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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For just a second, though, I watched as Teller's face seemed to freeze. She didn't blink and I'm pretty sure she didn't breathe, either. It was as if she'd seen a ghost. I immediately felt guilty for asking the question. I had no idea that she would react in such a way.

But then the second passes and, as if the fearful expression had never been, Teller simply look annoyed. "How the hell am I supposed to know?" she demanded, snorting under her breath as she quickly resumed her pace.

In my hurry to catch up with her, I barely noticed that we'd even stopped in the first place. I did, however, see all of the curious—if downright scandalized—expressions of the passersby surrounding us. Teller wasn't as quiet as she could have been and I assumed the way she hurried past the others, almost shoving by them as if she could outrun my question, seemed to offend them.

Grinning apologetically as I followed in her wake, I tried to catch up with her. No doubt about it, Teller was fast any my legs were still a little shaky from yesterday's walk across town. I wasn't as used to all this hurrying about as she was; journeying with Teller was almost like running around the lower east side with Jack.

At least this time I was the one doing the pursuing. It wasn't any fun, despite what Les said or Jack joked, being chased by that old warden from the Refuge, Snyder.

By the time I caught up with her—she'd stopped to hike up her patched skirt which, I saw, had a line of dirt along the right side as if she'd slept on a pile of dust—she was actually laughing. I definitely was not expecting that and my guilt quickly melted away to a steady, burning anger. It actually felt nice to experience an emotion separate from anxiety.

She was laughing at me. I was tired, I was sore, my blisters were throbbing and I still had no idea what I was doing, following this girl into Brooklyn on a tip that that would be where I found Jack… and Teller was laughing.

With a little bit more pout than I would've liked, I snapped at her. "What's so funny?"

"Nothin', Dave, really. I was just rememberin' something but…" She shook her head, "… but never mind. It ain't important…" Her voice trailed off as she laughed once more, a gentler sound that I convinced myself was about her humorous thoughts rather than my personal dilemma.

I had to admit—once my anger cooled and I willed my tired mouth to grin rather than pout—that it was kind of nice to see her smile. A real smile, not that haughty smirk I'd been used to. Teller was pretty when she smiled and not nearly half as unapproachable.

I didn't tell her that, though, choosing to keep that thought to myself. We could both have secrets. She was being friendly now but I don't think that her good mood would last if I paid her such a compliment. She might think me too forward, and I could only imagine how Jack would react that I'd spoken to his girl that way.

If, of course, Teller was Jack's girl. I suddenly realized that I'd never actually discovered the relationship between the two of them. A little voice in the back of my head—not as loud as the one demanding to know where my sister was, or what the Sparrow wanted with her—made a note that, when all was said and done, it would be nice to have the answer to that, too.

I shook my head. Like I said—when all was said and done. There was still a lot left to do… unfortunately; I wasn't sure how much more my feet could take.

As we started up our walking again, with Teller in considerably better spirits than when I met her earlier this dreary morning, I decided that I would try to speak to her again. But not yet; I wanted to make sure she didn't get upset again.

We walked in silence for quite awhile, the only sound being my occasional grunts and groans as my muscles screamed in protest. I hadn't walked this far, or this hard, since the summer before when I was a full-time newsboy. Since then, I'd taken it a lot more easily, walking a handful of blacks to lessons and back. When I did sell the evening edition of the World with Jack and Les, we stayed close. I'd grown soft and my shoes too tight. When I ran off to deliver Sarah's envelope yesterday, I'd never expected to have to walk farther than to Tibby's.

The longer we walked without any mentions of the Sparrow or my personal quest, the happier Teller seemed to be. Every now and then she would glance at me and smile, though it didn't really reach her troubled eyes. None of them were anything like that first secretive smile, or the crooked grin that made her look so mischievous, but they helped to boost my confidence.

When I could tell that a good part of our walk was over, and our belly's were filled courtesy of a charitable breakfast of somewhat stale rolls and lukewarm coffee, I took the opportunity to bring up my initial question again. I was still just as determined to get some sort of concrete answer out of my companion.

Besides, if I ever wanted to ask her anything else, I needed her to answer this one first.

"So, Teller… I think you misunderstood me before," I began, trying not to sound so condescending when I spoke, "when I asked you about the Sparrow. I didn't think you knew him personally, I was simply wondering who he was. Not his identity, you see, but… his legend, I guess."

I knew I was stumbling over my words, trying to get her to understand exactly what I meant. The last thing I needed was for her to get huffy again—I didn't think I would be able to catch up to her if she took off like that a second time.

She surprised me, though. The satisfied smile she'd worn slid off of her face but she didn't look angry, at least not like she had before. Tilting her head slightly to the side, she looked over at me. Teller was only a foot or so away from me, her steps visibly slowing as she seemed to invite me to walk alongside her, rather than following behind her.

