Disclaimer: Don't own Newsies. Don't own the song 'You'll Be In My Heart' either. That was performed by Phil Collins for Disney's 'Tarzan'. Does it belong to Mr. Collins or the Disney company? I don't know. And I probably shouldn't. XD

You'll be In My Heart

Don't own Newsies. Don't own the song 'You'll Be In My Heart' either. That was performed by Phil Collins for Disney's 'Tarzan'. Does it belong to Mr. Collins or the Disney company? I don't know. And I probably shouldn't. XD

He was eight years old, wandering the lonely streets of New York. Old men leered at him, their smiles dripping with dirty thoughts that he could only comprehend as something to fear. One old man reached out to him, grabbed his wrist.

"You're a pretty boy. Do you have any money? I know a way you can get some money."

He froze, afraid to move, afraid because of that carnivorous look in the old man's eyes.

"Hey! Carter! You leave that kid alone, or I'm gonna call my daddy out here!"

The old man looked up, glaring. "This ain't none of your business, missy, now haul out-"

"It is so my business!" A young girl, close to her mid-teens, stepped from the light, sound, and warmth of the building. "You know my daddy doesn't like you hawking those little boys, so you just move along before I go get him and he runs you out of the bar."

The old man grumbled. "What's your daddy doing hiring his sixteen year-old daughter to work at the bar anyway?"

The girl walked forward, and the little boy stumbled out of the old man's grasp as she brandished a broom in front of her.

"You get, y'hear?" She commanded, waving the broom at old man Carter. "You get and you leave this boy alone!"

The old man glowered at her, then slowly took off down the street, wobbling from side to side as he did so. A smirk spread across the girl's face, and she bent her stocky build to look the little boy in the face.

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

The boy shook his head.

"What's your name? Where are your parents?"

"My name's Danny." He answered. "Mama and Daddy are gone. I saw Daddy do things to Mama, and then she wouldn't wake up. Daddy chased me out the door, but he tripped. There was blood on the street, and he wouldn't wake up either."

The girl's face crinkled into shocked sympathy as she patted Danny on the shoulder. "You poor thing! Don't you have anywhere to stay?"

Danny's face fell and tears leaked from his hazel-brown eyes. "N-no!" He sobbed, burying his face in his hands. The girl stood above him uncertainly, then knelt and embraced him, caressing his honey-colored curls. He sobbed into her shoulder as she took his hand and squeezed it, singing in a tuneless, Irish-tinted voice:

"Come stop your crying

It will be all right

Just take my hand, hold it tight

I will protect you

From all around you

I will be here

Don't you cry…"

When his sobs withdrew, she held his shoulders at arm's length.

"I think I know a place where you can go, Danny. Let me tell Daddy where I'm going, and then we'll go, okay?"

"You'll take care of me?" Danny asked, his voice tiny and slick. She smiled and nodded.

"Call me Miss Mama. I can't help but take care of the wee ones." She said with a chuckle. "I'll be right back. Any of these buggers bother you, tell me and I'll get 'em with my broom, okay?"

Danny nodded, smiling slightly. He waited edgily for her to return and was very relieved when she did, and reached for her hand. She took it with a friendly smile, and started to lead him up the street, careful to stay in the lamplight. They discussed his age, his parents, her father, her job, and other things until they turned onto a street lit by a single lantern.

"Okay, I'm going to drop you off here." She told him, keeping a hand on his finely sloped shoulders. "This is the Newsboys Lodging House. Kloppman will watch you, and the boys will teach you how to sell papers."

"How do you know?" Danny asked, a little frightened, as she pulled him up the front stairs to the building.

"My sister's husband was a newsie when he was younger. He's told me stories about them." Another smile crossed her face. "Kloppman was the owner when he was a newsie too. So yeah." She knocked briefly on the door, then started down the steps. "You'll be okay here, I think."

"But what if I'm not!" Danny protested. "What do I do then!"

"If that's the case, then come down to the Irish Corner Bar. Ask for Lute." She grinned. "That's me, if you haven't gotten that message yet. Someone will be able to tell you where to find me, and then we'll work things out, okay? I'll be there when you need me."

