Author's Note

.｡｡*ﾟi hope you're staying safe and watering yourself! .｡｡*ﾟ

Today's chapter is something a little bit different, as we're now focusing on Jack's sister Sophie in 1899. Warning for brief sexual content (implied).

Love youuu 💗 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚

~pm any story requests!

MANHATTAN - 1899

Jack Kelly's little sister had walked a dangerous line. And she realized it as soon as she stepped onto Brooklyn turf, disobeying Jack's orders without shame.

"Well, if it ain't Miss Sophie Kelly," Spot Conlon's smooth voice called from the far-end of the alley with an exaggerated Irish accent. Of course, he'd seen her first. When did he not? She'd played this game in the past, but he'd spied her before she even took a full step into the borough. "First your brother comes for a visit, draggin' some walking mouth alongside him, and now you. To what do I owe the pleasure, sweetheart?"

Sophie looked at him, fumbling with her hands behind her back. Spot had a cigarette dangling from his mouth as he sat atop a barrel, shooting a game of craps with another boy. His eyes flitted from the dice he rolled to the Manhattan native before him.

The other boy stared over at her in suspicion. He knew who she was, as well as who her big brother. The Brooklyn newsies hadn't had a problem with Jack himself, nor Sophie, but there had been a rivalry between both boroughs in the past. And though it never led to anything violent, tension was nonetheless there. Dormant, but there. Like an unloaded gun.

"Yeah, ain't it late for you to be out alone?" The boy asked, a smirk playing on his lips. "Dangerous and all. Whole lotta drunks and gangsters wondering around these parts." He took the cigar from his mouth and raised the brim of his cap. "And murderers no doubt, searchin' for little girlies like you."

"She don't scare easy, this one," Spot said to Sophie without glancing at his dark-haired friend. "Ain't that right?"

Sophie didn't respond. Instead, she walked further into the alley. She gazed sideways at Spot, ignoring the once-over the other boy gave her. "We need to talk," she stated, giving him a serious look. She paused, glancing at the curious boy. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "this is kind of important. Can we go somewhere private?"

The Brooklyn leader smirked, rising from his seat. "Sure," he mumbled, leading the way out of the alley and into the lodging house.

Sophie stared at the ceiling as Spot rolled off her. Tears stung her eyes. She hadn't expected him to be so rough, so vulgar. She shrieked when the pain got too unbearable, followed by Spot wrapping his large hand around her mouth, shushing her, his mouth next to her ear. "Quiet. Try to relax."

She had agreed, scared of what would happen if Spot got angry. And anyway, it was all for a good cause. At least, it seemed to be.

Sophie peered at him as he sat up, his head against the wall, the sheets to his waist, lighting a cigarette. "So, you'll help us?" she stammered, snuggling herself under the warm blankets.

"Hmm?" Spot stared at her out of the corner of his eye. He took a drag from the cigarette.

"With the strike," Sophie felt her heartbeat. "Will you get your boys to help Jack? You promised you'd do it if we…" She trailed off.

Spot blew out the smoke, rubbing his eyes. "I said I'd think about it. There's a difference."

Sophie pouted at his dishonesty, staring at the cracks in the ceiling of the small room he had all to himself. "But you haven't had any trouble with Jack, and–"

"Jack ain't got nothing to do with it," Spot interrupted her, offering a drag from the cigarette which she waved away. He sighed and brought it back to his lips, inhaling. "Besides, if he's the one who sent you, I've lost a lot of respect for him." He paused, ashing out the cigarette onto the bedframe. "Not that I didn't enjoy it, but I didn't know things were that desperate."

Sophie glared at him, hating the joke he was making of the strike. "Why—"

"Because I said so," Spot glanced at her with a stern expression.

Swallowing her pride, she gazed up at him with big doe eyes. She hated begging, but she knew how to use it to her advantage. "Please?"

He ignored her.

"Please, Patrick? Pretty please?"

This time, he snapped his eyes to hers at the sound of his real name. "Did I say you could call me that?"

Sophie felt her throat close at his tone. She'd seen him soak boys for less. Yet all he gave her was a warning glare. If it had been anyone else, she'd be sprawled on the cold floor by now.

"Sorry," she mumbled. She cleared her throat, deciding to switch tactics.

A smirk played on her lips as she swung a leg around his waist and moved her body on top of him, straddling his hips. Spot exhaled a cloud of smoke from his nose, staring at her. The tense glare in his eyes relaxed.

