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

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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.

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"Come on, let's go."

I hesitated and, for some reason, that made her laugh.

"What's the matter? It ain't gonna bite, you know. It's just a building." Nodding at the entrance, she added, "Go on. It's only gettin' darker out here."

I didn't want to admit that I'd never slept inside a lodging house before—and, if I was planning on doing so, it would have been the one where I knew the other fellas—so I brought up a different complaint. "I didn't bring any money with me. I can't afford to pay the lodging fare."

The look Teller gave me was one of utter disbelief and total disdain. She snorted and turned her eyes downward. I could see that her lips were moving, but wordlessly; if she said anything at all, it wasn't meant for me to hear. Without even glancing back up at me, she shoved her right hand into the front pocket of her skirt and drew something out before tossing it at me.

I wasn't expecting the throw and whatever it was that she threw hit me square in the chest before dropping to the cobblestones. I fumbled for it but missed, feeling my cheeks heat up as I hurriedly bent over to retrieve the small, round dark object. Teller sighed; I heard that.

My fingers were clumsy and it took me two tries to pick up the item. At first I thought it was a stone and I immediately thought about the painted rock from this afternoon—had it only been afternoon? It seemed like an eternity since I'd first heard of the Sparrow—but it wasn't a stone; it was a worn, rubbed down coin. From the look of it, I think it might've been a nickel.

"Here David," she said, nodding at me when I stood back up, "you take my last nickel. I'll spot you your fare." In the glow of the gas lamp I could see that there was a steely look in her dark eyes that told me that she was not prepared to take no for an answer.

With that nickel in my hand, I felt like a cad, robbing the girl of the last of her money. Under normal circumstances I would have been the one to offer up my nickel—but these were not normal circumstances and, from a failure to plan ahead, I'd left home this afternoon without a penny in my pocket. I may not have wanted to sleep in an unfamiliar lodging house but it was definitely preferable to sleeping on the streets.

"Thank you," I mumbled, folding my fist around the coin. The feel of the smooth coin against my palm suddenly reminded me of what exactly Teller had just said. "Wait a minute… did you just say your last nickel?"

"Yeah, and you're lucky to get that much. Crutchy musta been all out of sorts when he realized I'd stiffed him for the bill over at Tibby's."

I waved my hand urgently, as if that would stall the image of Crutchy's crushed, yet accepting, expression from flashing before my eyes. "No, no," I said, shaking my head, "that's not what I meant. If this is your last nickel, how do you plan on paying for your lodging fare here tonight?"

She stared at me then and the way her eyes seemed to search my face made my stomach twist out of nerves. I wasn't used to girls—one of Jack's, especially—looking at me like that. I impressed myself, though, by not turning away; instead, I held the nickel back out to Teller. I couldn't make her sleep out on the street.

Her laugh was low and harsh, as if she couldn't believe what I was doing. "Are you mad, Dave? I don't plan on stayin' here tonight."

"Why not?"

"'Cause it's a boys' home, that's why. I ain't allowed past the front door." She laughed again and I felt very foolish. I should have known that.

"But," I argued, trying not to let her see that her laugh bothered me, "I thought you were going to go to Brooklyn with me."

"I am. I can't let a guy like you walk off into Brooklyn all by his self. It'd be murder!"

I resented her implications. I don't know why she thought I couldn't manage it by myself in Brooklyn. I knew Spot Conlon and, if I was being honest, he didn't look as tough as everyone made him out to be. I was sure I'd be fine, especially if I was meeting Jack when I got there. Jack knew how to handle Spot.

I was just about to argue further when I decided that it would be rude to continually fight with a young lady—even if that young lady was a street girl like Teller obviously was—especially one who was being so kind to me, even lending me her last nickel.

The daring look on her face had nothing to with my decision, of course.

I sighed and tried to approach the situation logically. Let no one say that all those hours spent in lessons did me no good. "So you aregoing to go to Brooklyn with me? You're just not staying here?"