Standing next to her, I noticed that she really was that tall. I'd seen her sitting beside Jack at Tibby's yesterday and I remembered thinking she was a tall girl but, this close, I realized she was actually taller than me. In an effort to feel a little less insignificant in her presence, I straightened up and rested on the front of my feet instead of the heels; it actually felt better, taking all that extra pressure off my nasty blisters.

Her eyes were dark, almost as dark as the thick circles underneath, and they were narrowed on my face. Like she was searching for something. It was a little disconcerting and somewhat embarrassing; yet, at the same time, it was a little nice to have her looking at me so intently.

Thank goodness I'd bothered freshening up at the pump.

Slowly, hesitantly, she nodded her head and turned it so that she was looking at where she was doing instead of looking at my face. Licking her lips as she bobbed her head before swallowing, I guess her mouth was dry or something. The vivid red lip paints from yesterday, I suddenly realized, had faded and she hadn't reapplied any color; secretly, I decided Teller was more attractive without the garishness.

"The Sparrow," she said finally, her words closer to a whisper than to her regular speech, "he's a legend no doubt, I'll give him that much. A legend in his own mind, yeah, but on the street…"

For a split second, a grimace split her tired face but, before I'd gotten a better look, she controlled her features. Wiping her mouth with her palm, effectively cutting off her words, she turned her head away as careful fingers softly caressed her left cheek. I was standing to her left and, as sneakily as I could, I took a closer look at her cheek—my earlier assessment had been correct. The mark on her face was definitely a bruise.

Dropping her hand, unaware of the way I was glancing at her as we turned down the cross street and just barely missed a pile of horse dung, she shrugged her shoulders. Teller was frowning and I recalled how she'd told me that she didn't really like the Sparrow. I'd accepted her words then as proof that she wanted to help me find Sarah but now… I couldn't really explain it—I've always had good judgment and a strong hunch to follow—but her earlier reaction and now this careful, wary manner of hers… somehow, I felt like she'd made an understatement yesterday.

Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to bring him up. When I'd spoken to Rachel, she'd been adamant that it was dangerous to talk about the Sparrow, that one word could be too much. Was that it? Did this Sparrow person frighten Teller, too?

I couldn't imagine this street girl being afraid of anyone but, if that was the case, who was I to demand answers to questions she didn't want asked of her? First I took her last nickel, then I forced her to spend a sleepless night only God knows where and now I was upsetting her… I really was a cad.

We both, obviously, had our own reasons to go up against the Sparrow. Mine was rescuing my sister from whatever mess she'd landed herself in. Did it really matter who he was, or why Teller was gunning for him, if, in the end, we found him?

However, before I could try to sway the topic of conversation to something else, Teller seemed to have made a decision. Her jaw was set and, though she kept her head straight as she cut down another side street—I almost missed the turn and had to double my step, wincing as I did, in order to keep up—she began to speak again.

"He's hard to explain, David."

"I promise I'll try my best to follow you."

She gave me a mix between an amused and a haughty look before continuing, "Well, the Sparrow, he's… he's kind of the king of the streets. It's hard to explain," she said again, cutting off my attempt to comment at the idea that the New York streets were lorded over by a bird, "he rules all over the City but only a couple of u—a couple of kids knows he really exists. Everyone else, I guess, they think he's like a legend. Like the bogeyman, you could say."

Teller shrugged apologetically, as if telling me how sad those people are, not to believe in this myth of the Sparrow. "He's got his spies everywhere," she added, "real spies who report back to him and then he tells whoever he thinks needs to know what's going on. He's… he's in control, almost. Over all the boroughs. Say, have you ever heard of the term 'birdie'?"

Actually, I had. When I first met Spot Conlon last summer, he'd told me and Jack that he'd heard about the strike from his 'birdies'. My heart suddenly started pounding at that moment. Did that mean what I think it means? If anyone, Spot Conlon was the king of Brooklyn, if not New York.

I didn't tell my newfound suspicions to Teller. Instead, I said as nonchalantly as I could, "Yeah. Spot Conlon told me about 'birdies' once."

She nodded and, in one sentence, crushed my theory. "Conlon would, he's pretty high up with the Sparrow."

I tried not to let my disappointment show. If Spot had been the Sparrow, it would've been pretty easy to find Sarah, considering how close we were to Brooklyn. Frowning only slightly, I asked, "Are these 'birdies' important?"

"Kinda. I told you that the Sparrow had spies, right? When someone refers to a little birdie, they're talking about the Sparrow, or one of his lackeys. They've branched out pretty far," she admitted, and I could see a twinge of fear on her face. "It's pretty dicey going up against him."

Her unsaid meaning wasn't lost on me. People only fear what they don't understand but I understood that Teller was afraid. I wasn't… yet. I was still too concerned about my sister to worry about what this Sparrow could do to.

"I don't get it. If he's that in control, why does he want Sarah?"

I only asked that because I was thinking out loud. I didn't really expect Teller to know—in fact, I was almost positive she had no idea. The only reason she even knew I had a sister and that that sister was gone was because she was sitting beside Jack at Tibby's. I didn't expect her to know anything else… well, except for who the Sparrow was, and she'd already told me that.

