Disclaimer: These are always mandatory when dabbling in fan fiction. If there is anything at all that is reminiscent of the 1992 musical Newsies, then it probably belongs to Disney. The characters of Patrick Conlon & his family (with the exception of Spot Conlon) and Diana Mason & her family, specifically, are mine, as well as others that may work their way into this story.


Legacy

03.09.08

It had been handed down in the Conlon family from generation to generation.
Some thought it was a blessing, others a curse.
But Patrick—he just thought the key was an old, tarnished bit of metal.


New Brunswick, New Jersey, 2004

The phone was ringing and, midway through that first ring, he was already planning. He knew there were only precious seconds remaining for him to bluff his girlfriend and feign sleep in order to not to have to get up from his supine position on the couch and answer the telephone.

So, without another second's thought, he promptly closed his eyes and, for good measure, threw in a mighty snore; his body relaxed as he let his right hand hang casually off the couch's side. If there had been an Academy Award for a convincing naptime performance, he would have been a shoo-in.

However, while his act might have been enough to fool the Academy, it sure wasn't working on Diana. Barely even lifting her green eyes off of the textbook she was currently ravishing with a neon yellow highlighter, she called out, "Patrick? Can you get that?"

Almost begrudgingly, Patrick lifted one of his eyelids, sneaking a peak across the small room of the apartment the pair of them shared. He could spy Diana sitting at the folding table that doubled as both her desk and their kitchen tale, hunched over her book. With one hand, she was running her highlighter across the text; with the other, she was absently pulling at one of the loose curls that had fallen from her messy bun.

Her attention was elsewhere preoccupied, what with her midterms quickly approaching, and Patrick knew it was up to him to do everything he could to make the apartment a conducive environment for her studies—or else. The last time she had finals, right around Christmastime, one joke too many had meant he was sleeping on the very couch he had been attempting to nap on. And, while it was a comfortable enough couch to nap on, it had been hell on his back to sleep on the damn thing for two weeks.

That didn't mean, though, that he was prepared to give up his evenings because Diana just had to get her degree. He worked hard down at old man Progresso's trucking company, from eight to six, Monday through Friday, and if he wanted to relax on the couch after pulling a ten-hour shift, well… Diana had to understand that, right?

He closed his eyes again, ignoring the obnoxious ring of the cordless phone. Besides, if it was that important, they could call either his or Diana's cell phones. At least, if his cell phone rang, he wouldn't have to get up off of the couch to answer it.

Ring, ring…

"Patrick! I really need to finish reading this tonight and I can't be bothered with the damn phone ringing," Diana snapped suddenly, slamming the highlighter down onto the table. Her face was flushed and there were heavy bags under her eyes. She was tired and she was annoyed and she was taking it all out on her boyfriend. "And I'm not stupid. I know you're not sleeping, you were just telling me about that shipment you dropped off in Newark two seconds ago!"

She had a point. And the phone was still ringing. Whoever it was, they weren't giving up hope that someone was home.

"Sorry, babe," Patrick said, twisting his lips into what he hoped was a charming smile as he opened his eyes and sat up. Reaching up, he rubbed the back of his head in an impish manner. He always felt so guilty when Diana snapped at him. "How about I go get the phone now?"

Diana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Patrick meant well, she knew that, but she was so close to graduation that she could just about taste it. "Thank you," she said, trying to sound gracious rather than a spoiled brat. She was well aware that she was a very testy person around exam time and she really was appreciative of the way that Patrick understood her quirks and ignored her temper—after dating for close to five years, he knew her well enough to know that she was all bark and no bite—and he was amazing to work such long hours so that she could finish her schooling but… sometimes she wished he would just answer the stupid phone.

