Once Upon a Broken Heart

Rookie didn't have time to think, she just ran. She couldn't stop running. She had already hit the Brooklyn Bridge, there was no turning back now. The winter air held no affect on her lungs, even on her deepest gulps of air. People stared as she passed, put she paid no mind to them, just kept her eyes focused straight ahead of her.

When she reached the peak of the bridge, she was forced to stop. The cramps in her side felt as if she was being stabbed by ten knives. A sickening feeling reached her stomach, she felt as if she was going to throw-up over the railing. She placed Bear down at her feet and gripped the freezing iron to steady herself, breathing heavily. She watched her chest fall up and down for a few breaths before taking a sidelong glance back towards Manhattan.

No one had followed her, no one that she could see. She sighed and nodded her head against the railing, becoming aware of her trembling legs. Never had she ever had to run for that long; never had she needed to push them to the limit of her body in a fleeting mixture of anger and fear. Looking to Brooklyn, she realized that she still had a bit of a journey.

Pushing herself off the railing, she scooped Bear up and started off again, continuing her previous sprint. Adrenaline pumping through her veins, she set her mind on the mansion she had once called her cage.

Her cage. She was like a mouse heading for cheese at the back of a cage. Sure, she would get the comfort of living her old life, but there she would be trapped.

But that's where you belong,

Wait.

Why did she care so much about what Spot Conlon thought of her? Sure, he had called her a slut, but why did she care? She could have just turned around and walked back into the Lodging House, vowing never to speak to him again. But she didn't. She did just what he told her too, just what he wanted.

It was all she could do to keep her hot tears only trickle, instead of letting them flood down her cheeks. She wiped them on Wish's fur (the pup didn't mind, she thought she was getting pat), and kept running.

She paused at the end of the bridge only momentarily, looking around at the Brooklyn Docks. Thankfully, they were deserted. Hopefully, she wouldn't be stopped by any newsie wondering why she was in their territory. Not-to-mention, she had just punched their leader.

And then she saw a familiar newsie, beginning a walk down -alone- one of the far docks. A chill ran up her spine and she sped up, closing her eyes and praying briefly that she wouldn't be seen. It was Echo, and after their confrontation a week and a half ago, Rookie didn't want to stir anything up. "Please don't let her see me," Rookie mumbled under her breath, stealing glances at the newsgirl. Echo didn't move. She just sat there, staring out at the river.

When Rookie was well out of range, she slowed to a walk and leaned on the side of a building, placing Bear down. The pup did her business, causing Rookie to relocate them, incase the owner of the building saw it. She figured they wouldn't be too happy, whoever they were.

She slipped into a tight-spaced alley to take a breath, placing a hand on her side and wincing. Pain shot through her sides, and her legs ached as if someone was pulling on them. She leaned her head up against the brick wall, closing her eyes. She looked up at the small crack of sky that was showing between the buildings. The sky was darkening, she had to get back to her mansion fast.

She turned out of the alley, keeping a fast walk as not to seem too conspicuous to the few people out in the frigid January temperatures. Bear whined loudly to be picked up, and after receiving a few disapproving looks from those that she passed, she picked the pup up and silenced her.

It was almost fully dark by the time she reached the mansion. She stared up at it, a battle within herself taking place. To go in or not to go in…that was the question at hand. What made her think that her family would take her back? What made her think she wouldn't be thrown out on the streets like an unwanted pet? Why the hell did she ever leave Manhattan? Because Spot was mean to her?

Spot was right, she didn't belong in the newsies. Any other newsie would have fought the Brooklyn King or walked away. But not her. Cowardly her. Stupid her. She sucker-punched him and ran; ran right back to the life she had been trapped in. Ran right back into the cage that the Manhattan newsies had risked everything to keep her out of. And look what she did to them.

