December 16, 1900

Jack Kelly stared down at the little bundle in his arms. A pair of blue eyes that matched his stared right back, curious and innocent of the ways of the world. The two black pupils darted around, taking in everything, from the dingy room he was born in to the bed where his exhausted mother slept. To think that this little one was in her stomach a day ago.

"Jackie Andrew David Fredrick Kelly, the world better be ready for you," his father whispered, a boyish glint in his smile. But that smile turned to a serious, straight line. If he wasn't ready for little Jackie, then how the world...Jack's shoulders slumped in disappointment. Katherine had lost her job after marrying him, and Pulitzer and his wonderful wife wouldn't have anything to do with them. All of their daughters and sons followed suit. He had to leave the Newsies' Lodging House after his marriage, and he had two mouths to feed. The only real income they had was Jack's paper money and the few cents that Katherine made washing clothes.

"We don't have much, do we?" Katherine draped her shawl- her only shawl- over his shoulders. Her nightgown was gray, torn, and almost transparent from multiple washings. Her once smooth hands were calloused and cut near the thumbs. Dark circles had gathered beneath her hazel eyes. From her jerky movements and quiet grunts, Jack could tell she had a pain in her abdomen.

"You'll get cold, here." He flung the quilt they shared over her. Gratefully, she smiled, revealing her bright teeth.

"Thank you, it's getting chillier by the minute." She peered over his arm into the pudgy little face that came from within her just hours ago. "Hello. How are you, my little newsie?"

Jackie began babbling in his own made up language, perhaps telling his parents how he felt in his swaddled cloth. At his wife's beckon, Jack passed the baby to her. Gently cupping the child's head and body, the mother stared down at her miracle. Miracle. There wasn't a better word for it in the English language, or in any tongue, for that matter. It had been a miracle that they had this baby. It was a miracle that both mother and child had survived in the drafty cellar of a home. It was a miracle that Jack was able to afford enough wood to keep the fire burning.

As Katherine curled up against the wall, cradling her son, Jack kept a secret vigil. She looks like an angel. Images of the Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus in a stable flashed to his head. The church nativities, the Christmas cards, his parents' Bible- his parents. They had eight children: Belinda, Siobhan, Margaret, Maire, Betty, me, Elliot, and Donal. He was surprised he could remember all of their names. But then, special things stay in a person's mind.

Silly things like how his mother made you eat all of your porridge or the frivolous fantasies of Maire and Betty of becoming princesses and Belinda's hopeless longing for an annoying boy. Tiny details like his father lighting a candle for Mass on Christmas and reading from the Bible. Treasures to be cherished such as the Irish carols and ballads his papa sang and the golden childhood he used to have. His parents were the best. They wholeheartedly believed that doing good brought good.

"And look where it got them," he muttered under his breath in a burst of bitterness and contempt. Katherine raised her eyebrows knowingly.

"Jack, are you alright? Is this about your parents?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I'm-"

"Jack, that's not going to happen with us. We'll be fine."

"Who said that was even possible?" His voice and temper were starting to rise with irritation.

"Don't get short, I just had a baby- your baby!" She bit her lip. "If we keep arguing like this, what will it teach him? I don't want him to go through I did..." Her voice tapered off in a helpless sigh. Jack's scarlet anger faded into a guilty, melancholy purple. Red surliness mixed with dejected blue. He had been pitied by his customers for being an orphan, scraping a living off the streets from the age of seven. But Katherine, the daughter of titan publisher Pulitzer, well, a sudden realization that her life hadn't all been ball gowns and lacy frills hit him in the gut hard. Like a punch from one of the Delancys.

"I'm sorry." It wasn't nearly enough for upsetting on the day she had given birth. Especially when she was trying to comfort him. But it was all he had.

"Thank you." She nestled safely into the crook of his arm and rested her head beneath his chin. It fit somewhat awkwardly, but it matched nonetheless. Like two halves of a torn newspaper. Jack Kelly knew he got better than he deserved.

Katherine stared at the child, who was now sleeping. Safe, protected, loved. Had her parents ever fawned over her like that? Or any of her siblings, for that matter? A periwinkle haze of disappointment, resentment, and longing came over the new mother. But the periwinkle turned to cobalt as the bold blueness of sad, but endless determination took charge. She would do better. She had little in the way of material wealth, but she would shower the boy with love and the invisible riches of the world.

