Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the property of Disney and are only used for fan related purposes.

--

The Sparrow

When Sarah disappears, it's up to David to go looking for her.
With only a simple clue to where she could have gone, and the understanding that he's in over his head,
it won't take him too long to discover that his sister wasn't the only one with a secret.

--

Jack glanced down at the envelope on the table. His lips moved as he read his name on the front but he didn't pick it up. Instead, he looked back up at me. He was still wearing that cocky smile of his, condescending and suspicious at the same time. "What do you mean 'gone', Dave? She's probably just out deliverin' her lace or something. Did you ever think of that?"

Of course I'd thought of that, I wasn't an idiot. The entire way over to Tibby's I wondered if I was overreacting, if I was reading too much into things. I don't know why I was so convinced but I just knew something was wrong, even if I there was no real proof but my own insistence. Sarah was missing, I was sure of it.

But how was I supposed to explain that to Jack?

Sounding somewhat defensive myself, I told him, "She wasn't home when me and Les got out of school."

I realized as soon as I said that that Jack could hear my words and believe that his idea was the right one. It would make sense; if Sarah wasn't home, then she probably was out doing something so simple as delivering a basket of lace. But I didn't care if it made sense or not—that's not what happened.

Something was nagging at the back of my mind, something that was telling me that there was something I was overlooking. I didn't pay much attention to it, though. Jack was chuckling at me. It was as if he found my concern funny.

He had reached out his right hand to cover the envelope from view, I noticed. With his left hand, he gestured to me. "See?" he said, sounding quite proud of himself. "Now, tell me… was anyone at the apartment when you got back?"

I didn't understand what that had to do with anything. "No…"

Jack tapped the tabletop with his open palm. "Exactly my point. Say your sister ain't out makin' her deliveries," he said. He must've noticed how defensive I sounded, "and, like you said, she ain't at your apartment. But you're ma ain't home either, right? Maybe Sarah went out shoppin' with her?"

That nagging feeling shot through my head and I slapped my forehead in recognition of it. Now I remembered.

"She was supposed to be, Jack," I countered, my head stinging now where I hit it. I barely noticed the pain, though—I finally remembered the simple note that Sarah had written out for me and Les and left on the table at home. Suddenly I was even more certain that something had happened to her. "Sarah was supposed to be at the market with Mama. She said so herself—"

"Then maybe that's where she is, Dave!" Jack shot back. He didn't sound nearly as amused as he'd been only seconds ago. In fact, he sounded nervous and… scared?

No, not scared. I must've imagined that. In the time that I've known Jack Kelly I could count the times I've seen him afraid on one hand. But he definitely sounded nervous.

His tone took me by surprise and, for a heartbeat, I just stared at him. He kept his hand on that envelope, trying to hide it from view, but his other hand was pointing at me. Jack was sitting up in his seat; he wasn't leaning back into it anymore. He'd lost that knowing smirk of his; he looked slightly uncertain.

I think he was finally beginning to understand that I wasn't making this up. Thank goodness.

It was quiet again. I kept my head straight, looking diagonally across the table so that I was staring right at Jack. It was easy to pretend when I was talking to him that the others weren't sitting there too but I was reminded of their presence when the surrounding noise seemed to just… stop. This was probably better than a show down at Irving Hall for some of them.

They were all waiting to hear what I would say next. I bared my shoulders as I leaned in closer to Jack. His insistence that Sarah was where she should be was infuriating. "She's not. I saw Mama, Jack, and Sarah wasn't with her. I'm telling you, she's gone!"

Jack squinted at me. He licked his lips once before nodding at me. "Okay, okay… maybe Sarah went for a walk, maybe she went to visit a friend," he told me, shrugging. "There's no reason to get so worried, Davey. Besides, she's a big girl, she can take care of herself."

It was strange hearing Jack be the voice of reason and, for a moment, I almost believed him. That's when I realized that he still wasn't being honest with me; he was being himself—he was being a liar. Feeling a bit foolish for almost being taken in by him, I began to wonder if he was just humoring me, if he was just making it up as he went along.

And then it hit me. Just as I was certain that Sarah was gone, I was almost sure that Jack already knew that. He sounded too confident that nothing was wrong; he was offering excuse after excuse for her without seeming the least bit concerned that maybe—just maybe—she was in trouble.

And why would he be so sure that she was fine? Perhaps because she'd told him herself?

I shook my head. There was only one thing left to do. If he was trying to cover for Sarah, then I was going to call him out on it. I needed to know what was in that envelope.

My hands were clenched into fists at my side. I lifted one up and used my pointer finger to point at the tabletop. The envelope I'd given him was still covered by his hand but I knew it was still there.

"Jack, I want you to open that envelope."

