Author's Note: Okay, explanation forthcoming. First of all, this story is dedicated to all the wonderful people who reviewed Making a Living. Especially Eavis, whose review was the one that actually sparked this idea in the first place. Secondly, the title (as well as all the chapter titles and the lyrics at the beginning of each) comes from the song "My Eyes" performed by Neil Patrick Harris and Felicia Day in the Joss Whedon short comedy, Dr. Horrible's Sing-along Blog. I'd highly suggest finding it on YouTube, it's an amazing song. Mostly I used it because I really think it shows the duality between Skittery and Louise (which will become abundantly more apparent later on in the story). Anyways, I would like to now thank everyone who has already reviewed this story:
methegirl - Hee... Well I'm a little surprised that this was unexpected, seeing as how I thought I talked about it all the time, but I guess I'm getting better at not giving details in public conversation. I'm glad you like it so much, and i hope it stands up to your expectations.
Pegasus M - First of all, with respect to your review for MaL, thank you so much for reviewing and I'm so glad you enjoyed it! Now, your review for the first chapter... Wow, again, thank you so much for reviewing! I'm glad that I seem to be hitting all the points I meant to (with both stories), and I'm very relieved that the whole bit with the Bowery Boys didn't seem to be contrived or weak. I was afraid I wasn't doing a very good job with them, but it seems I was mistaken. Also, yes, you are correct in your assumption. This story will kinda be following three different lines: The Bowery Boys, Skittery's father, and Louise in the Refuge, all kinda being tied together by the strike going on throughout it all. We'll be seeing more of Bumlets as well, and I hope you enjoy his role.
Speaking of which, I just want to say that, with the exception of Dutchy's minor cameo in Bum Out, Bumlets is the first extremely background character that I've written so far. I've kinda avoided it, because I was afraid of being way off on the characterization, but then I realized that the reason I was worried is because they don't have much characterization to begin with, which leaves me a lot of room to explore. I plan on bumping up Bumlets' role in this story, as well as doing a little character study with Crutchy and Louise later on. Also, even though Skittery doesn't actually come into the story really until a few chapters in, this story really is about him. So keep that in mind. Anyway, this chapter kinda wraps up the history, and sets us up for the next couple chapters, so please read, enjoy, and leave me reviews!
Chapter 2: All That Will Remain
Listen close to everybody's heart
And hear that breaking sound
Hopes and dreams are shattering apart
And crashing to the ground
Jonathan O'Connelly, Sr., really was a decent sort of person, despite what anyone else might think. He'd simply had the tragic misfortune of falling in love and marrying beneath his family's social standing. Not to say that there was anything wrong with Amanda Baker, or that it was unfortunate that they fell in love. The misfortune was that his family so despised his choice when they found out.
Amanda Baker was beautiful in a very plain sort of way, with straight, mouse-brown hair and chocolate-brown eyes that always seemed to sparkle. When she laughed – which was often – the sound was contagious, high and clear and musical. Even when Jonathan was in his darkest of moods, he never could resist her warm, sweet smile. Somehow they had managed to hide their forbidden romance for sixteen years before Jonathan's family discovered their secret.
Jonathan was a business man learning his family's trade. The O'Connelly's were land owners with holdings throughout Brooklyn, though they were mostly from Queens. A very well-off and wealthy family, they could certainly afford to be snobbish and arrogant, especially when it came to their standards for marriage. Jonathan's mother in particular was very specific about what sort of girl she wanted her son to marry.
Jonathan, however, had other plans. One of which was to marry whom he pleased and to choose by his own standards, few of which actually matched up with those of his family. But unfortunately, they had already accounted for his rebellious nature and, since he was indeed still living off of his family's money while he learned his trade, he was pretty much stuck doing whatever he was told to do. And then his mother set him up with a lovely little creature named Emma, who was just as stuck-up and arrogant as the rest of his family, and threatened to disown him if he refused to marry her.
That was when Jonathan O'Connelly disappeared from Queens and ran away to Manhattan Island. There, somewhere among the sweatshops and the factories, he met Amanda Baker. She was absolutely nothing that his family wanted for him, being a low-class sweatshop girl from a poor family. But she was everything that he wanted for himself. She was gentle, soft-spoken and kind, with such a sparkle and a love for life that he had never before seen in anyone he had ever come into contact with in his high-society upbringing. They fell deeply in love, and Jonathan would have married her right then, except for the nagging fact that he currently had no means to support them.
And so he did the best thing he could think of. He wrote a letter back to his mother, informing her that he did not love Emma, and warning her that if she continued in her attempts to force him to marry, then none of his family would ever see him again. He also told her that he would be moving to Manhattan in order to expand his horizons and gain a better perspective on the family business from the other side of the bridge. Naturally, he made absolutely no mention of Amanda.