Rookie refused to let herself cry again. At this point, there was no going back. So tentatively, she took the first step up the stone stair to the front door. Then her second, third and fourth. In what seemed to be the blink of an eye to her, she was at the door, staring at the golden knocker incrusted with gold vines around the name; PULITZER.

She saw her reflection in the glass of the window and shuddered. Her hair was a wreck, mud smeared on her rosy cheek. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, and her nose was red from sniffling. Quickly she put Bear down and removed her hat. She pulled her hair out of the braid and brushed it down as best she could with her fingers. She then replaced her hat and went to work on her cheek. When she felt she looked mildly decent, she took a deep, quivering breath and knocked on the door twice. She pulled her hat down, so her eyes were barely visible, but she could see fine.

She waited for what seemed like forever to hear the sound of footsteps coming towards the door. As the footsteps got closer and closer, it hit her. She had no story, not explanation, no excuses for anything. Her disappearance, the note she left, why she pretended not to be Brooklyn when Cal visited the Lodging House and why she came back. She tried to think quickly, but her mind was in turmoil. And then the thought came to her, the perfect explanation and the perfect revenge.

She would just blame it all on Spot. Now she wouldn't be a backstabber and go back on him, she wouldn't sink to his level. She would just make it seem that it was all his fault. Yeah, that sounded like quite the plan to Rookie.

When the door opened, every single muscle in her wanted to jump off the steps and sprint down the street, back to Manhattan. But no, it was too late for that. She had made her decision -rather, Spot had made it for her- and she was going to honor it. So she stood her ground and met the eyes of Antoinette's personal maid.

"Yes?" she asked quietly, looking from Rookie to Bear in a sweeping, disgusted glance. "How can I help you? The Pulitzers don't give out donations."

"It's not a donation I'm looking for, Caroline," Rookie replied, watching the maid's eyes widen in surprise at the mention of her name. "I'm looking for my mother."

"Wha-?" Rookie removed her hat and looked Caroline straight in the eye, stopping the maid before she could properly form a sentence. "B…Br…Brooklyn?" she stuttered, her mouth dropping open. "Is that you?"

"Does my mother have any other blonde daughters I should know about?" Rookie replied with a forced, sarcastic smile. The maid shook her head, at loss for words. She simply opened the door wider and motioned for Rookie to enter the foyer. With a moment's hesitation, Rookie complied with the silent welcoming. She scooped Bear into her arms and walked in the front door.

"Stay here, miss," Caroline said firmly as she closed the door behind Rookie. "I will go retrieve the Missus." Rookie nodded, feeling her own heart beat wildly against her chest. She watched as the maid walked away and placed the sleeping Bear on the floor. The pup promptly woke up and began whining. Rookie groaned inwardly and bent down to pick her up. That was when she heard the sound of four little feet running across the stone flooring.

A smile formed from ear to ear across her face as she saw a little ginger-colored terrier trot into the room. "Rose!" she exclaimed, kneeling down on the floor with her arms wide open. The dog perked her ears and began barking madly. Bear stood up, even at her young age she towered over the small dog. But both Rookie and Rose ignored her playful stance. The terrier ran straight to Rookie and began sniffing her all over. After the dog had confirmed that this was in fact her owner, it began yelping and jumped into Rookie's lap.

"Oh Rose! It's good to see you too!" Rookie could hardly believe that she had only been away from her dog hardly a month and a half, and she had missed her so. Bear joined in, wiggling about and licking Rose on the nose. The little terrier pranced around the Shepherd-mix, inspecting her carefully. Finding her suitable, she bent low in a play bow, which Bear returned.

"Get that mutt away from my Rose!" Rookie recognized the shriek of Antoinette. Obviously, Caroline had went straight to Mary-Ann, skipping Antoinette. She scowled at her sister below her hat. She had called Rose hers. Slowly, she removed her hat and stood up.

