Disclaimer: Well, this whole thing was inspired by Disney's Aladdin, but I think I've probably taken a few liberties, since the characters are in a modern setting, but every one of them, from Abu to Al and Jas themselves are used with love, care and respect.

New York belongs to itself. Please note: I don't know much about New York – I've never even been there before – so if I get things totally wrong, be gentle with me. After all, this is fiction. ;)

One word of warning: I always make references to other films/books that I love. Up this chapter is Moulin Rouge. Brownie points to whoever spots it! ;P

~*~

New York City, the modern day. Imagine the son of a notorious gangster and the daughter of a police chief, finding in each other the love they have always craved. A tale as old as time. A precious story retold in the modern day.

But true love never ran smooth. Aladdin and Jasmine's love must be proven, not in the hot sands of Agrabah, but in the dirty streets of New York. They must face the corruption of a trusted friend, the forging of new allies, the unfolding of secrets… And a certain big blue Genie, who seems to know them very well indeed.

What follows is a story about a time. A story about a place. A story about the people. But above all things, a story about love. A love that will live forever.

~*~

Once Upon A Time In New York City

Chapter One: Backstreet Guy

If there was thing that Aladdin hated, it was snow. Especially the snow of New York in the winter. It was too cold, the gutters were slushy with half-melted snow, making riding his motorbike impossible or, worse, if he was walking (as he was now), the cars whipped up mini storms of ice and grit and drenched him. It was just horrid. He'd left work, thinking that he just had enough time to go to the grocery store before it closed, get home, make a nice hot dinner and then watch a movie. Instead, he was trudging what felt like miles across New York, carrying a wet paper bag full to the brim with food and to top it all off, his nose had started running.

If only the bike was ready, he thought a little miserably as he walked past a dark looking alley, I could be riding on that and not- He was pulled from his thoughts, quite literally, into the alley he'd just passed.

"Hey-!" he began, then crying out in dismay as the grocery bag fell to the ground, its contents spilling all over the damp ground.

"Ooh, cranberry sauce!" squealed a happy voice.

Oh no, thought Aladdin. Not these two…

"Why Abis, Haroud," he started brightly. "Don't you think it's a little rude to make a guy drop his things?"

"Not when the 'guy' in question has been avoiding us for weeks…" replied Haroud, folding his long thin arms. He paused and looked down at the short, round little man who was happily picking through Aladdin's groceries. Aladdin still had trouble comprehending that Abis was the leader here. Abis didn't walk or swagger as most men in his position did: he rolled, skipped, scrambled. He wore big hats with wide brims that made him look ridiculous. Haroud, on the other hand, strode purposefully and wore a dark green beanie that made him look a little like Samuel L. Jackson. Aladdin had never worked out how it was that Abis had managed to become such a big time crook, and Haroud his lackey.

Haroud coughed. "Ah sir? There will be time for… dinner later."

"What? Oh, all right. Listen here," he said, waving a cucumber in Aladdin's direction menacingly. "You tell your father that-"

"I don't know where he is," cut in Aladdin, scowling.

"You tell your father," continued Abis ignoring him, "that unless he makes the payment to us by the end of the week, we'll… we'll… Uh…"

Haroud let out a long-suffering sigh. "Crush his bones, sir?"

"Yes! Crush his bones! I like that one Haroud – write it down."

Haroud rolled his eyes.

"Look, I haven't seen him in months," said Aladdin. "And I'm unlikely to see him any time soon-"

"Ha! Of course you will! You're his son!"

Aladdin swallowed. "I don't feel like it," he muttered under his breath. Haroud leaned in close, and Aladdin backed off, feeling the cold metal of a dumpster against his back. Abis was more stupid then he was dangerous, but Haroud… Haroud was like a sleeping snake: you never knew when you might push him a little too far.

"You tell your father," he said in a low voice, "that he had better give us the money he owes us, and stop playing these silly little games… Or else he'll be attending another funeral in the family caused by an… accident." Aladdin flinched almost imperceptibly at those words and looked away. Haroud seemed to take this as some sort of sign of assent because he smirked and turned away.

