Hey guys, if any of you read Dirty Little Secrets before, I welcome you back. After four years, and numerous re-reads, I realized I needed to make some changes. For that reason, I may need to change this story to an M rating since I am dealing with a slightly darker story. I have the first few chapters ready to go and I will be putting them out for you pleasures. Please let me know what you think!
DISCLAIMER: (though I am pretty sure disclaimers are completely unneeded in Fanfictions..) If you recognize it… I do not own it. If you don't recognize anything, go slap yourself.
Chapter 1: Reunion
Emma woke up to the smell of stale cigarettes and musky cologne. The morning was always the worst. When customers were there, she could laugh and smile, pretend like everything was wonderful. But in the quiet musings of the morning, dark thoughts would enter her mind. She tried to avoid them when counting her hard earned tips, she tried as she washed the dirt away in the cold bath, she tried as she nibbled on the left over stale bread from the night before.
Sometimes it would help. Sometimes she could convince herself that she was happy. She had a warm roof over her head, free food, and a few friends. It was more than most orphaned girls had. So what if she had to sell herself each night?
She absent mindedly played with the band around her finger. It had once belonged to her mother many years ago. Life hadn't always been this way for Emma. She had a family once. A wonderful mother, a loving father, and a brother who was her only friend in the world. Life seemed so prefect. Her mother passed away when she was ten. It had been a fairly cold winter that year. Her mother had miscarried a baby and then was attacked with a bout of pneumonia. Her body just couldn't take it. Emma could remember her brother carrying her back to their room and reading some book to help her fall asleep. It was odd, but she couldn't remember the book. It was a thought that constantly nagged at her. Why she needed to remember didn't seem to matter, but she had always felt like it was an important detail.
After their mother had passed away, their father began to drink. He would lose himself in a rage, so distraught over the loss of his wife. He started to get violent with her brother. At first he would slap him, then cry and beg for forgiveness. One day, he just stopped apologizing. He started punching, then beating. Her brother couldn't take it anymore.
One night, he woke Emma up and said he was leaving, said he was going to become a newsie. Emma could remember begging him to take her with him. But, since he had never seen their father lay a hand on Emma, he told her to stay. Little did he know, every night, she was forced into a hell as her father began laying his hands on her as her brother slept.
She wanted to tell her brother. She wanted to run away with him. But she was so ashamed and afraid of what might happen. Her brother promised to come back just as soon as he had made enough money to support them. But he never got the chance.
The next morning, her father dragged her down to Mrs. Ada's, over in Brooklyn, and left her to the dogs. He showed back up a few days later, demanding some of her earned money. When she refused, he dragged her out into the street and beat her. It was only a matter of minutes before he had been arrested. He was finally out of her life for good. But by then, Emma knew she had no place left to go, except back inside to Mrs. Ada's.
It had been painful for the first month, but eventually, Emma learned to just block out everything. She told herself that she was doing what she needed to survive. She had been working for Mrs. Ada since she turned 12, that was four long years ago, 1460 long nights. But once everything became a routine, it didn't seem so bad.
She would wake up and have free time to do as she pleased until lunch. Lunch time was when all of the wealthy businessmen would come in, looking for some 'entertainment' during their break. They were a fairly chaste group by brothel standards. Some would be looking for just the pleasurable company that came from card games and drinks, others would be looking for something more intimate.
After lunch, James the bartender would work with girls on self defense. Sporadically, they would get customers who can be a bit.. rough. Knowing how to protect yourself, long enough for James to come rescue you, was a helpful trait to have. Then, as night fell, the clientele would change. In the early evening, you'd find working men, trying to seek out exotic pleasures before rushing home to their wives and children. As the night progressed, the clients would come and go; some just to glance at the beauty of nearly naked females, some not being able to afford intimacies, some too drunk to be able to complete any desired tasks. Until, finally, the girls could retire to their rooms.
The only night that was truly bad, was Wednesday. Every Wednesday night, since her first week, she had the same customer come in. He never left any tip, but in the beginning, she didn't mind. She allowed herself to fall in love with him, believing him when he spoke of taking her away from that place. Anthony was the one good thing, for a time. She thought he loved her, but she was wrong, it wasn't love. After a year, she learned who he really was. He was some lackey that her father owed money too. Even from prison, her father was torturing her, using her for profit. She tried to stop him, but the more she fought, the more Anthony enjoyed it. But, Mrs. Ada told her to smile, to make him and all the customers believe she enjoyed it. So she did her job. She learned to put on a mask and lie.
