Disclaimer: Newsies and all characters from the movie are properties of Disney.

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Reaching

She was obviously out of her damn mind.

James Kloppman fought against the gusting winds and the violent flurries of snow. The forces of nature, it seemed, were determined to keep him from his destination. But James didn't give up easily. With a set face, he continued to push through, head first, even though his body was screaming for instant warmth, even though his exposed, chapped hands began to crack and bleed. He had seen many rough winters in his years on the streets. Perhaps this was the roughest one, he thought vaguely, but he still wasn't going to let one lousy blizzard be the victor today. James was desperate for shelter and he had only one place in mind. When he set out for his objective that morning, the possibility that the place could be closed hadn't crossed his mind.

Too late now, he thought.

He shifted his eyes, concentrating on his surroundings. There was barely anyone else on the streets. The couple of people that passed by were all scurrying to safety. It was as though he was among the few brave enough to venture out into a storm like this. The thought gave him strength. He'd prove he was stronger than this snowstorm.

James was headed towards Tony's joint on Broadway and 18th. By the look of things, it seemed like he still had a couple of more blocks to go. He couldn't tell for sure – the snow blurred his perception and the buildings all seemed to fade away against the storm. James felt his hat lifting from his head as a howling wind hit him full force; he quickly reached up and pulled the cap down low over his face.

He was able to make out some elements of the streets, though. Despite all the snow, there was no mistaking the Christmas decorations that hung on doors – he wondered how they hadn't flown off yet – and the bright colors that glowed from shop windows. Every year the ornaments seemed to grow bigger, brighter. And they were everywhere this year, everywhere he turned.

16th Street. Only two more blocks. He was close. It was a good thing, too, because he wasn't sure how much longer he could take of the prickling snow.

He heard her before he saw her. The soft, somber tones floated along with the currents. James' brows drew together in puzzlement. Where the hell was that coming from?

He squinted ahead. At first, he could make nothing out from the white world that enveloped New York City. But as he kept walking, he caught a billowing of fabric and a rather large, white umbrella. He would not have even noticed the umbrella as its silhouette melded with the snow, if it weren't for the smidge of black behind it to set it off. The umbrella seemed to be floating in mid-air on the opposite side of Broadway, but he knew better than to trust his eyes in these weather conditions.

As he drew closer, the sounds started again. They started slowly with long drawn out notes, quivering slightly, then after a short pause the pace picked up. This time the notes were short, staccato. Playful. And completely inappropriate for the current situation.

James was near the umbrella now, slowly approaching the point directly across it on his side of the street. His surprise upon seeing what was behind the umbrella stopped his struggling feet.

It was a girl. The billowing fabric was that of her white skirt and the smidge of black was actually her coat, which was at least three sizes too big for her. Her chestnut brown hair was loose about her shoulders, visibly wet and even a bit frozen. Her face was glowing pink from the cold. James wondered how long she had been standing on that street corner.

At her feet was a brown case. An instrument case, he recognized. Immediately his eyes drew back to her face. Next to her head, cradled between her chin and shoulder, was a violin.

So that's where the sounds were coming from, James thought.

Her eyes were closed and slowly, elegantly, she brought the bow to the instrument. The trembling notes began again. Her arm moved back slowly, the note lingering. The umbrella, James realized, was not to shield herself from the storm, but to protect her violin from gathering snow. It was hanging precariously against the wall of a closed shop – he couldn't explain how it was even standing at that angle – with a makeshift fastening of ropes from one doorknob to a nearby pole. She was resourceful, he'll give her , she was obviously out of her damn mind.

She must have felt his eyes on her. Her own fluttered open and stared back at him. If she thought the moment awkward, which James did, she certainly didn't show it. The girl beamed and waved at him. James acknowledged the gesture with a simple nod.

When a particularly fierce gust blew the umbrella down, the notes stopped abruptly and the girl was at the protective cover, trying to fix it in place. It was futile, in James' mind. How was she going to keep that umbrella up in a storm like this?

He pulled his coat closer to him and continued to 18th. Just one more block.

Girls, James thought warily before looking past his shoulder at the lone violinist, who was still fidgeting with the umbrella.

But she was soon forgotten when James spotted Tony's in the distance. The thought of a warm room and a hot drink was the push he needed for this last leg of his journey. He felt a sudden surge of energy and his legs gradually quickened. The numbing pain in his hands was gone.

Coffee, he thought. I need coffee. Hot, steaming coffee…

He pushed through the door with the last ounce of his strength – only vaguely relieved that the place was open to customers – and entered the dimly lit establishment. Tony's was a combination between a restaurant and a tavern. It was a relatively new place, but the rambunctious yet kind owner quickly earned a reputation for the restaurant as well as a loyal customer base. James was one of them. It was quiet, save for Tony, and provided James the sort of solitude he needed from the world when it became too much for him to live up to. He always had to earn, earn, and earn, but he was always just scraping at the bottom; it was never enough to make a decent living, no matter how hard or long he worked to sell the papers.

