A/N - For those of you who haven't been waiting for this for the last few weeks, this is actually the sequel to my story, Murmur. So if you don't want to be utterly confused, then you should probably go and read that first. To the rest of you, I hope you like the beginning. Sorry it's a little short, but you know me, my chapters will definitely get longer then this one. This is just to set the beginning up. I should hopefully be posting the next chapter up by next Friday (since I've actually already got half of it done) but I don't know if it will happen. I've got a busy week next week because of finals, senior trips, and graduation practice. I graduate on the 24th, so I'm hoping I get time in to write.

By the way, The New York Newsies Awards are announced on the 25th, I'll be sure to post the results on my profile if you're too lazy to go to the site. =)

Anyways, when I was going over the last few chapters of Murmur a few weeks ago, a friend of mine wanted to know what the story was about. I asked her if she had seen the movie Newsies. She hadn't even heard of it. She like what I told her about the fic so I sent her home with my copy of the movie and the printed out version of Murmur. She loved it! And she has officially become a fan of the Newsies world. Be proud of me, faithful readers, I have converted one more person into our still growing cult.

So, Aerica (pronounced Erica), this chapter is dedicated to you because of all those chats we had about what could/would/and should happen throughout Mumble. Love ya, girlie!

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Chapter One - Never

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The darkness surrounding me was almost overwhelming. I couldn't see anything, it was completely black. My breath started coming in short gasps. I started to panic. This had happened many times before, and I still never got over the feeling of being utterly alone in the dark. The sense of being alone where I couldn't see if something was coming for me. I scrunched my eyes closed and rubbed at them before widening my lids. The outline of the bed next to the one I was lying on came into focus. I shifted slightly against the warm body next to mine and relaxed against the wall behind me.

The hand against my back twitched and its owner pulled me further into their embrace. My frantically beating heart began to slow.

I was in the bunk room of the Brooklyn Lodging House. A place where no one, not even the men in my nightmares, could get to me. Not with a room full of tough-as-nails newsies surrounding my bed. And definitely not with their leader sleeping beside me.

My body molded to his and I nuzzled my face into his neck. For as long as I had been sleeping in his arms, his presence, mostly his scent, calmed me down the most after a nightmare. My eyes drifted closed as I inhaled deeply.

Cinnamon. I don't know how he smelled like the spice, he never came into contact with it, but that's what I breathed in. That and newspaper ink. He would forever smell like the papers he sold, there was no doubt about it. If it ever came down to the scent disappearing, I don't know what I would do. The two put together as a whole was the most calming thing in the world to me.

Spot Conlon shifted in his sleep and his grip around me tightened. I was surprised he hadn't woke up yet; he was usually awake before I was, waiting for me to jolt up and burst into tears. My night terrors hadn't ceased since the newsies won their strike against Pulitzer and Hearst. In fact, they had gotten much worse.

No longer was I sleeping soundly through the night. Four times is the most that I've woken up throughout a six hour period. Spot was always awake to comfort and reassure me that there was nothing for me to be afraid of.

But there was. Rumors that Shredder had survived the brutal attack of the King of Brooklyn had started surfacing recently and he was one to be feared, whether he was alive or not. His sharp features and red hair made an appearance the most in my dreams lately. Along with a dark haired, sunken faced man. My step-father, Robert Filly.

The most hated man in my mind made several appearances each night. It was a reoccurring dream, one that I woke screaming to an hour after I'd fallen asleep. Even dreams of Spot couldn't stop the tattered man from plaguing my mind and completely taking over my emotions. I would always live in fear knowing that he could scare me in my dreams as much as he did in real life.

I hadn't seen him since the night he had last raped me. Searches had been made for him, ones that Spot conducted and ones that Teddy Roosevelt himself ordered to be done. Robert hadn't been found, and still hasn't to this day.

Our last encounter played through my mind occasionally. Him buttoning up his pants and then slamming the door to my bedroom in Aunt Sara's apartment behind him. Me lying on the floor in pain, the pinkie and ring finger on my left hand fractured. The result of his boot slamming down onto my hand had me reliving the crunching sound whenever I looked at my fingers.

My eyes opened. Spot's tanned skin greeted my gaze and I flexed the digits. I sighed as the stiffness in the bones made two of my fingers only curve halfway into my palm. Doc couldn't fix it any better then he had. There was nothing he could do to make them the way they used to be.

I wish I could say that I wanted everything to go back to the way it was. Back when mother and father were still alive. But then I wouldn't have met Spot, the man that I had fallen in love with. If I were to wish everything bad that had ever happened to perish, then he would go, too. Nothing would ever be able to convince me to make any wish that involved Spot disappearing from my life... except, maybe, a wish that would get me my little sister back.

She was still missing, even after all this time. I watched the streets daily, hoping to catch a glimpse of her light green eyes and strawberry blond hair. Hair that was like our fathers and eyes just like our mothers. I listened to the noises of New York carefully, expecting to hear her biting remarks to something that was said to her. I never did. But that never stopped me from searching every face I passed by on the street.

I missed my sister. I missed her with all my heart. All the times she took care of me, even though she was five years younger, broke through my thoughts. Every single time she gave a childish giggle, gazed up at me with innocent eyes, talked with her slowly learning New York accent, and huddled up to me after a nightmare; It all hit me like I had run into a brick wall. I held back a sob. Soon enough though, my tears began soaking into Spot's bare skin

Seconds after the flood started, his fingers were rubbing them away.

"It's ok, Mads. I'se is 'ere. It's gonna be ok."

I licked my lips. The taste of my salty tears ran across my tongue as I bit my lip. "No it's not, Spot. It's been two years. I'm never going to see her again-"

"Shh," he interrupted me softly. "Ya will. It might not be taday or tamorrow, but you'se will see Misty 'gain."

I shifted more toward him and snuggled under his chin. "Do you promise?"

"Ah course I'se do," he said gently. I felt his lips brush against the top of my head. "An when 'ave I'se evah broke a promise?"

I slightly shook my head and rested my arm across his waist. My eyes drooped closed as I slowly nodded off. "Never."