"Exactly."

"Where are you going to stay?" My hand was still outstretched and I nodded my head at the nickel being gripped by my fingers. "Here, I can't take this. I can't let you sleep out on the streets because of me."

Teller waved her hand absently at me, ignoring the nickel I held out towards her. "Look, I got a place of my own to get to. Don't you worry about me, alright?"

"Are you sure? I'd feel awful if I put you out by taking your money."

"I told you not to worry about it, didn't I? I'm a big girl, Dave, I'll survive just fine." There was determination on her face as she walked behind me and, without me expecting her to, placed her dirty, thin hands on the small of my back.

"Now go on inside," she said, pushing me forward with more strength than I would have thought she had. "There's a big desk at the end of the hall, it's run by a guy called MacCauley. He can be a bum sometimes but don't pay him no mind. Just give him the nickel, give him your name, then get out of his way. The stairs'll be right there," she continued, letting her hands drop once I was positioned immediately in front of the entryway. "Then you go on up 'til the third floor and pray you get a bunk when you get there."

My head was spinning at the pace of her directions but only one thing really stuck out for me: Teller seemed to know an awful lot about the layout and the inner workings of this lodging house. I didn't say anything to her about that, though; instead, I tucked that observation into the back of my mind for use later on.

She was obviously a tricky street girl at that. It was no wonder she got along with Jack.

"Okay," I said agreeably, and a touch bewildered, as I stared up at the front of the building. For some reason, it suddenly seemed even more impressive than the great doors of St. Patrick's Cathedral.

I turned around and was surprised to see that she had already started to walk away from me. I called to her retreating back. "So, should I meet you somewhere tomorrow?"

Teller spun on her heel and, in that moment, I saw a strange look pass across her face. I wasn't sure what it meant but it seemed to be the opposite of her earlier humor. It was a dark expression that lasted for only a second, there and gone again. In the next second, she was smirking over at me again.

"You don't have to find me, David. I'll find you."

She offered me one last laugh and a nod before whirling around and running away. Where ever she was going, I guess she didn't want to miss curfew.

Neither did I, actually. I wasn't too familiar with the rules of a lodging house, but Teller had told me enough in her quick set of orders to make me very wary of this MacCauley. Even if I was only going to stay here for the night, I didn't want to get on his bad side.

I tried not to think about what I was doing. It wasn't like me, taking off and staying out all night, but I had to do it. More now than ever, I was certain that Sarah was in trouble. There was no way that I could return home without her. How could I explain that to Mama? Teller had been right—if there was a chance that Brooklyn held all the answers, I had to go there.

Teller was right about another thing, too. As I entered the dreary front room of the lodging house, dragging my feet as I hesitantly moved forward, I could see that her details were correct. There was a hallway, and I could just make out a desk at its end. I had no doubt that some brute of a man would be manning it; after all, what sort of a caretaker could make such on impression on a girl like Teller for her to call him a bum?

There were some details that she'd left out, though. The place was small, cluttered with odds and ends, and full of knickknacks. I almost tripped on a pile of sticks that was stacked just inside, and it was not difficult to pick out the strewn bits of broken toys and dropped clothing that littered the hallway. It was very different from the house that Jack and the other guys stayed out.

I tread carefully down the hallway, making sure I didn't step on anything. It would be very difficult to walk all the way to Brooklyn on a broken ankle.

It got darker the farther I went. There were a handful of candles, half spent and covered in dribbles of wax, that lined the hallway; the dancing flames became more noticeable as I walked. It must've grown dark outside as the sun finally set for the night.

The hall ended abruptly. My eyes had grown accustomed to the dark and the flare of light from an oil lamp off to the side almost blinded me. I blinked in surprise at the sudden flash and, in a fit of stupidity, I walked straight into the secondhand desk that was stationed right there.

"Hey, kid, take it easy! That oak don't come cheap, ya know."

