Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies or any of its characters, Disney does. I do not own Batman or the Penguin. I own Lily and Micki. Ada is based off my great grandmother, a Lakota Sioux.
(A/N: Fanfiction Trailer for 'Destiny's Cross' is now up on YouTube. You can find the link on my profile page, or go to Youtube and type in DimensionalTraveller. And thank you for fixing the chapter uploading problem. :-) )
-----------------
Oscar peeked back into his bedroom around noon, Micki had fallen asleep after attempting to beat his door down hours earlier. She was lying with her back facing towards him, one hand under his pillow, the other was balled into a fist in front of her. Meanwhile, his sheets were another story; they were hanging down to the floor while the blanket was wrapped around her ankles. Obviously she was not a quiet sleeper.
He carefully shut the door and jammed the chair in front of the door knob again.
"Youse evah gonna let dat goil outta dere?" Weasel asked as he passed through the hallway and walked towards the kitchen.
"Yeah, when she realizes she's heah to stay," Oscar shrugged. He followed his uncle and glanced at the large grandfather clock that came with the apartment. He hoped the newsies would be late, he didn't feel like letting them into his apartment, let alone his bedroom again. It had been the most uncomfortable situation he had ever been in, having enemies inside his room. The place where he was supposed to feel the safest, instead for a few minutes he had to worry about getting soaked by Cowboy.
Weasel turned and glared at him, "I'se don't care if she t'inks she's heah to stay or not! Youse put her to work, go get her up! We'se need da help!"
"But Uncle Weas, her head wound-"
"She can sit on a stool when she gets dizzy! Now wake her up! I'se ain't gonna be workin' my bum off ta support a woman when she can support herself!"
"But-"
"Now! Oscar!"
Oscar winced and hated it when his Uncle commanded him; even he didn't dare to go against Weas. He still remembered when he was small and he had disobeyed his uncle the punishment had been less than fun. Morris had been spoiled rotten for a week while Oscar literally became his brother's personal servant. Since then he followed his uncle's orders, he would never be a servant to his brother again.
He paused as he pulled the chair out from under the doorknob and peeked into his room, Micki was still asleep. He was uncertain for a moment whether he wanted to wake her or not: There was a good chance she'd hit him. Well, his brother did owe him after last week when he saved his arse from a huge drunken barfly.
"Morris!" He exclaimed over his shoulder, "Remembah dat favor I'se did youse? Time to pay it back!"
"When Destiny calls you have to be strong, granddaughter. Your destiny is bright, and I know if you open your heart to all possibilities you will be happy!"
Seven year old Micki clutched hold of her grandmother's hand as she watched the Pow Wow Dancers. Soon the Pow Wow would end with the Give Away Dance and she'd have to go back home to boring Georgia with her parents. She wished she could live with her grandmother where people were fun and nice. There was never a dull moment in the Rosebud Reservation....Though she did find it weird that her grandmother had told her older cousin to give the girl he liked a loaf of bread as a gift.
When Micki asked Grandma Ada about the bread, she had smiled and replied, "It is tradition. One day when you get older I will explain. Look there, do you see the dancer? He's a Buffalo Dancer."
"He looks like an ostrich!"
Her grandmother had laughed, "Well....A little. Now, I want you to tell me what I have taught you today."
Micki gazed into her grandmother's copper face, her almost black eyes sparkled with happiness and a smile stretched across her thin lips. Her peppered black and silver hair was braided into two long braids that hung down over her shoulders and ended almost at her waist.
"That the Earth is alive and loves us all, and that's she is our mother and we must care for her always. Also, when Destiny calls me one day I have to accept it and not fight it. I have to be open to all opp-or-toon-it-ees and offer help whenever I can. Kindness is better than cruelty, and it is what the Great Spirit expects to see from all of us."
"Very good, Michaela..Micki...Micki.......Micki...."
"Micki...."
Micki curled into a tight ball and wrapped her arms around her knees. She didn't want to wake up, she wanted to sleep longer and dream more about her grandmother.