Danny nodded, and his eyes seemed too large for his face. Lute smiled brightly, waved at him, then started back down the road, her hair flouncing in the lantern light. Behind him, Danny heard the door creak open, and turned. An old man peered at him from behind dirty spectacles, but his blue eyes were friendly and kind, so Danny wasn't afraid of him.

"Hi." He said, smiling tentatively. "I'm Danny."

Danny was accepted swiftly and easily into the mass of orphan boys at the Lodging House. A boy with inky curls who introduced himself as Itey adopted him as a best friend, and a blonde with an eye patch, respectfully called Kid Blink, would grin winningly at him and share food. Before he was there a month, the dark-haired leader, Cowboy, had caught him picking pockets on the street and dubbed him 'Snitch'.

The newly named Snitch visited the Irish Corner Bar every Saturday, and not because he liked to drink (far from it; the booze had been a large part of what had killed his parents), but more rather because he liked Lute. (Not in a romantic way, for three reasons: One, they were much too close for anything to come of whatever romantic feelings there might be and two, there was an eight year age difference that Snitch didn't find appropriate for a romantic relationship). He liked hearing her talk, laugh, and tell her demented stories, and by the time he had reached sixteen years of age, she was the sister he never had.

And at that time, he'd never needed such a close friend more desperately.

The third reason for their lack of romance is this: Snitch had no interest in girls whatsoever. A moody newsie called Skittery had caught his heart's full attention, and Snitch's thoughts were haunted by the dark eyes Skittery possessed, those dark, passionate, thunderstorm eyes that seemed both alert and distant in the same instant.

And, lucky boy that he was, Skittery loved him too.

Skittery and Snitch sat on their barstools, waiting for Lute's father, Ben, to come out from the back room, leading his daughter. Both boys were reliving the previous night before, where they had discovered their love, and each other. A pink blush crept silently up two sets of cheeks as Skittery threw back his glass of diluted bourbon

(god, I hope he's right, I hope she understands like he says she will, what happens if she doesn't? dear god we're so screwed)

and Snitch quietly broods over a Coke.

(don't get your nerves up snitchy-boy, everything'll be okay, so don't worry, things'll be fine)

The boys had talked the previous night, after their first revealing kiss, about what they would tell the others. Skittery thought they should keep it a secret for a while, then gradually let others in on the knowledge, others they trusted. Snitch suggested coming out right away and getting it over with.

Skittery had accused Snitch of being naïve.

Snitch had accused Skittery of being scared.

Then they had kissed again and the friction was gone.

Snitch had suggested his 'sister-friend', Lute. "She'd understand." He had said. "She knows me better than anyone. She can't not like me, and she doesn't have the ability to kill anyone."

After a short argument and a few more kisses, Skittery had agreed.

Both boys jumped when Ben McDonaghey brought Lute from the back room, father and daughter reeking of alcohol and dust but neither seeming to care. Lute smiled at them, her father's smile, and leaned forward over the bar.

"Well, looks like you boys already have your drinks. What's the trouble that you need me so desperately for?"

Snitch looked at her, and wondered how to say what he needed to. "Uh… Lute, Skitts and me-"

"Skitts and I." Lute corrected quickly. Skittery cocked his head to the side, confused, as Snitch blushed.

"Skitts and I have a bit of a problem."

"So you come to me? Like I could help?"

"Like you could listen." Snitch responded, as if stating the obvious. "I won't say you ain't a meddler, 'cause you are, but you listen when I need you to."

Lute flushed slightly, flattered despite his accusation of being a meddler. "Well, start talking." She said, absently refilling Skittery's glass. "I'm listening."

Snitch waited a moment, collecting his thoughts, then sighed. "Lute, don't hate me. Don't hate us."

"Why would I do a thing like that?"

"Because we're… we're boy-kissers."

She blinked at him, hazel-green eyes round. "Sorry, say that again?"

"We didn't want to tell anyone until we heard what you thought, 'cause we's scared of the other guys. But we like each other, Lute. As more than friends."

Lute continued to blink at him. "Wait, so… you and this guy-," she jabbed her curved thumb in Skittery's direction "-are together? Romantically?"

