AN: Yes, I know I'm supposed to be updating 'You Were A Newsie'…but that fic is on hiatus for now for reasons that I'm choosing not to disclose. Sorry about that…I'll try and fix the situation with it ASAP.
This is a very different take on Patrick's Mother, and I'm hoping it works out! It's from Specs's point of view. And it's SLASH! Don't like slash, don't read this. Simple enough.
This is only the introduction. It's a small taste of what's to come.
She was there every single day for almost two years, at the bread cart, waiting for the Manhattan newsies to come and pick up our breakfast. I used to ignore her, or throw looks of pity her way…
But not anymore. Not after I knew the truth.
I just couldn't believe it all started with a snide comment on Dutchy's part. The one time that a bad comment escaped his mouth, it turned into a landslide. I guess everything Dutchy does has to be dramatic.
"I wish dat she'd just give up. She's gone completely insane. Patrick is probably outta this city or dead," Dutchy muttered that sweltering day as we passed her. I was surprised he would say something like that when she quite obviously heard every word. I shook my head, adjusting my shirt collar so it wasn't so tight on my neck.
"I almost envy Patrick, whoever he is. At least his family is out looking for him," I said quietly, noticing the odd look that the woman gave me even as I spoke. I could feel her eyes on me as I grabbed a piece of bread from the hand of a weary looking nun, and even as I walked away her piercing gaze followed.
She usually walked away immediately after we left.
That day, that prophetic and fateful day, she lingered. I wouldn't know why until it was much too late.
AN: This is going to get very odd. You've been forewarned.