A/N: Welcome to the sequel! I'm so happy with the responses I got from the original, and I had no idea we'd be right back here again. Anywho, Manhattan Home is sequel to A Flower in Brooklyn, which you know already since it's in the summary lol. But if you haven't read it, I suggest you do before reading this one, just so you are more with the history and characters. You will also be spoiled for the end of it if you read the full summary below…
Summary (SPOILERS): We last left our two characters, Spot and Gabby, at the train station in Brooklyn after quite a mess of dilemmas. Even though Gabby had betrayed Spot's love and gotten him into a few "predicaments", she managed to wiggle her way out of it and Spot let go of his desire to leave Gabby, and stayed with her. Not to mention, she was carrying Brooklyn's baby. Now, the happy couple has moved to Manhattan where they are determined to begin a new life. Spot has decided it's time to say goodbye to his paper-peddling days (tear) to go out into the real world, with Gabby at his side and baby in her tummy. But is all well in paradise? Will the two young lovers give in to the anxiety of making it completely on their own? Or, worst of all, will the past remain in the past as is should be? I guess we will find out! Before you begin, know that this piece will probably not be as long as the first, and it will take a much deeper look into Spot's and Gabby's personalities. It does not involve as much "action" as Flower, but it is packed with emotional character struggle. But, given its setting, we will get to see a lot of certain Manhattan newsies! Sooo, read, review, and enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, Disney owns Newsies, and I am not making money from this. Sigh…it just gets sadder every time I write it.
Prologue
The eighteen-year-old rushed through Manhattan as carefully as he could in the middle of the night. The seventeen-year-old girl attached to his side could not afford to wait much longer. He jogged her through the nearly vacant streets past the closed shops and crawling night bars. He felt an odd combination of feelings: anticipation, excitement, and, most strangely, fear.
"Breathe, breathe…we'll make it."
The girl nodded through short, anxious breaths. She trusted him. Ever over the shouting noises of the boisterous underworld, he could still hear her uneasiness. With one arm around her waist, he directed them through the three blocks to their doctor. Beads of sweat formed at his brow and hairline. His heart had jumped up his throat only to provide a pulsating annoyance beneath his Adam's apple.
As if time had actually been pulled back to lengthen the journey, the boy—man—found it all too frustrating to make it to the doctor. They could not stand to wait any longer than they had. Finally, at half-past twelve on the very early morning of March tenth, 1901, they made it.
"Yes?" Dr. Berry, a middle-aged man inquired. He took one look at the young couple and snapped to his senses. The girl's enormous pregnant belly and terrified look in her eyes turned his brain to medical mode.
"Oh!" Dr. Berry exclaimed and rushed them into his office, calling for the midwife to join them. He sat her down on a stuffy chair not five feet from the door.
They boy crouched down beside the girl while the doctor and his assistant prepared the modest clinic in the other room.
"Love you," he told her quietly while clutching her hand within both of his.
She nodded and whispered the same responses through quickened breaths. The midwife entered the small lobby and ushered the girl carefully into the room.
"'Scuse me," the boy said to the midwife once the expecting mother was safe in the doctor's hands. "Take…take care 'a her. Please…that's my Gabby."
The midwife smiled warmly. She nodded and rubbed the boy's arm reassuringly. "Don't worry, Mr. Conlon. She'll be just fine." She turned and swiftly turned to the room.
Spot stood staring at the closed door in front of him and heard nothing but his heart constricting regular beating patterns. In a few, long hours he would have a baby boy or baby girl to cradle in his own arms. His whole world would change, to be centered on that baby. Nothing would be the same after tonight.
Three hours later and at least four dozen paces around the clinic later, the door to the delivery room creaked open. Spot stopped dead in his tracks and his bottom lip fell open. There, wrapped almost invisibly amongst white blankets in the midwife's arms, was his baby. His heart was now so far up his throat, he feared that if he spoke, it would fall right out. He stood motionless and utterly speechless as she approached him ever so carefully, a look of warmth shining in her eyes.
Spot then discovered movement; his lungs deflated into an excited exhale and he cracked a quivering smile. He stepped toward the surprisingly peaceful infant lying in the woman's arms. It did not cry or scream, and it almost scared Spot.
"Want to hold your first child?" she asked.
Smiling gingerly an awe-stricken grin as a reply, she placed the baby so that Spot held his child. She situated his arms and hands quickly and securely, and a tear came to her eye.
Spot gazed back at the beautiful bundle of innocent joy before him. Never in his entire life had he seen a more perfect human being. He could barely think, let alone talk or move. The infant was about the length of his forearm, with its skin a light pink, and light brown hair atop its head.
"It's a boy, isn't it?" Spot asked, once able to come back down.
The woman smiled at him, giving him a small nod.
"I knew it."
He walked around the room a little bit, taking it all in. The tiny boy squirmed slightly in his father's arms as the two of them stepped about the space. Ten minutes later the doctor opened the door, and Gabby lay exhausted and fatigued in the bed. He made his way over to her.
"It's a boy, isn't it?" Gabby asked, her eyes only halfway open while she made to sit up against the bed. Her face was flushed pink, her hair a light brown mess of tangles against the pillows.
Spot nodded as he approached her bedside, unable to take his eyes away from the child.
Gabby breathed a smile. "I had a feeling it would be."
Spot sat down at the edge of the bed and handed the baby boy so that it rested comfortably in Gabby's arms. He leaned over and kissed her glistening forehead; for if he just sat there gazing at the two most important people in his life, he felt he might do something that was very un-Spot-like: cry.
"Have you picked any names?" Dr. Berry inquired from the doorway.
Gabby looked at the peaceful baby in her arms. "Noah."
"I like it," answered Spot immediately.
"Noah Patrick Conlon."