Buon giorno, all of you lovely people! So this is my first Newsies fic, which is a bit strange for me since I usually write stories for The Dark Knight, but I just recently rediscovered my love for the Newsies, and here I am! I hope you all enjoy! Also, I'm looking for a beta reader for this story, so if you're interested, just message me or something! I'll try my best to update weekly, but I am busy with a musical I'm in as well as getting ready for college, so no guarantees.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Newsies, just Emma and whatever else you don't recognize.

One-thirty. On the dot. The streets of Brooklyn were just busy enough for a small boy to go unnoticed as he preformed his usual routine: stealing breakfast.

On the opposite side of the street, balanced on top of a few crates sat the king of Brooklyn with his trademark cane hooked in one of the loops of his pants, and the morning edition held in his right hand.

His eyes haughtily watched on in amusement as he observed the kid quickly and effortlessly maneuver around the crowd and over to an innocent street vender selling loaves of bread as well as fruit. For those not knowing what to look for, the kid was practically invisible. He was good- but not that good. Spot nodded over to his one of his loyal newsies to set his plan into motion. The kid had guts, but nobody messes around on his turf.

Emma quickly took off as she grabbed a loaf of bread in one hand, and an apple in the other. Every so often, she would nervously check behind her to see if someone was following her. That's how she lived her life: in a constant state of paranoia. Her brother was continually assuring her that everything was fine and that there was nothing to worry about, but that only got him so far. Here he was, running away with her and all of the problems she had caused.

She swiftly turned down one of the alleys that led to the old abandoned warehouse she and her brother currently inhabited ever since they arrived in Brooklyn four days prior.

A warning bell sounded in the back of her head as she recalled that it was her third time in a row she had taken that route. She had been taught to never use the same path more than once, and here she was using it once more.

Humans are creatures of habit, her father would say, that's why we need to break it out of you. Always leave them guessing.

Emma grimaced as she recalled the training she had been through, and quickly pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind and focused on the task at hand: getting food back to the warehouse.

One more block to go Emma told herself as she pushed through the pain in her legs and picked up the pace, only to run into something that felt like a brick wall.

She crumbled to the ground, and her hat that had been holding up her long, dark hair came flying off. Recovering quickly, she held the loaf of bread and the apple tightly to her chest and swung out her legs, effectively taking down the guy who had blocked her way.

With a thud, the boy hit the ground and gazed up in disbelief as Emma stood up, grabbed her hat and put it back on her head, this time not bothering to hide her long flowing hair. She smiled at the look of incredulity of the boy as she brushed herself off. The boy opened his mouth to say something, only to have his leader beat him to it.

"You'se a goil?"

Emma spun around to come face to face with a boy around her age, 17, or a year older than that. Red suspenders held up the loose-fitting pants, and the dirty shirt he was wearing had buttons missing, revealing the tan, muscular chest that he proudly boasted. He held himself with the pride and confidence that Caesar would carry.

He kept a straight face that reminded Emma of a well-kept mask that could hide any display of emotion, except for his eyes. His piercing cerulean eyes were what captivated Emma. His icy eyes glistened in amusement as he closely observed her. She felt the need to look away, but found herself unable to do so.

"Yeah," she answered meekly before gathering up her usual courage. Anger sparked inside of Emma as he began to circle around her, leaving her feeling like some sort of possession. "What's it to you?"

He completely ignored her response as he stood up straighter and puffed out his chest to intimidate her even more. "You'se the one that's been soakin' me boys? I don't take to kindly to that, you know. You mess with me boys, you mess with me-"

Before he could finish, Emma had bolted out of sight, leaving dirt hanging in the air. Spot raised one eyebrow and smirked as he looked off in the direction she had left before turning his attention to his newsie that was still on the ground.

"Get back up, ya bum. Nobody rests on the job."

Emma didn't stop running until she was safely inside the warehouse. She doubled over for a few seconds and allowed herself to catch her breath.

"Emmalynn, is that you?" came her brother's weak voice from the other side of the large storage room.

Emma quickly snapped back up and corrected her posture as she observed her brother leaning up against the wall for support.

