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.

--

Whirling around, I followed the sound of the voice. It was female, and entirely unfamiliar to me. However, when I saw who it was who owned that voice, I recognized her at once and I was surprised: it was the girl who'd been sitting with Jack at Tibby's. What was shedoing here?

She was standing on the bottommost step of the great Cathedral, her arms crossed and her darkened eyes narrowed in surprise. She was smiling, and it was probably the strangest smile I'd ever seen. With her braided light brown hair still resting over her right shoulder and her head cocked to the side, she was smiling at me like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.

I didn't like it but there was no time for me to figure out what about her stance caught me off-guard. To be honest, just the fact that she had appeared out of nowhere—and the fact that, like Rachel, she knew my name—was enough to confuse me… and I didn't like that even more.

Forgetting for a moment why I was standing just out of St. Patrick's doorway, I balled my fists at my side and hurried down the steps. The girl didn't seem surprised at all that I was moving quickly towards her. I think she was actually waiting for me to do so.

"You weren't expecting me?" I asked, aware that my voice was louder than it should be. I lowered it. "Who are you?"

She didn't answer me—at least, not with words. Instead, she shook her head and motioned with her hand for me to join her on the step. I did, and then repeated, "I said, who are you?"

Again she shook her head, smiling crookedly over at me before turning around and walking purposely away from me. She had only taken a couple of steps before glancing over her shoulder at me. I hadn't moved at all—I was still confused about her appearance and I had no idea what she was doing there—and she motioned again for me to follow her.

I did, somewhat hesitantly. I kept my eyes wide open as she led the way, careful not to pass by my sister unaware. That would be the last thing I need, to have made my way all the way here only to miss meeting Sarah. However, I was so concerned with finding out who Jack's friend was that I wasn't paying as much attention as I could.

She was a quick walker, weaving through the crowd at such a pace that I barely remained on her tail. I kept her in my sight; so concerned with keeping up with her, I nearly ran right smack into her back when she stopped suddenly at the end of the street. She stood on the corner of—I looked up—Madison Avenue and E 51st St, her face upturned, curious and debating.

"Okay," she murmured, after a few seconds, "we'll go this way." She jerked her head to her right and started walking away from me again.

The quick glance at the Madison Avenue corner sign was enough to remind me what I was doing here. I took a couple of steps toward her, trying to catch up to her without going too far from the church. I waved my hand behind my back in an attempt to get her to understand that I just couldn't run off after her.

"But… my sister…"

She didn't even bother turning around to look at me. "She's not here, David."

I froze in place, too surprised to continue. "How do you know that?"

She shrugged, stopping to look at me. "Did you see her?" That same strange crooked smile was back.

"No."

"Then that's how I know." She paused, and when she spoke again, I could almost hear the obvious humor in her voice. "I'm not blind, you know. If I didn't see her, then she's not here."

It was faulty reasoning at best but there were other things on my mind at the moment—like how this girl, like Rachel, knew who I was… and who I was looking for. Besides, she didn't give me much of a chance to demand any sort of explanation. As I stood, motionless and confused on the corner, she was already heading down the cross street.

After she had made it partway down the street, she turned around and glared at me, her dark eyes flashing in mild annoyance. "Well, are you coming or not?" Her lips were drawn, thin and serious; she was done, for the moment at least, with finding me funny.

"Where?"

She didn't answer me. I guess she thought I should know—that, or she thought I wasn't worth the wasted breath.

Either way, I knew I couldn't let this girl grow frustrated enough that she left me there without any reason for her sudden appearance. She knew something, that much was clear—perhaps, even, she knew what was going on with Sarah. I couldn't miss my chance. I shuffled forward, utter curiosity hedging me towards her.

"Who are you?" I asked again. I tried to sound demanding but I only succeeded in sounding like I was whining.

"They call me Teller."

Oh, great. More nicknames. "Teller?"

She shrugged again. "It's what I do."

"All right then, do you want to tell me what you're doing here?"

At first, I didn't think that she was going to answer me. But, thankfully, she did.