His eyebrow raised. He looked surprised that I would make such a demand of him. "Dave, I don't th—"

"Please, Jack, I had to hurry all the way down here to deliver Sarah's letter to you. I just want to know what it says."

"Yeah, Cowboy," interrupted Crutchy, his thin, high-pitched voice seemingly coming from nowhere. "You should… open… "

His voice trailed off as Jack turned his heavy gaze on him. I guess I wasn't the only one who was trying to keep our little conversation secret.

"Never mind," Crutchy added hurriedly before turning to look to his left. There was still space at their booth to add a second seat next to Swifty; without another word, Crutchy dragged his seat so that he was sitting close to Mush. Then, as loudly as he could, he asked Mush about some girl he'd met last night.

As soon as he was sure that the others weren't obviously watching him, Jack lifted up his hand and picked up the envelope. Then, with the attitude of one doing something simple in order to placate another, Jack did just what I asked: he opened the envelope. He slid the folded up piece of paper out of the envelope before tossing the envelope back onto the table. Then, when he was sure he had my attention, he opened it.

A little piece of paper had been tucked inside the note. Jack hadn't been expecting it so, when he opened the note, it fell out and fluttered to the restaurant's floor.

The tiny scrap landed face up and, even though I was on the opposite side of the table, I could make out a blue etching on the paper. It was a drawing of… something, something small and somewhat round, with many little lines and details. The scrap had been torn off of a larger seat of paper and it was slightly wrinkled; it barely lay flat on the ground.

I only had a few seconds to look at the scrap before someone scooped down to pick it up. I'd thought it was Jack but no… Jack hadn't moved from his seat. The note was open and he was reading the words written on the paper; he hadn't even noticed that something else had fallen.

"Ah, shit," he mumbled under his breath. His words, like before, seemed to filter through the quiet, inviting the other newsies to talk again. The background noise started up again; if Jack said anything else, I didn't hear him.

I don't think he actually meant to say anything out loud and his quiet words immediately drew my attention back to him. His eyes were on the paper held tightly in his right hand. I couldn't read what was written there since the paper was a thicker stock and the ink hadn't bled through.

"What's it say, Jack?" I asked urgently. I hoped I surprised him enough with my question that he wouldn't have enough time to think up a lie.

Because there was no doubt about it, Jack was rattled. Maybe I was the only one who noticed it, especially since every single one of the eavesdroppers surrounding us seemed very interesting in their food and drinks all of a sudden, but his face had dropped and he'd taken one great big breath as he looked at the note.

It didn't lasted, of course. Jack was a champion liar; his smile was back in place mere seconds after he let it briefly vanish. He offered another chuckle, quickly folding the note back up and waving it absently before slipping it inside his vest.

"Nothin', Dave."

It wasn't nothing, that much I knew. Nothing wouldn't have made him freeze like that. "But—"

"It's nothin', Dave," he repeated, fiercer this time. "Sarah just wanted to thank me for helping her out with some stuff, you know?"

I narrowed my eyes on him. "Really? That's why Sarah left her bed a mess, that's why all of her stuff was thrown everywhere? Because she wanted to write you a thank you note, Jack?"

I didn't miss it this time either. His eyes flickered over to the braided girl in the seat beside him and the nervous, restless way he glanced at her made me question my earlier assessment that she was his new girl.

Turning my head slightly, I dared to look at her again. She was still slouching in her seat, trying her best not to look interested in the argument me and Jack were having, but I could tell she was listening to every words that'd been said. I couldn't explain why but the way her ears were cocked slightly to pick up every whisper, every yell, made my nervous too.

I met Jack's gaze again. His expressions was set, his mouth a thin line.

"Don't worry about Sarah," he said then and I could tell that that was the end of the conversation. For now, anyway.

That didn't mean that I was going to leave it at that. I was too angry, too worried, to let Jack quiet me down like that. Maybe I was being petty, but I slammed my hand against the tabletop again just to make my point. Then, huffing angrily as I spoke, I said, "You know what, Jack? I don't know why I even bothered giving you that letter. I don't need you, I don't your help. I'll find Sarah on my own!"

Jack didn't say anything in response to that but that might've been because I didn't really give him the chance. I was feeling righteous, and slightly betrayed. I'd risked my neck for the newsies last summer—Sarah too—and what was my thanks? I go to Jack for help and he tells me not to worry about my sister. My sister!

I should've demanded to see the actual note but I didn't think about it at the time. I was too busy storming out of Tibby's.

I was breathing heavily as I pushed my way through the crowd. I heard a gentleman make a remark about me being rude but I ignored him. My mind was whirring and I didn't know what to do now. I was even surer of it now that something bad was happening and it was frustrating that one of the few friends I had was turning against me. It didn't matter that Jack was lying in an attempt to showcase his loyalty to Sarah—I knew he knew something about Sarah's disappearance and he was keeping it from me.

