heart wasn't into it today. His brows furrowed, thinking of the small brunette with large brown eyes that was taken away from him too soon. He missed Addie so much that it hurt. Lately he felt so much like a ghost, floating around Brooklyn and Manhattan aimlessly until he found Addie, which was impossible, of course. Studying the girl absently, Spot could see what all bother was about. She was really pretty with her golden hair put up under a hat and with a few wisps falling over her cold gray eyes. She sure was nice looking, but she looked pretty snobby to Spot. He hated prissy girls like her, who thought they were better then everyone else. She wasn't at all like his Addie.

***

Nora wandered around the small diner until she saw familiar warm brown hair and cool blue-gray eyes. Feeling the knots gathering in her stomach, Nora gasped softly. For the past five years she rehearsed over and over what she would say to him when she saw him again, but nothing compared to actually standing so close to him. Instead of doing or saying any of the things she rehearsed, Nora bolted out the door, not even noticing her hat falling off.

After she had left, the newsies looked around confusedly. "Did we do somethin' wrong?" Les Jacobs asked curiously to Jack.

"Nah, she's probably jus' shy or somethin'." Jack said, as he glanced at the door and went to sit down with Racetrack, Kid Blink and Mush. Trying to make sure he didn't look like he was worried, he casually looked at the door again and made an excuse to go.

Spot eyed what Jack was doing and wondered briefly what the girl actually meant to his friend. He started to walk out the door when he noticed the fancy hat on the floor. Gingerly picking it up, Spot eyed it, looked in the direction in which the girl had run, and shrugged. Taking the hat with him, Spot started to walk towards Brooklyn, not noticed by anyone except the two newsies in the corner of the cozy diner.

***

Jack ran as fast as he could to see if he could catch up to Nora. He didn't know her, but he had a feeling she couldn't defend herself with that mouth of hers. He continued to run, until he ended up in Central Park. It was there that he saw her. She was sitting on a bench, looking longingly at the pigeons as they flew off when the bustles of people walked busily though the streets. As she was distracted, he walked to her from her side. Touching her bare forearm, she jumped with surprise, anger and...fear.

Gray eyes flashing, Nora exclaimed "What are you doing? Don't touch me! Don't you ever touch me again!"

"Sorry...I'se sorry! I was jus' wonderin' why ya ran out like dat." Jack said. "Ya know...Spot was dere. But ya ran off so I didn't have a chance ta intraduce ya."

"Oh, was he?" Nora said, calming down slightly, and the slightest amount of uncertainty crept into her voice. "Well, maybe next time."

"Would ya like ta go back ta Tibby's? Don't worry, da boys won't hurt ya or nothin'," Jack said with a small grin.

'You can do this, Nora...you have to.' Collecting herself as best as she could, Nora replied "Of course...since Spot Conlon is there, that is."

Grinning ear to ear now, Jack extended his arm for Nora to take. Nora gave him a look and said coolly "I'm perfectly capable of walking to Tibby's without you escorting me, Cowboy."

Jack saluted smartly and they walked to Tibby's.

***

Racetrack once again looked up, and saw Jack and the girl walk through the doorway of Tibby's.

"Heya Jack, I thought you'se were gonna go back ta sellin'." Kid Blink commented to Jack loudly.

"Huh?" Jack asked stupidly. "Oh...uh, dey ran outta papes at da Centah." The cowboy continued lamely. Changing the subject easily, he asked "Hey, did any of you guys see Spot anywheah?"

Pie Eater and Snoddy had been sitting in their usual booth, and having been talking, they only heard Jack's last sentence. Trading looks with each other, each thinking of what happened a little while ago. "Yeah, we'se seen 'im go. I t'ink he's gone ta Brooklyn." Pie Eater said finally.

"I'se t'ink's took da goil's hat, too." Snoddy piped in.

"'The 'girl' has a name." Nora said with a glare.

"Nora, calm down, goil." Cowboy whispered fiercely. "T'anks Pie, Snoddy" he said, with a nod, and he pulled her arm.

Feeling his hand through her thin sleeve, Nora jerked away.

Sighing, Jack told her "Alright already, let's go."

***

Reaching Brooklyn, Jack ran his hand through his slick brown hair, and thought regretfully how he and Nora hadn't said more than two words to each other on the whole way there. "Well, we'se heah." He announced lightly.

Glancing around the familiar docks casually, she finally saw what she was looking for. Blue-gray eyes, that were flashing with something Nora could not quite understand. It looked a lot like grief, 'But what would he have to grieve about?' she demanded, getting more and more irritated by the second. She looked down at her palms that still held the scars from years ago.

Thwap! The pointing stick that belonged to Mrs. Partkins wasn't only used for pointing, as all the girls of Harding's Academy for Girls knew. She especially liked using it when naughty little girls talked back.

"I hope this leaves a scar, so it will remind you that little girls should be seen, not heard." The elderly woman told her reprovingly.

Jumping down from his pedestal, Spot walked over to them saying "Jacky-boy, watcha doin' in dis part of New Yawk?" While spitting in his hand, and extending it.

"Oh, I'se got someone who want's ta meet ya real bad," Jack said with a mischievous smile, spitting in his hand as well, and shaking Spot's.