"I saw the note that you handed Jack and I read it over his shoulder. You left Tibby's in such a rush, me and the others watched you go, but you didn't go alone. Jack followed you out. And—"

"And Rachel," I supplied.

"Yup, Rachel left right after you, too. And then I got up. I waited a minute or two, of course, before tellin' Crutchy that I needed to step out for some air. I almost wanted to follow Jacky's address but I never really got the chance. I was standin' in front of the restaurant, still curious about the way you and Jack acted to each other, when Rachel came runnin' back…"

I nodded, not surprised at all that Rachel was running. She'd disappeared from the alleyway so fast that she had to have been running.

Teller was still talking, talking so fast that it was kind of difficult to follow what she was saying.

"…all out of breath, she was, and she told me that she caught up with you. She told me that all about the Sparrow bein' involved, on account of him givin' your sister his sign. She was worried, and she wanted me to help you since she needed to head on home to her brothers. So here I am."

She said all of that in a rush, words tumbling out and disappearing before I had the chance to understand them. I got the gist, though, and I was glad that Rachel wasn't in trouble. I'd been worried, especially after that rock came flying into the alley out of nowhere.

But I was still concerned. That didn't explain why she was there, just how she got there. "That still doesn't explain why you're here," I said, sounding as suspicious as I felt. "Why do you want to help me?"

Teller looked surprised that I was after more of an answer than the one she had already given me. It took her a moment to come up with another one—but I didn't mind. I waited, my arms crossed over my chest in a mockery of her earlier stance. I was frustrated; it was getting very bothersome, being the only one who had no idea what was really going on.

Finally she said, "I really don't like the Sparrow."

And that surprised me.

"You know him?"

"I know of him," she said, frowning. "But enough of that, we have to find Jack. If anyone, I'm sure he'll know where your sister is." She paused again, the edge of her lip curling upwards. "That's what you're doing here, right, David? Looking for your sister?"

I ignored the implications that laced her tone. Instead, I mirrored her frown at the mention of Jack. Scoffing slightly, I told her, "I doubt I'm gonna get any answers out of Jack. I got it on good authority," I said, making sure not to mention that my source was the gossip of the lodging house, "that he was heading off to Brooklyn. He's not looking for Sarah."

That rattled her just a bit. At the very least, she stopped walking. Turning around, there was uncertainty written across her face. "Brooklyn?" she said abruptly, quickly changing direction and walking purposely forward. She hurried her pace as she double-backed down the cross street.

I hadn't expected that response. "Wait! Where are you going now?"

"Brooklyn." Teller shook her head. "I should've known."

I let that remark slide as I hurried to catch up to her. If she was going back downtown, she would have to pass St. Patrick's Cathedral again. Despite her flimsy assurance that Sarah wouldn't be waiting there, I wanted one more look around Madison Avenue. "Why Brooklyn?"

"Are you brainless, Dave?" she muttered, her walk more of a mix between a trot and a jog. "And they told me you was smart."

I was insulted but I decided to save that indignation for a later time. Right then, my first priority was trying to learn what Teller meant. She seemed to know a lot more about Sarah's predicament than I did; I couldn't take her for granted.

"That doesn't mean I know everything," I mumbled under my breath, unable to refrain from doing so. "And I don't understand why you need to go to Brooklyn all of a sudden."

"First of all, you mean why we have to go to Brooklyn… and, second, you just told me that's where Jack was, right? And the chase begins with Jack." She shook her head again, fiercer this time, her braid whipping around until it was settling on her left shoulder. "I should've known, though. Brooklyn," she snorted, obviously aware of something that I wasn't—which, as every minute of this strange day passed, was getting to be more and more.

"Listen… Teller, is it?" She nodded and I tried not to scowl. "Teller. Okay. Listen, it's late and I've been out looking for my sister for hours. My parents have got to be worried stiff by now and… and…"

"And what, David?" she asked, and the way she spat out my name made me feel like I was being scolded. "Are you really goin' to go back home to your ma and tell her that you had a chance to track your sister down but you went back 'cause you was tired?"

I let her tone wash over and felt like the guilty cad she obviously thought I was. I grimaced, and I knew she won. "So… Brooklyn, huh?"