I blinked again and this time, when I opened my eyes, I could make out a rather large bulky figure standing behind the desk. Narrowing my eyes, I could make out some of his features. He was tall and very nearly as wide. This man was burly, and he had thick, black curls that covered his head. His eyes were small, dark in the lamplight, and almost hidden in his large, flat face. With hands as large as a spade, he was wagging his fingers at me.

I gulped. "I'm sorry. I… I was just—"

He slammed his hand against the top of his precious oak desk with such a force that I was surprised it didn't crumble under the pressure. "You lookin' for a place to stay?"

I nodded, but I guess that wasn't enough of an answer for this man.

He smiled at me, one that made him even more intimidating. "Can't hear a nod, boyo. Speak up!"

I read once that dogs could smell fear, that sharks could smell a drop of blood of ocean and go after its prey. Well, nowhere in that schoolbook did they mention how perceptive this man MacCauley could be. He must've known that I hadn't wanted to be there as it was and he was making it even more difficult for me.

"I… I was told that I could stay here." The nickel Teller gave me was still in my hand and I held it up as if it were my saving grace. "I have lodging fare."

His grip was gentler than I would have thought; at the very least, he didn't break all ten of my fingers when he snatched the nickel out of my hand.

Holding it up, I had the feeling that he was checking to make sure it wasn't a dead coin. I had to fight back another gulp when it took him longer than I would've expected to examine it. What would I have done if it was a fake?

MacCauley only made me wait for a few seconds longer before slamming it down on the counter and grunting. With another flick of his large hands, he flipped his ledger open and flicked it to a random page.

Teller had told me to give him my nickel, give him my name and get out. Well, I'd already offered him my lodging face. Now for my name; I could only assume that was what he was waiting for. "My name is David Jacobs," I said.

"You got a home, David Jacobs," he asked me, placing the point of his pencil to the ledger. "You got a family?"

I couldn't understand what that had to do with anything. "Yes?" I'd meant my words to come out assertively, perhaps with a touch of defiance, but I only sounded confused.

MacCauley's grin was even more lethal than that of the wildest of strays. He extended his pointer finger and jabbed it at a sign by his desk. I hadn't seen it before and, with this man pointing it out, I took the opportunity to read it.

"'No runaways'?" I asked. That's what the sign said.

"Damn right," he growled, jabbing his finger again in emphasis. "You got a home, you ain't welcome here. This here is a lodging house for thems who need it. I can't be bothered by you runaways. One bad night at home and you come runnin' here and I won't stand for it." He sniffed as he lowered his hand. "And I'll be takin' your nickel, too. Teach you a lesson, kid."

I was just about to say something in response—I wasn't sure what I would have said at any rate—but, before I had, someone called out, their voice coming from the staircase.

"Hey, Mac. What's going on?"

Even though I knew the voice wasn't directed at me, I couldn't help it. I turned my head and looked over my shoulder. Even if I wasn't sure that it was one I'd heard before, I would have done anything for an excuse not to look at MacCauley anymore.

My hunch was right. I recognized that slow, deliberate voice immediately, though I'd only heard it once before, and the sight that met me only confirmed what I thought. Standing on the bottommost step of the staircase was that same dirt-smudged blond boy I'd met earlier today while on my hunt for Madison Avenue.

He looked over at me, glancing up at me through his long, thick eyelashes, and grinned. It was a cheeky grin, but also very, very false. "Well, look at that," he said and, like before, every word was said softly, delicately. "Ain't it a small world?"

Indeed.

Author's Note: And now it's time to delve back into the Newsies fandom :) I know I've been devoting a lot of time to other fandoms—Labyrinth… Twilight…—but I doubt I'll ever be able to go for long without writing about my favorite newsboys. Especially this story—David is such a fun character to experiment with. I can't wait to go even further with his adventure in this story!

Thank you to Biddy, Rae, Swindler, Isabella Estates and Dreamless-Mermaid for your amazing reviews! They truly make my day when I receive them :)

-- stress, 06.27.08