"You tell your dad!" piped up Abis as he and Haroud left the alley. They disappeared into the crowd and Aladdin let out a sigh of relief. A moment later, Abis came scurrying back. He picked up the jar of cranberry sauce and laughed, waving it triumphantly at Aladdin's bemused face. He ran off again after Haroud, clutching the jar tightly to his chest. Aladdin shook his head and began picking up the spilt groceries, absently hoping that the bag would not split.

Abis and Haroud obviously knew something he didn't… They never usually bothered him that much, and he hadn't been avoiding them for weeks: he had no particular quarrel with them. Well… nothing recently, anyhow. No, when they said, "you've been avoiding us", they meant that Aladdin's father had. It was just easier to refer to father and son as the same person. After all, they both looked alike, had the same thick black hair, the same mischievous twinkle in brown eyes… And, of course, the same knack of getting into trouble, generally with the type of people who wouldn't think twice about…. Well, to put it in Haroud's words, crushing bones if things didn't go their way.

But I'm completely different to my father, thought Aladdin a little bitterly as he resumed his trudge back home, along with all the other sidewalk pedestrians. I make an honest dollar. I don't make promises I don't intend to keep. I don't…

"I'm just not him!" he said aloud, causing several people to look at him oddly and cross over to the other side of the street. But Aladdin barely noticed. He absolutely hated it when people lumped him and his father together. Like father like son, they always sneered. His father's in a gang – the leader of one in fact. The King of Thieves. So Aladdin must be the Prince of Thieves. It was infuriating. Aladdin had absolutely nothing to do with his father's life… Alright, maybe he had at one time gone with the Thieves, but that had been a long time ago. Before…

Aladdin jumped as something rubbed up against his leg. He glanced down in surprise, and saw a wiry looking brown cat looking back at him with huge dark eyes. It meowed, looking incredibly pathetic in the snow.

"Aw, Abu," said Aladdin fondly, realising that he must have stomped his way back to his apartment block in record time. "Did Mr. Kleiss lock you out again?" The cat meowed again and then scrambled up Aladdin's leg and torso with astonishing agility to his shoulder. "Ow!" cried Aladdin, laughing despite himself, shifting the grocery bag into his left arm so he could stroke the purring mass of fur on his shoulder. "What do you think you are, a monkey?" Abu nuzzled the side of his head.

Aladdin shook his head and pulled his key out of his pocket. No sooner had he turned the lock and entered the building, an unholy screech assaulted his ears.

"Wipe your feet!!"

Aladdin rolled his eyes, but obliged as his landlord, a skinny little Greek with extremely shiny black hair glared at him, pulling a mop from behind him as he scurried towards the door.

"Ungrateful little ingrate!!" he shrieked. Mr Kliess always spoke like this: there was a permanent squeak attached to his voice. Aladdin sometimes worried that Kliess would drown in his own punctuation. "No consideration, none at all!!"

"Sorry, Mr Kleiss," he began, edging past the fuming little man. Aladdin had long ago learnt that the best way to get along (or at least, ignore) Mr. Kleiss was to say sorry and then get away as quickly as possible. "Won't happen again-"

"And that cat!! It has to go, do you understand me?! Tracking dirt in here, morning and night-"

"I can't get rid of Abu," protested Aladdin, climbing up the first few steps. "He's been in my family as long as I have!" Abu hissed at the Greek, who glared back at him through thick glasses.

"Well, put a leash on it!!"

"I can't put a leash on him!" cried Aladdin, horrified at the very thought of such a thing. He climbed up another stair. "He's not just a.. a pet!"

"Well, do something!! What's this?!" Kleiss bent over and peered closely at the polished floor. "Scuff marks?!"

Aladdin bolted, desperately juggling the paper bag and his cat, who clawed his shoulder in a desperate attempt to hang on. Mr Kleiss' screeches followed him. There was something very odd about that man… It was one thing to want to be clean and tidy but quite another to always carry a portable iron around with you. An obsession like that just couldn't be healthy.

