A/N: I don't own Newsies (actually, I do… sorta kinda. I own the DVD and the CD… does that count?) Anyways… I don't own any character you recognize. They belong to Disney (at least until my friend becomes a multi billionaire like she promised to do and buys them. Then they'll belong to her. Except for Spot, cuz she promised to buy him for me as a b-day present, so he'll belong to me! ) ((smiles and sighs dreamily)) Anyway, this is my disclaimer for the whole flippin' story, cuz I hate disclaimers, okay? I don't own 'em. Got it? Good. Now on with the chapter!
Being the sister of one of the best known leaders in all of New York isn't all it's cracked up to be. Most people, they think it'd be great, but they're wrong. It means that you're on the 'wanted' list of every one of your brother's enemies. You're constantly watched by your brother's spies, un-mercilessly questioned about your whereabouts, and relentlessly overprotected, much to your disdain. All of this gets multiplied ten-fold when you're Spot Conlon's sister because everyone knows that he has more enemies then friends. Welcome to my life… enter if you dare.
When we were younger, me and Spot were pretty close. Back then we were known as Quin and Patrick, though my whole name was really Quinlyn. When we became newsies together, we became known as Spot and Song. Me because I sang all the time, and him because he used to always joke that when I became rich and famous one day he wanted everyone to know that he "spotted" me first.
We were practically inseparable, having had to depend on each other in order to survive on the streets. But that was all before he became the leader of Brooklyn… and it was way before he turned thirteen and suddenly had his eyes on every girl that he passed by. Once he finally settled on one, I was history, his spare time being totally taken up by his beloved Charm. Still, he would send me the occasional smile or poke to let me know that, in his world, I still existed. Then Charm caught pneumonia, and five days later, we were having her funeral. That day, I lost my brother completely. He was only a shell of his former, fun loving self. His eyes became cold, distant, and unreadable. He didn't speak to anyone unless necessary. He never cracked a smile and his eyes stopped twinkling like they always used to. I was devastated.
His rise to power came shortly after, just a few days after his fourteenth birthday. A man with control is a dangerous thing, but I always believed that he could use it wisely. The day he was deemed leader, the youngest known to Brooklyn, I walked up to him, a tentative smile on my face. We hadn't spoken in weeks.
"Uh… hey, Spot. Kin I talk witcha for a sec?" I asked.
He looked over at me, his blue eyes indecipherable. "'Course, Song. What's up?"
I looked down at the wooden planking beneath my feet. "I, uh… I wanted ta say congratulations." I looked up, a proud smile on my face. "You're gonna be a great leadah."
His lips twitched slightly, revealing a glimpse of a half-smile. "Thanks, Song." I nodded and began to walk away, hating how our conversations had to be stilted, when I heard his voice call after me. "Hey, wait a sec, Song!" I turned, looking back at him. His eyes flashed with emotion, something I hadn't seen in a while, as he began to walk towards me. I tried to decipher what it was. Sadness… regret? "Song… I've been a lousy bruddah." He stopped in front of me, placing his hands on my shoulders. "I wanna make it up to ya."
I smiled, throwing my arms around him in a hug. "Oh, Spot! I missed you!" My smile disappeared just as quickly as I felt myself being pushed off him.
"Get offa me, Song!" he snapped. I stepped back, eyes radiating hurt. He didn't care. "Ya can't jist go huggin' me! I'se da leadah a Brooklyn now. I gotta make me a reputation. If da other boroughs think I'se soft, den I ain't no leadah!"
I blinked back the quick tears that were filling my eyes. "Spot… I'm sorry… I-" I stopped, shaking my head. "Ya know what… nevahmind. Let's jist forget dat we're even related." I turned, walking away.
"Wait… Song! No, dat's not what I meant!" he called after me, but I ignored him.
I asked for him to forget that we were related, but that's not what happened. Although we never made up for what happened that day, he treated me differently than the rest of his newsies. If one of the others was late, they'd get a glare. If I was late, I'd get a talk.
"Song," he would say, his eyes ice cold. "Yer late."
I'd roll my eyes. "Yes, I know, Spot."
He'd continue to glare. "Ya know dat I don' like it when yer late."
I'd smile, falsely sweet, "Yes, I know, Spot."
And so it would go on. He'd want to know where I was, which really wasn't any of his business. Usually, the answer was the docks. I loved sitting out there at night. Still do. I like to hang my legs over the side and close my eyes, letting the darkness surround me, serenading me with the quiet lapping of the water and the sounds of a city going to sleep. Spot knew, however, just as well as I did, that the city isn't safe at night. Well, the city isn't safe at any time, but especially at night.
One night, I got sick of his overprotection of me. "Spot, you aren't da boss a me, alright! I make me own decisions. If I wanna take my chances out there, den I will, okay? Ya nevah do dis wit any a da rest a dem!"
His jaw set, and I could tell he was livid. "Song, I ain't askin' yer opinion. I'm tellin' ya, fer da last time, ta get in 'ere by curfew!"
I rolled my eyes. "Your preoccupation with my bed time is getting old, Spot. Ya need ta get yerself a goil." The minute the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. My eyes widened, and I opened my mouth to apologize, but he held up a hand.
He took a deep breath, and I couldn't tell whether he was trying to keep from exploding at me or crying like a little baby. When he had reined in his emotions, he looked at me, his gaze laced with pain so raw that I could practically feel it. "I had a goil, Song, an' I lost 'er to da streets. I ain't about ta loose you too."
That was the night I realized that he really did care about me. It didn't matter that our relationship wasn't the same as it used to, we were still brother and sister, and that was all that mattered. So, after that, I tried to be on time. I watched my back and tried to put up with his incessant nagging. He was my brother; after all, that's what he was supposed to do. But when he said that I couldn't stay in Brooklyn anymore… that I had to go to Manhattan… that was going a little too far.
A/N: Okay, I know this chapter was a little boring. I don't really like it that much, but I wanted to establish the characters before I got into the story. My next chapter will be better, I promise. (crosses heart and hopes to die) Okay… I've rambled enough. Tootles!