"Eventually," she said shortly, her lips pursed in mild disapproval. "I gotta admit, you're kinda right. It is late. 'Sides, I'm sure ol' Jacky Boy is gonna stick it out with Conlon until the Sparrow flies the coop." She paused again and glanced up at the sky. It was growing darker, the sun hidden by a mass of clouds as it dropped.

Nodding to herself, she announced, "We got some time, at least."

Then Teller turned around again and I gave up. This time, I just followed her.

--

We didn't walk that far, and we were silent the entire time. I had a hundred questions for her: Who was she really? How did she know Jack? How did she know me? What did she have against the Sparrow? Why did she care about what happened to Sarah? And why… why was it so darn obvious that Jack headed off to Brooklyn instead of Madison Avenue?

I had a hundred questions for her but there was something in Teller's newly adopted cautious and guarded expression that told me that I wouldn't be getting answers from her. I left it at that, figuring that I would know something after we got to wherever she was taking me.

One thing was for sure, we weren't going to Brooklyn. It was definitely too late to start that journey, I knew, but I couldn't imagine where she was taking me, either. I wasn't familiar with this area at all; except for knowing that I had a couple hour walk ahead of me when I finally headed home, and that the St. Patrick's Cathedral was now behind me, I had no idea where I was.

Teller seemed to, though, and I was more than happy to let her take the lead.

Unlike me, she seemed to know exactly where she was going. She continued to dodge in and out of crowds of people, moving at such a speed that I envied her. This was the most walking I'd done since lessons started up again and I could feel the beginning of raw blisters on my heels; my shoes were too small as they were, and I wished I'd used some of my earnings on new shoes rather than the used paperbacks I'd purchased.

I was aching to sit, and my earlier hunger had returned full force. We'd passed the church again and, unsurprisingly, there was no sign of Sarah. Without another lead, my panic at her disappearance had dulled to a nervousness that was easier to push aside in favor of other emotions.

Like curiosity at where Teller was taking us…

I was pretty sure that we weren't walking toward the Brooklyn Bridge. It must have bothered her to admit that I was right, but it was already well past dusk now; there was no way we could make it to Brooklyn before the lodging house on Poplar Street hit curfew.

I also didn't think that Teller was leading me back towards the Lower East Side. We'd taken a couple of turns off of Madison Avenue so nothing around me was familiar, but it didn't seem like we were heading in that direction. If anything, I felt like we were going across the island, not down it.

Huffing, I realized that, sometime when I was grousing silently to myself, Teller had widened the gap between us considerably. In fact, she was already at the end of the block, crossing the street.

However, as I started to walk quicker in a bid to catch up to her—ignoring the protests from my sore feet—I realized that she'd paused once she made it to the other side. She wasn't even looking back at me, either. Instead, she was glancing up at a rather worn building.

Its façade was faded, and the windows were grubbier than the fancy buildings we'd left behind us on Madison Avenue. It looked like a forgotten building, but there was a sense of care that surrounding this building. It was well lived in, and probably well loved.

After crossing the street myself, I joined her in front of the building. For the first time since I told her about Brooklyn, I asked her a question.

"Where… where are we?"

She smiled over at me—it was strange to see that she was almost taller than I was—and raised her eyebrows. It was a skeptical look, and I wondered if she was still questioning the assessment that I actually had a brain.

"Why, it's the Midtown Lodging House, of course." Her teeth were actually visible, her smile was so wide—wide, and condescending at the same time. I wasn't too sure I liked Teller. "What, did you think I was gonna make you sleep on the street tonight?"

I shook my head slowly. I didn't know this girl at all but, honestly, I wouldn't have put it past her to make me do just that.

Author's Note: Well, that was a bit of a break. I don't know what it is, but I always seemed to get writer's block around this time of year. Maybe it's because it's getting so nice out… it's no fun to stay inside when the sun finally comes out to play ;) And, of course, my annual case of sunburn courtesy of my Memorial Day beach trip kept me a little out of commision lately... heh.

Finally, though, I decided it was time to get back to some of my writing. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Happy June everybody, woot!

-- stress, 06.01.08