"What if I make you a deal?" She offered, appealing to his gambling side, placing soft kisses on his neck and bare collarbone, already bruised.

"Mm?" His eyebrow raised. "What kind of deal?"

Sophie moved from his collarbone to his chest. "If you help Jack," she sang with teasing eyes and a coquette smile, "I'll be yours for the rest of the year."

Spot laughed, but not in a way that made Sophie feel good about his answer. He blew a puff of smoke in her face which she disregarded, his other hand snaking up her thigh to grab her hip. "And what if I don't wanna?"

Sophie took his hand and forced it off her, a determined expression on her face. "You won't see me again."

"What makes you think I care about you?" His tone wasn't cold, but it was honest, and for a moment Sophie thought it was a losing battle.

She pushed away the insult and continued to kiss down his taut stomach, knowing it was best not to answer.

Spot was quiet for a moment, studying her face. "This is pathetic," he mumbled, shaking his head.

Sophie smirked. "It's working, ain't it?"

"A little too well." He put out his cigarette and sighed. "Tell Jack he's got Brooklyn's support."

Sophie grinned and reached up, doing something she hadn't done before to Spot. She kissed him on the lips.

When Sophie pulled away, she stared at the blanket, embarrassed at her sudden action.

Spot seemed amused. "The fuck was that all about?"

"Nothing," Sophie fumbled for something to take away the moment. She felt Spot's eyes on her as she crawled under the sheets.

"What are you—" Spot stopped mid-sentence as his eyes widened and a low moan escaped his lips. "Fuck," he breathed, lowering his arm under the sheets until his fingers tangled themselves in Sophie's dark blonde hair.

Sophie prayed to whatever deity no one walked into the room.

"Spot Conlon gives his support to Manhattan." Sophie rocked back on her heels, trying to seem anything but exhausted as she stood in the foyer of the Duane Street Lodging House. It was where her brother lived, and she didn't mind obeying his Superintendent's rules, since he'd been kind to her over the years.

"You missed a button," Jack mumbled in a low voice, his arms crossed and his eyes glaring back at her in suspicion and anger.

Sophie peeked at her dress and found the mismatched trail, fixing the problem. "Thank you…"

Jack paced back and forth in the deserted room. The other boys were out enjoying an evening at Medda's.

"How did we get Brooklyn's support anyway? Why did Spot listen to you and not me?" Jack asked, still pacing. Something in his voice made Sophie think her older brother had a vague idea already.

"Um, because he wants to help, and…"

"And why the hell does Spot Conlon want to help? Enlighten me, Sophie Clare Sullivan," he demanded, using her real name.

Sophie sighed. Was she supposed to tell him the truth?

"I…talked to him, and—"

Jack forced a laugh, making his sister pause. "Yeah, talked. Sure. I ain't stupid."

Sophie felt her cheeks flush. "Because Queens wanted to join—"

"And why did Queens want to join?"

Sophie bit her lip, not wanting to admit how she'd convinced the leader of Queens to be sympathetic to Manhattan's cause.

"You're a smart girl, Sophie. You don't need to do this," Jack's voice rose. "Did they force you? Are there any other newsies I should know about?"

The younger girl stared anywhere but his eyes. She ground her teeth, hating him for his temper. Did he not know how much she'd done for them?

"Dammit, Sophie! Answer me, or I will find out myself!"

The two were interrupted as a few newsies walked past them to the stairs, exchanging polite hellos with Sophie. But Jack wasn't finished.

"What would Ma say if she knew what you were doing? You're being stupid," Jack spat, lowering his voice to just above a whisper, ensuring the others couldn't eavesdrop.

"You know, out of all people, I didn't think you would judge me," Sophie replied with a stomp of her foot, trying to maintain her poker face, though her voice wavered.

"I'm...I'm not judging you. I'm just..." he stumbled, searching for the right words. "It's one thing to spread the word about the strike. But you can do it without taking your clothes off," he mumbled, meaning it.

"I thought you'd be a little more grateful," Sophie hissed, hands on her hips. "I got them to join for you. For all of us. That was me, all me. No thanks to you."

"I am grateful, but-"

"Then why are you yelling at me? It's not like you would've cared if some other girl was doing the same thing."

"Because you're my sister, and I'm responsible for you! So stop acting like a little whore. It's embarrassing."

Sophie whipped her wounded gaze up to meet his, their eyes in an intense war. "Fuck you," she muttered, turning on her heel and stomping to the entryway, slamming the front door on her way out.