But, once again, she surprised me. Almost speaking out of the corner of her mouth, she said disbelievingly, "You really don't know, do you?"

"Wha—no. I have no clue what this so-called king of New York wants with my sister," I told her, frowning. Didn't she think, if I knew that, then I would have known who, at least, the character was that I was dealing with? "How am I supposed to? I didn't even know there was a bird king until yesterday, you know. And what a stupid name, anyway. The Sparrow."

Unless I was imagining it, Teller seemed to flinch as I made mention of a bird king; her face actually pales when I called his nickname stupid. She was probably thinking about all of the little spies she'd just told me about but, honestly, I couldn't make myself care at that moment. I might not be as curious as some of the other fellas but, I'll tell you one thing, I could be just as stubborn as they could. Just ask Bryan Denton.

Besides, I was kind of hoping that one of his precious little spies would overhear me. I was getting tired of all of this running around. Narrowing my eyes, I could see the great form of the Brooklyn Bridge before me; there was still a bit of a ways to go and that didn't even count the trek into Brooklyn. It would be a whole lot easier if I let the Sparrow find me instead.

I stopped walking. That's exactly what I was going to do. After all, why should I have to bother hunting Jack Kelly down in Brooklyn when he obviously wasn't the one with Sarah. It was pointless to waste my time; it wasn't Jack I needed, not when his answers would be worthless without my sister. It wasn't really about knowledge anymore. I just wanted to find Sarah and to get back home.

Mama must be having kittens already, what with two of her children gone. There was no way I was returning without Sarah… therefore, I realized, there was no point in prolonging the journey. I needed to find the Sparrow—and when I found the Sparrow, I would get my sister back.

And then Sarah could tell me what exactly had happened.

Crossing my arms over my chest as I stood still, I made the conscious decision not to move. Not yet, anyway. Maybe, if I screamed negative things about the Sparrow long enough, one of his 'birdies' would hear me and report me to their master. It was, I decided, much better than to continue limping on my sore feet and achy legs. I swear, as soon as I get back home, I was going to get newer (looser) shoes; until then, I wasn't taking another step.

Teller, it seemed, didn't like that idea too much.

With more strength than I would have thought, considering how my stubborn legs refused to move, Teller wrapped her long, thin fingers around my upper arm and pulled. My feet came free from the dirt path at once; I'd never had a chance.

Without even giving me a second to protest, she started dragging me down another alleyway, following reluctantly behind her. She shot one careful look past me but, unfortunately for my slapdash plan, we were definitely alone. She sighed but, despite that relaxed exhale, I felt her grip tightened.

"That was stupid, Dave."

I ignored her. If it wasn't for the fact that I was a grown boy, I might've pouted my displeasure at the way she'd insulted my plan. I'd thought it was actually pretty clever.

She shook her head, her disheveled braid swinging behind like a pendulum. I had the insane urge to pull at it but, regardless of what she said, I wasn't that stupid.

"Really, I can't believe you'd do something like that. I would've thought you'd understood that the Sparrow was more dangerous than that," she continued, her voice growing more heated as she scolded me. "He took your sister, and once he's got someone, he aint' so willin' to give 'em back. This isn't a game, you know."

Her tone surprised me. She actually sounded… defensive. But, whether it was for Sarah or… or me, I don't know. But I did feel guilty. Again. Teller was sure good at making me feel like that.

"I…" I lowered my head, not even looking at the back of her. "I know. It's not a game. But I can't stand not knowing more about this situation. She's my sister, Teller, and I'm trying to help her. I just don't know what else to do."

My confession must have softened her. That, or she thought we'd made it far enough away from the other street that it was safe for her to let go of me because ,as soon as we entered out onto Newspaper Row, she dropped my arm.

She sighed and, ignoring the hustle and bustle of the newsies and their prospective customers surrounding us, pointed at the looming structure of the Brooklyn Bridge. I hadn't realized we were so close. She must've just taken me down some sort of a shortcut. Teller really did know her way around town.

"I do know, David. We've got to go to Brooklyn, just like I told you yesterday."

I shook my head. "No, we don't. I'm not interested in looking for Jack no more. I want to find the Sparrow."

Her thin eyebrow arched and, for a second, there was a ghost of that crooked smile. "I'm sure you do, but we still got to go to Brooklyn."

I was tired of the secrets and I couldn't help myself. I snapped. "And why's that, Teller?"

"Because Jack Kelly and Spot Conlon are the damn reason the Sparrow went after your sister in the first place."

Author's Note: Look at that, I updated again! I felt so bad to leave the cliffhanger right there so, rather than wait, I decided to finally answer the question of "Who is the Sparrow?" Obviously, that question will be answered further (eventually, heh) but, until then, at least there's some more to him than being some phantom kidnapper ;)

I hope you liked it! Let me know :)

-- stress, 08.17.08