And it wasn't even the phone, really. It was little things like that, like not answering the phone when she was trying to work, or his insistence that he spend the night playing some annoying videogame when she had no homework to worry about.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. It was pointless to start worrying about something so silly as that now when she had an exam that night during her eight o'clock class, plus a project to work on the next morning. And, besides, at least he had finally gotten off the couch…

Rin—

Patrick offered Diana a cheeky grin, one that was at home on his handsome face though it was one that definitely belied his twenty-five years, as he crossed the room and quickly picked up the dingy grayish-white cordless phone. He handled it expertly, pressing the 'talk' button before placing it against his ear.

"Conlon, here. Who the fuck are you?"

From her seat at the small table Diana had to bite back a groan. In all the years she had known him, and in spite of countless reprimands from both her and his mother, Patrick had never been able to master the fine art of answering a telephone.

"Pat, my boy," boomed the voice on the other end of the line. It was a gruff voice, deep and rough—the sort of voice that three decades worth of tobacco use causes—but there was an underlying hint of humor to it. "How've you been? I didn't catch you in the can, did I? The phone's been ringing for ages, kiddo, and I was wondering if you fell in there."

Patrick wide cyan's eyes lit up when he heard the voice and he couldn't help but laugh. "Heya, Dad. Nah, I wasn't on the toilet," he answered and Diana finally gave in to the urge to roll her eyes. She knew Mr. Conlon well enough by now that nothing the man said surprised her—Patrick had to have gotten his behavior from somewhere, after all—and she was just glad that at least Mrs. Conlon was normal.

Then again, considering she came from a family that had been, up until a few years ago, wrapped up in a Devil's Curse, she really wasn't one to be judging what was normal or not…

"To tell the truth, I got home from work a little bit ago and I was just settling down to relax when the phone rang," Patrick explained, looking up and over at Diana and gesturing to the phone. He mouthed the word 'Dad'—as if she didn't already hear him address his father—and she nodded before turning her attention back to her studies. Patrick, in turn, nodded before adding, "You know, Dad, you can always call my cell if you want to, you know, chat."

"You know I don't believe in those things, Pat. Besides, why do you have a real phone if you don't want anyone to call it, hmm? That's one less bill you'd have to pay if you got rid of it, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. But what fun would it be, living on my own, if I didn't have a ton of bills to pay?"

There was a pause and Patrick knew that—considering it was his father he was talking to—whatever Sean Conlon would have to say, it would be perverse.

He was right.

"Oh, I don't know. You and that little chickadee of yours, having a nest of your own. I can think of a thing or two you could be doin—"

"Dad!"

Sean chuckled loudly. "Let me guess. Diana's in the room with you?"

Patrick snuck a furtive look over at his girlfriend. Her nose back in her book, she didn't look like she had heard his father's comment through the phone. Good. "Yeah. And you know how it is," he said, tiptoeing very delicately around the topic of conversation—especially since she was in earshot.

His father let out a whistle. "No wonder it took you so long to answer the phone."

"Dad!" Patrick could feel the tips of his ears go warm. There was only one person in this world who could get the normally carefree boy to become so touchy and that was his father. "That's not what I meant."

"I know, Pat. I was just pulling your leg, that's all. Ain't a father allowed to ruffle his boy's feathers every now and then?"

"Sure, it's just that…" Patrick shrugged his shoulders before realizing his father couldn't see the action "…it's exam time again. And… yeah." He left the rest of the statement unsaid; after fours years of Diana attending classes at Rutgers University, everyone who knew her knew what she was like at exam time.

Diana didn't bother turning around to face Patrick as she hollered across the room, "I heard that!"

Sean chuckled again. Diana might not have heard his earlier comment but Patrick's father had made out the girl's yell in the background. "Diana gonna make you sleep out on the couch again, Pat?"

Scowling while, at the same time, lowering his voice, Patrick said, "I sure as hell hope not. I don't think my back's ever gonna be the same again."

"That'll teach you, kiddo. You should have known better. But, since I feel for you, I'll give you some advice. You listening?"

"Yeah, Dad."

"All right, remember this and you'll go pretty far: the woman is always… and I mean always… is always right."