Snitch nodded glumly. This wasn't going the way he'd originally thought.

Lute hesitated before responding, picking at a splinter in the wooden bar. "I… don't know how to answer that, Danny."

"Do you want us to leave?"

She looked up at him, alarmed. "No! Don't leave!" A sigh escaped her. "I didn't mean to insult you, but… I don't know. I'm confused. And surprised." She smiled slightly. "Very surprised."

"You hate me, don't you?" Snitch accused in a tiny, pathetic voice.

Her smile widened and took on a motherly frame. "Never could I hate you, Danny Riccio. You're the little brother I never had."

Snitch smiled at her, then grinned at Skittery, who smiled cautiously back. Things would be okay.

"So what do we do?" Snitch asked, his uneducated New York accent slurring the words into one. "Should we tell the guys or keep it a secret?"

Lute thought about it for a moment. She'd graduated secondary school, but skipped the university to help her father run the bar, which she wanted once she came of the right age, so she did have intelligence. Her street smarts ran low, but her school smarts came in handy to Snitch, who had never made it past his second year of primary school. "All I can think of, Danny, is what you think you should do. You know those guys better than I do. So what do you think they'll think of this?"

"I think that's a lotta thinking." Skittery muttered, dully running a finger over the rim of his glass. Lute frowned slightly.

"It may be a lot of thinking, but it's good to think sometimes. Just because you're uneducated doesn't mean you're stupid. Danny here is an excellent example; he can do his multiples all the way up to ten." Her chin lifted with a distinctly Irish pride.

"Yeah, well…" Skittery looked at Snitch. "I still don't think we should tell 'em, Snitch. They's nice guys, but they ain't exactly the best of people when they don't understand something."

"But, Skitts, they's our friends. They'll understand. I know they will!"

They started to argue again, and Lute watched with amusement as the arguing turned quickly from angry accusations to which boy was cuter.

"Okay, boys, that's enough. You're gonna make me vomit." Snitch grinned, flushing as she made a rude retching noise behind the bar. "Here's what I really have to say on this: I think you should tell them. If they're okay with it, then that's wonderful, you have some great friends there. If they're not okay with it, then what does it matter? You guys have each other, right? That's all you really need, that special love you boys have." She rested an elbow on the bar, then rested her head in her hand. "So, guys. What are you going to do?"

Snitch and Skittery looked at each other, mentally battling the pros and cons of the situation. Finally, Snitch looked at Lute and gave her his charmingly toothy grin.

"We'll tell 'em. Tonight."

Lute stood up and nodded, pleased. "Good boy. Come back tomorrow and tell me what happens, okay?" The boys nodded their agreement and stood to leave, barstools squeaking on the floor. Skittery reached into his pocket to drop a few coins on the table, but Lute held out a hand to stop him. "Danny and his friends drink free here. Don't worry about it." She told him with a smile as she cleared his drinking glass and took it into the back room.

Snitch put an arm around Skittery's shoulder as they entered the sharp chill of autumn air upon leaving the bar. "We'll be okay, Skitts. Don't worry about it."

Skittery nodded, and the rest of the walk was companionably silent.

---

The next morning was frigid, and not just because of the gray weather. Snitch's large teeth clicked together as he stood on the boarding dock outside the train station, holding Skittery's hand in his own. Their ink-stained, callused hands were dressed in moth-eaten gloves, and they were wrapped in threadbare jackets that looked to be almost a century old. Skittery's chapped lips brushed against Snitch's and left the lightest red imprint possible without it being invisible. Snitch had a black eye, swollen so badly that he could only give Skittery a half smile as the train pulled up and the whistle sounded, shrieking like a dying woman.

Snitch squeezed Skittery's hand, gently. "We'll find somewhere, Skitts. Even if we have to go all the way to California. We'll find somewhere where things'll be okay."

"How you feeling?"

"Better. You?"

"Freezing."

Snitch gave him a stiff, brief hug, rubbing his shoulders softly. "We'll be okay." He promised, so softly that the late-autumn wind nearly carried it away like a discarded newspaper.

"Danny!"

Snitch halfway released Skittery, looking over his shoulder as Lute, a thick wool shawl shrouded over her shoulders, jogged up to them. "Lute… I didn't think you'd make it."

