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.

--

The sudden change that came over MacCauley was astonishing. His beady eyes met those of the blond boy and widened considerably; they weren't as hidden in his face now. Then, unless, I was mistaken, he attempted to smile—genuinely, too. He looked even uglier. "Nothin', Alfie. Just another runaway lookin' to stay."

This boy, this Alfie, cocked his head and looked over at me. There was a lamp stationed behind him, giving him a glow that surrounded him entirely. It was actually kind of impressive.

"A runaway, Mac?" he asked slowly, shaking his head as he took the last step down and approached MacCauley's desk. "He don't look like no runaway to me."

Turning, he looked at me and, this close, I could see that he had a heavy-lidded stare. It was more pronounced in the darkness—I hadn't noticed it when we'd met out on the street. It was somewhat eerie. "You," he said abruptly, addressing me. "You'se a runaway, are ya?"

His heavy accent startled me; I'd been so used to the careful way I'd heard him speak before. It took me a minute before I remembered to respond. "No," I told him, and then I felt guilty for lying. No matter my reasons, I had left home and my parents had no idea to where I'd gone.

"Not really," I confessed. "I do have a home, a nice one, but it's far from here. I stayed out too late and I'm planning to cross over into Brooklyn come morning. It made no sense for me to go home," I explained, "and my friend told me that I should stay here."

"Your friend again, eh?" His eyebrow rose. "He's quite the teller, ain't he?"

His question surprised and, well, confused me. How did he know about Teller? "What?"

"Your friend, the one you keep goin' on about? First he told ya to go to that church, now he's tellin' ya to come here. A real teller, see?"

Put that way, he made sense. For a moment there, I thought he knew a lot more about my present predicament than would've been possible.

"Yes," I said, sure that my strange smile of relief was visible even by the meager light. "You could say that again."

Alfie returned my smile—his lit up his entire face—before turning back to look up at MacCauley. "Well, you heard him, Mac. Ain't no runaway, is he? Just a good kid, lookin' for a bed for the night." He glanced over his shoulder at me. "Hey, you got a nickel?"

I nodded. "Yes. I gave it to him already."

There was a loud smack that almost made me jump. In what I hoped was a playful manner, Alfie had slapped the top of the oak desk with his open palm; it was almost as if he was mocking MacCauley's earlier actions. But he hadn't been standing on the step that long, had he?

"Look at that, Mac," Alfie said, "he even paid up in advance, and that's more than I can say for half the bums currently in a bed. 'Sides, look at this kid, get a glimpse of his honest mug"—just in case, I immediately tried to make my face as sweet and innocent as I could—"and then tell me you're gonna deny him a place for the night."

To my surprise, MacCauley shook his big head. He held up his hand and, after squinting a bit, I could see that he was holding my nickel up. Only a smidge of it was visible, the rest covered by his thick fingers. I couldn't understand what he was doing. Was he giving me my nickel back? Oh no. I was going to have to sleep on the street after all, wasn't I?

He closed his hand over the nickel before dropping it. He must have had a money drawer open because I heard the nickel hit against something—it made a clinking sound—before he slammed the drawer shut.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Alfie," he said then, and he didn't really sound all that sarcastic. I could feel the heat of his glare as he turned to look at me. I made sure to keep my eyes on Alfie. "Why don't you get him out of here? Show him up if you're so keen on him stayin'."

Alfie grinned cheerfully. "Good doin', Mac. I knew you had it in ya." He gave a little laugh before nodding at me. It was a good thing I was facing him or I would never have seen it. "Come on. The bunkroom's at the top of the stairs."

Without another word, he started right back up the staircase. I didn't want to be left alone with MacCauley—as lodging house superintendents go, he was nothing like old Mr. Kloppman—so I hurried to catch up with him. He wasn't walking all that fast and, amazing myself, I was able to catch up with him about halfway.

He heard my heavy footsteps as I carefully treaded the stairs behind him and, pausing a few steps away from the top, he turned his head so that he was looking over his shoulder at me. "Say, what's your name?"