The streets were more crowded than they were when I was walking to Tibby's but I barely noticed the other people. Jack's indifferent attitude to Sarah's disappearance bothered me more than I could say because it was so obvious that he was hiding the truth from me. And I'd thought we were friends.

There was nothing I could do, though. Sarah had left something for Jack and I'd given it to him but I hadn't gotten any answers for my trouble. The only thing I could hope was that, somehow, Jack's lied proved true and Sarah would be back home when I got there.

That thought in mind, I started back in the direction to my building. Mama, I knew, would be angry if I stayed out that much longer—especially if Sarah, wherever she was, was already out.

I kept my head down as I quickened my step. I was more careful, making sure that I didn't collide with anyone else on the street, but I did hurry my pace. If I did return home and Sarah still wasn't there, Mama and Papa would need all the support I could offer.

"David?"

Because my head was down, I didn't see who it was who called my name. I stopped walking, lifting my head immediately. From my first look, it didn't seem as if anyone was calling out to me and I wondered if I had imagined hearing my name. It wasn't an uncommon name, after all…

"David? David! Over here!"

There was no mistaking it that time and I quickly tried to follow the sound of the female voice with my eyes and ears. There, at the next corner, was a hand waving out from the depths of a darkened alleyway. I could only hope that, whoever was waving, they were waving at me.

Trying not to look too eager, I walked down the rest of the block. I glanced behind me as I approached the corner, checking to see if someone else was walking towards the alleyway; no one else was, and I had to assume that the hand signal had been meant for me.

"Yes?" I called as I turned the corner and stood at the mouth of the alley.

I was very interested to see what sort of girl was attached to the waving hand, especially since she seemed to know who I was. For a brief second, I entertained the idea that maybe it was Sarah, disguising her voice maybe, but when I came face to face with the girl it was very easy to see that she wasn't Sarah.

The girl was tall, about my height, and very slim. Her dark blue eyes were darting to and fro nervously, and she was playing with the hem of her long grey skirt. Her dark brown hair was pulled back, showing off the slenderness of her neck as she kept her head straight, looking out into the busy street.

"I know you," I said, surprised. I pointed at her. "You were that girl sitting with Skittery!" I shook my head in disbelief. The last time I'd seen her she was sitting beside him; she must've run quite quickly to beat me here. "What do you want me for?"

She nodded quickly while, at the same time, bringing her pointer finger to her lips in a request for quiet. "Shh," she hissed before grabbing my arm and pulling me deeper into the alley. "Did anyone see you come here?"

I didn't know what that meant, or why it mattered, as I said, "Well, yes. The street was quite crowded when you called me in here."

She shook her head. "That's not what I meant, David," she said seriously, her thin lips turned down in a frown, "and there's not much time. I think your sister's in trouble."

I knew it… but how did she know it?

Confused, I started to ask her before she interrupted me. "Listen, miss—"

"Rachel. My name is Rachel Harpen and you… you are David Jacobs, aren't you?"

I wondered how she knew who I was but I wasn't about to ask. It wasn't important. What was important was finding out just exactly what she was talking about. "Yes, I'm David bu—"

Rachel shook her head and I noticed that that wasn't the only part of her that was shaking. She'd shot her hand out in front of her and I could see that her fingers were trembling. There was a scrap of paper held between her thumb and forefinger, almost as if she didn't want to touch the paper any more than she had to.

Even though it was slightly dark in the alley I was still able to see what was on the scrap—the same lines and circles, dots and dashes of a complex drawing that I'd seen on the scrap that Jack had dropped back at Tibby's. The same scrap that he'd dropped… right next to where Rachel had been sitting next to Skittery.

I'd seen someone pick it up and I knew it hadn't been Jack. It must've been this girl… but what exactly did it mean? And why did a blue drawing on a worn piece of paper mean that Sarah was in trouble?

I looked up questioningly at the girl but I didn't have to say a word. She knew what I was going to say before I'd even had the chance to say it.

She waited until I had accepted the scrap of paper before she said, "I think the Sparrow has your sister, David. And, if he does, she is definitely in trouble."

Author's Note: Look at that, another chapter already! It's been quite some time since I had such a wave of inspiration for a story and I'm hoping to ride this out as long as it lasts. Updates for some of my other stories shall be shortly… I don't know, it's something about Spring that makes me want to write.

Major thanks to Tiny Timb, Brockie, Biddy, Rae and Swindler for reviewing the last chapter. I hope this one answered some questions—before asking one big whopper of one right at the end ;)

-- stress, 04.13.08