"Micki..." A man's voice exclaimed close to her ear, suddenly a large and warm hand grasped her forearm and shook her. Shock coursed through her followed by anger. Oscar Delancey! She turned quickly and balled her hand into a fist and send it flying.
"OOMPH!"
Her eyelids flew open, that voice did not belong to Oscar! She stared at the person she had just punched. Morris stood beside her bed with his hands over his groin, he hunched over and fell to the floor a second letter. His loud squeak would have been comical if she hadn't been so angry.
"Morris...Um....Right?"
"Right..." He squeaked in a high tone of voice.
"I'm sorry, but you shouldn't have been in here and you shouldn't have touched a woman while she's sleeping. For all I knew you could have been trying to attack me."
"Ain't......Attackin'.....Youse....Oscah......Sent.....Me....In...Ta....Wake....Youse," he grunted in pain.
"Do you always act as your brother's lap dog and do whatever he says?"
"Uh...."
"Don't answer that," she muttered as she climbed out of bed and squatted down to the floor beside him. The back of her head pounded and for a moment she felt as if she were on a boat in middle of the ocean. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath as she waited for the dizziness to subside, then opened her eyes and stared at Morris. His face was contorted in pain and his hat had fallen off his head revealing longish dark brown hair.
"I'm sorry," she took his arm.
"Don't touch!"
She quickly let go of him, "Is there anything I can-"
"Jist go and do dat to me brudda," he exclaimed as his eyes narrowed to the point they were crossing.
"Alright."
"T'anks...."
Micki walked out of the room and found Oscar leaning against the hallway, he looked up at her and gave a sheepish smile. She stood in front of him and slapped him.
"Ow! What da hell?!" He grabbed hold of the side of his face. "I'se didn't do nothin' but help and care for youse!"
"No, you were cowardly and sent your brother into your room to wake me and I hurt him....Mistaking him for you. You go in there and apologize!"
"Ise' ain't apologizin'!" Oscar guffawed then paused, "And who ah youse to give me orders?!"
"A strong and independent woman who doesn't like harming innocent men.....After all, it wasn't Morris's fault that his younger brother pulled the wool over his eyes!"
"Younger...How da hell do youse know dat?"
"It's obvious," she muttered as she sauntered into the kitchen. She froze at the sight of an overweight man sitting at the kitchen table. He reminded her of a penguin....Well, a penguin in bad need of a shave. his eyes were beady and his nose was long, curved, and sharp like beak. Where was he when they were filming Batman Returns? He would have been a perfect Penguin....Though Danny DeVito did do a good job. She thought to herself.
"What ah youse starin' at?"
"Uh....Just wondering who you are....Sir..."
"Mr. Wiesel, youse call me Weasel and we'se will have problems."
"Ok Mr. Pengui----Ah.....Wiesel...."
"What were youse about ta call me?" The man asked as his eyes narrowed. "I get called names by dose newsies, and I'se shoah as hell ain't takin' it from youse! Da question is who are youse?"
"Michaela Jennings....Sir. But I liked to be called Micki."
"Fine den, Micki, get yourself a sandwich from da plate and sit down. We'se goin' ta talk about ground rules and da job youse will be doin' from now on."
"I work as a landscaper-"
"Not anymoah youse don't, now get the food and sit down!"
She flinched and nodded, "Yes sir." She replied as she grabbed a sandwich off a plate and sat down in front of Mr. Wiesel.
"Alright, first rule: Youse want to live heah, youse will work. Youse hurt, so t'day I'se will be easy on youse. Youse can help Oscah and Morris get da newsies deys papes. It's a simple job, when deys say the amount of papes deys want you go to da pape stacks, count out that number, and give da kid their papes. Youse gotta be fast, I'se don't want dem settin' up camp outside."
Micki nodded.
"Second rule, youse ain't da boss around heah, I'se am. So da next time youse boss me nephew around, youse will be out on da streets. Trust me, sellin' papes is a lot harder dan distributing dem." He paused to take a drink of his water. "Secondly, since Oscah's takin' care of youse da same rule goes wid him, he's da boss."