"I only just got Daddy's message." She huffed, brushing a rogue lock of hair from her cold-flushed face. "I couldn't let you leave town without saying good-bye to your big sister."

Snitch smiled, clutching Skittery's face to the curve of his neck. She smiled back, though her eyes were rimmed with tears. "You really got to go?"

"Have to." Snitch corrected her, teasing. "Yeah, I gotta. We gotta. The guys kicked us out, and no other Lodging House'll take us, thanks to Swifty and his messages." His voice held the lightest taste of bitterness, but only if one was searching for it could one hear it. Lute shook her head, looking at the train.

"You keep in touch then. Let me know where you've gone."

"Of course. And when you finally settle down with that Jon fella, you let me know." He smiled when she flushed and giggled.

Skittery pulled himself from Snitch's grasp. "Hug her, Snitch. Give your mother a hug, and we'll get out of here."

"She ain't my mother!" Snitch protested, but Skittery simply smiled and shook his head.

Lute didn't hesitate. She launched herself into Snitch's arms and embraced him, not caring that she was a short, stocky, twenty-four year-old bartender or that Snitch was a tall, lanky, sixteen year-old newsie on the run. They weren't blood relatives, and they weren't lovers, but they loved each other all the same, and being separated was not going to be easy for either one.

Finally, Lute shoved him away, turning her face so he couldn't see how quickly the tears had come. "You… you be a good boy, Danny. You take care of Skittery, and you be good." She said, struggling to keep the sobs from her voice.

Snitch glanced at Skittery. "Go get on the train." He said. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Will you?"

They kissed briefly. "Yeah. Now go."

Skittery teetered a moment, then nodded and went to board the train. Snitch embraced Lute again, and she let the tears go. She hated to cry, especially in front of others, but sometimes the emotions are just too strong. Snitch held her as she wept, feeling awkward; the child is not meant to comfort the mother. Uncertainly, he began to sing to her, words of comfort, and after a moment, she was singing along, in a voice that was still tuneless and still tinted with an Irish lilt that made the thick sound beautiful:

"'Cause you'll be in my heart

Yes, you'll be in my heart

From this day on,

Now and forever more

Oh, you'll be in my heart

No matter what they say

You'll be in my heart, always

Always and always

Just look over your shoulder

Just look over your shoulder

Just look over your shoulder

And I'll be there, always

She shoved him more forcefully this time, using her shawl to rub the tears off her face. "Get out of here, you ragamuffin." She said, her voice slick and jovial. "Go have a good life with your boyfriend."

Snitch smiled hopefully at her, then jogged to the train, hoisting himself nimbly into the car and cuddling next to Skittery.

"She gonna be okay?" Skittery asked, huffing warm air onto his hands.

"Yeah. I think so."

"You gonna be okay?"

Snitch kissed him, long, warm and sweet. "I'll be fine. We got all we really need." He answered, braiding his fingers with Skittery's. The train whistle sounded again, and Snitch chanced a look over his shoulder, out the car door. Lute still stood on the boarding dock, hostile winds snapping her dress and shawl. She raised a delicate hand and waved. Snitch returned the action as the train pulled away from the dock, and started to move.

Snitch returned to the inside of the car, and Skittery rested his head on his love's finely sloped shoulder. "You'll miss her, hm?"

Snitch was amused to hear a vibration of jealousy in Skittery's voice. "No. I don't have to miss her. She'll be with me, always." A kiss to Skittery's dark-haired head. "Just like you, she has a special place in my heart, and I carry her with me, everywhere."

There was silence between them, and before long, both teenagers were asleep, dreaming of the unknown place they were going, and the hope they had for each other.

END

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hmm… do I have anything to say? No, I don't think so. Just that it's not fair 'cause I do so much work around the house nowadays that I barely have time to write, and my mom still says I have to 'earn' the right to go to the movies with my best friend today, while my sister gets dragged along simply because she never gets to go to the movies with me and she does nothing around the house. I often have to do her chores for her so mom and dad don't get pissed.

Woo, that feels good to get out of my system. ;

And now… I depart.