This time I was prepared. "David."

"Alfie," he offered, and I could see his was still grinning.

I nodded at him, not knowing what else to say. He seemed to be expecting more from me, but I wasn't sure what. I must've looked real sheepish or embarrassed or something because, after a few seconds of him looking straight at me, Alfie chuckled to himself before turning his head back to face forward. He took the stairs two at a time and was out of my sight before I'd known it.

Shaking my head, I followed him up. I was silently cursing Teller—if it hadn't been for her, I'd be halfway home.

I took my time, going up the rest of the steps. The stairs were narrow and, like the hallway on the floor below, littered with who knows what. I almost slipped once on something that was very slick but, at the last minute, I caught my balance and, thankfully, reached the bunkroom without falling all the way back down.

The bunkroom was as filled as the one in Manhattan and I'm sure there were more bunks here. There was barely any space between them, and what little space there was was filled with discarded clothing and old newspapers. I saw that I would have to be careful up here, too.

At first glance, it seemed as if there wasn't a single bunk that was empty. I felt my heart drop—after all that I'd been through, I'd forgotten to pray like Teller had told me to do. There was no bunk for me.

"And whatever is the matter, David?"

I turned my head at the sound of my name. I'd thought that Alfie, after he ran ahead, had gone on to his bunk… but he hadn't. He was standing just past the entryway to the cramped room, his arms crossed over his chest and a knowing smirk on his dusty face. I wondered if he ever washed up at the pump or if he was always this dirty.

It only vaguely registered that his manner of speaking had changed again. The accent wasn't as pronounced and his grammar had improved greatly. It was odd. Was the poor, obnoxious street kid all an act, or was he trying to make fun of me by trying to sound smart?

I shook my head, shrugging. "I guess I'm a little late. I can't find a bunk."

"Is that all?" The laugh Alfie had, I realized, was very condescending; I didn't care for it at all. I could feel myself frowning but I doubt he noticed. He had already pushed off and away from the wall, walking in the opposite direction from where I was still standing. Shaking his head though he didn't turn around, he said, "Here, follow me. I'll find you a place to have a nice lie down."

He was strutting forward, his head tilted upwards. I found it amazing how he didn't even have to watch where he was stepping. Me, my eyes were glued to the floor as I did what he said and trailed him across the bunkroom.

He knew where he was going, that much was obvious. Just like Teller had done when she was leading me up and down Madison Avenue, Alfie weaved in and out through all of the bunks, searching out one that was empty. I could barely keep up with him and I could feel myself lagging behind.

"So, did you find it?"

I wasn't expecting him to speak again; the sound of his voice cut through the mild chatter of the bunkroom, startling me. "I'm sorry. Find what exactly?" Was he talking about a bunk? Or something else entirely?

I hate being so tired. It makes me feel stupid.

"The church. Madison Avenue? Did you find it?"

I knew he recognized me but it was a little off putting just how much of our brief meeting he'd remembered. Then again, I couldn't talk. I'd known him from his voice alone.

"Yes, I did actually. Your directions were very handy."

Alfie looked pretty smug as he rounded the corner and headed quickly down the far end of the bunkroom. "I guess you could say I know all about the streets 'round here," he boasted as he navigated his way past the bunks. I couldn't understand exactly where he was going; every bunk I'd seen so far had an occupant, either sleeping or lying with their eyes open.

Their eyes were open, I noticed, but none of them were looking at us. It was almost as if me and Alfie were invisible. Nobody was paying us any mind as we made our way throughout the room.

"Gotcha," he chirped suddenly and I couldn't figure what he meant. I was just glad that he'd stopped bragging before he'd really begun.

Pointing his finger, he gestured at one particular set of bunks in the middle of the room. One particular set ofbunks that had an empty.

Thank goodness.

The bottom bunk was occupied by a small boy who was probably younger than Les. He was sleeping and I had to wonder just how late it was. I knew I was exhausted and I had to stifle a yawn as I spied the youngster snoozing. Oh, how I envied him.