"Sir....I-"
"I'se don't care what youse t'ink about dat, get used to it. Next, aftah youse have been heah for a while I'se will decide if I'se want youse in da Distribution Centah workin', or doin' da household chores. Now eat youse lunch den meet Oscah at da front door." He stood and brushed off his dirty vest and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket before walking out of the kitchen.
Micki blinked a minute later, she felt as if she had been just run over by a steamroller. That man could easily be a drill sergeant if he took better care of himself and dropped the accent.
"Hey dere...Uh...Youse survived Uncle Weas."
"He doesn't like being called Weas," Micki muttered.
"He don't mind us callin' him by dat since we'se his nephews," Oscar shrugged as he grabbed a sandwich and sat down. "Me Uncle isn't askin' a lot outta youse, neither am I'se. I'se want youse to be happy but I'se also want a roof over me head and I'se sure youse do too. How about a truce?"
"Alright..." Micki replied warily as he eyed Oscar up and down. Did he have any tricks up his sleeve?
"Alright...I'se will drop da whole cross issue and treat youse as an equal if youse treat me, me uncle, and brudda wid respect and not soak us."
"I won't throw another bucket of water on you unless it's absolutely necessary."
"Huh?"
"You don't want me to soak you."
"No, soak....Youse know, beat up."
"Oh, yeah.....I keep forgetting that." Micki muttered after she finished her sandwich. She didn't trust Mr. Wiesel or the Delancey brothers. But if she wanted a roof over her head and wanted someone to talk too she was going to have to force herself to have an inkling of trust. Until they proved that they couldn't be trusted, she would trust them.
"Alright...truce," she agreed and shook his hand.
"Fifty," Skittery exclaimed as he slammed two bits down on the counter.
Micki darted over to the huge stack of newspapers that had just been brought in a few hours earlier. She soon learned there were three editions of the World Newspaper: Morning, Afternoon, and Evening. The morning papers were distributed from eight until noon; the afternoon went from 12:30 to five o'clock, and the evening from 5:30 to eleven at night.
She quickly counted the newspapers by fives and lifted the huge bundle of paper and skittered back to the counter. Her shoulders and arms were aching already after only fifteen minutes. She dropped the papers on the counter and slid them over to the newsie.
"Who are youse?" The gangly boy asked her.
"Micki, I'm new."
"Well, Micki I'se new, be quicker next time!"
"Oh hush up, Skittery!" Exclaimed a familiar voice. Micki felt relief wash over her when Lilly walked onto the platform. "Don't mind him, Micki, Skittery is always in a bad mood."
"I'se am not!"
"Oh yes you are," Lilly replied as she slid a quarter to Weasel, "Twenty five please."
"Just twenty five? Youse makin' Jacky-Boy work harder again?" Morris laughed.
Lilly stared at him, "Morris, because you're helping to take care of Micki for the day I will forget you ever said that."
"She ain't stayin' jist for da day," Oscar exclaimed from beside Micki and pulled her into a hug, "She's here to stay!"
Micki paused, Oscar was warm and soft and for some reason she felt safe and comfortable being wrapped in his arm....She blinked and jumped, what was she saying? She didn't know this man! After all, one day he would grow up to be a crime lord! She wiggled out of his arm, when he looked down at her surprised, she glared at him with anger. He just smirked and mouthed, 'feisty.'
"Oh no....She's coming back to the Lodging House tonight with Jack and I," Lilly exclaimed, her face had paled.
"Oh no she ain't," Weasel exclaimed, "She's here ta stay. If youse all wanted ta keep her dere wid youse, youse shoulda taken her to da lodgin' house. Now get your papes and get a move on, all of youse all! Micki, what did I'se tell youse about da newsies campin' out!"
"I know, give them their papers and ignore any and all comments," she replied and sent Lilly a look that said, 'I'm sorry.'
"Micki, Jack and I will be by tonight to-"
"No youse won't," Morris replied, "Or we'se callin' da bulls."