For the first two years, she played with the idea of leaving to find her brother. She told herself that it was a fear of failure that kept her where she was, but deep down, she knew it was something more than that. She didn't know if she could ever face him again, too much had happened, too much had changed. She kept telling herself that if it was meant to be, they would simply find one another.
Occasionally, some newsboys would come in, looking to spend what earned money they could. She always looked around in a mixture of both hope and fear, wondering if one could be her brother. A few of the girls would head out to newsie parties on their free nights, but Emma was always too scared to go.
One morning, while reading through the paper, she looked down and gasped. Fate had found a way. There, on the front page, was a large picture of her brother in a group of newsies striking over in Manhattan. The caption read "Manhattan Newboys go on Strike with Leader Jack Kelly". Kelly had been their mother's maiden name.
Emma couldn't fight the tears that began to stream down her face. Mrs. Ada had just come around the corner to find the girl crying in her lounge.
"My dear, what ever is the matter with you? It is nearly lunch!" She spoke with an elegance that did not seem to fit in the brothel hall.
"Mrs. Ada, look! It's my brother! He is leading the strike over in Manhattan!" Emma cried out in pride.
"I have heard about those boys. It is a very brave thing they are doing. When is the last time you saw him?"
"Not since.." Emma trailed off, not wanting to sound ungrateful. Mrs. Ada had always provided so well for her girls.
"I see," Mrs. Ada patted the girl on her arm. "I'll make you a deal, go clean yourself up and get ready for your shift. I will start to look for a replacement. As soon as one is found, you can go and find your brother. Fair enough?"
"What?" Emma looked over at the matriarch in shock. "But I.. No, I'm fine, I don't need to.. What I mean is.."
"He is your family Emma, dear. You should go try and find him. And if it doesn't work out, you are always welcome to come back."
Mrs. Ada stood with a note of finality, leaving Emma to sit in confusion. She didn't know if she was ready to see him again, she didn't know if she would ever be ready.
It was just over a month when Emma's replacement was ready to take over. Leaving was more difficult that she had ever imagined. Many of the girls sneered at her, believing she thought herself too high and mighty to keep being a common whore. They didn't understand how hard it was to leave, how hard it was going to be to face the world.
But as her final goodbyes were given, Emma started her journey to find him. The warm summer air danced around her, enticing her to continue even though her feet were screaming in protest. As she walked through the streets of New York, her mind began to wander to the beautiful hues of orange and yellow encircling the world around her. She wasn't use to seeing this. Around this time of night, she was typically inside, preparing for the first batch of nightly customers.
What if he doesn't remember? What if he has forgotten me? Emma tried with all her might to force those thoughts out of her mind. Trying desperately to calm her nerves, she tucked a loose strand of honey blonde hair back behind her ear. As she rounded the last corner, she gasped...
Forcing her feet to move forward, she began a seemingly endless journey to a large brown wooden door with a tattered sign reading Newsboy's Lodging House hanging just above. Slowly, she began to turn the door knob, part of her almost silently wishing it would be locked. Wishing this to be over. Just wishing.
Of course, lady luck decided not to grace Emma with her presence. Not only was the door not locked, she opened it to find a room completely packed with newsies. Part of her was in shock that there were so many, and despite her best efforts, another gasp snuck out past her lips.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" A man about Emma's age walked over to her. He wasn't much taller than her, but his Italian features seemed stark and life-worn. Emma began to glance around, trying desperately not to cringe at everyone's sudden interest in her. She feared they would be able to see through her street clothes and see nothing but a whore.
"Umm... Hello. I'm trying to find a newsie."
"Well, you came to the right place lady." The young man spit in his hand and held it out to her. "The names Racetrack."
"You have got to be kidding me." She lifted one eyebrow, looked down into his spit filled hand and stared back at him in disgust. After everything, she was not in the mood to be pleasant.
Giving her a small smirk, and surprisingly not taking offense to her attitude, Race simply wiped his hand on his pant leg before looking back over at her and chuckling. "You got some spirit in you, I like that. So who are you looking for?"
"Jack Kelly. Have you ever heard of him?"
A few of the men around her began murmuring to one another, but Emma couldn't quite single in on any one muted conversation. Race however just continued to looked at her, only now, with slight suspicion. "Jack? Yeah. I've heard of him. What are you looking for him for?"
"For all intensive purposes, consider me one of his... old friends."