"Excuse me, sister," she said, looking to her sister. Antoinette stood at the bottom of the stairs with her hands perched on her hips, her eyes narrowed. Her hair looked a little messy, which led Rookie to believe that she had hurried when she heard the commotion. Antoinette's eyes slowly begin to widen. Ignoring this (though she wanted to smirk), Rookie continued. "But Rose is my dog, and so is Bear. And since they are mine, they are perfectly able to play with each other."

"Brooklyn?!" she exclaimed, staring momentarily.

"Why Antoinette, you look like you've seen a ghost," Rookie replied coolly. Her sister turned around at once, looking towards the upstairs.

"MOTHER!" she hollered. "Mother! Come down here immediately. Cal! Cal! Where are you?" Cal. As if some sort of cue, Rookie shuddered in disgust.

Why is he here?

A commotion was heard on the second level as three people came rushing down the hall. Cal was in front, with Mary-Ann not a step behind. Behind them both was a very frazzled looking Caroline, playing with her hands and staring at her feet as she rushed behind the two.

"You," Cal growled when he caught sight of her. "Why you're-"

"Brooklyn!" Mary-Ann exclaimed, rushing down the stairs as fast as her long skirt would allow. Rookie couldn't tell if her mother looked upset, angry or happy, as all three emotions seemed to be swimming around her face. She met Antoinette at her side.

"Mary-Ann, that is not Brooklyn, that is Rookie," Cal said, catching the twins' mother on the shoulder.

"Rookie?" Mary-Ann said in disbelief. Rookie gulped, placing Wish at her heels opposite Rose. She played with her sleeves uncomfortably. "Who in the world is Rookie?" Before Cal could respond, Rookie spoke up.

"I'm Rookie, mother, or at least I was." Her mother stared at her, and Cal narrowed his eyes.

"But, Brooklyn, that sounds like some trash-newsie name."

"It is, mother."

Her mother's face to stone, and her eyes flashed. Rookie took a step back, afraid her mother was going to completely go ballistic on her. But instead of yelling at her, Mary-Ann turned around and faced Cal.

"You told me my daughter was not at the Lodging House!

"You see, Mary-Ann," he began, throwing an arrogant glance at Rookie. "Brooklyn here is twisting the story. Yes, I went to the Lodging House and saw her. But when I did, she was a sickly thing and could hardly say two words to me. I thought for sure that she could not be your lovely Brooklyn and left. I only told you there were no newsgirls to ease your mind. If I had only known I would have told you."

Mary Ann had settled at his words and nodded meekly, as if she was embarrassed. She then turned to Rookie, her face taught. "Now, young lady. You have a lot of explaining to do." She walked towards her and then stopped, taking a sniff of the air. "Ehck," she said in disgust. "But first, you are going to clean up and change first." Rookie nodded.

"Yes mother," it was all she could do to try and revert to her old 'yes mother, no mother' ways in an instant. A month was beginning to feel like a year to her as she tried to remember her teachings.

"What is that?" Mary-Ann, pointing to Bear. It was as if she finally realized that the pup was present. Rookie thought quickly.

"This is Wish, mother," she said. "She was -ehm- a bribery present given to me by one of the newsies to urge me to keep quiet and not return home."

"What?" Mary-Ann asked. "When did this-" she stopped herself. "Bathe now, tell us your stories later. And have Lily give that thing a bath as well."

"Yes mother."

"Caroline, go get Lily and tell her to meet Brooklyn in the bathroom." The maid nodded at the request of Mary-Ann and sped off down a hallway. Mary Ann turned to her daughter. "I do trust you remember where the bathroom is, Brooklyn?" Rookie nodded and scooped Bear up, starting toward the stairs. Mary Ann, Antoinette and Cal stepped out of her way, allowing her to pass with no fuss.

Rookie felt mechanical as she walked up the stairs. Her feet began to remember where they were, and guided her to the left and down the hall to the last door. She entered and placed Bear on the floor, allowing her to sniff around the bathroom. Rookie ran her fingers over the white porcelain tub's edges and over the silver nozzles. Memories of her life before the newsies flooded to her, leaving her in a trance.