It was Patrick's turn to laugh. "On Mom's bad side again, huh?"

There was a second pause. He could just imagine the sheepish look that must have found its way to his father's face. "I'm a very busy man and I have more than enough on my mind and, well, how can she expect me to remember when our anniversary is every damn year?"

"March 2nd," Patrick answered promptly, that mischievous smirk back on his face. In all the years that Sean and Caroline Conlon had been married, he doubted his father had ever remembered what day their anniversary was. It was actually a long running joke in their family, how his father never remembered the day he and his wife were wed; his father had never, after all those years, figured out that he was the punch line.

"Thanks, Pat. And where were you last week?"

"Sorry, Dad, but I was working. Like always," he said, wincing only slightly. Diana got upset when he mentioned how often he was at work—it made her feel as if she was taking advantage of him—and he tried not to complain… too much, at least.

"Ah, but you're not working tomorrow, are you?"

Patrick didn't like the way his father said that. He hesitated for a second before answering. "No, Dad, it's Saturday. If there's one thing I can say about ol' Prog," he said, referring to his boss by his nickname, "it's that he's not the sort of prick who makes us work weekends."

"That's great! Now, how about you make your old man's day and tell him that you'll hop a train or two and visit him for the weekend? I know you got that train station not too far from your apartment and, hell, you can bring Diana along, too. We haven't seen you guys since Christmas and, I'll tell you, your mom's getting a bit twitchy."

He had known that something was up the second that his father had asked him about Saturday but he hadn't expected the man to invite him back to the City. Then again, his father was right—it had been awhile since the last time he saw his parents, and even longer since the last time he and Diana had gone back to New York. And, as far as he knew, Diana had her last exam that night—she should be relieved to spend the weekend out of town now that her work was done.

Besides, there was something he'd been putting off for far too long, now. He kept telling himself that he was waiting for the time to be right—it never seemed to be, what with one thing or another—but, if anything, it would be nice for the two of them to be together again in the City where they met.

Manhattan held quite a few memories for the pair and, Patrick could not help but think to himself, perhaps it would do them both some good to be reminded.

"Alright, Dad," he said finally, "I'll talk to Diana and see what I can do. I'm not making any promises or nothing but I might be able to finagle something."

"That's my boy," Sean said, and he sounded relieved. "We'll be home all afternoon, waiting for you guys. I'm sure your mother will want to see you in one piece so, do me a favor, take the subway and not a cab. You know how some of those drivers can get, forgetting where they parked their cabs and such."

Patrick found it interesting how, even though he was only tentatively agreeing to visiting his parents, his father was already counting on their arrival. He overlooked that, however, in order to grimace at his father's parting shot. "Ha, ha, Dad. Very funny," he drawled, shaking his head as he remembered the few months when he had worked as a New York City taxi driver. While it had been during that short stint of employment that he met Diana Mason, back in '99, it was also one of the shortest jobs he had ever held. He had never been able to explain just why he never returned his hack back to the distribution center on time; he doubted that his supervisor would believe that he had been held hostage by a demon.

"I'm just saying..."

"Uh-huh, sure. I'll remember that next year when you want my help in remembering yours and Mom's anniversary."

"Oh, that was low. Don't you have any love for your old man?"

Patrick shook his head again, but he was smiling. "Whatever you say, Dad."

"Be good, kiddo. I'll see you tomorrow, eh?"

"Sure, I guess. Probably." Patrick decided to give up at that point. He would never hear the end of it anyway if he did not see his parents when his father was so set on him visiting. "See you."

"Bye."

Patrick heard the click that signaled his father's disconnection on the other end and, after moving the phone away from his ear, pressed the 'talk' button again. Then, setting the old cordless phone back on his charger, he turned to look back over at Diana.

He had expected her to still be reading her book and it gave him a start to see that she was watching him intently. Her textbook— A History of Ancient Greece in Its Mediterranean Context—was closed before her and she had her chin resting on her open palm. Her eyebrows were raised in interest as she asked, "And what was that about?"