Nora narrowed her eyes at that. 'He makes me sound like I'm one of those stupid little rich girls who have crushes on the great Spot Conlon.'

"Heya goil. Yeah, I rememba ya. You'se were at Tibby's. Nice ta meet ya." Spot said a bit on the cold side. He never was very good with strangers. Extending his hand somewhat stiffly he waited expectantly.

Edward Stattson cleared his throat loudly. "Eleanor, shake Mr. Collins' hand."

Ellie shrank back slightly at her uncle's tone and from the hand extended in front of her. She didn't want to shake Bradley Collins hand. Her breathing quickened at the thought of the boy, and what he did to her. No, she didn't want him to touch her at all.

But her uncle gave her that look. The look that said she'd be sent to the stables soon. Be sent to the horsewhip.

So she shook his hand.

Feeling rage build up inside of her, Nora clenched her fists at her sides, and without warning she slapped Spot in the face as hard as she could. At the impact Spot's head snapped to the side.

Spot was furious. No one hit Spot Conlon. No one. Not even a girl. It didn't help that he didn't know her. Cursing loudly, he felt ready to hit her.

Shivering, Nora saw him clench his fists and bring them up to his chest.

He clenched his fists and brought them up to his chest. Glaring with a cold glint in his blue-green eyes, Jonathan O'Reilly hit his daughter square in the face.

Crying, 7 year old Ellie couldn't do anything about her bloody nose or bruises. Her Mama and brother went out, and there was only her left at the house.

It was one of those rare instances when her Daddy came home. But he was drunk. And he had been itching to get into a fight from the time he was in the saloon. All Ellie could do was not scream, so the neighbors would hear in there little apartment building.

Later that day, Emily and Thomas Conlon came home to find Jonathan passed out on the floor, and Ellie crying and bloody in a corner.

Spot lowered his fists. He wasn't his father. He wouldn't hit a girl. Ever. Even one that probably deserved it.

"What the hell did you do that for?!" Spot asked with a voice like ice.

"For everything you put me through for the past five years, Tommy," Nora said, using her old nickname for him mockingly. "Come one, hit me. I know you want to Thomas O'Reilly."

Spot blinked once. 'Only two people know dat name, me muddah, faddah and-' "Ellie?!" he asked in surprise.

"Don't call me that." Nora said enunciating every word. "My name is Nora."

"What, not Picks?" Spot asked with a smirk. "Fine, I'll call ya Nora if ya call me Spot Conlon."

"Well if you prefer to have a dog's name, than that's your choice." Nora said, not smirking back.

"Now wait a minute-" Spot started.

"What are ya tawkin' about? And how da ya know hoir, Spot?" Jack asked with confusion.

"What Frankie, you don't remember Picks, 'da best pickpocket dis side of New Yawk'?" Nora asked with mock hurt.

Jack looked at Nora for a second. "Holy shit, Picks?!" Jack exclaimed.

Nora grinned humorlessly. "Good-day Jack, Spot. I must be on my way right now." Nora said politely, trying to walk out of the dock.

"Wait a second," Spot started, reaching out to grab her forearm. As he made contact with her skin, Nora visibly jumped.

Glaring daggers at Spot she said silkily "Don't touch me." And yanked her arm away from him. "Just leave me alone! You've been doing such a good job of it for five years, I would think you'd be used to it by now."

"Well, El-Nora, you'se da one who came ta me. Don't ya forget dat." Spot said coldly.

"Yes, well, is it my fault that you stole my hat? And since I have come here for my hat, it would be greatly appreciated if you give it to me." Nora finished easily, as if she hadn't come because she wanted to simply talk to him after so long, not to mention that she'd be getting away from Connecticut.

"Heah's ya damn hat." Spot said not losing the edge in his voice. "Now get da hell outta Brooklyn, don't come back."

Snatching the hat from Spot, Nora did a exaggerated curtsy and left promptly, with just a small rustle of her skirts.

When she was gone, Jack looked at Spot particularly. "What the fuck was that all about?!" He asked forcefully. He knew Spot had a temper, and he knew about Addie, but Nora was his family. And you don't kick family out.

"Eleanor dere gots a problem wit me, and if she don't wanna be part of me family anymore, den I'se ain't stoppin' hoir." Spot said flippantly.

"So what happened Spot? You've been worked up all day. Or are ya only all worked up because of ya sistah?" Jack asked, knowing Spot would make an excuse. He knew Spot didn't like to talk about Addie, and he sure as hell didn't want to talk about Nora.

"I...dere ain't nuttin' wrong wit me Jacky-boy. I just ain't all dat used ta seeing me sistah, dat's all." Spot said, letting nothing slip past his expressionless mask.

***

Running though the streets, Nora stopped suddenly. She was in Manhattan. Catching her breath, she composed herself. She felt like crying, but she knew she could not. She had spent the past five years crying over Thomas and because of him, and she would not let another tear fall for him. But maybe it was just that she had no more tears left. What she felt was beyond tears. How could she have thought that by simply coming to New York and seeing her brother, that all of her problems would simply disappear? It was idiotic. It was insane. It was indefinable love and hope.

'God,' she thought to herself. 'How could you have been so stupid?'

more to come!