James made his way to the bar, plopping himself onto the stool. He realized now that he was shivering.

"Now, James, don't be goin' and makin' a mess on my counter here."

James attempted what he hoped was a smile; the cold had drastically dried out his skin.

"Tony," he called the tavern owner. "I really need something warm."

Tony's characteristic laugh boomed. His laugh was so full and hearty that James thought he felt his insides vibrating along with it.

"You look like you just been through hell."

"Hell's supposed to be hot, ain't it?" James asked dryly.

"Gettin' smart with me, as usual," Tony said with a huge grin, shaking his head. "What'll you be wantin', kid? Somethin' warm or somethin' that'll warm you up?"

James knew Tony well enough to not have to ask for the difference between the two. To Tony, something warm was hot water and something that would warm a person up was a lot of alcohol.

James shook his head. "I need coffee."

Tony almost looked disappointed. He was a rotund figure, with slicked back peppered hair and a jolly trademark smile that made him approachable and instantly likeable. He scuffled to the edge of the bar to pick up a mug and prepare the hot beverage.

The tavern was practically empty. Only several strangers had braved the weather to be there. Or, maybe like James, they had no choice, as this was the only place they had for a warm refuge. James let out a heavy sigh and removed his cap revealing a dark mass of hair. He shook off the excess snow and placed the hat on the counter. James wiped at his face with his coat sleeve, which was useless since his coat was wet, too. He gave up on trying to clean himself up. Resting his elbows on the table, he rubbed his palms together to generate warmth, and waited expectantly for his coffee. The only sounds that filled the modest place were the clankings and tinklings of Tony moving about the bar.

Then a creaking and a sudden whoosh filled the room. James recognized both sounds: the first was the opening of the slightly uneven door, and the second was the sound with which he had gotten so familiar in the past hour or so – that of the winter winds. He automatically assumed that the newcomer was another lost stranger and did not bother turning around.

There was a few seconds pause before James heard the subsequent clicking of heels upon the wooden floor. Within several moments, he saw from the corner of his eye a flourish of black and white. The newcomer had taken the seat next to him.

Out of all the empty seats in the house… James was slightly irritated. He was in no mood to share space right now, not in his soaked and frozen state and especially not before he's had his coffee. James shifted over slightly to put some distance between himself and the newcomer. The person was certainly bundled, James thought. He heard the heavy rustling of fabric as the person adjusted himself on the stool.

Tony finally started towards him, carrying a cup with a misty haze floating atop it. James could practically feel the warmth upon spying that steaming cup.

Then Tony froze abruptly. His eyes were wide and his mouth dropped open to form an 'o.' James was impatient for his coffee, but he was also fascinated by the look on Tony's face. He had never seen anyone or anything that could quite surprise Tony. But true to his nature, Tony recovered quickly. James wondered what in heaven had caused the tavern owner such shock and turned his head imperceptibly to find out.

He couldn't believe it.

"That's a mighty large umbrella you got there, Miss," said Tony, setting the mug in front of James, though never taking his eyes off the newcomer.

"Do you like it?" she asked with a cheerful smile. "I can get you one just like it if you want," she offered.

"No, no, I'm fine, Miss," Tony chuckled. "You know what it reminds me of, though? Your umbrella is just like the ones that the young ladies had when I was a boy. I was a cheeky little rascal, lemme tell ya – but seemed the ladies I was courtin' weren't too pleased about that and they'd always beat me off with their little umbrellas. Well, they called them parasols, if you wanna get technical 'bout it. Yours is much more impressive, though."

She giggled appreciatively. "Thank you, sir. You never know, if I ever come across a cheeky boy…" she said, lifting the umbrella slightly, "this might come in handy."

Tony laughed that booming laugh of his. "I reckon it will. Now, what can I get for ya?"

She tilted her head to the side, considering her options. "I think a cup of hot chocolate would be lovely."

"Hot chocolate, eh? She's a fancy dame, ain't she?" he asked, directing his last question to James. He looked to the girl again. "I'll see what I can scrape up for ya." With that, he scuffled away once again.

It was the crazy violinist. James finally registered the thought. Had she followed him here or was she a usual guest? No, James remembered. Obviously she wasn't. Tony had never seen her before, that was for sure. And frankly, she wasn't the type one could forget. The girl stuck out like a sore thumb in a place like Tony's. She exuded a lightness that was usually absent from the tavern.

The girl turned to him then. For the second time, James was caught staring. This time, however, he couldn't stop staring at her.

She had the most breathtaking eyes. They were the purest of blues, the blue of a cloudless spring afternoon sky after a night's rain. It was only when she spoke when James finally snapped his head back, staring into his coffee instead.

"Hello," she said.

He only moved his eyes to look in her direction this time, fleetingly.

"Hi," he responded monotonously.

"Did you enjoy it?" she asked.

He hesitated, not exactly sure what she was asking. "Enjoy what?"

"My playing. Did you enjoy the music?"

He shrugged. "It was fine."

The dull answer seemed to satisfy her immensely, strangely enough. She stuck out her hand. "My name is Natalie."