I will not make the same mistakes that you did

I will not let myself cause my heart so much misery

I will not break the way you did

You fell so hard

I've learned the hard way to never let it get that far

Years of watching her father pace, grumbling over how high the profits were. Every day had been tainted the minute her mother shoved her in a foppish dress and displayed before an eligible bachelor. All the time wasted trying to impress the families with "old money" and hide their new money status. The endless coldness her older sister Pansy had received for being seen in public with a middle class doctor. A childhood of burying her feelings, obsessions, and misery beneath a corset and petticoats.

Because of you I never stray too far from the sidewalk

Because of you I learned to play on the safe

So I don't get hurt

Because of you I find it hard to trust not only me but everyone around me

Because of you I am afraid

Good luck slouching at the dinner table. Every night you dressed for dinner. Everyday, after she got old enough, she threw herself at the rich, privileged gents. There was to be no association with any other social class. You stepped out of line once, and you might have all of New York's high society on your back. Gossiping, sneering...you couldn't really blame them, considering there was little excitement in a life of boredom and duty, but it still smarted, nonetheless.

I lose my way

And it's too long before you point it out

I cannot cry

Because I know that weakness in your eyes

I'm forced to fake a laugh, a smile

Everyday of my life

My heart can't possibly break

When it wasn't even whole to start with

There was no one to talk to. Children were to be seen and not heard. If one was a very good actress, she could put on a very convincing simper. But a false simper was a false simper, convincing or not. She could not remember a time when she could just talk about her interests and passion. Forget dreaming about some wild fantasy. The few times her mother spoke to her personally was to either scold her or to advise her on getting a good husband. A husband with money and a good name. Love and tenderness were beside the point.

There was a lot buzzing behind her eyes, even when she was locked away in boarding school. But she never spoke of much besides tea, clothes, and ladylike subjects. She feared those glares, those vehement stares of judgment...she lived her life in fear. Fear of rejection, isolation, fear clouded her mind like the factory smoke that clogged workers' lungs.

I watched you die

I heard you cry

Every night in your sleep

I was so young

You should've known better than to lean on me

You never thought of anyone else

You just saw your pain

And now I cry in the middle of the night

For the same damn thing!

So many times she burst into tears for no obvious reason. Again and again, images of her mother's mortified face. The whispers the guests exchanged as they looked at her holding a newsie's hands. The piercing stare of her siblings. The ice in her father's voice as he burned the remnants of the rickety bridge they shared. None of the boys, or Jack even, seemed to really understand what was going on. They tried their best, and she was grateful. But they had their own painful childhood memories, which were probably far worse than anything she could imagine, but still...some things were different for everyone. That's the way of life she supposed.

Because of you I never stray too far from the sidewalk

Because of you I learned to play on the safe side

So I don't get hurt

She couldn't take anymore of that life. No more dressing for dinner and pretending to be a perfect socialite. No more, no more, she could've screamed it out loud!

Because of you I try my hardest just to forget everything

Because of you I don't how to let anyone else in

Because of you I'm ashamed of my life

Because it's empty

Because of you I am afraid

Her feisty spirit was unleashed the minute the suffragettes, those wonderful leading ladies, distributed pamphlets on the street. The idea of coming and going to work, getting paid for something she loved...there was no going back. She left the boarding, her family's mansion, and rented an apartment. She spoke to every editor she could find until there was one willing to put up with her. She wheezed her way through the flower shows and the burlesque performances. She seized the day as the strangely charming newsie Jack Kelly and his brave battalion of strikers stood up to the mighty ruling class- including her father! She now had a husband, a child; but that hunger, that emptiness still haunted her.

"It won't happen again," she decided aloud as she held Jackie closer. "I would rather die than let our child be neglected while we walk this Earth." It was an overwhelming vow, especially since it was for life. But it would work out. Because it had to. That was parenting.

"That's my lucky ace," Jack Kelly said in awe as he kissed her forehead. Like the Holy Family in the stable, they huddled together on the worn mattress in a cramped room, holding each other tightly to keep warm.


Hi I'm back. this is my first attempt at writing a songfic of sorts, so I hoped you enjoyed it. I can't wait for this summer and the school year to end (3 weeks baby). I'll be back soon. and I am definitely seeing Newsies when it returns this summer. :)