An AU of the usual Papa Smurf AU. So, you could say another story for the Papa Smurf series

Tony is nine and Tim is five. Set in the early 1900's

Tony pushed up the sleeves of his woolly sweater as he gently gripped Tim's hand once they exited the elevator. The kid was asleep on his feet as he tugged on his baggy shorts, absently scratching his leg. It was past nine and they should have been home already starting dinner for the rest of the family.

"I have to tie my shoe." Tim's voice was weak and Tony had to concentrate to be able to hear him. He stopped in mid-stride to wait as his little brother dropped to the floor on one bent knee while crouching over the other to tie his laces.

Tony stood, tapping his toe with his hands on his hips. "Tim?" No response. He nudged Tim's shoulder with his knee. Tim rolled to the ground; out cold and flat on his back. "Tim? Don't tell me you're sleeping."

He bent over the boy yanking on his arm. "Come on Tim, if we're late we'll get a whippin' for sure."

"Don't bother letting him come in tomorrow, he did that at his station today and I had to throw cold water on him." Mr. Harris was slipping his jacket on as he passed the boys, leaving for home for the night. He was one of the managers of The Triangle Shirt Company that Tony and Tim worked for. Their stepfather was the other.

At nine years of age, Tony had been working for the factory for the last two years, doing piecework. He was an efficient employee and produced his quota plus a sizable surplus by the end of the week earning up to ten dollars. Luck would have it; his machine barely ever broke down, something management fancied.

Tim had been working at the factory for a year now; ever since their mother had died. He worked with other children his own age in a department that used scissors needed in the process of the product created. Tim made only one dollar and fifty cents a week. Tony had worried for the day they would promote Tim to machines; many children at his age died working in the machine department, falling asleep then getting crushed within its moving parts. But, now, apparently he would not have to worry over that possibility any longer.

"But wait! You can't! I'm sure you know what our father will do if Tim is fired!"
"It's not my problem. You know the rules; I don't care if your father is one of the owners. I already gave Tim his second chance last week and he blew it. Besides…He talks to the other kids too much." Mr. Harris walked away without looking back as he waved Tony off.

Tony walked back to Tim then crouched, eyeing him with anger then sighing as it slowly transformed into compassion. "Dammit. Whatdya expect? We work like fourteen hours a day and he's only five." Tony spoke to himself. He turned to the door that closed with an angry bang, leaving him and Tim inside the factory, alone. "He's really little." He said, meekly.

Tony stared at Tim's sleeping form, listening to his peaceful snore and hating the idea of waking him. One of his long, woolen socks had fallen down and his shoe was still untied. He also wore a knitted woolen sweater, baring a few small holes, which had once been Tony's.

"I sure wish mom were still alive." he whispered to himself. He noticed the dark circles under Tim's eyes and knew they resembled the same ones he wore. He rubbed his grumbling stomach, a habit he didn't even take notice he did anymore. "This ain't right."

The frustration he was feeling grew till it was unbearable. He violently shook Tim's shoulder, "Wake up!"
Tim's head rolled, as he stubbornly kept his eyes closed. "Leave me alone…go away. I want mom."

"Well, you can't have her...Can yah? If we don't get home and get dinner ready we'll be in big trouble."

"Oh…I don't care." Tim didn't budge. "Go away and let me dream about her. And…Stop yelling at me." He opened his eyes, glaring at his brother. "All everyone ever does is yell at me." Tony could see the brave front Tim was trying to master but failing when a tear leaked from his eye to run down his cheek into his ear.

"Oh yeah? Well, I'm sick of being the only one that cares."

Tim rubbed his fist against his ear then looked away with a huff.

Tony wasn't going to let his brother's sad eyes get to him. You had to be strong if you were going to make it in this world so he knew he had to be strong for Tim; being his older brother and all. He yanked on his arm, pulling Tim to his feet.

"You think I like it?" asked Tony.

Tim whined and stomped his feet as Tony kept a firm grasp on his arm dragging him out the front door of the factory then towards their apartment located in the village. They crossed Vennessy then made their way to Columbus. Tony was careful to check both ways before they crossed the streets.

Spring was coming but the night had a chill in the air that invigorated him, spurning that second wind he needed to make it till bed time. Cars honked and headlights blinded him as they ran to the opposite sidewalk that followed the river to home.

Tony stood at the stove stirring the potato soup he cooked as his stepbrother, Earnest and stepsister Rebecca sat at the table fully absorbed with their studies. Tim was passed out at the table, his head resting on his outstretched arm.

"Why is he so tired, Anthony? If father finds him like this…Well, you know what will happen." Ernest said.

"I had him darn my socks last night." said Rebecca curtly.