Aladdin didn't really know why he stayed in this place… His own apartment had three rooms: a bedroom, a bathroom and a kitchen/ living room. He could probably afford a much nicer place, one without a cranky landlord but he couldn't bring himself to leave. His mother had been born in this apartment block, and it was where Aladdin had spent the first few years of his life. He could still dimly remember sitting on the cheap, broken sofa, watching his mother cook in the kitchen, inhaling the thick aromas of the spices she used, hoping that she'd allow him to try a small bite of the sweet pastries she made before they went in the oven… No. He couldn't leave this place. Not just yet anyhow…

Abu hopped down gracefully to the floor and ran on ahead, oblivious to his owner's pensive thoughts. He waited patiently outside Aladdin's door.

"Hungry, right?" grinned Aladdin. "Hang on, buddy… I've gotta find the key…" Abu meowed and stood up on his hind legs to paw at the door. Aladdin laughed, and was about to put the key in the lock when he heard a noise coming from inside. A cough. Aladdin leaned closer to the door, listening so carefully that he could hear the rush of blood in his ears. He could just make out the sounds of the TV: it sounded like it might be an old Western, judging from the gunshots. There was another distinct cough. Aladdin grimaced. There was no mistaking that particular cough. No wonder Abis and Haroud had cornered him: they must have had inside information.

With a sigh, Aladdin opened the door, allowing Abu to rush in before him. "Y'know," he began sourly, shutting the door again and putting the shopping on the tiny kitchen table, "it would be nice if you called to let me know you were staying before you actually arrived."

The man lying on the sofa grinned and blew out a lazy smoke ring from his cigar. "What? Can't a man just pop by to see his son?"

"You can't," said Aladdin. "I haven't seen you for months, and you think you can just waltz in here and-"

"I'm sorry Aladdin," interrupted Cassim, leaning over and turning the volume down on the TV remote. "But I need a place to stay for a few weeks."

"I know," said Aladdin, digging out a can of cat food from the bag. "I bumped into Abis and Haroud on the way here…" Abu jumped up on the kitchen worktop and stared intently at the can.

Cassim snorted. "I've much bigger fish to worry about than those two clowns."

"They're after the cash you owe them," continued Aladdin, a trifle absently as he started searching for the can opener. "Ah-ha!" he murmured triumphantly, after finding it under a damp washcloth.

Cassim took another long drag on his cigar. "I know. I can pay them back after this little mess blows over…"

"What's happened now?"

Cassim shrugged. "Oh, it's nothing for you to worry about. Seriously kid," he added, seeing the look on Aladdin's face, "it's fine. I just need to keep a low profile for the next week or so… Business is bad."

Aladdin didn't know whether to feel exasperated or touched by the way his father tried to keep his son from his "business": he knew how much Aladdin hated it. There had been a time when Aladdin had tried to pull Cassim away from that lifestyle: he even got him a pretty decent job, repairing motorcycles (the one thing that father and son had in common: a love of bikes). But after a week or so, Cassim had gone back to "business", and Aladdin had resigned himself to the fact that no matter how much his father loved him (and sometimes Aladdin wondered about that), he would never be anything more then a gangster. Aladdin could still clearly recall how angry he'd been with his father… How he couldn't believe, after everything that had happened, the "accident", the bloody reprisals, everything – Cassim had still gone back to that lifestyle. You can't teach an old dog new tricks, he thought bitterly.

"Aladdin? Are you alright?"

Aladdin blinked and realised that he was gripping hold of the can opener extremely tightly. Abu meowed again petulantly. Aladdin shook himself, and quickly opened the can, the cat not even bothering to wait for it to be put onto a plate. Aladdin left him to sticking his paw in the can and fishing out the meat.

"I'm fine," said Aladdin pulling off his gloves and coat. "I just…" He sighed, not knowing how to put his feelings into words. I hate the life you're living didn't seem strong enough somehow. There was an awkward pause.

"Look," began Cassim, dropping his cigar in the bin, "I know that it's not really on just to barge in on you like this… What's say I cook dinner, hmm?" He went over to the kitchen and grinned at Aladdin. "How about sambusaks, the way your mom used to make 'em?"