"Old Friends?" a voice boomed from behind her. Quickly, Emma turned around. She found her nose less than an inch away from a tall dark figure. As the light around him began to fade in she noticed a dim red bandana tied across his neck. The strap of what looked to be a cowboy hat draped in the same location, pinning the red fabric in place. As her eyes continued upward they finally locked on to a set of green eyes that matched hers. His light auburn hair fell low enough to almost block her view of them, but she still recognized those eyes. She had found him. After all this time, she had finally found him! He towered over her, confusion blanketing his face. Tried as she did, she couldn't find the strength to do anything more than stare. So many emotions, so many memories, her mind was stuck in a complete state of disarray.
"Hello? Are you still alive in there?" Jack began to poke her shoulder, trying to get her to focus. Suddenly she began to fight to hold the tears begging to fall.
It felt like it took every breath of strength she had, but finally she found a way to force a word out. A single word. "Francis?" At that, the tears she had been desperately clinging on to, slowly began to fall.
At first, Jack looked at her a bit taken back. Then he began to squint his eyes, as though he was having trouble focusing on her. "E…Emma?" he tentatively questioned.
At the sound of her name from his lips her tears began to fall harder. She flung herself at him, gathering him up in the tightest embrace she could muster. She had found him, and he did remember her.
The murmured conversations surrounding her began to pick up again, but this time she didn't care what any of them had to say. Slowly Jack began to pull away from her only slightly to give her a quick inspection. "Emma? It is really you! What happened to you? Where did you go? I tried to find you but I was too late!" He once again drew her into him, as though afraid she was going to disappear before his very eyes.
Emma was smiling so hard and trying to wipe her tears away when she began to think about how exactly she was going to answer those questions. Her planning had never got her this far; part of her truly never believed she would find him again. Suddenly someone behind her cleared their throat in an attempt to get some attention. She was quick to register this amazingly perfect distraction and turned to see every newsies staring at the couple with utter confusion.
"Guys, this is Emma! My baby sister!" Jack eagerly explained to the boys. Emma glanced over in Jack's direction and gave him a wary look.
As everyone began to return to their own private conversations, Jack ushered her back outside to the front step so they could talk more privately.
"So Emma, What happened once I left?" he asked, looking at her with concern in his eyes. She took a deep breath to collect her thoughts, not sure how to respond. Jack took her silence as pain and placed an arm around her shoulder. "I tried to come back for you, I promise I did. I went to the house about two weeks later and it was empty. There was a policeman there and he told me dad got himself arrested."
At this, Emma shot her head up. Afraid of how much Jack knew or didn't know, she tentatively asked, "Do you know why? Do you know what happened?"
Jack gave her a confused look. "How do you not know what happened? He was found beating up some prostitute in Brooklyn." He snorted before adding, "Talk about scum beating on scum."
Emma looked away and closed her eyes. He didn't know the truth. And judging from his 'scum' remark, she could never tell him.
"Where did you go? They didn't send you to an orphanage did they?" A look of guilt filled his face.
"No, no. They found me and sent me to live with Grandma Sullivan down in…" Emma froze mid-lie, she couldn't remember where their grandmother lived.
"Pennsylvania?" Jack supplied.
"Yeah, sorry, it has just been a long day, you know, on the train and all," Emma looked away.
"Emma, if I had known..." Jack began slowly, "I should have taken you with me. I never should have left you with him."
Trying desperately to end the conversation in fear that he would become suspicious, Emma turned to him and just smiled. "So, Jack? Where did that name come from?"
Taking her hint to drop the conversation, Jack started chuckling. Looking around to ensure no one was listening; he turned back to her and started whispering. "I saw the name inside one of these western books I had with me. But don't tell anyone."
"So… I guess that means you want me to call you Jack, not Francis," she said with a smile and he began nodding back at her sheepishly. "Well Jack, nice to meet you." She held out her hand in a joking manner.
"Well come on." Jack stood up and grabbed her outstretched hand to pull her upright. "Let's go get you a bunk. Tomorrow, I'll show you the ropes!"
"The ropes?" Emma repeated in confusion.
"Well you are here to be a newsie aren't ya? Unless you have a better job lined up." Jack teased.
Emma looked back into the street to consider her options. She didn't know what she wanted to do. Her goal had been to just come find her brother. But now she didn't want to risk losing him. Slowly, she turned and entered the lodging house, mentally saying goodbye to her old life; if only for a little bit.
Author's Note:
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