James looked at her, then at her hand. Feebly, he took her hand and shook it, shocked by the ice cold of her fingers. His own hands had warmed considerably, as he had wrapped them around his coffee. She must have been standing outside for a long time, he thought ruefully.

"James," he returned.

"James," she repeated as though the name appealed to her.

He was taking a sip of his coffee when Tony returned with another mug.

"Here's your hot chocolate, Miss. Tell me how you like it," he said, carefully placing the cup in front of her. "Careful, it's hot."

James had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Tony was evidently enchanted by her.

She brought the mug to her lips cautiously and took a small sip. A wide grin followed by an enthusiastic nod conveyed her approval.

"It's delicious!"

Tony let out a joyful chortle. "I'm glad you like it."

A voice called out from the side of the restaurant. Upon hearing his name, Tony excused himself and went over to see to a customer, effectively leaving James alone with the crazy girl.

"Have you tried this?" Natalie asked him, holding her cup of hot chocolate.

James shook his head. "No." He hadn't even known that Tony carried hot chocolate in his pantries.

"It's really very good," she said. "Here, try it." She offered him her cup. "I think you'll like it better than the coffee you're having. Although I'm sure that's delicious as well, if this hot chocolate is any indication of Tony's talent."

James gazed at her skeptically, but she appeared completely earnest.

"Honestly, it's that good. You'll like it, I promise. And I won't leave you alone until you try it."

The last statement got him moving. He let go of his own mug and accepted hers. The steam hit his nose and he caught the sweet, milky scent of the chocolate. He took a small taste, but it was enough. The liquid spread over his taste buds and woke his senses. James wasn't used to the sweet sensation the chocolate stirred – all his usual meals ever consisted of was of bland coffee and stale bread.

"It's good," he admitted, handing the hot chocolate back to Natalie. He had been tempted to steal another taste, but resisted.

"I knew you'd like it," she said, happy that he had agreed. She smiled, peering at him over the brim of her cup as she took a drink, meeting his eyes momentarily.

There was something unnerving about her eyes, those perfect blues. They gave away too much of her, like she had absolutely nothing to hide. But at the same time, in particular when their eyes had met for a brief instant, they appeared to know too much about him. James wondered how that was possible. They had only met just now. He had only seen her several minutes before, playing her stupid violin in the stupid storm. He wanted to ask her what the hell she was thinking, playing outside like she'd been doing. So he did.

"What the hell were you doing playing out there in that storm anyway?"

Natalie pressed her lips together into a childlike expression. "I just wanted to bring people some Holiday cheer."

"There was no one on the streets to hear you," he said flatly.

"Ah," she began meaningfully, "but you heard me."

There was no point arguing there. He had heard her.

"So, James. Do you have any plans for Christmas? Will you be having dinner with your family?"

He let out a derisive laugh. "Don't got no family," he said.

"Oh," she said quietly, casting her eyes downward. "I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry. You didn't do anything."

"Well, you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I guess."

A silence fell between them. James drank his coffee and noted that it was nearly gone. The silence didn't last long.

"What happened to them?" she inquired softly.

"I don't… that's not something I like to talk about."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's all right," James said dismissively.

"Do you spend your Christmases with friends, then?"

"No – yeah. We don't…" He paused to gather his thoughts, trying to explain this in terms she could understand. "Listen, Christmas is just another day for a lot of us. We don't do nothing special because we can't afford to do nothing special."

"Oh. I'm sor--,"

"You're sorry. I got it."

She nodded slowly. Then she asked, "Who do you mean by 'us'?"

"Us. Us paper boys. Newsboys, newsies. And a whole lot of other street kids."

"Street kids?"

Was this girl new to New York City? "Yeah, street kids. Kids who have to sleep on the streets because we don't got a home or family to go to at night."

She didn't respond this time. Instead, her lips tightened and her dark lashes fluttered rapidly. Good god, she looks like she's about to cry. James turned back in his seat and gulped down the last of his now lukewarm coffee. He reached into his pocket in search of a penny to pay Tony. Once his fingers wrapped around one, he pulled it out and slapped in onto the counter. He then grabbed his cap and pulled it back on.

She was getting too personal for him. James didn't particularly enjoy talking about his past and he didn't like discussing his present situation either. If she wasn't going to leave anytime soon, if she was going to keep asking him questions, then, well…

"It must be so difficult for you," she whispered.

"I get by," James said nonchalantly. He tried to prepare himself mentally for the cold outdoors again. "It was nice talking to you, Natalie," he said stiffly, rising from his seat.

She got the hint, finally. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah, finished my coffee."

"Where will you go? Are you sure you want to leave now? It's a little chilly out."

"'A little chilly out,' she says," James muttered incredulously.

Understatement of the century.

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Author's Note: I'm racing through this story so I apologize if there are any errors! As always, reviews are greatly appreciated, so thank you ktkakes! Two more chapters to go and only one day to write them…

Hope everyone who is celebrating has a lovely Christmas Eve!