"Uh, sorry dad, I can't," said Aladdin quickly. He regretted saying it almost instantly: Cassim looked so disappointed that Aladdin could have kicked himself. "I've uh-I've made arrangements to go see... Sadie!"

Cassim brightened. "Sadie, huh? She was a nice girl… So, you guys are still friends?"

"Yep," said Aladdin, edging for the door and grabbing his coat. "Great friends. Bosum buddies…"

"Well, you don't want to keep her waiting, do you?" Cassim said this so jovially that Aladdin stopped shuffling backwards, and gave his father a suspicious look.

"We're not that close."

"I never said you were."

"Hmm," said Aladdin, eyeing him closely. "Well, I'll see you later then." Aladdin didn't wait for a reply, and practically ran out the room. He closed the door and leant against it, letting out a sigh. Well. There really was only place he could go now…

*

Aladdin didn't have many pictures of himself when he was boy, but in the ten or so he did have he was never alone: he was with his mother, his father, Abu. And Sadie. For as long as he could remember, Sadie had always been right there beside him. They'd grown up in the same building and spent their childhood running around like wild things, dodging Kleiss and using the building's fire escape as a way to get in and out of each other's apartments. At least, they had done until Sadie's mother had changed the locks on their windows. Sadie's folks had long since moved to a quiet suburb, but Sadie had stayed in New York: her building was just across the street, something Aladdin was profoundly grateful for. His memories of his childhood with her were important to him: they reminded him of a simpler time. A time when they'd both been free to do what they wanted and not being afraid to get in trouble. And even when he had gotten into trouble, she'd get him out of it (after all, what grown up could resist a little girl with hair in pigtails and bright blue eyes?), and then, when they got home, to call him a doofus for getting them into trouble in the first place. Aladdin couldn't even remember how they'd first met: it felt like he'd known her since the day of his birth, but he knew that was impossible. Cassim didn't remember, claiming that they'd just taken up with each other one day for no apparent reason. The only person who might have known was Aladdin's mother, and it was too late to ask her anything…

He supposed that it probably didn't matter how they'd meet: it only mattered that they were still friends, and that he could count on her. And that it only took him about two minutes to get to her place from his, if he ran.

Aladdin knocked sharply on her door. There were a few muffled noises and a "just a minute!" which meant that she was looking through her peephole at him. He stuck his tongue out at it automatically, a childish habit he'd always kept with her. There was a click and the slide from the bolt.

"Lemme me guess," Sadie said as she opened the door and rested her hip against the doorframe. She tapped her chin in mock thought. "Your old man's dropped by for a visit?"

"Bingo," said Aladdin. "Except it's more of a stay then a visit. Can I come in?"

"Sure," she said, stepping away from the door. "I can't have you freezing to death, can I? I mean," she continued as Aladdin flopped down on her couch, "who would I get to stick his tongue out me when I answer the door?"

Aladdin laughed shortly. "What's all this?" he asked, gesturing to the coffee table, which was strewn with bits of paper.

"Oh," she said, sitting next to him and grimacing at the paperwork. "It's stuff the museum gave me to look over…"

"How's that going, anyhow?" Sadie worked at the Asia Society's museum on 44th Street researching old artefacts: more precisely, artefacts that had some magical or religious significance. Aladdin hadn't been surprised when she'd accepted the job. He knew Sadie well enough to know that she was a hard worker, especially when it came to the things that she loved, and she'd always loved archaeology. Aladdin could remember when they'd watched 'Indiana Jones' for the first time and the very next day, Sadie had gone out and bought a hat and whip just like Harrison Ford's. She still sometimes wore the hat while at work, and the whip was currently underneath the window ledge.

"It's all going well," said Sadie, curling her feet up underneath her. "The thing I'm doing now," she nodded at the paper, "is to do with these objects they found in the Arabian Desert."

"What'd they find?"

"Oh, an hourglass, a staff… some old books, but we can't read them yet. They look really great: like something a witch would use." She grinned at Aladdin. "You ought to drop by sometime and take a look."