"Miss Brooklyn?" a quiet voice asked. Rookie turned around and met her private maid's eyes as she did.

"Yes, Lily?" she replied. Without warning, the maid flung her arms around Rookie and pulled her into an embrace. Surprised, Rookie pat her on the back gently.

"Let's get you washed up." Lily removed herself from the embrace and closed the door. She set the water temperature and filled up the bathtub. "Now you get yourself washed, miss, and I'll go get your clothes ready." Rookie nodded and watched Lily leave and waited for the door to be fully clothed before undressing and stepping into the tub.

The hot water felt cleansing in itself, and Rookie felt as if she didn't need any soap. Despite the feeling, however, Rookie grabbed a loofa and poured some lavender soap on it. Gently she began to wash herself. As she watched her skin become clear and clean, she realized that she was washing away Rookie, and would soon return to Brooklyn. So, she washed herself slower. She looked over at Wish, who was laying on the tile, fast asleep. How splendidly white the pup would look with a proper bath herself.

After she was washed, she drained the water and then refilled the tub to wash her hair. She dunked her head under the water and then began to lather in some shampoo. After the shampoo, she put in conditioner. She was working on autopilot, muscle memory, her body remembered the routine.

"Wow," Rookie mumbled as she stood in front of full-length mirror in her room. Lily stood there and beamed at her work, despite the wriggling Bear in her arms. Rookie looked the best she had in a while (though she found her newsie clothes much more comfortable), with no exaggerations.

The turtle-neck blouse was pure white. It was tight around her chest and bodice, but the sleeves tight until they reached the cuffs, where they belled out. The Edwardian Corset made her arch her back, and pushed her chest up uncomfortably. It was all she could do not to squirm and become impatient with her maid. So she focused on something else, her skirt, for instance. The skirt was a deep maroon, and it fanned out to her ankles, where she wore three-inch-heeled black boots. It was simple and slightly uncomfortable, but much better (by better she meant warmer) than anything she had worn in the past month.

Before, her hair had only grown out to her shoulders and was all uneven and out-of-sorts. Lily had evened out the cutting, but by some miracle was able to keep the length. She pulled half of Rookie's hair back and braided it, securing the braid with a maroon ribbon. Her hair was glossy, both looking and feeling like silk.

For the finishing touches, Lily proposed to add a bit of makeup. Though Rookie protested at first, she remembered that she was to make a good impression and gain sympathy if she wished to gain her family back. She reluctantly gave in. Lily put blush on her cheeks to create an innocent look, and then added a little bit of red lipstick to give her a matured look. After that, she added mascara to her eyelashes.

When Rookie looked into the mirror, she realized that there was no more Rookie. Only Brooklyn. She was Brooklyn now, and Brooklyn she would stay.

"Do you really think all of this is quite necessary?" Brooklyn questioned. "After all, aren't I just going to go to bed after I talk to Mother, Antoinette and Cal?"

"Not necessarily, miss," Lily said, looking Brooklyn over once more.

"What do you mean 'not necessarily'?"

"Never you mind that now, miss," Lily replied, picking Bear up once again. She had put the pup down to put makeup on her employer, but now it was time for the little mutt's bath. "Come, before your mother grows impatient with you." Brooklyn took a deep gulp of air and nodded, re-running the story she had conjured whilst bathing.

"Mother?" Brooklyn said quietly as she stood in the doorway of the library. Mary-Ann, Antoinette and Cal had been sitting in front of the fireplace, talking in serious under-tone. What caught Brooklyn's attention was Antoinette and Cal. They were sitting next to each other, hands clasped in the little space between the two of them. But her attention was brought away when little Rose jumped from her spot by the fire and trotted over to Brooklyn's legs.

