Ragged Army

Summary: Reports of young children going missing has swept through New York City. No clues, no leads to where they are being taken and if they're still alive. Only one girl seems to be attuned to the voices of the missing children…the problem? Everyone thinks she's insane…

Chapter 2

*The day passed away swiftly and Asylum found herself at her usual spot in central park. Fang had gone off with Quarrel after lunch and Race did not usually sell the Evening Edition, though he had offered to come. She had politely declined, though the news of newsies and other children being stolen had upset her just a bit but for different reasons. Reasons concerning her horrifying and realistic nightmare.

Leaning back on her favorite bench she lightly tapped her boot on the ground as she contemplated said nightmare. It had begun to rain not long ago and her evening addition papers lay next to her, soaked through and utterly useless to her now. She, too, was soaked to the bone, but summer had yet to be over and it was still warm enough for her to just relax a little.

The rain fell quietly. While she loved the rain, she did miss the pretty sunsets that flushed red and pinks into the sky with the occasional splash of orange and gold. That, and the fact that she absolutely loathed when her boots and feet were soaked through.

Her eyes strayed from the green leaves of the trees to the wet newspapers next to her. The face of the boy on the front page was not familiar but the alley in which his body was found was familiar. Asylum closed her eyes as flashbacks from last night's nightmare assaulted her…the skittering of rats and mice…the occasional drip from the fire escapes…garbage and piles of old newspapers. These small details resonated with her, as if the last frame of Johnny's life had been engraved into her memory. The worst part was the dull throbbing she felt when she thought about the night stick smashing into his skull and the sickening crunch she could still hear as if she had been a witness in person.

Shivering, the memory leaving a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, she stood up. Tucking the wet papers under her arms, she began the trek back to Duane Street. She knew they'd never buy papers that wet back, so she deposited them in the closest alley and folded her arms across her chest, beginning to feel the cold seep in after the sun had set.

Asylum tried to push back the thoughts of the nightmare and focus on her family. She stopped at a shop on 7th avenue and purchased a bit of beeswax for Fang before heading home, feeling herself longing to be in the warmth and noise that was her newsie family. Sometimes she almost couldn't believe that the darkness that was her past was far behind her, that she had the future stretched out in front of her and the backing of all her boys. Absentmindedly, she reached under her hair to the back of her neck and itched at the number one that had been branded into her skin every year from the time she was six till she turned sixteen. Catching herself, she dropped her hand and pushed away the memories that came when she thought about her mark. There would be no wallowing, no pity party. She had her life and that in and of itself was a miracle under the circumstances.

Quickening her pace, she hurried through the streets only breathing a sigh of relief as the Lodging House came into view. That is until she came to the alley across from it and found herself abruptly stopping.

All at once, images assaulted her. Cold, dark cellar, iron bars, dripping water, and foul smells. Coughing, crying and the scuttle sound of rat nails against stone.

She grabbed her head and pushed away at the sights and smells that assailed her. There was nothing she hated more than these moments, though none had ever echoed inside her heart and reached to the depths of her soul as this.

Tears began pouring down her cheeks and she stumbled back, away from the alley. "No." Asylum murmured, trying to mentally force the images from her mind. "Stop!" She shouted as her foot found the edge of the sidewalk and she reeled backwards. Her back hit the cobble stoned ground, snapping her head against the ground.

Footsteps rang against the stones and stopped inches from her, "Asylum!" Race's voice exclaimed as he scooped her up bridal style. "Asylum, are you alrigh'?"

The dark haired girl gave a small moan as he carried her across the street and up the steps to the Lodging House door.

"Race, dis feels too familiar foah comfort." Mush called out, as soon as Race came in. The Italian shot a glare at the boy and continued up to the bunk room, only silently agreeing then that this was almost like what the educated folks liked to call 'déjà vu.'

"Catchya self a doll, aye, Race?" A voice asked from the poker table as Race stepped in with Asylum cradled in his arms.

He glanced up and met the Brooklyn King's eyes. "Nah, Spot. It's one of our newsies. Hey, Jack!" Race called, laying Asylum on the closest bed.

"Whatsa mattah, Race?" Jack asked, coming out of the washroom. He rushed over when he saw the girl, "What happened?"

Race ran a hand through his hair, glanced over at the poker table where the King of Brooklyn was sitting and pretending as if he wasn't interested and lowered his voice, "Ise went out foah a smoke and she was stumbling back from da alley across da street. Ya know da one dey found dat kids' body in dis aftahnoon? She muttered, 'no' and 'stop' and den she tripped ovah da curb and fell an' hit her head."

Asylum let out another groan and sat up nearly hitting her head on the bunk above her, "Race?"

Both Jack and Race turned back to her as Fang came running over, "Asylum! I beat Quarrel in marbles!" His grin faded slightly and he cocked his head, "What's da mattah?"

She gave a small smile, "That's wonderful!" Wincing, she threw a look at Race and shook her head slightly to let him know not to say anything, "Nothing's wrong, Fang. I'll be just fine." Ruffling his hair, she stood up, "Run along, I have to talk to Race and Jack."

As soon as Fang was out of ear shot, both Jack and Race turned to their only girl newsie, "What happened out dere, 'Sy?"

Gritting her teeth, she looked away from the two pairs of concerned, brown eyes only to meet a pair of familiar, cold silver-blues across the room. A bolt of electricity ran up her spine, making her stiffen. Could it be? She wondered silently as she glanced away quickly, "It was nothing…I'm just tired."

Asylum tried to go between them to head up to her attic room when Race caught her hand. "'Sy, I'm ya best friend. Youse can tell me."

Her eyes immediately strayed to the ones across the room. No look of recognition flashed in their depths and she mentally kicked herself. Of course he wouldn't remember her, but she remembered him. It was without a doubt the same boy from so long ago, she'd recognize those eyes in the dark. She shook her head, "I can't. Not now. I'll talk to you later."

Hurrying from the room, she quickly climbed the stairs to her small attic space and crawled onto her mattress to curl up into a ball. Her body started to quake slightly as everything began to settle around her.

"'Sy?" A small voice asked and Fang's head appeared followed by his small body. He was only eight but could steal any woman's heart with the crooked smile he was famous for. Not to mention his large green eyes and jet black hair.

"Fang, what's wrong?" Asylum asked at once, sitting up.

He came over and crawled onto the mattress with her, snuggling close, "Nothin'. Race and Jack looked worried and you ran out of da room. I wanted to make shoah you was alright." He glanced up with those inquisitive green eyes.

Asylum smoothed down his hair, "I'll be fine, Fang." Thinking fast she asked, "Who was the blue-eyed boy down there?"

Fang gave a toothy smile, "Spot Conlon. Leadah of Brooklyn. He makes da othah boys noivous."

She chuckled at his smile, "I've heard of him. Never knew that was him…" She trailed off.

"Do ya know him?" Fang asked, curiously.

"No." Asylum replied, adding silently, not anymore...

They lay there for a while in silence and suddenly Fang gave a wide yawn, "Can Ise sleep up here with you, 'Sy?"

Asylum thought it over, "Yes, but only for tonight. I got you some beeswax so you'll sleep in your bed next to Quarrel tomorrow night, alright?"

The boy nodded his head enthusiastically and promptly fell asleep while Asylum took awhile longer. Though the boy probably thought it was she that comforted him, tonight she knew it was the other way around.*

A/N: Thank you for the reviews! I know I promised longer chapters. They DO get longer. Eventually. But, I figured a fast update compensates, no? Hope you enjoyed. Reviews are lovely!

Truly,

Joker is Poker with a J~