But the top… the top bunk was definitely empty—if only for the moment. It had a distinctly slept in look to it, from the way the old blanket was haphazardly tossed across the foot of the bed to the way that the pillow was bunched. Not to mention the fact that there was a pair of faded brown suspenders hanging off the edge.

He approached the bunks and patted the empty top bunk invitingly. There was no mistaking the assuredness in his smirk. "See, David, I told you I'd find you a bunk. Stick with me, kid, and you'll go far."

Alfie, I had to admit, was a charming, charismatic sort of boy. In short, he was—as Jack would say, and he should know—completely full of it. And I couldn't help but like him for it, even if I had no idea what the deal with him was.

At the very least, he had—whether he had meant to or not—taken on the superintended and gotten me to be allowed to stay, then he'd found me a bunk. Sure, it was a bunk with a pair of suspenders hanging off of it but it was a bunk. If he didn't seem bothered that he was putting me up in another boy's bed, then I didn't care either.

To be honest, I was too tired to care anyway. As soon as I saw an empty bunk I knew I needed to lay down in it. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?

Sure, some big lug could come along and tell me to get out of his bunk… so what? At this point, I would happily sleep on the floor.

"Thank you," I said earnestly before I hurriedly—and a bit clumsily, I'll admit—climbed up the ladder. I don't think he expected me to move up there so quickly but I was already settling back in the bunk before he noticed I'd gone up. I didn't even bother taking my shoes off as I leaned back and closed my eyes. "This is perfect," I murmured, not even bothering to speak up enough for him to hear me.

He did, though. "Don't mention it," Alfie replied. "'Sides, who knows? There might come a day when I need some help. I just hope you remember all the good I'd done for you if I come a askin'."

"Of course," I answered immediately. If ever I owed someone a debt, it would be Alfie for helping me this evening. What good would it do to plan on meeting Jack in Brooklyn if I didn't survive the night in Midtown first?

He laughed again—it still sounded condescending to me—as he smacked the edge of the bunk. It gave the whole structure a bit of a shake but, when I opened my eyes again to make sure that I hadn't fallen, I realized that Alfie was already gone.

Marveling at his pace, I couldn't decide who of everyone I'd encountered was the quickest today: Rachel, Jack, Teller or Alfie. I was pretty envious of all of their speed. If I could move that fast, I might've been able to outrun any of them—or, perhaps, even Sarah—in an attempt to wrestle some more answers out of them.

But not now. My feet were sore, my legs achy and my stomach empty. My head did feel pretty nice against that small, lumpy pillow and the coarse blanket underneath me wasn't as bothersome as it might've been if I wasn't so darn exhausted. I could imagine how far I'd walked together—and how much I would have to go tomorrow.

I swallowed back a groan. I'd have to face tomorrow when it came; until then, I would just try to sleep.

I closed my eyes again as I lay very still, waiting to fall asleep. It was strange, though. I couldn't move for nothing but I definitely couldn't fall asleep straight away.

At first I thought it was because I was still so worried about my sister. I was, of course—otherwise I wouldn't been sleeping in my own bed instead of in this borrowed one—but that wasn't it, not really.

Then I thought it might've been because I was so hungry—my stomach sure growled enough for that to be the reason for my sleeplessness—but no… I've been hungrier.

I couldn't put my finger on what it was and the mad urge to find what was keeping me from falling asleep only served to keep me awake.

But then, just as I was finally beginning to nod off, it hit me.

It was… it was too quiet.

I almost didn't believe it myself, but it was true. The quiet was preventing me from falling asleep.

Shaking my head as I stared up at the darkened ceiling, I wondered just how crazy Sarah's leaving has made me.

Author's Note: And here we go! Another chapter and another original character -- I have to admit, it's actually kind of fun to create characters, even if their role is quite small. I enjoy watching David interact with people around him... I really do feel bad for this incarnation of him ;) He should definitely get his sleep while he can -- he's going to need it!

-- stress, 07.11.08