Since his mother was positively sick with worry over her son as it was, she of course agreed to his terms. Surprisingly enough, no one ever caught on to the real reason why he moved. Jonathan and Amanda were married shortly after, and they lived together in a small apartment in Manhattan. Jonathan continued to work in Brooklyn, while Amanda kept up her job in the sweatshop in Manhattan, and for sixteen years no one was the wiser.
I truly wish I could say that their story ends on that happy note. Unfortunately I cannot. They were living blissfully with their three children, with Jonathan on the verge of breaking into business for himself, when the O'Connelly's finally caught wind of his secret life. They threatened to cut him off completely if he didn't leave them and come back to Queens immediately.
Jonathan O'Connelly, Jr., was fifteen years old when his father left unexpectedly. Louise O'Connelly was nine. Anna was three.
Originally, Jonathan planned to go back and appease his family long enough to get his own business up and running, sending money back to support his wife in Manhattan until he could rejoin her. Amanda was well aware of his plans, and understood that he only wanted to protect his wife and children. But Jonny didn't. He despised his father for walking out on them. Even more so when tragedy struck the little struggling household.
After nearly a year, and with his own business finally underway, Jonathan went back to Manhattan – only to find his wife dead and his children missing.
Thirteen-year-old Louise O'Connelly sat curled up in the corner of her room and cried. For what was probably the third time that week, she'd been sent to bed early without food. Not that she was really missing out on much, seeing as how she could barely choke down the unsavory scraps they were given anyway – which was saying a lot, since she really wasn't very picky to begin with. At the moment, however, she would have willingly choked down anything just to stop the gnawing in her stomach.
Given the charges she was serving time for, Warden Snyder had it in his head that she needed constant corrective treatment. Most of the time, she didn't even have to have done anything to receive punishment of one sort or another. The majority of her time here over the past six months had been spent in solitary, locked up in her room with only the occasional unsavory meal being passed through the narrow slot.
Six months. She shook her head as she pulled her knees up closer to her chest. It was hard to believe it had already been that long. She would have been in line to leave soon, if it hadn't been for her various desperate attempts to escape after the first couple months. Somehow she'd managed to rack up her sentence – not to mention the price on her bail – which was making it harder and harder to hold on to the hope that she'd ever make it out.
Her older brother had come by to see her maybe a month ago and told her to hang in there and stick it out. He'd gone through this whole inspiring – albeit sorely unconvincing – speech about how he'd work hard and save up to get her out legally, so that they'd never have to worry about the law chasing them down. He told stories about some kid that he lived with who had broken out long ago and was still running from the bulls every time he turned around.
And then the poor kid had sat there and apologized to no end for landing her here in the first place. Not that she had ever blamed him for it. Sure, it technically should have been him here instead of her, but she'd never held that against him. He had a steady job and was far more capable of living on the streets by himself than she could ever hope to be. She shuddered to think of what it might have been like if he actually had been taken in her place. At least here she had a bed and a roof, if not much else.
And then there were the boys in the bunkroom down the hall. Most of them were nice enough to begin with, but as soon as they'd found out that her brother was a newsie in Manhattan, it was like she'd stepped into some kind of special status within their prison. They became highly protective of her, doing their best to make sure she had enough to eat, sneaking her food when she didn't, and generally watching out for her whenever they had the chance. They'd come by her cell when she was in solitary, schooling her in the various factions amongst the newsies, the best selling tips and methods – many of them had been newsies at one point or another – and some of the more well-known names in their ranks like the infamous Spot Conlon from Brooklyn, or Cowboy Kelly, the leader of the Manhattan faction.
She was grateful for the company, and for such an in-depth glance at the world in which her brother now lived – Jonny never was much for talking, so this was the most she'd ever heard about it. But when the news started trickling in about bad headlines and poor business, her heart sank. And then, when rumors reached them about a newsies strike because of a change in the price of papers, her hopes were completely shattered. Even if Jonny didn't join in the protest, selling would be difficult, and saving money at that price would be even harder. Besides, she knew how violent strikers could get about anyone who crossed their line. Thoughts of her big brother lying beaten in some alley because he tried to continue working toward her bail made her heart sink even further.
Louise sniffled softly and brushed a hand across her eyes, trying unsuccessfully to push the thoughts away. She could hear Tenpin shuffling outside the door, probably wondering if she was okay, but she ignored him. Usually Jonny was the pessimistic one. But Jonny wasn't here. With the thought, her mood plummeted even further, and fresh tears trickled down her face.
She was beginning to think she'd never get out of here.