Mary-Ann looked over and beckoned her over with a gesture of her hand. Tentatively, Brooklyn complied with her mother's wishes and walked over. She noticed a second man in the room, and recognized him as one of her uncle's reporters. Her mother planned on publishing the story, if it seemed fit! Her blood boiled slightly, but she kept her appearance of collectiveness on the outside.

She looked to her mother and motioned with her eyes to the reporter. Her mother seemed to ignore her signal and, without saying a word, Mary-Ann gestured to the one open seat. It was removed, slightly away from where they were sitting. Only a couple of feet, but Brooklyn knew that those couple of feet meant a lot.

Once she was settled and comfortable, with Rose laying on her lap, all eyes were on her. "So, Brooklyn," her mother said tersely. Her anger toward her daughter for running away and joining the newsies had obviously taken over her motherly 'I'm-so-glad-you're-all-right-and-nothing-else-matters-' instinct. "You may tell your story now." Brooklyn nodded and took a deep sigh, pausing for a dramatic, tense effect. The reporter put his pencil to his notepad, ready to take notes. She glanced once at him before looking to her mother and sister.

"It all started when I met Spot Conlon last month," she began. "I met him on the night of Uncle Joseph's holiday ball. To clear my head, I had taken a walk in Central Park. I heard a gunshot and I started running. I tripped and fell and he helped me to my feet." She looked to Cal. "So that following day, Cal, he did know who I was, if not my name." Cal made a face of disgust.

"I started talking to him more, visiting him in the park," Brooklyn continued. "He seemed very nice, and didn't care about the Pulitzer name. Or, that's what I thought then. We enjoyed each other's company and even resolved in becoming friends." Her mother made a horrified gasp. "Yes, that was when I realized the error of my ways. I tried to stop talking to him, but it seemed wherever I was, he was. We just kept bumping into each other, you see. It was all rather strange…" She trailed off, as if going into thought, when really, she was just pulling her mother and sister, Cal and the reporter in further.

"When I went into see Uncle Joseph that one day, a week before Christmas," she continued, enjoying how well her story was working. "I saw Spot on the bridge, walking in the snow. He noticed the carriage, and waved as I passed. Feeling rather sorry for him, I asked Rupert to stop and let him in. All the way there he talked about a gathering of the Manhattan newsies at the restaurant, Tibby's. I have to admit, I was interested. So, he invited me there and I agreed to go after my visit with Uncle Joseph." She stopped and sighed. "I believe you all know what happened whilst in their company, so I will skip to six days later, Christmas Eve."

"Well, while I was condemned to my room, I was out on the balcony thinking about Father, when I noticed Spot walking by," she told them, which was completely true. "He saw be and said hello, inviting me out for a walk. I denied, telling him that I was not to see him anymore. But somehow, he managed to persuade me to sneak out and take a walk."

"How'd you get passed Dmitri?" Cal questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"He left his post," Brooklyn replied, slightly airily. "So I just locked the door to my room and snuck out. I don't even know why I did it, now that I think about it." She tried her best to look truly apologetic. She frowned slightly before going to continue.

"Well anyway, at some point in our conversations, I must have mentioned that I liked looking out at the top of the Brooklyn Bridge. Well he said something about how I could never enjoy it from the carriage, so he took me over to the bridge and we watched from the middle, just looking out over the river. It was quite a nice view…" She trailed off into her own memory of that day, of those few moments in the tight alley, what could have happened. When her mother cleared her throat, it brought her back to reality.

"I'm sorry, but I was just searching my thoughts," Brooklyn lied. "After I had that terrible bout of bronchitis, some of my memory is a little fuzzy." She paused, as if she really had to think about which event came next. She looked back to her mother, who looked absolutely appalled that her daughter had to strain for a memory. Brooklyn had suppress a smile of pride. Her lies were working.

"Oh yes," she continued suddenly with a snap of her fingers, causing a slight jump out of her listeners, and the reporter dropped his pencil. Brooklyn watched and waited for him to pick it up, only continuing when he had placed it against his pad once more.