"Micki, do you want to stay here?"
"I-"
"She does," Oscar replied, "Now get a move on!"
"I can speak for myself!" Micki exclaimed as Lilly walked off with a scowl on her face. "I don't have to stay here and I'm not staying here! I'm going!"
"Youse ain't goin' nowhere," Weasel snapped as a short boy with icy blue eyes and ash brown hair walked up to the window. "While youse were asleep a doctor came by, and it wasn't free youse know! Youse stayin' heah and workin' until youse pay off dat bill of fifteen dollars!"
Fifteen dollars was more money in this time than it was in 2010. She wasn't sure how long she'd be trapped working for the Delanceys, but she would woman up and work her heart out until that bill was paid.
"What Oscah got a goil and no one told me, da king of Brooklyn?" The short boy asked.
Oscar, Morris, and Weasel all rolled their eyes and Micki wondered who this kid was.
"Fifty," the kid exclaimed as he put two quarters on the counter in front of Weasel and stared at her. "Who ah youse?"
"Micki, yes I'm new, no I can't talk," she exclaimed as she walked to the stack of papers and quickly counted fifty and brought it back to the counter.
"Micki, eh?" The kid smiled, "I'se Spot Conlon, da King of Brooklyn."
"Uh nice to meet you," Micki replied, not overly impressed. The kid had an ego the size of a small continent.
"Youse engaged, Conlon, so move it!" Oscar snapped from beside her.
"Get back ta woik!" Weasel shouted as his face grew a darker shade of red.
"I'se hoid what youse all said to Lilly. When she and Jacky-boy come to get Micki, I'se will be dere too."
"I'se shakin' in me boots, Conlon," Oscar replied.
Oscar was reminded once again of the reason why he hated Spot Conlon: The kid was arrogant, bossy, and thought he was God's gift to all woman kind. Spot was engaged to Floaty, the newsgirl Oscar had wanted, and the 'king of Brooklyn' stole her from him. There was no way in hell he was letting Colon snatch away Micki as well and give her away to some newsie. He snarled as he watched the short newsboy walk off and came close to hitting his head against a brick wall when Jack walked up with a mischievous smirk on his face. The sooner the afternoon papes were distributed, the sooner his headache would leave.
When one thirty rolled around, Micki felt like falling to her feet and kissing the ground. Sure, counting the papers hadn't been trouble what so ever; gathering them and putting them onto a counter was an entirely different story. Even a shovel full of dirt weighed less than those newspapers! She'd have to suggest to the guys in her time (when she got home) they carry stacks of fifty or more papers to start getting muscles.
Home. Her stomach tightened when her situation finally sunk in: She was in 1900 and there was probably no way back to her own time….Unless Oscar had hidden a time machine somewhere. That cross had become weird when she put it on for a second time, if she put it on again would it take her back to 2010? The question was how would she get it back?
She glanced at Oscar. He was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed; he was smirking as he talked with Morris. Well, at least she knew men hadn't evolved much: They were still immature and sending one another to do each other's dirty work.
"Hey Micki," Oscar exclaimed suddenly, "We'se need ta get youse some new clothes."
"New clothes? I like mine!"
"Uh….Dat's great but heah, youse don't blend in. Dem pants and shirts youse ah wearing ah odd."
"And Racetrack's clothing is normal?" She muttered under her breath. She glanced down at her jeans, tank top, and over shirt; they were wrinkled from being tossed and turned in when she was in bed. "Okay, so they do look a little odd, but once they're ironed-"
"Youse ah gettin' new clothes," Oscar replied. "Uncle Weas, Morris and I'se put a few coins togedda ta take youse shoppin'. Youse can pay us back later," he smirked.
"You're just trying to trap me here longer!"
"Really, me, youse truly would do dat?" He placed his hand over his heart and widened his eyes in mock shock, "I'se insulted! Youse put me in da greatest of pain!"