Tony and Ernest glared at the twelve year old girl. She ran her hand through her long, curly hair with an air of conceit. "What? I had to get plenty of sleep for my big test in History today."
"He's not your slave, Rebecca." said Ernest. The thin boy adjusted his spectacles on his nose, unable to mask the evident irritation with his younger sister.

"Well, I beg to differ. Father has them working all day at the factory then when they return they're expected to clean, cook and mend. All me and you are expected to accomplish are good grades. So, what would you call them, Ernest?"
The teen bit his bottom lip then threw Tony a sympathetic frown. Tony knew Rebecca was right. Ever since their mother died, it had been like this. His and Tim's lack of Blanck blood running through their veins meant they were no longer part of the family but had become full-time house slaves; handing over their pay at the end of each week to the man they reluctantly called father.

Ernest pushed his chair from the table then approached Tim. He gave the young boy's shoulder a quick shake to wake him but when there was no response he lifted him into his arms, "How about you get in your bed, Timmy. Get some real sleep." Tony had to smile when he saw the smirk on Ernest's face when Tim nestled into his chest then watched as the older boy carried him to their bedroom. Rebecca ignored the scene, enthralled with her book.

Tony filled a bowl of the potato soup and brought it to his and Tim's bedroom, hiding it under Tim's bed for later. Ernest was tucking him under the covers as he gave Tony a wink.

When Tony returned to the kitchen their father had arrived and was taking off his jacket to hang on the nearby coat rack, "Where is Timothy?" Tony kept his sights on the stove and attempted to walk past the man but was grabbed by his arm and pulled closer to face him. "Well?"

Ernest entered the room, "He's sleeping father. He seems to be getting sick." Mr. Blanck kept his glare on Tony then shoved him away. "We'll discuss it later."

Once their father was finished with dinner he quietly left the kitchen. Tony knew he should begin the dirty dishes without delay but also knew his father was headed to their bedroom to deal with Tim's incompetence. Rebecca and Ernest had already retired to their rooms so Tony tiptoed down the hall to his bedroom, peering through the keyhole.

Tony clenched his fists by his sides when he saw the man holding Tim with his feet unable to touch the ground as he viciously shook him.

"Harris told me you were fired today, Timothy. I warned you if you couldn't hold your end up around here you'd have to leave.

Tim struggled, "But where do I go? What about Tony? He's my broth-" His father's frustration grew and he slapped him across the face. Tim cried out as the man resumed shaking him.
"You think everything in this life is free? I worked hard to get where I am and it didn't involve sleep. You will have to go." When Tim's cries increased he hit him harder. Tim's body went limp in his unforgiving hands so he threw the unconscious boy callously over his shoulder. Tony wanted to cry when he saw how Tim's arms dangled from his listless body.

When his father opened the door to leave Tony stormed him, pounding on the man's thighs, "Where are you taking him? Let him go!"

"Get away from me." Tony sailed through the air, his head hitting the bedpost before everything went dark.

When Tony woke he was sitting on the floor in his room, the door closed. He crept across the floor to peer out the door; the apartment silent and pitch black. He went to a corner of his room and removed a loose floorboard taking out a small satchel filled with coins. It wasn't a lot but it would help; a small portion of earnings that Tony socked away over the last two years for an emergency such as this one. He always remembered the words his mother had told him, Better safe than sorry. Somehow he knew they would need this money someday. He never felt any kind of love from this man his mother called her husband, the man they were instructed to call their father... but now, Tony was prepared. He grabbed their jackets, the only photograph they owned of their mother and Tim's newsboy cap.

Tony didn't leave through the front door of the apartment building but crawled through a window, climbing out onto the fire escape. He searched over the alley below and spotted his father with Tim still draped over his back. He watched as the man tossed Tim's lifeless body into a pile of old cardboard boxes stacked high next to a dumpster. Once the man was out of sight, Tony climbed down the ladder of the fire escape then jumped to the asphalt. He scrounged through the boxes, calling Tim's name.

"Tony?"

He followed his brother's voice finding him in a small heap close to the wall of the brick building. He wrapped his jacket around him, pulling him close so they could huddle against the wall of the building.

"I'm sorry I got kicked out." said Tim.
"Don't worry. We'll make it on our own now, it'll be better."
"Maybe you should go back, you didn't get kicked out…Did you?"
"If you're kicked out, I'm kicked out." said Tony.
Tim leaned his head on Tony's shoulder. "What are we gonna do?"
Tony leaned his cheek on the top of Tim's head. "We'll figure out something."

"I promise to try to start caring more."

"You do that, Tim. Now go to sleep and have dreams of mom. They'll keep you warm."

At least it will be spring soon, Tony thought to himself.