"Then we saw our carriage coming, and Spot helped me get home before you could see us. But when I was about to go in, and asked me if I wanted to join the newsies. And regretfully -oh, I was so caught up in the moment- I accepted. He told me to meet him at the end of the block that night at eleven-thirty, terms I agreed to. I even gave him money to buy the clothes I would need to blend in." She shook her head as if she was regretful. "I asked him how I would explain this to you and he told me to write a note. So there would be no hard feelings, he told me, I should make it aggressive." She paused.

"I'm very sorry for the things I wrote in that letter, oh how wrong of me it was," Brooklyn stated, putting a hand on her chest. Antoinette, Mary-Ann and the reporter were lapping it up, though Cal seemed doubtful.

"So we snuck away in the middle of the night, and he brought me to Manhattan. He told me that it would be safer for me there, so that not many people would notice me. Jack Kelly, the strike leader, took me in with open arms, they were all so kind."

"That morning, just before dawn, they turned me into a newsie. I put on the clothes that Spot had bought for me and Jack cut my hair. They even gave me a new name, Rookie." After a moment of thinking, Brooklyn decided that she would become vague about things, and skip over what would seem less important to them.

"So they taught me the ropes, and I have to admit, it was fun," she said truthfully, now that she had gained their sympathy. "But I missed home, and I asked Spot if I could go back to Brooklyn with him so I could say hello, or even just see you." She was back into her lie. "But he said that it would be better if I stayed away for a while, until the homesickness died down. Once again, I agreed to these terms." She paused and sighed.

"But homesickness would not be the only sickness that would plague me," she continued dramatically. "I was struck with a bad case of bronchitis, and would not have made it if not for some kind woman who took me to the doctor and got me medicine. But the newsies helped a lot too. But as I got sicker, I wanted to come home. But they said no, and took care of me. The Manhattan newsies are great, they treated me just like their little sister." Except for Mush, of course, who kissed me, she thought to herself.

"I talked to Spot, and considered letting myself be discovered," she went on. "I was sick, and missing home. But to heal the hurt, he brought me Bear one day while I lay in bed, hardly able to open my eyes. He said something about a richie -that would turn out to be you, Cal- coming in and told me to tell him that my name was Rookie and that I was thirteen years-old." She paused again, building the tension in the room.

"I suppose he only wanted to protect me from you, Cal," she looked to Cal as she said this. "Because he was fearful you would take me away, or fearful you would hurt me, oh I don't know. All I know is that is intentions were good. So you came in, and I was in such a terrible state of mind that I didn't even recognize you. I just said what Spot told me to say and you left." Another pause.

"And then there was our fight, when I realized that it had been you and I had a chance to get home," she said, sniffling to make herself sound more believable, more sorrowful and to gain more sympathy from her mother and sister. "It was a dreadful fight, I never wanted it -our friendship, I mean, of course- to end like that. But that's what happened. After our fight, I ran without telling the other newsies. And truthfully, I feel quite upset that I didn't tell the Manhattan newsboys, for they had been extremely kind to me. But, goodness-" she sniffled and wiped an invisible tear from the corner of her eye "-it feels just so good to be home again."

There was a silence in the room that was practically deafening. Brooklyn looked around the room. The reporter was busy scribing what he heard, Antoinette and Cal had their hands clasped tight and were now facing each other, talking so only each other could hear. And Mary-Ann just stared at her daughter. She stood up, so Brooklyn did the same. Before she knew what had happened, her mother embraced her tightly. It took every fiber of Brooklyn's being not to shudder and back away.

It worked!

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Author's Note:

P.S. Thank you to all of my lovely reviewers who have stayed with me thus far and reviewed on Chapter 17 of Hear the Bells in Brooklyn

P.P.S. Thank you to my friend, Kri, for reading my chapter over.