All right, I've been playing around with these characters for a long time with a friend of mine. And now, I've decided to write a fic based on the newsies and the girls they eventually come to fall in love with. They're Mary-Sues, yes, but hopefully well written. The newsies will make their appearance in the next chapter. Enjoy!

bChapter One/b


How Fiona "Half-Pint" O'Connor got to the Newsboys Lodging House.


Her insides ached and little feet hurt more and more with every step she took, but a driving force inside her said "keep running", even though the clouds were becoming low in the sky and a slight drizzle was coming down. She ignored it and kept running, choking for breath, not wanting to stop for everytime she did she saw her mother laying there in a bloody heap while her father smiled over her once blond curls that were now stained with the deep red of a freshly opened wound. But he wasn't really even her father, she wasn't even allowed to call him Da (Irish term for daddy) or even Father, but simply "Michael". He told her she wasn't worthy of calling him that, that she had messed up his life and her mother.

Rain began to beat down harder and little Fiona was running out of steam. She had been running on adrenaline all the way from Brooklyn and her fast run was turning into a slow jog. Her clothes were becoming soaked and her carpet bag containing her doll and a pair or two of fresh tights and underwear would soon soak through and ruin those. She soon looked up to see her savior, a sign that read something she couldn't decipher as no one had ever taught her to read or sent her to school. She made out the word "Boys" and "House" from the limited vocabulary she possessed....she could recognize a few words from her mother's nightly Bible readings. She tugged on the knob of the building to find it open and ran in, finding an old man standing behind the counter. Knowing he would kick out the drenched street rat, she ducked behind a couch and waited for his passing.

He laughed to himself. "No sense in hidin'. We already saw you."

She popped up from behind the couch, her malnourished face contorted in a disappointed expression and her blond hair sticking to her wet clothes.

"I'm sorry sir." she told him turning towards the door. "I'll go then if I ain't welcome."

"You got a place to stay?" He asked the pathetic little creature before him. She shook her head wearily, about to break down from the trauma she had just witnessed.

He smiled warmly, a smile that reminded her of the postcards of Santa Claus she used to leaf through, loving his welcoming smile, even though Santa always seemed to skip over her house every year.

"Well, come stay with us a night or two or maybe longer." He told her welcomingly and beckoned her over to sign the book.

"Can you write your name?" He asked opening the logbook.

She shook her head wearily. "No, sir. I can spell it though."

He smiled a little, surveying her. A warm bed, food, and a bath is just what she needed.

"Do you want me to write it here? Or I can write a nickname in case youse in trouble."

She nodded. "That'd be better. See, he's looking for me and I can't have him finding me, or else..." she couldn't finish for fear she would cry. Her little green eyes that barely peered over the desk seemed filled to the brim with the sorrow of an old woman.

He smiled sympathetically. "Its all right. You don't have to tell me anything. Let's see...we'll call you Half-Pint since you're mighty tiny."

She smiled for the first time in a long time. "Half-Pint...I like it."

"Me too. Say, how old are you Half-Pint?"

"11."

He looked her over in disbelief. This poor, dirty child looked to be no more than 8. He scribbled a note in his personal files and then smiled as a grandfather would smile upon his granddaughter.

"Well, miss...I think we ought to feed you, get you cleaned up and in a fresh bed." He said, failing to mention the fee involved in living here. He figured she needed this badly and let her live, for at least a while, for free.

She smiled wide.

"Miss." she smiled even bigger. "No one's ever called me miss before."