"I don't really know," he said, answering truthfully as he crossed the room again and resumed his position back on the couch. He folded his hands behind his head as he lay down, kicking his heels up on the opposite arm rest. "That was my dad—"

"Yeah, I kinda figured."

Patrick kept speaking as if she hadn't interrupted. "—and he was trying to get me to agree to going into the City this weekend. Wanted me and you to go, actually. What do you say?"

Diana bit her bottom lip, a sure sign that he wasn't going to like what she had to say. "You didn't tell him we would, did you, Patrick?"

"You know how my dad is, babe. I tried to tell him that we'd think about it but he didn't want to hear that. He really wants to see us. Is that a problem?"

She shook her head absently as she slowly took her eyes away from him. Her gaze was on the floor and she was still resting her front teeth on her bottom lip. "I have a project I've got to work on tomorrow morning."

"Can't you do it when we get back?"

"No, Patrick, I can't. It's… it's… I have project partner and…well, the only time he—we can meet is tomorrow morning. But," she added hurriedly, still pointedly not meeting his eyes, "that doesn't mean that you can't go. You really should visit with your family more."

Patrick thought about what she said for a second before, "I've an idea, Diana. How about I head into New York in the morning and you meet me there when… when your project's done." There was something about her tone that suggested that there was more to it than that—it wasn't just that she had a project due—and he was sure that his own hesitance could be heard in his voice.

It was exam time, after all. Everything got hectic this time of the semester.

She seemed to be milling his idea over in her heard before nodding her acceptance of it. "I think that sounds like a plan, Patrick. And," she added, as she stood up from her seat and walked over to the couch, "I've been meaning to check in on Aunt Ria."

Though he didn't move from his comfortable spot, Patrick reached his hand out and grabbed Diana's. He intertwined his fingers in hers, glad for the moment that things were back to normal. If he was being honest with himself, their relationship had been slightly strained over the past few weeks and he had been a bit nervous that she would have refused to take the trip out of town for the weekend.

"Ah, Ria. How is the old broad doing?"

"She's doing well, Patrick. My mom said that my aunt and Martin are very happy together. And the baby's going to be healthy," Diana said, slightly swinging her arm back and forth as she smiled down at Patrick.

He gladly returned the smile as he gave a gentle pull on her arm. The force was not much but it was enough to pull her forward; she followed the momentum of his tug, lowering her head until her lips had met his. She giggled through the simple kiss but, for the first time since exams began, she was being affectionate with him.

But, despite the cozy scene, there was something nagging at him, too, something that she said. He couldn't really put his finger on it—and, as Diana joined him on the couch, he didn't want to—but it stood out in the back of his mind all the same.

Deciding it would be better to worry about… whatever it was… later on, Patrick pulled Diana close to him. It was only a few minutes past seven and she didn't have her history test until eight o'clock. The walk across the campus to her classroom would only take twenty or so minutes—that left them with at least a half an hour to just be together.

A half an hour was a half an hour. He would take it. Besides, they would have the rest of the weekend to be together, as soon as she finally took her last damn exam.

Snuggling his nose against the back of her curly-haired head, Patrick Conlon took a deep breath and smiled into her bun. He couldn't wait until Saturday night.


Author's Note: Well, I want to start off by thanking the wonderful people who reviewed my first chapter. I was a little worried to start this sucker, what with it having to live up to the Beast and all, but I was very touched by your comments. And, because of the response to the first chapter, I've decided to attempt to update this story as I did (for the most part) with Diabo. So here's to Sundays!

Also, I wanted to add that the timeline for this story is going to be very weird. While the main story takes place in 2004 (Diana and Patrick's story), there are many, many flashes into the past. Like the first chapter, they will be told on their own but—here's the kicker—they will be thrown (sort of) randomly into the whole story, and not in any sort of linear order. Hopefully you will understand what I mean with the next few chapters. Until then!