"Oh, yeah you're in such pain." Micki rolled her eyes. She sighed getting new clothes was rational and sensible; women in this time rarely wore pants (though Fred had been as had other newsgirls). They preferred ankle length skirts, boots, and blouses…And corsets. "Fine….But no corsets."
"Why, youse need to lose a few poun-"
Micki spun and glared at Oscar.
"If I'se were youse, Oscar, I'se would shut up," Morris chimed in from behind them.
"Oscah! Morris! Take heh ta get some clothin' already!" Weasel snapped from the other room, "Be back by four no later!"
"Alright, Uncle Weas! C'mon Micki," he gave his best 'I'm so sweet' smile. The smile her father gave her mother each time he screwed up.
She thought about saying something sarcastic and decided against it. If she was too sarcastic he'd stick her in ugly clothing. She wasn't happy about the skirts, but she would deal with it. For now.
An hour later Oscar and Morris found themselves standing in an open space between clothing racks as they watched Micki come out of the dressing room. She had found two outfits she liked, both were draped over her arm, while she clutched the shoelaces of her boots in the other hand. Tucked under her arm was a small bundle of underwear that Micki strangely called 'unmentionables.'
"I'se didn't get ta see da clothin'!" Oscar exclaimed and Morris could have laughed at seeing how upset his younger brother was. It was the perfect revenge for what had happened that morning.
"You'll see the clothing I chose when I wear them." Micki replied as she pushed her glasses up her nose with her wrist. Morris groaned, if Oscar had treated this woman more like a lady, maybe she'd be a little nicer...And not such a pest!
"Maybe if youse were nicer ta her youse would see dem now?" Morris suggested with a smirk. Oscar turned and elbowed him.
"Ass," Oscar grumbled.
"Shorty."
"Harry."
"Whiny."
"Enough!" Micki exclaimed from the checkout counter, "Since you guys have the money - that I earned and automatically goes to you – it means you pay the bill."
"He started it!" Morris accused as he pointed to Oscar.
"I don't care who started it! I'm finishing it! Oh good God, I'm turning into my mother!"
Morris glanced at Oscar and grumbled as they both went to the counter. The older woman gave them a large smile and Morris felt his mouth go dry. The clerk of the store was no one other than Dutchy's grandmother, and she knew what the Delanceys were constantly putting the newsies through.
"Uh…Hi Miss," Morris exclaimed nervously as he and Oscar took off their caps nervously. "Youse ah….Free for dinnah tonight?"
"No," she smiled, "But I'm sure you lads will be. The total amount comes to six dollars. I'm taking off a dollar because this young lady knows how to put you two in your place."
Morris watched as Micki smirked, "I like you too, miss," she replied. "Do me favor, see that tie there? I want to get it for Oscar, how much is it?"
Dat old woman is too outspoken, Morris thought to himself as he controlled his temper.
"Two dollars."
"He'll pay for it," she replied casually as she motioned to Oscar.
"Da next time youse t'ink about helpin' a strange woman, youse t'ink oddawise!" Morris hissed angrily at Oscar.
"It was youse idea!"
"And we'se payin for it!" Morris replied as he dug through his pockets. "Maybe if youse stop pissin' her off it would be cheaper!"
"Bing, bing, bing, just for that, miss please put the tie away," Micki suddenly exclaimed.
"Huh?" Oscar asked in confusion.
"Morris said the magic words," Micki replied with an almost angelic smile as she rocked back onto her heels. "If Oscar would stop trying to make me angry his life would be much better. And yes, I know, the clothing comes out of my pay."
"As does every sarcastic comment," Oscar grumbled his breath.
"Youse done wid heh now?" Morris muttered. He wanted Micki out of the Distribution Center and with the newsies, let her get on their nerves for a while!
Oscar looked up at him quickly, his face contorted with anger, "Hell no!" He hissed, "I'se got a beautiful woman wid a mind, and a good sense of sarcasm! Can't youse see she was made for me?"
"Oy," Morris grumbled as he rolled his eyes. Something said their apartment and the distribution center was going to be a battlefield between Oscar and Micki for a long, long time.