"I will."

"Wanna coffee?"

"Please."

As Sadie scrambled over the back of the sofa to get the coffee, Aladdin glanced around her apartment. He'd always liked it: it was about the same size and design as his own apartment and simply decorated. Dark wooden floors, that looked as though she'd just mopped them: he could just smell the fresh scent of the floor cleaner she used. The walls were a light cream colour and covered in posters: some were just interesting artefacts from the museum shop, others were from films she liked. He knew that in the kitchen was a little cluster of photos, from trips she'd taken with the museum, photos of her parents on their wedding day, of herself and various friends… But mostly her and Aladdin. His own photo collection was similar: they'd once bought two disposable cameras and spent a day taking photos of each other in Central Park, by the Statue of Liberty, on top of the Empire State Building… Aladdin smiled at the memory. It had been a good day. They should do it again some time…

"Hey, can you switch on the CD player? Track 2…" Sadie's voice drifted through from the kitchen.

"Okay," he called back, and switched on her stereo. He grinned as a familiar song filled the room. "Do you ever take this song off?"

"Nope," she said, coming back into the room and handing him a mug. She smiled. "It's my theme song." Aladdin laughed as she danced across the room to turn up the volume. "One minute I'm in Central Park," she sang along with Billy Joel. "Then I'm down on DeLacey Street. From the Bowery to St Marks. There's a syncopated beat…"

Aladdin laughed again, and she trailed off, looking at him thoughtfully.

"Come on then," she sighed, plonking herself back next to him. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Who said anything about anything being wrong?" asked Aladdin, feigning innocence, to which Sadie just rolled her eyes.

"Come on, Al. You only ever laugh like that when something's wrong-"

"I do?" said Aladdin in surprise.

"Yeah, it's all hollow and weird… And don't change the subject," she pointed a finger at him, like a scolding parent. "What's wrong? Is it your dad?"

Aladdin sighed. He never could hide anything from Sadie: not that he really wanted to. After all, didn't you tell your best friend everything? "It's just that… I don't know. I hate the way he just barges in and out of my life like a… like a train. There's never any warning, he just arrives and then leaves again… I mean, how can I have a decent relationship with him if I never know if he's coming or going… I thought that it would change after mom died…" He trailed off miserably, and Sadie's mouth twisted into a grimace of sympathy. Her parents were still alive and kicking, out in their little suburban paradise, but Sadie had never been on the best of terms with them. Her skin was a darker shade then theirs: her first year or so of life had been comprised of paternity tests and arguments. Even now, when everything was supposedly settled, her father had little to do with her and her mother… Well, Sadie had always insisted that given the choice between her husband and daughter, Mitra Lotus would always choose her husband.

For a moment, Aladdin and Sadie just smiled sadly at each other, sharing the type of understanding that only comes about when you have known someone for a very long time. Sadie shook her head.

"Well, I guess there's only one thing to do."

"What?" asked Aladdin a little suspiciously.

"Go out, of course! Oh, come on," she said as Aladdin groaned. "I'm not saying have a wild night out on the town. Let's just go have dinner. My shout."

"Yeah?" said Aladdin raising his eyebrows.

"What, you think I have no money? Come on; nowhere fancy. The Marketplace. We could get some coffee and baklava…" Her voice trailed off teasingly: she knew perfectly well that Aladdin never said no to baklava.

"Oh, all right then," said Aladdin, weakening at the thought of those delicious little snacks. He laughed as Sadie clapped her hands (Sadie hated cooking with a passion) and grabbed her coat and some old beaten up looking trainers. "Do you have enough money?" he asked.

Sadie shrugged, lacing up her shoes quickly. "If not, we can put it on my tab." She grabbed her keys and shoulder bag from underneath the sofa and snapped off the stereo.

"Do you have a tab there?" asked Aladdin in surprise. He opened the door.

"Nope," replied Sadie briskly, shooing him out the door. "But I'm sure we can start one up." She shut the door, Aladdin's laugh still echoing across her walls.