"Tommy, what are you doing out of bed? You're in no condition to be up and about." She was immediately at his side, leading him over to his makeshift bed constructed from crates and old tarps.

As he sat down, Tommy explained, "I'm feeling a lot better, Emmalynn. Besides, I'm the one that's supposed to be taking care of you."

He was silenced when Emma thrust the loaf of bread into his hands. "Yeah, well I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself- which also brings up the question as to why you're making me go live with your old friend-"

I told you, I promised Mom that I'd keep you safe-" Tommy burst out into a coughing fit before he could finish. Emma stood in front of her brother, patiently waiting for it to finish. By now, she was used to his sudden outbursts.

He finally managed to get his coughing under control and continued, "and safe does not mean you living alone or back at home."

There was no use arguing with him. It would just get him even more upset. They were both stubborn people, but Emma didn't want his condition to get worse just because of some silly fight. As she sat down beside him, she sighed and rested her head on her brother's shoulder. The two savored the rare moment between them before Tommy finally interrupted it.

"Let me finish this bread, and then we'll head out."

Emma nodded, giving in easily, and left to pack up the few belongings they had brought with them. Nerves fluttered in her stomach as the seconds passed and brought her closer to her new life. She hoped for acceptance, but deep down she knew it would never be. She was just a monster- just like her father. They'd never trust someone like her.

Spot sat perched atop his crate that overlooked the Brooklyn docks, watching over his entire kingdom with pride glowing in his eyes. The pride in the role he had taken up a little over a year ago. His boys respected him, and other boroughs feared him. Nobody ever dared to cross Spot Conlon.

"Spot, two people are on their way over here. They wish to speak with you," Reader, his second-in-command, informed him.

He looked at Reader out of the corner of his eye and considered him for a moment before nodding. Spot finally stood up and turned to face his loyal friend. "Send 'em over to me as soon as they get here, will ya, Reader?"

His companion nodded in agreement, and then Spot jumped down from his throne to walk along the area were the docks were completely empty.

The girl from earlier occupied his thoughts, leaving it impossible to concentrate on anything at the moment. He knew everyone in Brooklyn, but he had never come across her until a few days prior to their "meeting", and any information about her had effectively evaded him and his birdies. For a brief second, anger flickered through his eyes before they returned to their cool, confident composure.

"Spot Conlon?"

A voice pulled Spot out of his musings. He spun around in a flash to find the two people Reader had been talking about standing before him. The tall, lanky boy seemed vaguely familiar with his rare green eyes, sparkling like jade in the sun. Then, with a smirk, he noticed the girl from that morning standing slightly behind the boy, staring down at her feet. A slight blush crept up her face and up to the tips of her ears.

Speak of the devil, and he- or she- shall appear Spot thought, slightly amused, before he spoke up. "Yeah. Who wants to know?"

The boy took two steps closer. "You don't recognize me, Spot? Thomas Bacalov?"

Realization struck Spot, and his smirk grew into one of his rare, genuine smiles. The two spit-shook before Spot looked over Thomas's shoulder at the girl, who was now staring at him like a wide-eyed doe. He tipped his cap to the girl whose gaze immediately shot back down to her feet.

"So what brings you and your goil up to Brooklyn?

"She's not my girl, she's my sister, and I've come to call in that favor you owe me."

Damn. Spot Conlon rarely owed anyone anything and hated more than anything being indebted to someone. It gave the other party control- something he hated giving up.

"Oh yeah?" He asked and stood up straighter to make himself appear more intimidating. "And what might that favor be?" He noticed the girl's full attention was now on the two of them, eagerly listening to their conversation.

"I need you to take care of my sister for a while."

"Look Tommy, I know Ise said I owed ya one, but I ain't some babysitta'."

"Spot, please." Tommy's voice grew desperate. "I promise it'll only be for a little. Just until everything back home clears up."

Now the girl stepped in, seemingly more confident, as she entered into the conversation. "Oh well, Tommy. Can't say we didn't try. I guess I'll just have to live on my own. Now come on." She tried to tug on her brother's arm, but he wouldn't budge.

Spot looked back and forth between his old friend and his sister, and resented that voice in his mind that told him to take her in.

"Fine. But just for a little."

Review please! They make me all happy inside : )